i am just your ordinary average everyday sane psycho supergoddess

Tue, 15 Jan 2008 13:29:13 GMT

There were not many things that could make Echo TRULY angry when it came to her daughter. However, by the third straight day of FUCKING SCREAMING for no reason? She was at the end of her proverbial rope. Not to mention it was happening right when Dawna'd been sick, so Henry was the one about.

Honestly, she was ready to choke the baby for a few second's peace.

It was really REALLY that bad.

The second day, she'd been concerned, and taken Adrienne to the doctor. "Colic" they proclaimed it, but Echo knew better. This was sheerly the baby's irritation and peevishness that her father wasn't home. She knew that feeling VERY well. She was really rather peevish about it as well.

Adrienne had just fallen into a fitful sleep (and Echo dare not put her down in the cot, because the second she took more than ten steps from it, the baby would wake up and that shrill shriek would start again) when the sheer overwhelming emotions hit. She went to the bathroom and ran a bath, the tears falling down her cheeks almost as quickly as the water filled the tub. This? Was too much reality.

When the tub was full, she lit candles and put Adrienne's bouncy seat in the middle of the bathroom floor, latching her into it securely before she crawled into the hot, soothing water.

She felt the tears rising up again, and she gave into them, no longer having the energy to do anything else.

Gifts (yes, I know it's late. Sue me)

Wed, 26 Dec 2007 09:59:06 GMT

Merry Christmas.

to my husband (and you bet your ARSE I got one too.)

to Adrienne (with pictures of the family tucked inside)
to Aiden (Because every man could use a refresher course!)
to James (with helmet and pads to match!)
to Justin (with helmet and pads to match!)
to Edward (because Grandma's amused by it)

to Kieran (A four hour long helicopter tour and a romantic dinner for two.)
to Christina (Hot air balloon ride for two with champagne and a picnic)
to Nichola (Because you'll always be my princess)
to Ethan and Damien (one for each, and LOADS of new movies to watch when they visit!)

Fri, 16 Nov 2007 10:24:51 GMT

Just thought I'd point out for anyone who's not paying attention?

I unlocked EVERYTHING in this journal.

Feel free to poke around. *evil smirk* Dawna's about to do the same on HER journal.

Let's clear the air. *laughs*

Wed, 14 Nov 2007 00:51:45 GMT

Dear Santa...

Dear Santa,

This year I've been busy!

In February I helped the_demon_child across the street (6 points). In November I helped nickytheprick see the light (8 points). Last Wednesday I pulled over and changed tristheantidiva's flat tire (15 points). In January I committed genocide... Sorry about that, ceruleanct11 (-5000 points). Last Thursday I gave change to a homeless guy (19 points).

Overall, I've been naughty (-4952 points). For Christmas I deserve a lump of coal!

Sincerely,
echo_my_words

Wed, 05 Sep 2007 14:16:27 GMT

Request drabbles. Something stupid, silly, sappy, whatever. But no requests for uber angst or fighting stuff. I need happy

Nightmares, again

Fri, 13 Jul 2007 09:06:43 GMT

She sat straight up, biting her lips to keep from crying out. It had been a long time since she'd had this old nightmare, and she cursed herself-that now the stupid thing would come back.

It had been more violent than the reality. In the dream, the man grabbed her and swung her body into the wall, the corner digging painfully into her spine as she hit. He grabbed her chin and turned her head, whispering in her ear. He took no time to finesse, simply shoved his hand against her trousers.

In the dream, he actually followed through on his threats. He did more than rub himself against her. He found her knife and used it on her. It was the feel of the knife slipping into her stomach, and her body's reaction (Kieran, he's killing Kieran, don't let him kill the baby) - beyond panic - that made her wake up. She pulled her knees up to her chest, angry and sad and slightly horrified.

And of course, it had to happen on a Henry night. Dawna and Henry would be curled up together, sleeping peacefully. She couldn't help herself from her moment of bitterness, from the way her brain called out to her husband, needing him so much it physically hurt. If he heard her, he would come, and Dawna would forgive her.

"Edward, please," she murmured, not even feeling the tears that were spilling down her cheeks. She pressed her face against her knees, the silence of the house overwhelming at this time of morning.

Thu, 31 May 2007 11:00:38 GMT

New Pretties. Took for-fucking-ever.

Sun, 13 May 2007 22:13:25 GMT

Click here to create your own painting.

Again, I'm following the leader.

Sat, 12 May 2007 00:29:37 GMT

Leave me a comment and I will...

1) Tell you why I friended you
2) Associate you with a song/movie
3) Tell a random fact about you
4) Tell a first memory about you
5) Associate you with an animal/fruit
6) Ask something I've always wanted to know about you
7) Show you my favorite user pic of yours
8) In return, you MUST spread this disease in your LJ (unless, of course, you already are doing that)

I'm with Dawna on this. I don't give a shite if you're friended or not... comment, and I'll tell you.

I'd love to be able to tell some people what I think of them.

Do it. grins

Tue, 01 May 2007 00:28:39 GMT

Nohari Window
Johari Window

OOC: This is BEYOND "irritating Nori"

Thu, 26 Apr 2007 06:50:18 GMT

Notes on Strangling

An essay for those who don’t play with breath play. (aka: For RPGers who are confused by how strangling actually works. (that’s most of you.))

From Wikipedia:

Strangling is compression of the neck that leads to unconsciousness or death by causing an increasingly hypoxic state in the brain.[1] Fatal strangling typically occurs in cases of violence, accidents, and as the mechanism of suicide in hangings. Strangling does not have to be fatal; limited or interrupted strangling is practiced in erotic asphyxia, in the choking game, and is an important technique and in many combat sports and self-defense systems (see Chokehold for further reading).
Strangling can be divided into three general types according to the mechanism used:[2]
Hanging — Suspension from a cord wound around the neck (see the separate article Hanging)
Ligature strangulation — Strangulation without suspension using some form of cord-like object
Manual strangulation — Strangulation using the fingers or other extremity

So, let’s say, for example Edward Hyde (because my Echo is his girlfriend in AU LJ land) comes up to you and grabs you around your neck, pushing you against the wall with his hand or hands around your throat. We are looking at Manual Strangulation here.

Count slowly. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven.

In the time you counted? You very likely would be passed out.

Okay, count with me again. One. Two. Three. Four. Five. Six. Seven. Eight. Nine. Ten. Eleven. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen.

Still with me? If you were being strangled, you wouldn’t be. 7 to 14 seconds is all it takes to pass out while being strangled. This is why in breath play, generally, you hold 6 to 10 seconds (it depends on the person being strangled.)

If your carotid arteries or jugular veins are compressed, you will feel dizzy and you will lose neurological function. It can lead to brain damage and death, as you are starving your brain of oxygen.

The other things that may be compressed in strangulation (and often are, in conjunction with the carotid and jugular) are laryngopharynx, larynx, or the trachea. This leads to Asphyxia which is a severely deficient supply of oxygen to the body, leading to unconsciousness, brain damage and death.

Add the two things together. Directly following unconsciousness, you are risking brain damage, within a VERY short period of time. Past brain damage? Death.

Secondarily, let’s talk about… well, talking. Your larynx and trachea are compressed, you’re woozy from no blood going to your brain, you’ve got seven to fourteen seconds… You aren’t getting out sentences. In fact, you’re lucky if you can mouth the word “please’ with any sound behind it.

Let’s add to this that if you’ve been thrown against a wall and the hand has hit you hard in your throat, you may well have a broken hyoid. If you’re doing any kind of sound, it’s a thin shriek from the pain of a fucking broken bone.

You aren’t making sentences, you aren’t begging or pleading, and you sure as HELL are not TAUNTING your attacker. You may gurgle, you may fight your attack (the body does tend to panic and fight, but being that you're losing neurological function? Good luck with that as well), hell, you may even get in a few good hits... but you are NOT FUCKING MONOLOGUING.

Let’s keep things believable, kids. If you can’t do that, you might as well not be RPGing at all.

Logic and Research is your friend.

smiles softly

Wed, 25 Apr 2007 19:40:52 GMT

Baaaaa Baaaaa pretends to be a sheep

Tue, 24 Apr 2007 11:54:28 GMT

Read my VisualDNA™ Get your own VisualDNA™

What the... My outlook is brighter than most people's?

Tue, 24 Apr 2007 11:45:13 GMT

you are chocolate
#D2691E

Your dominant hues are red and yellow... most of what you do is motivated by your need to change things and have a good time, but you've been known to settle down and think out a situation, too. You tend to surprise people just when they're starting to feel like they've got you down.

Your saturation level is high - you get into life and have a strong personality. Everyone you meet will either love you or hate you - either way, your goal is to get them to change the world with you. You are very hard working and don't have much patience for people without your initiative.

Your outlook on life is brighter than most people's. You like the idea of influencing things for the better and find hope in situations where others might give up. You're not exactly a bouncy sunshine but things in your world generally look up.

the spacefem.com html color quiz

Yet more proof that these tests are on some kind of drugs...

Oh look, it's a blast from OUR past...

Tue, 24 Apr 2007 10:53:53 GMT

((All of this blast from the past stuff has left Laura and I saying "I really want to see how they met, since they never talk about it." and well... Echo promised to play it out as it happened, so, here we go.))

Her eyes fluttered open, and she raised an eyebrow as she saw a girl laying beside her. That was beyond wrong. The only person who should be beside her was... She froze and looked around. Oh god, she recognized the room, just as she recognized the girl who was laying beside her. That girl who used to be her. She raised a hand to her hair and twirled the long dark locks around her fingers... wait, long DARK locks?

She sat up and looked in the mirror that was over the small dresser in the room, her eyes wide. Blue. Well, that at least was normal. Dark hair. Delicate features. She lay back down and turned toward... Dawna. If she didn't look like the other girl, nor did she feel like the other girl, could she technically be Dawna? She thought about Collin, the boy who Dawna cried over and only felt a vague anger. She thought about New York, and nearly laughed. London was her home.

Realization dawned. And then the other girl opened her eyes. The blonde blinked at her, and her look was curious, but not scared. "What's your name?" Dawna asked and she opened her mouth and said "Echo" without hesitation.

"You are an echo of me?" Dawna asked.

She shook her head, laughing. "No, I am an echo of him."

She didn't stay long, she simply gathered one set of clothing, did her hair quickly and set off down the alleys of London to find the man who's soul called hers. She knew she'd find him eventually.

Mon, 02 Apr 2007 08:28:09 GMT

I am just a touch bitter that I'm not allowed to say happy birthday over *points* there, you know... *sighs* Ah well, such is life, and this has always been our place together...

Happy Birthday, my Edward.

Thu, 15 Feb 2007 22:56:55 GMT

*laughs*

Disgruntled? Who's disgruntled... not me!

Wed, 14 Feb 2007 04:34:16 GMT

*evil grin* Umm.. love? I have an idea... *points to icon* Please?

Disgruntled Pregnant Woman Alert

Fri, 19 Jan 2007 03:02:44 GMT

Dear Crutches, Die.

Dear Edward, I hate the crutches. Make them die. Please? *blinks cutely*

Dear Stupid Broken Foot, fuck off.

Dear Morning Sickness, GO AWAY.

Dear Disgrunteld Echo, CALM THE FUCK DOWN.

No Love, lots of love, no love, no love and no love.

~Me

Sat, 13 Jan 2007 02:46:22 GMT

Dear GOD, painful broken foot.

Yes, I AM a moron. Yes I DID try to run around the house yesterday. Yes, I AM paying for it today.

*sighs*

I'm having a day. Not a bad day, not a good day... just... a day.

shock?

Sat, 13 Jan 2007 02:29:06 GMT

You scored as Mysterious. You wish to hide who you are from all those around you. You find it very hard to trust people. You also may enjoy the fun that comes from playing mind games with others around you.My advice Get out there and reveal the true you if only to one person!

</td>

Passion

83%

Mysterious

83%

Diamond Eyes

58%

Eyes full of Pain

What do your eyes reveal about you?(PICS!)
created with QuizFarm.com

Well, that was exceedingly stupid.

Sun, 07 Jan 2007 20:29:49 GMT

Dear Self:

While it is extremely fun to push Edward's buttons, do I think, perhaps, I can do so without hurting myself? Especially when he's barely trying, and I am full out running... *sighs*

Also: scaring yourself stupid = bad. Falling while pregnant is a risk, why don't I NOT put myself in a situation where it's nearly a guaranteed occurance.

OH, and how about: do not have so much pride that you don't tell Edward when you are actually hurt. He absolutely gets upset when he realizes too later that I've been in pain and trying not to show it. Angry in the "scooping you up so you can't walk anymore, threatening to let Henry out to check you over, arguing with you about how minor it it and finally growling at you that you're his with his eyes full of worry" kind of way.

Going to the Emergency for a twisted ankle/foot? Not happening. I've too many marks on my body from sex. I can see it now. "Miss Heath, are you being abused?" *blank stare* "No sweetie, that's because he fucks me well." hahaha... umm. *cough* While amusing? That would likely not go over well.

*sigh* Just... *sigh*

Maybe I should have Henry look it over. It hurts enough that I fear I may have broken a bone, actually.

Anyway, that's about it, Self. Have a lovely day, and tell Edward you are hurt, okay? Otherwise, I will.

~Echo

Responses: six words each.

Sun, 07 Jan 2007 05:06:03 GMT

Me? Bitter? Why do you ask? (that wasn't even trying)

Not when you throw him away.

Not when your jealousy is unfounded.

I wish I could tell you.

You make me want to scream.

You've not seen jealous yet, Rose.

You keep Henry, Edward is mine.

Gee, I think I need to stop writing these, because I'm getting more and more pissed off the more I write them.

<3 Echo

for the 30_forbidden prompt: #19 Watch

Sun, 07 Jan 2007 03:51:04 GMT

I reach out for him in the night. He already has his eyes open, but I don't ask questions. I'm sure I must have cried out from the nightmare. I don't have the heart to ask him to verify it for me, so I just put my hand out to him.

He pulls me close, his arms tight around me, and kisses my forehead softly. He can be so brutal with me at times, and then he can be unfailingly gentle, as he is now. I do not prefer one over the other, but it makes me glad that he chooses gentleness when I wake this way.

He doesn't speak, and that is normal and soothing. He often is the quieter of the two of us. Less emotional, less verbose, less likely to say what his heart feels. But he is very much about action, and his hands are moving to stroke my skin, comforting and so very real that it takes my breath away.

I lay against him, my eyes wide with the fear that I sometimes struggle with for hours after these dreams. Times like these I need to voice the fears, but I hate to say anything, because he worries, even though he doesn't want me to know that he does. I open my mouth to speak, then shut it again. I'm too comforted by his hands and he'll still them if I get too upset.

“You were gone,” I say quietly, and his hands stop moving for a moment before starting again. “You were gone, and then I had the baby, and it died. And I was alone.” That really stills his hands and he simply pulls me closer, so close our heartbeats are beating against each other. Mine is faster, nearly a fluttering bird in my chest. I press my hand against gentle swell of my stomach.

His hand slides and cups over my hand, holding it there. “Mine,” he says simply, his voice a low growl, and I don't even think to wonder which of us he means, or if he means both.

“Yours,” I say softly, “as if you had any doubt.”

His laugh makes me smile, just a little. He kisses my forehead again. “Don't think about the future, Echo,” he says, for what must be the millionth time, “I'm here now. I am not leaving now.”

“I know,” I say, tears springing to my eyes, “but what if it happens?”

“What if it doesn't?” He reaches his fingers out and wipes my tears away, almost roughly. “You'll drive yourself crazy thinking about it.”

“Do you never feel the need to prepare for the worst, just in case?”

“I am the worst.” He laughs quietly.

“Edward,” my tone is warning and teasing all at the same time.

He laughs aloud, then kisses me breathless. “You love it,” he says, his code for so many things.

“I love you, Edward.”

He rolls onto his back, pulling me along, until I'm laid across his chest, his arms tight around me. “I'm here now,” he says again. “I can't promise you forever, but I can promise that for now, I'm here.”

The words bring me peace, for their familiarity if nothing else, and I lay against his chest. His hands start the slow movement over my back again, and I find myself soothed.

“Sleep, lover,” he says, his voice soft.

I nod a little, close my eyes, letting his touch and the beat of his heart remind me that he's real. I sleep.

He watches.

Future fic? (Because this stuff never leaves my head unless I write it)

Fri, 05 Jan 2007 11:21:46 GMT

Echo sits, a black-haired little girl cradled to her chest. She kisses the bowed head gently, something inside of her feeling tense and almost cruel, but on the outside, she is gentle. She is always gentle when she holds their daughter. Especially so on nights when she is so alone she can't breathe properly. She would hate to wake the baby and have to explain away tears.

What would she say? “Your daddy is half of a whole, and though he loves us both, more than anything in the world, he is not free to be with us”? What child could understand that? Hell, SHE couldn't even understand it most days.

She hears the rattle of the front door handle and smiles, knowing exactly who it is. She doesn't move, simply holds the baby (not really a baby anymore, at all, but forever her baby) and waits to feel him behind her. His hand wraps tight in her hair and he pulls her head back, kissing her hard.

“Edward,” she says softly, and the baby stirs slightly at the word, then snuggles closer and sleeps soundly. His presence settles them both, always.

He walks to the other side of the chair and lifts his daughter from her lap, kissing her little head softly, cradling her almost gently. “To bed with you, monster,” he says softly, carrying her to her little bed and laying her down. He kisses her again, his hand brushing her hair lightly, then he stands fully and turns to Echo, holding out a hand for her to stand.

She slides forward and stands, walking to him, slipping into his arms as if coming home. He is muscle and bone, hardness and soft flesh and deliciously warm in ways only he can be. He kisses her hard and she wraps herself around him, needing him more every second. She breaks away from his kiss and whispers to him how much she needs him, how much she loves him, how much she wants him. She slips from his grasp, teasingly beckoning him down the hall, away from their daughter's room.

She curls up in his favorite spot on the couch, pushing her luck on purpose. He stalks toward her slowly, grabbing her hands and pulling her upward, his arms tight around her in seconds. He lifts her and carries her, his kisses like fire against her neck, to the wall, pressing her up against it and devouring her mouth.

There are very few words between them at this, they are simply too busy with hands and fingers, mouths and pressure and he sets her down long enough to strip her, her hands unfastening his clothing as well, needing him so.

He slams her hard against the wall and she thrills at his roughness, wrapping her legs around his waist and kissing him hard as he slides into her with one thrust, her body opening to him as always. He presses into her harder, nails biting into her skin knowing it makes her wrap her legs tighter around him, practically begging for more with the thrust of her hips. They make each other bleed, violent and loving all at once, both needing the pain only the other will bring for their own release.

She comes hard, would scream out his name if not for the little girl sleeping down the hall, her teeth pressed hard into his shoulder and the pain sends him over the edge, several deep thrusts more and he's saying her name in a harsh cry, spilling hot inside of her.

She moves against him again, teasing, not wanting it to be over yet, and he groans, pulling her close and carrying her to the couch. He sits, holding her close, his voice rough. “Mine,” he says.

She smiles and lays her head against his shoulder. “Yours,” she says, softly.

He makes a low growl in his throat and lifts her face to kiss her hard. He reaches for the blanket always kept on the arm of the couch and wraps it around her shoulders, covering them both.

She whispers “I love you,” to him and smiles when his reply comes back to her. “I know.” He's always said it, and she knows what it really means. She is almost asleep when she whispers to him again. “You love me.” She falls asleep against him, never even hearing his reply.

“Yes.”