#and he had to go to staples to print stuff?

[cesium-sheep]

it's wild reading these articles and seeing these videos about like "ohh my smartphone is ruining my life I need a dumbphone" and it's like. why did you ever turn on notifications for grubhub. why did you download the arby's app. like I'm not saying "oh it's your fault your phone is like this" like it's definitely set up to be a predatory system but like. rip to you but I'm different I guess

[luvyeni]

WHAT’S IS YOUR DESIRE ๑. ( 박종성 )

𝗦𝗖𝗘𝗡𝗘 ─── what you truly wanted in life ? what you truly desired ? it was money , to not live such a miserable life .. and jay , jay was willing to give you that in exchange for one thing , what he truly desired … everlasting love…

( 対 ) jay park + fem. reader wc. 4k genre smut · contains! vampire!jay , murder , misogyny ( not jay ) unprotected sex , oral (f) , blood , biting mature content. / back to library

you woke up 5 minutes before the alarm went off , something you always did — so you can contemplate whether you should jump out the window of your beat up second floor apartment or get up and go to your job and be verbally abused by your boss.

you’re soon interrupted by the alarm going off , your empty stomach rumbling from not eating enough to make you drag your body out of bed to shower for work — you weren’t gonna jump .. at least not this morning , the day was still very very young.

getting dressed in the same clothes you always wore for work , you sigh — it’s grey much like your mornings; slipping into your raggedy heels that hurt your feet but you couldn’t afford another pair right now before making your way to your small kitchen , opening the fridge — which was depressing in itself.

you pulled out the carton of milk for some cereal , it was empty. “that’s fucking great.” you gritted through your teeth. “another bill this week.” you tossed the carton into the trash. “guess i’ll pick up something cheap on the way.” you pack your stuff , making a reminder to add going to the grocery store when you got paid this upcoming friday; along with rent , gas and water.

you hold the cheap coffee and muffin in your hand as you walk through the office to your desk. “yn!” your boss's voice booms through the office , some people pretend that they didn’t hear , not looking up. some look at you with sympathy knowing this happens everyday at least 3 times. “s-sir.” you don’t have a chance to sit down before he’s storming out his office , eyes trained on you. “are you a fucking idiot?”

“hu-huh?” he huffs slamming his hand on your desk. “i asked , are you an idiot?” he repeated. “i ask for the files for the presentation to be printed out and stapled and put in the conference room for the meeting today with the new investors — i go check the conference room and you know what i see?” he says but you don’t answer thinking it’s a rhetorical question. “are you deaf?”

“well — i see nothing!” he shouted. “there’s nothing on the tables why didn’t you do it?” he was looking for an answer. “well sir , you didn’t tell me to do that.” you said , his eyes darkened. “are you saying i’m lying , you’re my assistant who else would i fucking ask!” he shouted. “if we lose this investor you’re out of a job.” he said. “sir i’m sorry i’ll do it now.” you said , taking the paper. “i’m sorry.” you repeated. “just go.” he said , and you obeyed, basically running to the copy room.

“he totally asked me to do it.” you heard someone whisper as you made your way to the conference room. “i just didn’t want him to yell at me.” you wanted to shout. “she’s used to it , it probably doesn’t even bother her anymore.” you sighed , walking into the empty room. “could this day get any worse.” and as if god himself heard you , your stomach rumbled , you just laughed. “of course.”

“sorry is this the right room?” you turn to the man , with his expensive suit. “excuse me?” you responded. “the meeting? is this the right room?” he had the same furrowed brows like your boss. “oh yes , we’re waiting for the investor now , he’s supposed to be here soon.” you began to pass the papers out. “is he not prepared?” the man asked. “oh no he’s prepared , this was my fault , i stupidly didn’t print the files out , the investors prefer that and he’s trying to impress th— i’m sorry who are you?” realizing you were casually talking to him. “i’m — mr. park!”

your boss was now wearing a smile as he greeted the man. “you’re late.” the man said. “i’m sorry man , you know how it is.” he turned to you. “someone forgot to make copies.” you lowered your head in shame. “but she was here before you.” it just clicked who you were in the presence of. “yn.” he chuckled. “have you greeted mr. park?” you bow politely. “good morning sir , i’m sorry for causing so much trouble.” jay looked you up and down , causing you to shift a bit , his eyes were cold , but he nodded. “yn go.” your boss shooed you off , you shuffled out of the door , closing it behind you before making your way to your desk , finally sitting down.

jays eyes followed you out, even watching you as you sit down at your desk , rubbing your temples. “don’t mind her that girl can never do anything right , probably would’ve fired her if she wasn’t such a nice piece of ass to look at , yeah her clothes are a little shabby but i can’t be picky can i.” jay turned to the guy , who was half your age sitting down , his belly hanging over his pants. “yeah.” he said sitting down — he already knew how this was gonna go. “let’s get started.”

you look through the glass window , seeing your boss stand up along with the man , shaking his hand with a smile. you stare at the muffin that was thrown in the trash before you could eat it. “what a waste of money.” you whisper to yourself ; the door to the room opening both men stepping out. “i hope to hear from you in a few days.” your boss said , the man looked at you, your boss staring bitterly. “yn , stop staring and get up and wish him goodbye.” you turned to jay and he looked at you like he was waiting to see what you do ; you began to get up but he stopped you , he saw how badly your worn down cheap shoes hurt your feet. “no need . you have a nice day.” he said walking away without another word.

“how stupid can you be?” your boss gripped your arm , pulling you up. “when i say do something you do it.” he yelled in your face , you nodded and he let you go , you fell back in your seat. “gosh you can’t do anything right.”

the day seemed to go by so slowly; all you wanted was to go back to your broken down apartment ; eat the chinese food that you pray is still good , climb into your lumpy bed and sleep — then again what’s the point you’ll have to do it again the next day. you tried not to think about that as you packed up for the evening. “hey yn , we’re going out for drinks.” you coworker said ; you couldn’t even afford dinner right now , let alone drinks. “i’m okay , i’m really not feeling good.” they nodded , not bothering to push it , they probably didn’t care. “yn i need you to come in early tomorrow.” your boss opened the door to his office , you went to open your mouth and protest , but he slammed the door closed. “guess that means i’ll have to get up even earlier to catch the bus.”

you make your way out of the building; walking down the street to the bus stop; unaware of the eye on you. “that’s her boss” the driver said , jay looked up from his phone , watching you limp down the block. “follow her , make sure she doesn’t notice.” he said , the driver started the car , following you — he followed you all the way to your run down and sketchy apartment complex , watching the three guys try and stop you as you go in but you just ignore their attempts, walking into the building. “boss are you gonna get out? do you know her from somewhere?” jay shook his head. “no.” he said. “but i want her.”

he walked through sunghoons , no interest in the dancer around him , he had one thing in mind ; you. “he in there?” he stopped by sunghoon who looked upset , probably had something to do with his “ fiancé .” but that had nothing to do with him. “what? oh yeah , you know how easy it was to get him to come here.” the pale man smirked. “all heeseungs girlfriend had to do was say she was your secretary and he came running here.” jay nodded. “good , thank you.” sunghoon nodded back. “don’t make too much of a mess.”

he made his way to the room in the back , where the walls were sound proof , taking off the suit jacket and handing it to his guard. “it’s expensive , don’t need to get it dirty.” he opened the door , where the man was already getting drunk. “jay man wassup!” the man shouted like he was friends with him. “can’t believe you called me down here , i was shocked when your secretary called.” the man slurred. “man does she sound fucking hot , i would love to get to meet her , you must get no work done with her around.” good thing heeseung didn’t hear that , he’d tear the man limb from limb before jay got a chance to do anything. “this scotch is good.”

“it’s a $1000 bottle.” jay said. “damn , if this goes well , i’ll pay you back , i signed those papers already , i’ll have yn look them over tomorrow.” the man patted jays back. “no need to pay back.” jay smiled. “oh thanks man.” the man said. “but you can give me something.” he said staring at the man. “yn.” the man stared at jay , before bursting out in a fit of laughter. “her? sure take her .” he said it like it was nothing. “she’s useless to me , i was already gonna fire her tomorrow , found a new and hotter one — i mean look at her , she’s shabby , a poor girl with no future , sure she’s hot and now that she’s gonna be jobless in the morning maybe she can get a job here , as a dancer , put that body to use seeing as she can’t do work right.”

jays blood boiled listening to him speak about you like that — he just snapped , grabbing the drunk man , slamming him up against the wall. “man what the hell?” the man shouted , trying to push jay up against him , but jay was too strong. “you know i really dont fucking like you.” he said. “but you have something i want .” jay pushed down on the man’s neck , he could hear the blood flowing through the man’s body. “well a few things.”

the man was getting a little scared. “wh-what? yn i said you can have her.” he said. “oh that’s not it.” jay said. “i’m taking your company as well.” jay said , the man began to fight back , but he could barely move. “fu-fuck you , like hell are you getting my company.” jay chuckled. “well it doesn’t really matter , seeing as you already signed it over to me , and you won’t be alive to do anything about it.”

before the man could do anything it; jays finger went straight across the man’s neck, his eyes widened in pure horror. “there won’t be anyone to mourn you , so this just makes me even happier.” jay smiled menacingly , right before he sunk his sharp fangs into the man’s jugular , drinking straight from his neck , the almost lifeless man barely put up a fight before falling to the ground , blood still seeping from his neck.

waiting for the man to stop twitching; before wiping his mouth , leaving out the room. “make sure the body is completely gone , tell sunghoon i’m sorry for the mess , he pissed me off.” he said holding the papers in his hand , exiting out the back where the car was already waiting for him. “did it go well boss?” jay nodded silently. “why did you need this company ?” the driver pulled off. “i didn’t.” jay said , his shirt red from the blood.

you ran like your life depended on it as you looked at the clock on your wrist. “fuck.” you said; not only are you not gonna be early like your boss demanded , you were gonna be late — your alarm on your phone didn’t go off , and then the shower was cold. you barely got out the door.

you made your way to your job ; fully prepared to be yelled out — even fired. “there she is.” it felt like the entire office was watching you; the whispers that followed you made you uneasy as you made your way to your desk , the curtains that were normally open , were closed… that couldn’t be good. “um the boss wants you.” your co worker seemed confused. “oh okay.” you sat your things down. “thank you.” fearing this was the end , it felt like blood was in your throat as you knock on the door. “come in.”

you push the door open; confusion washing over you. “uh…” you said , standing before you was the man from yesterday. “yn.” he said , but this time he smiled at you. “sit , please.” you look at the seat , slowly making your way to the seat. “sit.” you did , folding your hands in your lap. “i-i’m a bit confused.” you lowered your head. “i could understand why.” he said. “you were a bit late today , you okay?” you nodded. “just a bunch of inconveniences.” you confessed. “that’s understandable.” he said. “you probably have a bunch of questions.”

“where is mr. kim?” you said. “oh he unfortunately stepped down.” he said. “while going over the agreement my lawyers found a bunch of interesting things that warrant me to make a few phone calls.” jay stood from his chair , your breath hitched. “and the board thought it would be better if he stepped down .”

“so now you’re in charge?” you asked , gulping as he sat on the desk right in front of you. “not just in charge , i own it.. he surprisingly signed it over to me. ” he said. “b-but don’t you have to run your own company?” you didn’t dare to look him in the eye , almost scared to. “well this is only temporary , i’ll get someone to take over , while i work from the sidelines .” he talked with some much confidence. “don’t worry this won’t affect you , but i guess you’re a bit glad he’s gone?” you gave a little nod. “good.” he said , his leg brushed against yours , you coughed nervously , standing up quickly. “you don’t have to worry about me , i’m a good worker.” you said. “i wasn’t worried.” he said — after he was done he’d promised you’d never work a day in your life again.

“what happened?” there was a crowd around your desk as you made your exit. “no-nothing.” you sat down. “just went over the schedule.” you said. “what the hell is going on , where is kim?” you shrugged. “don’t know.” jay made you promise not to say anything , even though you didn’t understand why seeing as it wasn’t a big deal , but you agreed. “this is so weird.” they all began to walk away , leaving you alone , the curtains were still covering the windows , except the one next to your desk , you could see him working on his computer — he looked up at his you , like he could feel you staring, smiling at him before going back into his work… and for the first time since you’ve started working here you let out a little smile.

“yn? drinks?” your coworkers asked , you were about to decline like usual when jay opened the door. “not tonight.” he said coldly, turning to you. “i need you to stay back for a bit.” you sighed , you knew it was too good to be true , he was just gonna yell at you like the other. “have a good night.” he sent them on their way , before turning to you. “come.” he beckoned you into his office. you stood up , hesitantly following him inside his office. “i’m sorry for whatever i did.” you said , lowering your head.

“yn you are not in trouble.” he said. “you haven’t even done anything , i haven’t asked you to do anything today.” you think about it , you haven’t done anything , he even told you to go to lunch early. “yn sit down please.” he said , you sat down in the seat , picking at your stockings. “yn.” he said softly. “yn look at me.” he said a little bit more firmly , you looked up at him. “here.” he sat a box on the desk. “what is it?” you asked , he opened the box , revealing a pair of heels — a very expensive pair of heels , a pair of heels that would leave you homeless if you even could scrounge up the money for it. “mr-mr. park — jay.” he interrupted you. “call me jay.”

“i can’t accept these.” you said. “why not?” he asked. “because these shoes are expensive,” you said. “i’m not asking you to pay me back.” he said , taking the shoes out the box. “those shoes hurt your feet , i see you limping around , i can sme- i can see the blood on your stockings from the blisters.” he said , sitting down on the chair across from you. “you don’t deserve that.” he bent down , grabbing your foot. “mr-mr. park.” he didn’t say anything , taking your old shoe off putting the brand new expensive one on. “see they fit perfectly.” he said , letting your foot go to do the other one , they were gorgeous , you don’t think you’ll ever own anything like this again.

“how do i thank you for these?” you say , he didn’t say anything for at least a minute. “what?” you ask , he sat back in his seat , his shirt was rolled up , tie undone for the day. “yn are you happy?” he asks suddenly , you’re taken aback. “am i happy?” you repeated , the man nodded. “i- i mean i guess , yeah i’m happy.” you say with uncertainty in your voice. “you don’t have to lie to me.” he says. “i can see that you’re struggling a lot.” you gulp. “i’m gonna be fine sir , i promise.” and he knows you will — because he’s gonna change your life.

you stand up , already feeling the pain in your feet melt away. “there’s no need to worry about me.” you say , going to turn. “ yn.” he started , you stopped in your tracks hearing his low voice behind you. “what is something you really want , something you truly desire in this life ?” he said. “happiness ? love ?” he was right behind you , you could feel his breath on your neck. “money?” your body twitched. “it’s money , i know , everyone desires wealth.” he said. “even i did , and that's why im where i am today,” he said. “and are you happy?” you asked him much as he had asked you. “i’m wealthy,” he said. “that’s not what i asked sir , i asked are you happy?”

“i’m lonely.” he confessed , you turned around. “what i desire cannot be obtained , not in this life , not in the next.” you said. “but i’m sure you can get what you’re looking for.” you said. “good night sir.” you go to open the door. “i can give you money.” he said. “i can give you what you desire.” you stood there. “and you can give me what i desire.” he said. “everlasting companionship.”

what was he proposing right now? “um sir , this is inappropriate.” you said. “no one is here,” he said. “and you’re free to leave.” he smiled once he seen you not move. “yo-you can’t buy me , i’m not an object.” you said. “did i say you were? i like you yn.” he said. “like me? you met me once yesterday.” you scoffed. “and that’s saying something , that one meeting was all i needed.” he said , you bit down on your bottom lip. “i’m not trying to buy you , i’m trying to give you what you truly want in life.”

“in return , you stay by my side , forever.” there he goes again with those words. “what do you mean forever , you genuinely believe you could be with me until we both die.” it seems like you saying that shocked him. “die?” he scoffed bitterly . “something like that.” your brows furrowed. “what does that mean? something like that?” you said , his face seemed stoned now , like he didn’t want to tell you. “sir — jay what does that mean?” he didn’t say anything , and you were about to reach for the door , when he grabbed your wrist. “don’t go.”

“you’re scaring me.” his face softened. “that’s the last thing i want to do.” he said. “then tell me what you mean , something like that.” you realized his hand was still on your wrist — and it was cold , like really cold. “do you get it now?” he said , looking you dead in eyes. “no , no i don— ah!” his mouth was near your neck , stopping you in your movements completely. “do you get it now?” out the corner of your eyes you can see his eyes were now glowing red. “oh my god.”

this is it , where you were gonna die. “i told you the last thing i want to do is scare you.” he said. “i don’t want to harm you either.” he let your arm go , now looking at you again , his eyes back to their original color. “i want you.” he whispered. “i saw you and i knew you were the one for me.” he said. “mr-mr kim , what did you do to him? you did something to him , didn’t you?” you stuttered. “i did what i needed to do , trust me he deserved every bit of it.” you gulped , he just confessed to killing your boss and to being a vampire. “i want you , only you.” he said. “i don’t want to see you struggle ever.” his hand caressed your cheek. “but i have to turn you.”

“turn me?” you asked. “into what you are? into a vampire?” he nodded. “yeah.” he said. “you’ll never have a bad day again , i will make sure of it.” it felt like a dream , like you’d wake up back in your bed. “this is unbelievable.” his lips crashed into yours , his hand holding your cheek , the other gripping your waist. “answer me.” he pulled away with a sigh , pressing his forehead against yours. “answer me now before i can’t control myself anymore.” he growled.

“do it , please.”

that’s was all he needed before he was pulling you down on the couch , slouching in between your legs. “gonna make you feel good.” he pulled down your stockings. “gonna make you see stars.” he lifted up your skirt. “si-sir.” his eyes darkened. “call me that again and i’ll fuck you and turn you right now.” he growled , pulling your panties down. “such a pretty pussy , gonna get used to eating you out every day." he said, licking your folds , you moaned.

the starved man before you held your thighs on each side of his head as he ate you out. he ate like he hadn’t eaten in days ; it felt so good, you could barely think. “ja-jay.” you gasped out, throwing your head back against the couch , the heel of your feet , digging in his back. “fuck jay i’m gonna cum!” you screamed. his nose was pressed against your clit he continued to lick your folds , tasting your juices. “it’s been a while , hasn’t it?” he smirked , his fangs now visible. “you came so much.” he licked the insides of your thighs. “so messy.”

“ye-yeah.” you stuttered , he chuckled. “no need to worry about that.” he said. “i’ll make sure to fuck you every single night.” he said , turning you around. “make sure you’re always satisfied.” his clothed cock pressed against your ass. “you’d like that?” he pulled your skirt up. “to be fucked every night.” you heard the unzipping of his slacks. “full of my cock , right before you feed.” his sharp teeth on your neck , you whined. “please bite me.” he cursed. “good girl.”

he pushed himself inside you; his thick cock filling you up. “mine.” he said , his teeth quickly piercing your skin , your eyes rolled to the back of your head , gripping the couch as he drank from your neck , his hand holding your head to the side. “jay!” you screamed as his fucked you , drinking your blood. “ah fuck!” the venom from him entering you as he fucked you through another orgasm.

he pulled away , his thrust not slowing down. “oh fuck.” he cursed , bringing his own wrist to his mouth biting it , the blood dripping from his wrist , as he brought it to your mouth. “drink it.” you brought your lips to his wrist , allowing the blood to flow into your mouth and down your throat. “that’s it -fuck- good girl , i’m gonna cum.” he groaned , his other hand gripping your waist. “fuuuck.” he hiss as he came , pulling his wrist from your mouth. “jay.” you gasped , feeling his cum seeping deep into your womb.

he stood back , admiring what he did to your body , his bite mark was embedded into your neck , he bent back down , whispering into your ear. . “i’m taking you home with me tonight.” that was the last thing you heard before everything faded to black.

he allowed you to sleep , picking up his phone to dial his driver. “sir.” he answered. “i’m ready for you now , ask the maid to prepare a bath for her.” he said. “okay sir , and for her first feeding.” the driver said. “she’ll be super hungry when she wakes up.” jay thought about it for a second. “damn should’ve kept kim locked up and allowed her to tear him limb from limb when she woke him.” he sighed. “i guess we’ll figure it out when she gets up.” he said. “ok sir , the car is pulling into the garage now.”

“and make sure to clear her schedule for future , she’ll quit when she’s ready , but she isn’t to return until she can control herself.” he picked up your sleeping body.

“gonna give you a good life , no matter who i have to kill for it.”

©️LUVYENI

[wandascosmic]

typical tuesday night (10)

wanda maximoff x fem!reader

part ten of 'you belong with me' series

summary: basically a wanda series inspired by jim and pam from the office

word count: 1796

tags: swearing, mostly just fun, one-sided pining as usual, sam being insane as usual, wanda and y/n best friendship, y/n may or may not making moves/internally screaming, they're very very cute

taglist: @reginassweetheart @rroyale-109 @marvel-posts @sheriffhaughtearp

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6 part 7 part 8 part 9 part 10

“Okay, she had done a background check on me,” Bruce says. “She had it printed out.”

“No way,” you say.

“Yeah,” Bruce nods. “And she was asking me stuff line by line while we were having dinner.”

“That’s unbelievable,” you answer as everyone laughs in agreement.

Suddenly, Wanda walks into the kitchen holding a mug of tea, smiling as she walks over to stand next to you.

“What’s going on?” she asks.

“Oh, we’re doing worst first dates,” you answer with a smile.

“Oh my god, I win,” Wanda says, eyes widened.

“What?” you laugh.

“Okay,” Wanda starts, and you look over to her curiously. “It was a minor league hockey game, he brought his brother,” she pauses. “A when I went to the bathroom, the game ended. And they forgot about me.”

“Okay, that’s a joke,” Bruce says.

“No,” Wanda shakes her head. “They had to come back for me.”

“Wait, when was this?” you ask.

“Um..it was not that long ago,” Wanda gives a small laugh.

“Wait, no way it was Vision,” Natasha says, putting down her sandwich.

Wanda laughs awkwardly before looking over to you.

You smile, walking in front of her and starting to lead her out. “Want to go play Dwight’s mug basketball?”

Wanda nods with a relieved sigh, following you out eagerly.

You keep a happy expression on your face, because now you finally know why Wanda’s always refused to go to sports games with Vision.

“Shield Industries, this is Wanda,” Wanda answers the phone.

“Wanda, it’s Tony. I need you to go into my office and read some data for me please.”

“Okay,” Wanda says, picking up the book Tony’s requested her to read in his office. “You want me to read the jokes for you?”

“Yes, please,” Tony responds on speakerphone.

“Okay, um, a fisherman is walking down 5th Avenue leading an animal behind him–”

“No, no, nope!” Tony cuts Wanda off. “I already told that joke to Fury earlier at the dinner. Pick another one.”

“Okay. There’s a transcript between a Naval ship–”

“Oh, yeah! Bingo,” Tony says. “Great, thanks, Wanda!”

“Sure,” Wanda says awkwardly. “Do you need anything else?”

“No, I’m good. But would you be able to put all those joke books back where you found them?”

“Sure,” Wanda agrees, hanging up the phone with a sigh.

Opening up the drawer to return the books strewn across Tony’s desk, Wanda’s eye immediately catches a thick stack of paper. Picking it up, Wanda has to cover her mouth to stop from bursting out in laughter.

You’re mindlessly clicking your mouse when suddenly, a huge stack of stapled paper is thrown onto your desk.

Reading the title, your eyes widen as you look over to Wanda who leans against the table casually.

“Is this real?” you ask, near giddy.

“It’s a screenplay,” Wanda pauses. “Starring himself.” “Agent Iron Man,” you read out.

“Of the FBI,” Wanda finishes.

“How long is this?” you laugh, flipping through the pages. “Oh my god, Wanda. Good work.”

Wanda laughs.

“Oh, no way,” you say, finding the last few pages and holding them up. “Drawings.”

“What is that?” Wanda asks.

“Oh, those are drawings,” you respond easily. “In case the writing didn’t really put a picture in your head.”

Wanda snickers, biting her lip to keep from laughing too hard.

“And there he is, in the flesh,” you say, pointing to the drawing. “Agent Iron Man. Now we know what he looks like.”

“So, do we all have our copy of Armored Adventures, by Tony Stark?” you ask the office staff gathered around the conference room table.

Everyone makes a sound of agreement.

“Great, so, let’s get started. I’m gonna be reading the action descriptions,” you say. “And Steve, I would like you to play Captain America, the first Avenger.”

“Oh, cool that’s the name of the character?” Steve asks.

Suddenly, Sam barges into the room, and angered expression on his face. “Okay, you guys should not be doing this,” he states firmly.

“Why not, Sam?” you ask. “This is a movie. This is for all of America to enjoy.”

“You took something that does not belong to you,” he responds.

“Sam.”

“You brought it in here, you made copies–”

“Sam, do you want to play the lead role of Agent Iron Man?” you ask, giving him a questioning look.

Sam pauses.

“Okay, sure.”

“Inside the FBI, Agent Iron Man sits with his feet up at the desk,” you read. “Captain America enters.”

“Tony, you have some messages,” Steve reads.

“Not now!” Sam reads emphatically.

“They’re important,” Steve says.

“Fine, what are they?” Sam asks.

A few moments pass, when suddenly, a knock on the door is heard.

“Vision,” Wanda says, making you turn around suddenly, noticing the man.

Wanda runs up, greeting him with a kiss. “Hey, um, I have to work late,” she says.

Vision gives her an incredulous look, hearing the absurd scene between Spider-Man and Agent Iron Man currently being read in the conference room. “You’re joking, right?”

Wanda shakes her head.

“Agent Iron Man takes out a nine millimeter gun and shoots the cake to bits,” you read.

Sam imitates the shooting of the cake.

“Ha ha ha, Agent Iron Man, you’re so funny,” Peter says.

“A man sitting several seats down who has clown makeup on, turns to Agent Iron Man,” you turn to Bruce. “Bruce, want to play the Joker?”

“Sure,” Bruce nods, clearing his throat. “Agent Iron Man, perhaps you would be more comfortable in my clown car?”

“Yes, perhaps I would, Joker,” Sam says. “Spider-Man, get my luggage.”

“Sorry, I forgot it,” Peter reads.

“God, Spider-Man, you’re a terrible assistant!” Sam reads. “I can’t believe I hired you, Sem.” Sam pauses. “Wait, who’s Sem?”

You turn to Wanda with an amused smile, who matches your expression.

“I don’t think the search and replace works on typos,” Wanda says to you through a burgeoning smile.

“So, Spider-Man is the terrible assistant ‘causing the downfall of the United States?” you ask, holding back your laughter.

“Also known as Sam Wilson,” Wanda chuckles.

You and Wanda look over to Sam, who before your eyes, realizes what Tony has done, making the man throw the script onto the table in anger.

“Okay, you know what, this is stupid. I’m done,” he says, abruptly sitting up from his chair and leaving the conference room.

“Sam, some of us want to keep reading,” you tell him.

Sam turns to you. “Uh, you don’t speak for everyone, Y/N,” he responds, crossing his arms, before turning to the rest of the office. “Okay, announcement. My uncle bought me some fireworks. And anyone who wants to see a real show come outside with me right now.”

“That’s actually a pretty good idea,” you nod, starting to sit up from your chair. “We’ll all take a brief intermission.” You turn to Wanda. “Hey, are you hungry?”

“Yeah,” Wanda says, grateful you’ve asked.

“Yeah?” you ask. “Okay, come with me.”

While you may have had plans to meet a friend tonight, which you’ve now had to cancel, spending your evening preparing grilled cheese sandwiches for you and Wanda in the office kitchen isn’t something you’re upset at whatsoever. In fact, you would say it’s pretty great, and you’re not really a complainer either.

“Hi,” Wanda says, greeting you as you make your way up the ladder to the roof of the building, holding a box of accessories for the two of you as you watch the fireworks together.

“Hey,” you laugh, setting the box down before making your way to sit in the chair next to hers. “What’s that for?” you ask, pointing to the candle she’s attempting to light.

“For the bugs,” she answers easily.

“Nice,” you nod, before turning to grab the sandwiches you’ve prepared. “That’s great, because bugs, tend to love my famous grilled cheese sandwiches.”

“Them and me both,” Wanda laughs, grabbing the plate you’ve made for her. Then, after a moment, she speaks, “I can’t remember the last time someone made me diner.”

You pause, before grabbing your sandwich from the bag as well.

“Oh, look,” Wanda points to the fireworks Sam’s beginning to light. “Wow,” you say, finally enjoying something Sam has created in the 7 years you’ve known him.

“They’re really nice,” Wanda states, before resting her head on your shoulder as the two of you spend the evening watching the sparkling lights together.

“They really are,” you say quietly.

“So, I guess I’ll see you in,” Wanda pauses to check her phone. “10 hours,” she grins.

“Mhm,” you nod, following her out the building.

“What are you gonna do with your time off?” she jokes.

“Travel,” you answer easily with a nod. “I’ve been looking forward to it.” You smile. “I’m gonna really find myself, you know?” you finish, fishing your phone out of your pocket and putting in one of your earbuds.

Wanda looks over to you curiously. “You have new music?” she asks.

You look down to your phone. “Oh, yeah! Want to listen?” You offer her the other earbud.

Wanda nods, smiling as you hand her the earbud she immediately places in her ear, the two of you standing within inches of each other as you share your song.

“Wanda,” you run up to her desk excitedly the second you walk in the next day.

“Yeah?” Wanda laughs.

“I think Tony might’ve gotten together with someone from corporate last night,” you say, making Wanda gasp. “He didn’t come back for his car.”

“Oh, my god, that makes so much sense! That’s why Tony had me read out his stupid jokes over the phone,” she says in realization.

“Well, good for him. I don’t think he’s had a first date, in like ever,” you laugh, before looking over to her. “You know, some might say we even had our first date last night,” you smile.

“Oh really?” Wanda asks. “Why might some say that?”

“Uh, ‘cause there was dinner. By candlelight,” you answer.

“Mhm,” Wanda nods.

“Dinner and a show, if you include Tony’s movie,” you continue. “There was a bit of dancing, and fireworks. So, pretty good date.” “We didn’t dance,” Wanda says, chuckling.

“You’re right,” you say, suddenly feeling very awkward as you put your hands in your pockets. “But um, it was more like, swaying.”

“Right,” Wanda says. “Pretty good first date with you.”

You perk up. “Thanks.”

“Mhm,” Wanda nods. “Now, I have some faxes to get out, okay?” she says, standing up from her chair, giving you a kiss on the cheek before heading to the fax machine.

You smile, watching her leave, forgetting for a moment that it truly isn’t a date if the girl goes home to her fiancé at the end of the day.

[ladysavich]

Shakes headcanon please

i gotcha!!!! Here you go @yo-girls

Shakes general headcanons

Early 20s

Bad liar

Bad at sneaking out too

Will forever be faithful to supa strikas

Good friends with- miko, riano, de los santos and meda.

Likes fnaf a lot

No video game can survive him

No kitchen can survive him

Srsly, my guy doesn't know how to cook

Will never admit how many times the fire alarm has gone off 

Tries to bake… key work “tries”.

Not a huge spender 

He is fine with what he has, including his apartment which is barely the size of El Matadors shoe closet :)

Nosy af

The only reason he is the main character is because of how nosy he is and the amount of times he has gone snooping in areas he isn't allowed to go😭

Big donator to fundraisers

He has the mindset of a 13 year old boy

Spends most of his vacation with his mom and sister and of course gaming

Nandi is probably using his old highschool videos as a form of blackmail.

His staple diet includes : cereal or toast,coffee, popcorn and dancing rasta's cooking

Sleeps in boxers with heart prints

Till this day he wonders about what happened between him and skarra (dude it's time to move on)

Kinda clueless at times

Talks in his sleep at times. Like he just starts saying random stuff in his sleep like

“big…joe?”

“pickle…cake…yum”

The meme master. Loved making them on his teammates and coach.

He can imitate people's voices : like klaus, batman, venom, coach, uragiri

 Animal loverrrrrrr. Has been left behind by the team because he just HAD to pet a stray dog.

[aoioozora]

Simon.

Part 4

Chapters Masterlist

Character: Simon Riley / Ghost Content: Biker! Ghost x Fem! Reader, strangers to lovers, fluff, civilian au

Note: Longer chapter! Hope you'll enjoy it. anyway, if anyone knows who the artist of this art below is, please let me know. I find it all on Pinterest and I can't seem to trace the artist 🥲.

The steady, bubbling stream of cold tap water hitting Simon's warm, weary, grimy hands as he washed them was a respite from the busyness of the day. 

He was, by profession, a car mechanic in the servicing department for a glitzy car brand. The day was booked to the brim with cars that needed maintenance and repair from accidents, and it was enough work for him to feel a dull ache in his shoulders, and a tremble in his hands as he lathered them generously with soap. 

A weary sigh tried to escape his lips, only to be hindered by the mask he wore day in and day out. He felt his own warm breath against his mouth and cringed; an unwelcome feeling after working in the sweltering garage. 

When he found that he was all alone in the loo, he took the opportunity to take off his mask, actually and properly sigh, and wash his face. He quickly wiped it down with a handkerchief, and not allowing a moment for his skin to breathe, he put the mask back on. 

A phone call came in as he was stepping out. It was her. He found it a little odd to get a call from her, as the two mostly texted. 

“Maybe it's something urgent,” thought Simon, now stopping by the door of the restroom. 

“Hey, you alright, love?” he asked as soon as he picked up. 

“I'm fine, Simon, but I kinda have an emergency.” Her voice came from the other end, sounding a little frantic, making him worry a little. 

“What's up?” 

“My car broke down, and I don't know what it is. I have the bonnet open and everything looks so confusing.”

“Where are you now?” 

She told him. 

“Okay, you wait there. I'll be there in,” he looked at his watch, “twenty minutes… Or as fast as I can.”

“Thanks, Simon,” she exhaled her relief. 

“Are you with someone?” 

“No, I'm alone.” 

Simon's jaw tightened. “Make sure you sit inside the car and lock the doors. It's getting dark and it could get dangerous.”

“Got it.” 

The call soon ended and Simon quickly changed out of his uniform to his normal clothes which consisted of a v-neck t-shirt, jeans, and his staple: the leather jacket. Having taken all his stuff, he clocked out and immediately mounted his motorcycle to fly over to your rescue. 

Seeing that the sun had set already, he went faster. He reached her in fifteen minutes. Upon spotting her car parked by the side of the road away from the traffic, he slowed down and parked his motorcycle in front of her car. 

He saw the bonnet of the car slightly open, and was upset by it. “She's practically advertising to the world that her car's broken down. That could get more attention drawn to her,” he thought as he kicked out the stand and swung his leg over the motorcycle, now laying a heavy step on the asphalt. 

The stench of rotten eggs filled the air, and he already knew what the problem was. While he took off his helmet, he watched as she quickly opened your door and came out of the car to greet him. 

“Oh good, you're finally here,” she smiled, looking relieved. 

“Tell me what's going on,” Simon got down to business immediately, now taking off his black leather gloves that had printed on them the bones of the hand and stuffing them in his pocket. 

She led him to the open bonnet of the car, and the stench overwhelmed his nose even through the mask. She told him about a sputtering engine. 

“Did you see any dashboard signs telling you to check the engine?” he asked. 

“Nope.” 

“Can you sit inside and turn on the radio for me? And turn on the headlights too,” Simon instructed. 

She did as told. The radio didn't turn on, and the headlights were dim. He turned to the open bonnet and stared particularly at the battery. One of the connectors and pipes was caked with a teal powder; he called her out of the car, pointing out the discovery. 

“Your battery is leaking out acid, bringing out all this bloody minging smell,” he said, brushing a bit of the teal powder with his finger. “Leaking battery and a stench means you have to get a new battery.” He now rubbed the powder off and put his hands on his hips, asking, “When was the last time you had the battery changed?” 

“Six years ago? When I bought the car.”

Simon was appalled by how nonchalantly she said it. He shook his head and exclaimed, “Six years? You cannot be serious.” he could feel his mechanic heart breaking at the sound of such neglect. “Your battery is ancient. The maximum life of this thing is six years.” 

She could feel the heat rush to her cheeks in embarrassment as he said this. “I didn't know that. I'm not good with cars, you know. I just rolled with whatever the mechanics in the service center did.”

“Fucking hell,” Simon sighed, exasperated as he looked at the battery again. “Looks like the service center mechanics weren't doing a very good job,” he shook his head again. “Batteries dying of old age are common, but this looks absolutely nasty. Almost looks like it's been neglected. You've been duped!” He said with passion. 

Her eyebrows furrowed at this and funnily enough, she couldn't help but feel like she was on an episode of Kitchen Nightmares with a blond Englishman scolding her; the only difference being that a failing car was involved and not a failing kitchen. 

He glanced at her, and saw that she had her arms crossed as she looked at the open bonnet of the car with a guilty and helpless look on her face. Simon's eyes softened with compassion and he gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder. 

“I'll call someone to tow the car to a better service center. I know a good one,” he said, hoping to assure her, “If we can get there now, they can fix in a new battery for you.”

Without waiting for an answer from her, he immediately called a towing company for the car, and then the service center to give them a heads up that he was bringing a car in. He even managed to bag a discount! 

She watched with amazement as he made all these phone calls, words flying out like a hurricane as he paced about the pavement, hand on his hip. The more passionate he seemed about wanting to help, the more the guilt and embarrassment pressed in her heart. 

When all the phone calls were done, he let out a heavy sigh as he slipped the device back in his jeans. “Right then,” he said, “I've got you all covered. Now we wait.”

She nodded and watched him curiously for a moment before asking, “You know all those people?” 

“Yeah, all friends of mine. I'm a regular at the service center for my motorcycle. As for the towing company, the boss is a friend of a friend.” 

“Must be great to have a lot of connections, huh?” 

Simon nodded. “I've always tried to have as many connections as possible because someone once told me that it's not about what you know, but who you know.” 

She saw a solemn, distant, and thoughtful look pass through his eyes for a split second, as if thinking of a past memory. It was quickly replaced with annoyance. “It's too fucking hot here,” he hissed as he peeled off his leather jacket. 

This action gave her the opportunity to see him in a short sleeved shirt, which displayed his pale yet muscular arms, which clearly were built strong out of continuous use and not for a mere decoration. The entirety of his left arm was inked with intricate black tattoos, all the designs of skulls, roses, and guns fitting together like a jigsaw puzzle. It was understatement to say that she felt her ovaries explode at the sight. 

Simon was intentional when he took off his jacket, although it was true that he did feel hot. A glance at her told him that she didn't seem to take notice of his muscles or his tattoos, a disappointment to him. But he wasn't keen enough to catch her quick, stealthy glances at his arms as her thoughts ran wild again in trying to be superfluous in her descriptions of them.

She couldn't help but think to herself that, “He'd make the perfect mysterious male lead of a dark romance.”

The tow truck arrived and before she knew it, she was Simon's passenger on his motorcycle, entrusted with his leather jacket. The two led the truck to the service center, and all the while, she was pressed against his warm back, highly conscious of the fact that the barrier between his back and her face was just a thin t-shirt and not a thick leather jacket like the first.

Her authorly brain couldn't help but turn this into a sort of metaphor. Was it a thinning of the barriers between him and her, now that they've been friends for over a month? 

“Let's not overanalyze this, shall we?” she reminded herself, gently squeezing her arms around him as he sped down the roads, trying to ignore how she could feel the contours of his body under the thin fabric. 

Fixing the car took a couple tedious hours, but Simon made sure to be with his friend throughout, explaining to her in excruciating detail whatever he could about the functioning of a car so that she would not be duped again. She appreciated his lectures and listened attentively, even though he wasn't the best at explaining things. 

At the end of it all, the two sat down in her newly fixed car for some cold soda that she bought for him. The air conditioning was running well (Simon was relieved), and so was the radio, which was now tuned to a station softly playing some old timey American songs in the background. 

“You were a great help,” she said as she cracked open the tab of the can as Simon did. 

“My pleasure, love,” he raised his can and tapped it gently with her can. “Cheers.” 

“Cheers,” she grinned, and then paused to look at him, wondering if he would remove his mask, as he had never done so in front of her before. 

Simon found himself in a bit of a predicament as he stared at his can of soda. He was usually more mindful of his mask when he was with strangers and acquaintances, but with the fuss of the car and all his chatting with her, he completely forgot that drinking soda would have to make him take off the mask. 

Would he remove his mask when he didn't yet want to, even though he wanted to share this drink with her? He glanced back at her and found her silently drinking her soda and staring ahead, pretending not to notice his mental debate. 

Gaz's reprimand came to mind again, “You're telling me you'll let a scar– a scar, of all things, hinder your chances at finding a girlfriend.”

He wasn't wrong. Now that Simon thought of it, the sooner he showed his marred face to her, the lesser it would hurt if she rejected him. 

“Don't overthink it,” he told himself as he slipped his finger under the ear loop of his mask and pulled it over his ear, making the mask slip off to reveal the lower part of his face. He sat back, casually as he could, and took off the other ear loop so wouldn't awkwardly dangle from his other ear, all the while trying to ignore how naked he felt without the covering. 

“Soda's pretty good, isn't it?” she asked, turning to look at him. 

“Hm, yes,” he answered in a murmur, now taking the first sip of his soda and pulling away the can for her to finally look at his face. 

He saw her looking, and his heart rate spiked and cheeks flushed (thank heavens it was dark), waiting for a reaction from her.

She finally had the privilege of seeing his face, and in a split second, she tried to make the most of it. His face as a whole was beautiful, pleasing to the eye. He had a rectangular face, high and prominent cheekbones; a long, sharp nose, thin lips, and a light stubble across his jaw and cheeks. 

He squirmed slightly in his seat and looked away, taking another sip. Seeing that he was uncomfortable being looked at, she too looked away, now feeling shy that she was in the presence of such a gorgeous man. Why on earth did he cover his face was a mystery to her. 

She began, her voice unwittingly rising to a higher pitch, “Seriously though, I don't know how I went years without having anyone to consult me about cars.” 

Simon blinked in surprise that she didn't make any comments on his face after looking at him, and wasn't sure whether to consider it a good thing or a bad thing. He decided to worry about it later. 

“Not a single person?” he asked, instinctively and slightly leaning towards her as she spoke.

“Not one.”

“And did you never notice any problems with the car before we took it to be fixed today?”

“I did, and I wheeled the car off to the service center many times only to be shut down saying that it wasn't a big deal and it would resolve itself,” she shrugged. 

“They said that? Fucking twats they all are,” said he with a low grumble. 

“Unfortunately,” she shrugged again, watching how his lips curled upwards into a sneer of displeasure and how his nose crinkled along with it. 

“Tell you what, darling,” Simon shifted in his seat slightly and held out his can-holding hand at her, flicking out his pointer finger to make a point, “you don't need to worry about those bastards when you got me, yeah? If you got any car problems, I'll fix them for you.”

He saw her eyes soften at this proposal, but she glanced away for a moment, as if considering it with some hesitation. He knew her just enough to know that she had trouble accepting help when she needed it. Without waiting for an answer, he pressed gently to encourage her,

“You know I'm a car mechanic, and a fucking good one too.” He sat back in the seat, now drowning the last of his soda. “You won't have to call anyone else when you have me. Just hit me up, and I'll be there…” he paused to meet her eye, hoping to let her know he was completely serious, “... Just like tonight.” 

This didn't fail to cause a flutter in her chest. She smiled, genuinely warmed and touched by how eager he was to help. “Thanks, Simon.”

His cheeks raised up to his eyes as he smiled, and the lady was taken in by how sweet it was. Their eyes met again, and the two felt an undeniable tension in the air; sparks flying around them, ready to explode at the slightest provocation. 

The soft yellow headlights of a passing vehicle shone into the car, momentarily brightening up his pale face and his deep brown eyes into soft pools of honey. The light, for a brief moment, also revealed a prominent scar on his cheek, something that the earlier darkness hid from her sight. 

Yet again did her authorly brain try to turn this moment into a metaphor. Was this gentle flash of passing light meant to shine upon a part of him behind his dark veil, his mask of mystery, to reveal bright, affectionate eyes, and a curious yet faint scar? Could this have been a sign of their ever growing closeness?

As the light passed, his honey eyes darkened again; they narrowed slightly and he leaned forward just a little, his breathing laboured, as if he wanted to say something. The lady squirmed in her seat and felt her chest tighten as she silently watched him, unable to look away. 

“I was wondering…” he began, now pausing to inhale, “if we could hang out any time soon, just both of us,” he said, trying to sound as casual as he could, and he quickly added, “I'm about to finish your novel, Firefly Trails, and I was hoping we could talk more about it…” he paused, feeling his entire body grow warm with nervous anticipation, “And maybe you could suggest some more books I could read.” 

Her eyes lit up at this invitation. “Sure! I'd love to. When are you free?”

“I'm free this weekend.” 

“Alright, that sounds good.” she grinned.

Simon was relieved to hear the eagerness in her voice, and took it that she still wanted something to do with him. The two went on to decide the particulars of the hangout for a while, until a phone call interrupted. Simon pulled out his phone and sighed when he saw who was calling. 

“What do you want, Johnny?” 

“Where are ye? Ye were s'posed to be at the gym thirty minutes ago. I'm waiting!” complained Johnny. 

“Ah, blimey,” Simon shook his head, “Completely forgot. ____ had some car trouble so I went to help her out.”

Simon was met with teasing jeers from his friend, making him groan. “Wheesht!” Simon hissed, only for it to make Johnny cackle. “Look, I'll be right there. Give me…” he looked at his watch, “Fifteen minutes.” 

“Make it quick lad, or you'll get a bollocking from me.” 

“Fuck off now. You'll delay me.” 

The call ended and Simon looked at her, sighing. “Gotta go,” he said. 

A subtle pout pushed out her lower lip. “Too bad, and we were just starting to get into our planning too.”

He chuckled, feeling warmed by her sentiment. “Yeah, but don't worry darling, we have the entire week ahead of us to plan comfortably, yeah?” 

She nodded, smiling. 

“Right then,” he slapped his knees, “I'll see you around then, alright? You take care on your way back.”

“You too, Simon.”

He sighed, pausing for a moment to take in the way she said his name. He never wanted to admit it to her, but he loved every instance she uttered it. The way she'd drag out the first syllable a little, and look at him with those gorgeous, killer eyes of hers as she did; it was enough for a man of his size and strength to melt like a little cube of ice in the palm of her hand. A simple action, yet it riled him up enough to want to kiss the living hell out of her. 

He inhaled, trying to get every carnal urge under control. “Text me when you reach, alright?” he said in a mildly strained voice. 

“Sure, will do.” she nodded. 

That being said and good-night's exchanged, Simon quickly put his mask back on, got out of the car, and threw the empty can in a bin. She watched as he made his way to his waiting motorcycle, observing his gait, the way his hips, shoulders, and arms moved in clockwork, relaxed but determined. She found herself leaning against the steering wheel again to stare at the way he hoisted up his leg and swung it in a smooth sweep over his motorcycle, and then settled down on the vehicle, making the shock absorbers bounce back slightly against his weight. 

She gazed with interest as he put on his gloves and then grabbed the helmet, only to raise his chin up to let gravity comb his gorgeous blond hair down so that it stayed out of his way as he put the headgear. His biceps flexed and tightened against the short sleeve of his t-shirt, and even from a little distance away, she could see how his tattoos moved against the contours of his muscles like ocean waves. 

He looked back at her and caught her staring. At the sight of her relentless gaze, all he could hear in his head was Gaz telling him to shoot his shot. Her smiles, her acceptance to meet again were, and especially her stating were all massive green lights for him, yet he was still in partial disbelief. 

Meeting her eyes again gave him a jolt down his spine, and waved one last time before he left. She smiled sheepishly and waved back at him, blushing at the fact that she was caught.  

He rode off, leaving her the echo of the roar of the engine, and she sat back in her driver's seat, finishing the last sips of the lukewarm soda in her hand that she completely forgot about. His figure receded in the distance and she remembered the first time she met him. 

“He's been saving me since back then.” she chuckled to herself, feeling a little ashamed at how helpless she found herself to be. But she was more than grateful for his help, and for the fact that he never complained and was so eager to assist her. It was the third time he helped her out, and it was almost as if he'd come running back all over again if she called. 

He certainly lived up to his name. 

And then there was his face. She allowed her mind to wander as she thought of his rugged, masculine features; she didn't know what to expect, but it was certainly unexpected to find such a handsome man hiding under that mask. She could make out only a little in the partial darkness, of his rectangular face and sturdy, stubble-speckled jaw, and of the slope of his shapely, sharp nose. She sighed, suddenly longing to study his face in proper light, and perhaps get lost in his honey eyes. 

Shaking off her thoughts, she reached to her backpack in the backseat for her phone, and found that Simon had left his leather jacket in the back when they had sat down in the front to drink their sodas. 

“Better send him a text.” she thought to herself as she informed him. 

That being done, she kept the phone aside and took the jacket to inspect it. It was obvious that it was made of faux leather, but it was smooth to touch. The lining inside was tartan patterned with dark green and blue, which seemed an odd choice for lining, but she wasn't one to judge. She held the garment against her torso, and as she expected, it was huge. 

“Let's not get creepy with it, shall we?” she reminded herself, now keeping the jacket on her lap as she got the engine running again. 

She drove back home with the jacket, repeatedly telling herself to not be creepy with it, only for her to immediately try it on as soon as she stepped in. 

“It's so comfortable!” she exclaimed as she felt the loose jacket sag around her body and her arms. She stuffed her hands in the pockets and found that they were massive. “Unbelievable... they make men's clothes so much better.”

She pulled away the front of the jacket to feel the tartan lining, and it felt like touching a thick blanket. The jacket was perfect for a cold winter and for the rains that had been pouring lately. 

She pulled it closer against herself, and the lingering scent of his perfume wafted to her nose. It was the same smell of a damp rainforest and dark chocolate, the scent of which immediately took her back to the day she met him.

"Is this what it would feel like to hug him?" she wondered, feeling her cheeks flush warm as she thought of the prospect of being held in those finely sculpted arms.

Her phone chimed, indicating a message. 

Simon Riley Biker: sorry about that, can u keep the jacket with u until we meet again? 

Simon Riley Biker: also have u reached? 

She smiled and started typing her reply.

Author Girl: Sure! 

Author Girl: And yes I did just now 

Simon Riley Biker: right then, I'll catch you soon, ok? At the gym rn

Author Girl: okay! Have a good workout :) 

Simon Riley Biker: thanks darling

On the other side of the phone, Simon was seated in the gym locker rooms by himself, phone in hand, thumbs dancing over the screen up and down as he wondered what he should type next. As he did, a new message came in.

Author Girl: thanks again for helping me out with the car. You saved me yet again 

He chuckled at and started typing, the smile not leaving his half covered face. 

Simon Riley Biker: my pleasure, don't worry about it. U can call me again if you have car problems 

Author Girl: you're too kind 😂 but thanks a lot again 

Simon Riley Biker: anytime darling 

Author Girl: alright then, I'm gonna get some sleep. Good night! 

Simon paused, feeling his heart rate increase for a moment as he thought of something he wanted to do. Swallowing down his nervousness, he did it anyway. 

Simon Riley Biker: [audio: 0:03 seconds] 

He never sent an audio message to her before, and wondering what he could have sent, held the phone speakers to her ear and played it. 

“Good night, love,” came the crisp, clear audio recording in her ear. His normally gruff voice sounded subdued and gentle, smooth, almost oozing with a soft, subtle hint of adoration, especially at the endearment. 

The lady was left stunned, mouth hanging open slightly and her feet affixed to the floor, unable to believe for a moment what she just heard. Butterflies and tingles swarmed every inch of her body, and her cheeks flushed yet again. She played it again. And again. And again. 

Simon, in the meantime, worried about her lack of response, wondering if he was too bold in sending her a voice message. He finally saw that she was typing, and she sure did take a while to collect her thoughts to write a coherent and absolutely calm reply in the form of:

Author Girl: good night, Simon :) 

The conversation ended there, and he breathed a sigh of relief. So far so good. Standing up, he slipped his phone in his pocket and left to get to his workout done with Johnny, unable to stop thinking of her and her smiles.

In the meantime, she stepped into the bathroom for her night routine. Her thoughts too were filled to the brim with Simon while she bathed and did her simple skin care routine all on autopilot. Every other thing that happened during the day was completely overridden just by the presence of that biker, his voice, his warm gaze upon her, his smile, his face. 

She couldn't shake off the feeling, especially of his voice message in her thoughts that played like a broken vinyl record. She was sure that every single interaction she had with him would make it into her next book in some form or other. 

She slipped into her nightwear and then hung his jacket on the coat hook in the corner of her room, resisting the temptation to cuddle with the garment. She finally tucked herself in bed, surrounded by her cushions and plush animals. As soon as the night lamp was switched off and she had nearly sunk in and molded comfortably into her bed and pillows, she played the recording again, the cherry on top to end the long day. 

“Good night, love.” 

It felt like a kiss to the forehead.

End of Part 4.

Part 5

[corner-collects-rocks]

elaborating time bc one person asked and that was enough :)

so this started bc i was thinking abt how Nathan and Riko died in very similar fashions. Shot by ex-brothers, ones which were most likely never considered as family(Nathan by his brother in law, who was only married into the family for to strengthen connections in the states. Riko by a brother once removed, who maybe in another world could’ve loved him like a brother but not in this one.)

then i started thinking about other ways that riko and nathan paralleled each other and over all it boiled down to: they are both monsters you have to look over your shoulder for. yet they gain a lot of their power from attempting(or succeeding) to seem like they are the top of the food chain and that they can get away with whatever they want. they will also go to extreme lengths to ensure your compliance and or suffering(torture, “hunting” neil ((riko back tracing his finger print, nathan actually chasing him)) willing to wait to get what they want because in their minds they will get it (this ones a little bit of a stretch but for Riko he was sure Neil would become a raven. Nathan and his countdown) so on and so forth. they had pretty similar playbooks when it came to getting neil to do what they wanted (threaten the foxes or andrew) and im sure theres more stuff i had in my head that im not thinking of now.

now why would Nathan want Riko as a son (hypothetically) I dont think Nathan would necessarily want the exact form of Riko we get in the books but i think if Riko had been raised by Nathan instead of Tetsuji or if Riko had apprenticed under Nathan I feel like it would’ve been a deadly combo. this is largely due to riko’s Intricate and Endless Daddy Issues™️. in my mind Riko would take every command and order Nathan would give him and he’d do it with pride. now at the end of the day this still probably would’ve ended up with Riko in the nest, but i think if Riko had bern groomed by Nathan to take over the Butcher’s business and made being a second son a staple of pride and a way to still be involved/help out the family while still being subservient to the first son i think he could’ve been a real menace and maybe even an asset to the main family.

idk this really comes down to is i think riko is very much a product of his environment (and his lack of ability to cope with the fact that not matter what he did he’d never be enough and he has to live with it) but i think had he been given a chance like this to prove himself useful? well he probably still would’ve gotten over eager and fucked it for himself but i think for a solid little bit he would’ve been the perfect butcher prodigy

(i think thats everything i wanted to say, i just came home from work so apologies if this doesnt make sense or isnt exactly what i wanted to say but i am tired and i aint rereading allat.)

[under0-0s]

Deyanira was happy. She'd been doing most of her work with a smile knowing that it'd be the last time she'd have to talk to some incompetent rich pricks or figure out a way to convince Tony to sign some document.

Soon it'll be her and a lab.

Her and some tools.

Her and so many of her blue prints finally coming to life.

And she was getting paid to do it! It was literally a dream come true.

"Here's your last coffee from me" she said placing it on the bench, "and last stack of documents about business stuff I don't care about" she dropped the files with a smile.

"This is great" she couldn't stop smiling.

- @cursed-with-knowledge

Tony didn’t look up immediately. He was fiddling with some microchip that probably wasn’t FDA-approved and definitely wasn’t meant to be making that high-pitched noise. But when he did glance up and saw the grin plastered across Deyanira’s face, he paused.

“You’re smiling like you just won the lottery and burned your tax forms in the same day,” he said, arching an eyebrow, half-teasing, half-impressed.

He eyed the coffee and the files, then pointed a screwdriver at her.

“You’re really ditching me, huh? After all those heartfelt bonding moments we had—like that time you threatened to staple my hand to the desk if I didn’t initial page six.”

Tony gave a mock-sigh, leaning back in his chair. “I’ll miss the threats. Not so much the paperwork guilt-trips. But mostly the threats.”

He smirked, more sincere now. “You earned it, Ey. Go build your brilliant future. Just… don’t forget to send pictures when the blueprints start walking and talking.”

Then, lifting the coffee mug, he raised it in an almost-toast. “To never having to chase my signature again. And to making things that matter.”

He sipped, then placed it down. Exhaled, measuredly. It was nice. He felt content. Like he had finally established her. Although, as he did so, he felt fond. Yes, she was one of his best interns but in that moment he felt as though he had parted ways with a kitten he raised all his life. It felt different but he wouldn't say it.

These kids were used to him being a support system. It was his duty too. As a mentor, his interns looked up to him. Little did they know they were his support system too. He didn't know that either.

[ferindencadash]

The world's most entitled fucking old white man is in my office and the fact that I haven't set him on fire yet should be applauded.

Long rant incoming:

This old and crusty white British dude has been living in the Bahamas for the last 30 years and now he's moving here to Canada. He had his stuff shipped in crates. He called back in September to let us know that he "took the liberty" of putting our office as the ship-to destination. Without asking us.

Okay. Whatever. So he says these crates will arrive "sometime" and that we should contact him when they do to arrange delivery to his new house. We have no agreement with him, there's no inventory list, no date of delivery, no home address, nothing. He hasn't even asked our rates (so I'm assuming money is not an issue 🙄).

I hear nothing from him again until this week.

Suddenly he's in my office, and the crates will be here "tomorrow or the next day" and he's barking instructions on "exactly how this is going to be done" and freaking out when we offer ANY alternative ideas (because his ideas are dumb as fuck).

Okay. WHATEVER. We'll do what he says cause he's paying for it. 🙄

So now at least I have a weight for the crates. Over 3500 fucking pounds. So I ask, are the delivery guys going to unload these crates into the warehouse? Cause we don't have a forklift. "I have no idea what the delivery men have!! Why would I know that??"

😑😑😑

Okay well. If they don't, we can't fuckin help you and maybe you should have checked BEFORE SENDING YOUR SHIT HERE.

Anyway. Using the weight as a guide, I put together an estimate for how long it's going to take to break down these crates and move all his shit. I send him this estimate and he calls SCREAMING "what the hell is this charge?? I'm not paying that! You said there was an hourly rate!"

Yes, an hourly rate, and this is an *estimate* at how many hours this job will take. If it takes less time, you'll be charged less. If it takes more time, you'll be charged more.

"I'M NOT PAYING THIS! REMOVE THIS CHARGE IMMEDIATELY!"

It's not a charge sir... it's an estimate.

"YOU'RE NOT LISTENING TO ME! SEND ME A BILL WITH THE HOURLY RATE! DO YOU WANT MY BUSINESS OR NOT??"

No, not really. But of course my boss says yes. So I send him a new estimate, with the minimum charge listed, and a huge note saying "this is only the minimum charge, we charge BY THE HOUR and this job WILL TAKE LONGER THAN THIS and cost more than what is listed here."

He accepts it. I GUARANTEE he's going to be a total cunt when he gets the bill and it's more than the minimum. But whatever, boss man's the one losing money when this asshole won't pay, not me.

This morning he calls the office. The "idiot" driver "didn't do what he was supposed to do" and now his shit is stuck at customs. So he's emailing me a bunch of customs paperwork for me to print out for him?? Hello?? We are not a fucking Staples sir. Print your own shit.

Of course I do it, because it's my job to kiss old people's asses all day. 😑

He comes in and I give him the stack of papers. He looks through them and, while standing in my office, calls the customs agent and starts yelling at *her* because he's stupid and confused and doesn't understand the paperwork (which was a very straightforward inventory of his items that he just needed to sign). So now I'm trying to do my job and deal with other customers while this stupid asshole is standing 3 feet away yelling at customs ON SPEAKERPHONE.

Finally he gets off the phone and is like, I have to take these to the border (which is not far, this city is right on the us/can border) to get them stamped, then I'm coming back here and you're going to scan and email them for me.

😑

Yeah. Okay. Whatever gets you out of my fucking office. Sure I'll be your personal secretary. 🖕🖕🖕

Oh. And then he mentions that the customs agent he was just screaming at IS HIS SON'S GIRLFRIEND. I'm sure she loves family gatherings... 😑

So now these crates probably won't be delivered today after all. Which means I have to reschedule this stupid move. And we have NO availability til next Saturday, we are *swamped* next week. Which means he's gonna have to pay for storage if he wants to keep his crap here. I'm sure *that* will go over well. 🙄

So that's where we're at in the customer service drama for now. I'm *certain* there will be more. 😮‍💨

Also, I'm still recovering from my infection and feel like shit and probably shouldn't even be around people (I've been masking like a good boy, at least).

Also also, this fucker called me "young lady" about 30 fucking times and I swear to fucking god my blood pressure is off the charts. Gender shit aside (I've accepted being misgendered as a requirement of getting paid, for now) I AM ALMOST 40 FUCKING YEARS OLD. This guy is gonna get a boot to the fuckin head.

Rant over.

😮‍💨

[yakuzabrainrotlive]

Started the game and.... ÖAKZJFLALXKSNN. The devs woke up and chose immediate emotional violence. Played up until the part we met The Baby™

I think I'm gonna play on Hard difficulty for the first time. Might get my ass kicked, but I've done okay on Normal all the other games.

Just plot stuff, gonna make a separate post for QOL, UI and random side content stuff!

Literally said "OH NO, OH NO" out loud when I saw this title screen. I can tell this game is gonna obliterate me emotionally.

That light in his eyes? That smile? The soft tone of voice? THAT'S PURE AND UNCONDITONAL LOVE. HE'S SO FULL OF LOVE!!! I LOVE HIM 😭❤️

*remembers this is a yakuza game* Oh dear. Oh lord. Oh shit. PLEASE NO!! LET HIM HAVE THIS PLEASE!! 😭 COME ON RGG PLEASE DON'T... 😭😭

Haruto is.... it's truly one of the names of all time. Not gonna comment on that any more.

Saejima going back in the slammer is kinda becoming a series staple. Y'know, like... The Tojo clan is in peril, Date appears in a helicopter, there's an awful vehicle-related chase sequence and now there's also Saejima getting locked up. Classics.

I.... KEJDKQJSKWK THIS MAN DRIVES ME INSANE. It's always about "taking responsibility", making sacrifices for others so he doesn't "ruin things" or blaming himself for things that have been out of his control.

It makes me so sad that he loathes himself so much for choices he made when he was young. Even though, back in his full-time yakuza days, he was still a pretty damn decent person and he was always trying to stick to the right path.

He's so kind, considerate and loving and I HATE that he doesn't see it. He's always thinking "I could have", "I should have", "I can't"... the anger he has towards himself is. It sure is something. Does he have his flaws? Yes. Is he a saint? No. But he's not even remotely as bad as he thinks.

THREE YEARS??? For those crimes?? RIDICULOUS. Holy shit.

*sarcastic tone of voice* OH JEEZ. I WONDER WHERE SHE COULD HAVE ADOPTED THIS KIND OF SELF-SACRIFICING, SELF-BLAMING ATTITUDE FROM!!

*deadpan stare at Kiryu*

Okay okay, that was a very hyperbolic statement. Let's not be unfair. This kind of attitude can just be a thing that's a part of someone's personality.

But... I refuse to deny the fact that Kiryu has been Haruka's main parental figure from a very young age. She's grown up witnessing and living through the consequences of Kiryu's self-sacrificial tendencies (fresh example: the talk at the beach in Y5 before he leaves Morning Glory).

Kids tend to internalize attitudes, coping mechanisms and behaviors from their parents, especially when they're so close. Haruka thinks Kiryu is a very good person, she admires him. Of course she'd unconsciously wanna be like him in some regard.

Now, this can also just be a thing that very empathic and selfless people would do (and Haruka is both), but... I don't know. This is basically exactly the thing Kiryu did in Y5.

I'm making sounds that resemble sounds that a wounded animal would make. He looked so at peace and so HAPPY for just that single moment. His home is here. This is where he feels he can belong. Be himself. I'm. Ough.

SIGH he's not gonna be back, is he. He's currently in Hiroshima. God damnit. Why must these games hurt me so- NO. WHY MUST THESE GAMES HURT HIM SO. I'm in agony. Just... let him be a silly-print-shirt-wearing dad. Please. RGG. I am ON MY KNEES. I will give you all my earthly possessions.

Kiryu: I'm just here to find Haruka, let's not get involved in this mess...

Also Kiryu:

Okay, to be fair, it was something he had to do to get a clue on Haruka, but 😭😭 come on!!

Also... can't believe Akiyama is the one being targeted by the LA Gangs (AKA the triads) now... Chat, this is so sad. Can we hit one like for Akiyamer.

But for real: I'm actually kinda shook that things are THIS bad. Yeah, Tojo is always in a crisis of some sort. But... their very position as the top dogs in Kamuro not being shaken up? That's a big YIKES moment.

Majima AND Daigo are in prison?? Jeez, is there anyone competent even left in the clan? This whole group is gonna implode. It's gonna be a dumpsterfire.

Also. I WANNA SEE MAJIMA AND DAIGO WITH PRISON BUZZCUTS. PLEASE. DAIGO ESPECIALLY. PRETTY PLEASE😭🙏🏻

MORE YEARS IN THE JOINT MADE YOU A FUCKING GRANDPA

I swear on my entire bloodline that I'm not capping here; I was planning on making a "HARUKA TEEN PREGNANCY ARC" prediction in my previous post, but decided not to. Apollo... for god's sake.

Okay, I do have... OPINIONS.

-I will NOT fully believe this is Haruka's biological child until the young woman herself or a DNA test confirms it.

-I currently think she might have picked up the baby somewhere and took him in. If I HAD to guess.... MAYBE during the Little Asia fire? I'm not even sure if she was in Kamurocho back then, but... there could have been many casualties, including someone(s) who had a baby.

-If this IS her baby... I'm gonna quote Kiryu here; WHO IS THE DAD??

-Haruka naming her son Haruto is kinda funny to me. Kinda like an Erica naming her child Eric. Very small difference. If that's what she likes for him, that's good! I just can't imagine naming my own child like that. Then again, I wanna check if the kanji are the same.

-I don't wanna spoil myself by accident by googling him, but... Haruto seems to be around... 5-12 months old here?? At least younger than 2 years old since he didn't really seem to use any words yet.

>So Haruka would have been, uhhh.... like 17-18(??) while giving birth, if my guesses on both their ages match up. It's not unheard of - not at all - but that's QUITE young. Especially if the dad wasn't/isn't around to help. Idk how to feel about that. I need more info.

For now, I'm going with the theory that this is not her biological child. For my own peace of mind.

[philcoulsonismyhero]

Okay, so I need to expand my convention stall print selection as a matter of vague urgency because my current stuff is reaching the end of its useful lifespan (the joys of a small con scene and a lot of familiar faces in the customers who've already bought all they're going to buy), so

The current mile long to-draw list for the sake of creating some accountability (bolded are the most immediate priority):

Kirk, Spock, probably also McCoy

The rest of the Trek captains from the shows I've watched (Picard, Sisko, Janeway, Archer, Pike, Burnham?? I haven't gotten far enough in Discovery for her to be captain yet but I'm assuming she is eventually)

Assorted other popular Trek characters, eventually (if you've got suggestions, Please let me know, there's 500 of these people and narrowing it down is hard)

Luke, Leia, Han

I Really can't be bothered but I know Maul, Dooku, Sidious and Vader would be popular so eventually I'm just going to have to suck it up and draw some characters I hate

Something clone troopers (I have it on good authority that there's basically no merch for clone fans)

Torchwood team (portraits, like the Doctors print I've already got)

14th and 15th Doctor (or whatever they're called) to update Doctors print

NuWho companions? At least Rose, Martha, Donna, Amy, Clara, Bill

9th Doctor, Rose and Jack group shot

Something Hot Fuzz

Something Kingsman (Eggsy and Galahad, probably)

Something Pacific Rim (currently thinking maybe three somethings? Newt & Hermann, Mako & Raleigh, Pentecost and the cancelling the apocalypse line)

Judge Dredd and Anderson from Dredd

All nine of the Fellowship of the Ring, brown paper, which is going to take forever but should be worth it because they're all popular and also I love them all, probably eventually also Eowyn and Faramir and Bilbo

The daft local in-joke Nazghul thing (there's this mounted statue of Wellington in Glasgow that always has a traffic cone on its head so I'm redrawing it as a Nazghul because I think that's funny)

Something Firefly

Roy Kent, because I've got a Ted Lasso and he's the main character people are always asking after

Something DnD movie?

And probably a dozen other things but that's enough for now

I'm trying to mainly stick to old, established fandoms and movies/series that I genuinely like that are cult-classic-y enough that they're consistently popular, because I'm fed up of how quickly The Current Popular Thing fades these days. I've done well out of drawing stuff that'll appeal to the Queer Cartoon-Watching Teens, but they're a fickle audience and getting less reliable so time to target the staple fandoms instead.

And then there's also the other list which is stuff that's mostly for my own entertainment but will probably do decently well, just not enough to be a priority right now:

A few more RWBY characters on coloured paper to expand that set (at least Penny, Nora, Ren, Jaune, Oscar)

A DCTV Flash and Reverse Flash pair of prints on red and yellow paper respectively

Something Rivers of London

An updated set of brown paper FMA art

Arcane stuff (will be higher priority when the next season is closer, but for now no one is paying it any attention)

The trio from The Marvels

Eda, Luz, King and Hooty group shot (this one should probably be on the other list, but it's down here for now because I've already got Owl House prints and right now I need to go for breadth of fandoms rather than expanding within what I've already got)

That Captain America set of four with limit colours idea that I've had for ages (Steve, Bucky, Sam, Peggy)

More brown paper Jedi (current top of the list are Aayla Secura, Shaak Ti)

A print of the main duo from The Untamed (got badges already)

Etc etc

Can you see why I never get anything done, too-many-choices choice paralysis is A Nightmare

The current plan is to start with the Star Trek stuff, because that's going to be portraits and I can do those in my sleep. If I can get Kirk and Spock done, that's a solid start. The Torchwood team print is also small portraits, so that's potentially doable as well, and a good shout for my next event since it's an 18+ evening con so the audience will be a bit different to usual. (I'm intrigued about this con, I don't know how it's going to go, but the idea of an adults-only event where artists can sell All their stuff rather than sticking to kid-friendly is a good one even if that's not going to affect my own stock at all. Shame it's the same weekend and in the same city as a big established con that I got wait-listed for which I'm still mad about because I Kinda Need The Money, but what can you do.)

I've got that con the weekend after next which means I've got until Monday night at the latest to get things finished if I want them with the print shop by Tuesday morning. Then I can work on the two extra Doctors and maybe some companions, because those will be badges and I make those myself. And that's as far in the future as it's worth thinking right now, let's just take this a couple of weeks at a time and maybe my brain will stop stalling over having too much to do and no way to narrow it down

[olderjodijournals]

SATURDAY, MAY 1, 1999 Just took a peek over the wall. No one’s moving in this weekend for sure. Aside from the unmowed grass and the lack of a security light blaring on and off, there’s a ton of stuff on their back patio and it’s nothing I threw over. It looked like there were some grills to vents and some other household parts. I’m surprised the recycle bin’s not out. Tom had said he wouldn’t be surprised if someone moved in today what with the first falling on a Saturday, but as I reminded him, if that pregnant kid I saw is the next one in there, every day’s a Saturday for her. She doesn’t work, and if she does, I’m sure it’s nothing legal.

Good news about the braids doll. Tom got a reply from the guy. The guy said he had back surgery, has about 30 packages going out, and ours was one of them which was sent out yesterday. If he’s telling the truth about sending it, I should have it by Tuesday if he sent it priority mail.

MONDAY, MAY 3, 1999 Gotta see the “spit” doctor today.

Paula called at 6:00, but I had just gotten up and wasn’t in the mood for chatting.

Tom said he thought it’d be cool if I used some of the boxes we got for printouts of journals. After thinking about it, I decided it’d be a good idea. I’m stapling them, though, not binding them. You never know if the hard drive and the floppies may go on the fritz. We’re going to get a fireproof/waterproof safe for things like this after we move. So, I’ve been printing out journals, starting at the beginning. Got 18 of them done. Yesterday, I used a whole black ink cartridge. It’s gonna take 15 cartridges to get them all printed out unless I pick up some more white paper so I can print in color, too.

I’ve hardly gotten any emails lately. That’s cuz Evie’s in California for a couple of weeks.

We sent away for my credit report. I hope Fingerhut doesn’t show up. We got the camcorder under the name O and never paid for it.

Tom got the patio roof done. It looks much better.

I suppose the city will be next door in half an hour. I noticed something, although I can’t swear to this, cuz I’m not outside much and out of the fans to hear, but I think that the collies are yanked into the house while the city’s here. That ought to be a nightmare for them; having their dogs inside! Anyway, if they are, it’s no doubt to avoid the city getting on their case about the constant barking and letting them know how rude and inconsiderate that is of them. On the other hand, they very well may not give a shit. After all, this is Arizona, and the Arizona way is to keep dogs outdoors.

TUESDAY, MAY 4, 1999 Just thought I’d do some writing while I print out journal stuff.

I was telling Tom how I got a feeling I could sculpt. A similar feeling I got telling me I could draw ten years or so ago. Tom thinks I could sculpt, but I don’t know. It’s hard to imagine me sculpting, but after I saw a video, which I’ll get into later, I don’t think I’ll ever want to sculpt or pour molds.

Yesterday, we went and got Tom’s 6-month supply of disposable contacts, then to the spit doctor. There were no wild kids in the waiting room and there was very little waiting time. The doctor came and got me himself, and allowed Tom to join us. The doctor seemed a bit gruff, but he wasted no time, got right to the point, and knew what he was doing. It only took him a minute to clean the wax out of my ear and it wasn’t painful. Not even uncomfortable.

Then, I went down the hall a bit for a hearing test. Their soundproof booth wasn’t very soundproof cuz I could hear voices, but Tom said that they were coming through the headphones. I guess that’s because the lady who was doing the test on me was sitting right near the receptionist. I still got the same results I’ve always gotten on my right ear (goes to prove years of blasting headphones do not cause hearing to get worse and worse with time) and the same results I’ve gotten on the left ear since the canal was made. The right ear’s still within normal hearing range and the left ear sucks. The doctor said the higher the number, the better the hearing. The right ear got an 8, the left got a 53. As always, the right ear’s only problem was with this one certain frequency. Higher pitches within the 4000 MHz.

The doctor told me of my options; to have another operation to try to equalize my hearing by some doctor in L.A., or better yet, to get a hearing aid. The hearing aid costs one to three G’s, and is a waste of money, in my opinion, on someone who hears plenty well enough. Just wait till the pregnant kid and her associates move in! You’ll see how well I hear then! Also, I certainly don’t want another operation, if I can avoid it, just to hear better when I already hear well enough. Tom and I were wondering, though, if he was suggesting Neilson was not good enough by recommending I go to the doctor in L.A. Neilson still does surgery. He’s just not in private practice anymore.

After the doctor, we went to the library. I got two videos on doll making and a book on Facercise (face exercises). I scanned copies of the exercises, which are somewhat illustrated. Some of them are straightforward, but others are a bit hard to comprehend. I’ll just do my best with them and see if I get results.

I’ve got half a video left to watch, but so far, I know I don’t want to sculpt or pour molds, but maybe I’ll get into painting/assembly. It’s just that there’s so much needed/involved! It’s so messy, dusty, and boring from what I can see. However, it was still neat to learn what I learned from the video and watch someone else do this stuff.

Tom looked online and found several sites with doll kits. These kits come in three different stages. The cheapest is to get the molds in their greenware state that you paint and fire yourself. Then you can get fired but unpainted dolls. Lastly, you can get them fired and painted. I was amazed at their size and quality for their prices. Even a fired, painted doll that’s around 30” is just around $100. That’s a great deal! I wonder just how much the kit comes with and what work it entails. I hope the hair and the outfits are included, although I’m sure they are. I’ll be looking forward to checking these kits out more seriously sometime soon.

The braids doll came yesterday. I could tell the guy that sent her smoked as I could smell it all over her. Anyway, she’s a cute doll. A little pale in coloring, but cute. She wasn’t in her original box and she had no certificate enclosed so I’ll never know her real name. I named her Mystery, cuz her name is a mystery, and cuz it’s not a common name like Anne or Mary.

The second Giselle we got will stay as she is. However, I took the first Giselle whom I renamed Liselle, and gave her a bit of a makeover. I lost her eyelashes in the midst of it, but because her face isn’t that large, and cuz she was never really an exceptional doll to begin with, it’s OK. I cut her feathers off the top of her head, so now there’s just a little piece of white cotton and a pearl in its center. I may glue on small flowers someday. I cut off the blue silk and blue netting skirts that were under her white lace skirt. Then I took her hair down. It’d be very hard to straighten and looks better curly anyway, so I just took it down, cut the sides even with the rest of it, then pulled the sides to the back and secured it with a coated elastic. I think it looks nice this way.

Andy left a message saying he skipped his therapy appointment yesterday cuz he didn’t feel like going out. He says that on his days off (which is almost every day) he doesn’t feel like going anywhere. Good! Then I don’t have to worry about him wanting to come over here to talk my ear off, use the computer or something else, be too stoned to remember/get a damn thing I say, or want to come to get me and bring me over his smelly place. He said he rented some movies, worked on making Stevie tapes, and ordered a pizza. Again, he sure as hell has no ambitions to do anything but the same few things - eat, watch TV, talk on the phone about God, listen to music, and get high. At least he’s got his bills paid.

As fate would have it, Tom’s got another one of his famous colds, so I have to get sick too. He says this one’s been a very easy cold, but still, it goes to prove I was right when I said that changing his eating habits wouldn’t help his childlike immune system.

It was exactly one month ago today that the blacks moved. Yesterday, the city was here, but only for a short while. They did the lawn and trimmed the trees. That told me that the pregnant kid and her cronies were right around the corner and ought to be moving in this weekend for sure (and I’m not gonna get a damn bit of sleep cuz I’ll be on nights by then). To my knowledge, the city wasn’t here at all today either, but the pregnant kid was. There’s still brush from the trees sitting out front, and the kid’s not moving in today, but she was here long enough to tell me she’s already got the keys. I knew she’d be the next one in. She was the only one I saw come to check the place out. It’s not like with potential buyers or with non-subsidized rent where a slew of people come to look at it. With a subsidized house, they just grab the next name on the waiting list. I still don’t get this nice van, though. Since when is a welfare mom allowed to have any vehicle, let alone a nice one? I didn’t see her or who she was with. Just heard a few door slams and saw the back half of the van in the driveway. The city wasn’t here to let her in, and because she was here more than a few minutes, I knew she had to have keys. If she didn’t, she’d have left as soon as she saw the city wasn’t here to let her in. She probably dropped off some bulky shit.

Just like with the bitch, it’s not her I worry about. She’s not gonna be stirring up too much shit in her condition. It’s her kids and her cronies I’m worried about. The kids she’s got are too young to be left outside by themselves if she has any brains, but what’s to say she and her associates and their ten million kids won’t sit outside here for hours at a time every day? Why not? They don’t work. The weather���s been mild. I hope these people hate the heat, but still, they’re gonna be plenty noisy enough. They can’t shoot hoops, but they can still bounce balls, yell and scream, slam doors, blast music, and have barking dogs. I just thank God we’re gonna be getting out of here soon!

Woke up at 107 pounds today for the first time in a while. So naturally, I couldn’t shit. My body stops shitting once it gets below 108 so it can reset itself to at least 108.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 5, 1999 Not shitting yesterday cost me two pounds, but even so, my stomach is definitely flatter since figuring out how to do the crunches more effectively.

Back to the daily calls from Andy. He’s calling right now.

The city was next door when I got up at 1:00, and they still are. There’s also a city truck in the street with a big pickup in back. I assume this is what they’ll use to haul the brush away.

My schedule sucks. These kids are gonna be moving in this weekend without a doubt, and I’m not gonna get a damn bit of sleep.

Tom says the electricity has been on since we saw that APS truck about a week ago. They haven’t replaced that obnoxious security bulb, fortunately. He says he doubts they will. Maybe not, but the kids will once they get there.

This is the second day I got a private call with no message. It could be a business, but it could also be Andy just wanting to call just so I have to hear the phone ring and get up to check the caller ID box.

Tom said we could move in a snap if we absolutely had to. He said that he checked a little further out of town than he’s checked so far, and they have tons of big/new manufactured homes on three or more acre lots for dirt cheap. He said we could move as soon as we got an offer on this house. Well, however we move, I just hope it’s soon enough and that we don’t have to really get into settling, but settling’s my life’s theme and what I do best. If I have to settle for a 3 bedroom, that’s better than nothing. Even having this same exact house out in the open desert is a million times better than this house in the crowded, polluted city with assholes just three feet away.

Later…

I peeked over the wall after the city left. I saw a toilet and a chair on the back patio. Other than that, there didn’t seem to be too much more out there, so there’s no doubt in my mind that the welfare trash will be moving in this weekend.

THURSDAY, MAY 6, 1999

Not much to write about this time around. Just that Tom picked me up new cartridges and paper, and that I’ve been printing journals like crazy.

Also, that white Ford that looks like our car was in the driveway next door. The city van came and went too, and there was also some other older white car that was parked on the street for a good ten minutes or so today. Tom said they may’ve been painting. They were doing something inside, cuz they had the front door wide open. I could see through the living room window, through the door, and out to the next side street a block away that crosses our street.

I took another peek in back after they left and saw the toilet was still there, among a few other things. There’s a chance, after all, although I won’t swear to it, that our welfare bums just may not make it in this weekend for sure, and that’d go with my vibe. Logic told me that they were moving in this weekend and that I wouldn’t get any sleep, since moving does make some noise and they’re just a few feet away from where I sleep, but my vibes don’t sense a lack of sleep to come. When they leave tomorrow, though, I’ll be able to tell where we stand as far as next door goes.

Tom treated himself to a new handheld computer that you write on with a stylus and it turns what you write into print. It’s pretty neat, and he’s been overdue on treating himself.

FRIDAY, MAY 7, 1999 The kids are definitely, definitely coming this weekend (they quit working there early and the yard’s now empty). And so is their dog. If they can have a van like they’ve got, they can have a dog, too. I may end up with a dog in place of bass but I’m sure these young things will be into those killer stereos. Like I said, it’s not so much the pregnant child welfare bum I’m concerned about. I haven’t heard her bass in yet. It’s her cronies I’m worried about. She’ll be home all day, and so her associates, who will be just as lazy and as jobless, will be banging in and out several times a day with their millions of screaming kids.

Mormons, blacks, Mexican, people!! I’m just so sick of them all!! I’m also really sick and tired of living next to children, even if some of them are supposed to be adults. If I never live near anyone under 40 again, it’ll be too soon.

Speaking of adult children, I think the renters across the street moved. Last night at 8:00 I saw about five people over there loading a pickup. The lawn was littered with furniture. Guess they’re skipping out on the rent. Tom said he doesn’t think they’re moving. He thinks someone moved in or out, and that it’s several people sharing the rent. Like college kids do. Well, we’ll see. So far, since being up since 2:00, I see nothing but a lounge chair leaning up against their carport. I’ll do an hourly check. How I love to spy!

I just thank God we’re moving soon. Knowing that really takes some of the stress off of me. Again, we talked about our different options. There’s still a chance we may find a prepped piece of land with a house already on it, move into that, then have the manufactured house we want hauled in later on.

Paula and I have been playing phone tag for nearly a week now. I called and got the neighbor that lives up above her. I told her to tell Paula I’d try again next week.

Andy left me a message today, all excited about his trip back east. He’ll be gone from 5/15 to 6/3 unless anything changes.

I left Andy a message asking him to please, as my friend, don’t bother calling Tammy. I explained to him yet again that we’re not in touch with each other and why and also reminded him that he doesn’t need Tammy’s rudeness. Every time they’ve talked or visited, even if she doesn’t directly say something mean to him, it’s in her tone of voice. She’s an insecure person who’s uncomfortable around gays, she can’t let go of the past and has to rehash shit that went down between Doe, Art, Judy, and Al, and he doesn’t need it. He’s gonna be hurt enough by people in his lifetime, including by me when I disappear on him (then again, who knows? Maybe he won’t be hurt since we don’t have much in common these days). He either respects my wishes, or he doesn’t, but till I see differently, I’ll assume he’ll suit himself. He always does and even he admits that. Or maybe he’ll just argue with me about it by leaving a message challenging my reasons for wanting him not to contact her, but will still respect my wishes. We’ll see.

In his message to me, he said just hearing my voice for a few seconds is good enough so I don’t have to leave him 3-4 messages. Yeah, right! He wishes! I haven’t left him that many messages in one day for years, but that’s Andy for you. If you tell him or imply that he’s doing A, he’ll tell you or imply you’re doing A, B, and C. He’ll tell you or imply that you’re doing more of or worse than he is. If I bitch at him for leaving five messages, he’ll bitch at me for leaving ten, even if I didn’t leave him one.

Later…

It looks like Tom was right. The renters are still here. I’m glad, to tell you the truth, so I won’t have to worry about anything worse going in over there, and I wish those blacks had just stayed put! I should be crawling with horrible vibes right now, but for some reason, I’m not. I should be, though, cuz there’s no way in hell God would let me have a quiet neighbor and there’s no reason to think that a pile of freeloaders could be quiet. And again, I know how these welfare bums are. Remember Oswego Street? I do. And I know that right along with the blacks, they’re nothing but noisy scum who only give a damn about themselves. These things are gonna be worse. Mexican music may have less bass than rap music, but anything played on these particular stereos is loaded with bass cuz that’s the whole idea. Also, at least the black bitch worked during the week, but not this one! This one’s gonna have more company and more kids that’ll make the bitch look almost like a childless loner. And the dog! Oh God! Why? Why me?!

We had a quickie a little while ago. We agreed it’d just be a quick thing to break me open after having to skip a week. Sure enough, I had that familiar irritation. I’m sick of this irritation I get on and off! Why do I even bother screwing? It’s old and boring (most of the time) and so is the irritation.

SATURDAY, MAY 8, 1999

Unbelievable! Just un-fucking-believable! No one moved in today! That explains why I didn’t have a vibe saying I’d be losing sleep. Of course, they can always move in between now and sundown, or tomorrow, but I don’t know about that. I mentioned to the city that we were looking to move this summer. Wouldn’t it be funny if they were waiting for us to move out first? Fat chance, though. Last night I was pretty stressed out, even though I didn’t feel them on their way in. The NHA’s really scarred me for life, boy I’ll tell you.

SUNDAY, MAY 9, 1999 Paula left a message earlier. A weird one too, wishing me a happy Mother’s Day. Now why would someone wish a childless person a happy Mother’s Day?

No messages from Andy. He knows. Somehow, he knows. Tom wouldn’t tip him off and tell him I’m planning on disappearing on him, so he’s got to sense something. For a few days in a row he did get a little message happy on me, but other than that, he’s really backed off since I made up my mind to do my disappearing act. Am I reconsidering not disappearing? No. Even if he hardly called me for the rest of my life, he’s not a true friend in my opinion and I don’t want to push my luck by being in his car with him and his pot, and besides, we’re just not on the same level in life. I still feel I’ve outgrown him and that neither of us has anything to offer the other (except for the favors I do for him and the things I give him every now and then). I’m not perfect myself, but I don’t want a druggie for a friend, who tends to be selfish, and that’s that.

Andy once said he felt he had two destinies - to lead me out here and to deal with Quinn. So I guess that proves our time as friends really is up. We’ve done what God wanted us to do for each other. He led me out here, and I did whatever I was supposed to have done for him, but it was to teach him to stand up to bullies, etc.

Tom rested a lot during the weekend to get over cold number 394 since I’ve known him, and yesterday, I was a bit out of it myself. Had a doozy of an allergy attack, which was my own dumb fault. I shouldn’t have gone outside. During the two transition periods where it’s just about to go over the 100º marker, then just under it is a rotten time for allergies. This time, instead of the Benadryl just drying up my mouth and putting me to sleep, it dried up my mouth but didn’t put me to sleep. It also helped with the sneezing this time, too. I was very groggy, though, and couldn’t do much but read and listen to music. I finished a book yesterday and began Toys in the Attic.

At 10:45 Saturday night, someone rang our doorbell. They only rang once, but we didn’t answer it. It was probably some potential fuck buddy given the wrong address by a girl in a bar that promised to screw him at her house. It could’ve been anyone, though. Who knows?

I looked online for doll kits, but then I decided to wait till we moved.

Tom did more work on packing shit in the back room, and so he says, this week we’re gonna begin painting in here.

This month, I didn’t get those UT pains, so that’s fine with me!

I am amazed at how much of a difference the stomach exercises have made since I figured out how to do them more effectively. Don’t get me wrong. My stomach’s still big. I’m big. I could afford to lose 10-15 pounds, but what a difference! The face exercises are a different story. They’re completely useless unless I’m not doing them correctly.

TUESDAY, MAY 11, 1999 Tom bought a heavy-duty stapler today but it was broken, so he’ll have to bring it back. He got staples in four different sizes, although they come in six sizes. You can staple up to 250 sheets. He also picked up some more ink cartridges. I’ve been on a major printing spree what with getting these journals printed out. I have 1170 more pages to go of journal stuff and that’s not counting what I’ve written so far for this month.

His little computer is really neat. You can lay in bed in the dark and use it cuz the screen lights up to a pretty blue/green shade, the color of pool water lit up at night. It has a tiles game. Its colors are bland, but it’s still neat to just tap the tiles with the stylus. It’d be perfect for long boring car rides to Vegas, Laughlin, California, or wherever.

To our knowledge, no one came next door today (now yesterday). Not even the city. I asked Tom what’s his guess now, as to when someone will move in. He said he’d guess every weekend. Me too, but the longer it stays empty, the better. Every weekend it stays empty is just one less weekend I have to deal with someone’s rude, selfish shit just three feet away from me. It’s no wonder I didn’t have a bad vibe and a vibe of waking up last weekend. Cuz no one moved in after all. I guess that as we approach each weekend, I’ll be able to get a sense of whether or not someone will be moving in. So far, I seem to be in tune as far as that goes.

Mickey Rat may have a tumor in his balls. His balls are ten times bigger than the other rats, as even Tom noticed. He said he thought the tumor might be in his stomach, pushing his balls out. I don’t know if it’s his stomach, his balls, or nothing at all. Time will tell, but God’s really damned mice and rats, that’s for sure! They’re notorious for tumors, alright.

We had sex earlier which couldn’t have been any more predictable than it was. It was sooo obvious, although like always, he tried to deny his reasons for his moves. He not only didn’t cum, he wouldn’t even get on top. He was that scared, but hey, it’s OK. Perfectly understandable, and I’d probably do the same myself if I were him despite the odds of my conceiving. We’re in the middle of trying to move, after all. We don’t need another expense and time-eater.

Anyway, the cumless weekly sex is fine, but I wish he’d be less sexually selfish. All he’s ever really cared about in bed is doing what he’s wanted. He decides when we have sex and how often (even though we sort of have a mutual agreement. A pattern/habit we’ve fallen into with time). He decides when he cums. He decides the positions. I wish he didn’t have so much control in bed, but a man always has more control over the bedroom activities. We women just don’t have the tools to be in command of the sex. So, he’s typical in that way. He dominates the sex, only in an unusual kind of way. Definitely not in the way most males do. Nonetheless, he never offers to go down on me. His “variety,” is not going on top sometimes cuz he’s either too afraid to, can’t get in the mood, or whatever. It’d be nice if he’d please me every now and then. Only in the beginning was the sex just for me, but then again, it wasn’t. If it can’t be mutual, OK, but we should share the pleasure, if you know what I mean. I made this suggestion to him, but I won’t count on his taking it up. Perhaps he will once or twice, but then he’ll just fall right back into his usual ways. I don’t know if he’s being stubborn deliberately, or if he really has such a hard time adapting to new ideas in bed, but we’ll see. I guess most of us find a way that works best for us and stick to it.

Got 1121 more pages to print out. I combined all the journal files into one file for printing. I have to print out from late 1995 on up till last June. Then carry on with printing out each month I type. Guess you could say I’m off to a slow start this month. It’s already the 11th, yet I haven’t even typed ten pages yet. Usually, around the 11th, I’m around the twenty-page marker.

I was gonna get into shit about Andy and his “family lecture” but I’ll save it for another time. I’ve been up a while and I want to unwind with a movie.

Later…

Today Tom brought home a T-shirt squashed into a circle of about 5” in diameter. I don’t know where he got this. I’ll have to ask him when I get him up at 11:00. He was already asleep when I got up at 4:00.

He also brought home sample paint shades. About a dozen whites, yellows, and blues. We’re going to paint the outside the same light blue, but hopefully, we can just paint the bad spots and avoid having to paint the whole house. We’re gonna paint the trim white. Right now it’s also light blue. We’ll be painting the inside walls white. A brighter white than the off-white that’s been on these walls. We’ll be painting the kitchen cabinets a yellow-gold to go with the disgusting floor in there.

Lastly, he got a heavy-duty stapler that works and it’s great. It still jammed up on me a few times like my regular one did, but it’s much better since I can staple so many more pages. It took just 9 staples to staple together my first 100 journals. I’ll be able to get all of Andy’s shit stapled with one staple, and I rearranged the bitch’s shit, too. Originally, she was gonna receive two envelopes from me, but I managed to fit everything into one envelope. I tore out the wire binders and it’s now packed beautifully with just two staples. The bitch has roughly 160 pages, 80 sheets of paper. I stapled 40 and 40, so she’ll get two little bundles of paper. That way she can have fun sharing. Her cock can read one while she reads the other. I set it up so that the first thing she sees when she pulls the packet out will be the pictures I shot of the city car and of her cock’s car. I wrote my “table of contents” on the back of the envelope to help up her curiosity.

Again, as far as I know, no one showed up next door today.

Got 996 pages left to print.

As far as Andy’s concerned - same old, same old. He left messages about eating, being excited about going back east, and weed sales. Then, in response to my asking him to please not bother contacting Tammy, he said he wasn’t planning on it anyway (yeah, well we’ll see if that changes). Then he lectured me about cutting off my nieces just because of my problems with Tammy. Although I’ve cut off everyone with the last names G and O cuz I felt that that was for the best, I told him differently (that I didn’t dump my nieces) just to shut him up and get him off my case. Anyway, he has no right to judge me and my situation because he’s not in my shoes. If he had been in my shoes and could feel how I do, then maybe he’d understand why I not only had to cut out Tammy but her kids, too. The connection was just too damn close for comfort.

Anyway, I’m sick of Andy trying to make me into himself. Just because he’d go against Marla’s wishes and be his usual selfish self doing only what he wants if she told him to stay away from the boys, well, that’s him. Not me. The best way for him to handle a certain situation isn’t necessarily the best way for others but he just doesn’t get it. He puts everyone on his level, but that’s just not reality. He’s him. I’m me. I’m tired of my “friend” siding with others and arguing and challenging my ways. I’m sick of him trying to push his ways on me. I don’t try to talk him out of his ways of doing things. I may tell him, for example, that I don’t agree with his being a drug dealer, but I never tried to talk him out of it. It’s his fucking life. Why can’t I get the same respect in return? I expect others to treat me as I treat them.

He said he should bring his friend God into his lecture, but he wouldn’t.

What “friend?” You mean the “friend” that’s denied him love? The “friend” that’s helped to keep him in the same old loser of a rut year after year? That’s some friend, Andy. I could type 1000 pages on why God’s some “friend,” but I have better things to do with my time.

I’m sick of Andy! Oh, I’m fucking sick of him! Sooooooooo motherfucking sick of him! I’m tired of hearing the same old shit message after message, phone call after phone call. Fuck his fucking God, and his fucking food, and his fucking drugs, and his fucking phones, and his fucking Stevie. I’m fed up! I can’t fucking wait to move and get on with my life without his usual BS I’ve dealt with for what? 11 years now?

Boy, it sure felt good to bitch in here!

WEDNESDAY, MAY 12, 1999 Got to get Tom up in 20 minutes. He has to go in at 12:30. Sometimes I get him up at 11:00, but he left me a message saying to get him up at 10:00 since he’s caught up on his sleep. I don’t expect him to take my suggestion and offer to go down on me, so I used the vibrator to get off a little while ago. I guess he just wants an extra hour of TV. Or maybe to play computer games.

He said he called a realtor about some land advertised that’s supposed to have a manufactured house already on its property. He said it was a little further out than he’d like, and only one acre, but perhaps we could still check it out some time.

I picked out the best interior colors from those color strips he brought home, but he needs to try again with the blues. The house is way lighter than even the lightest blue he brought home.

THURSDAY, MAY 13, 1999 It’s after 1:00, yet the fucking dogs are going off. They just go on and on. There’s no end to their shit! Never have I ever heard of dogs that bark this much. I’ve never seen anything like it before. I just hope to hell they’re not taking one of their fits when we go to show the house, even though the next people in here will probably have a dog of their own going off in their yard. But none can go off that much and that’s my point.

I spoke to Paula yesterday morning. God, what a hypochondriac! She’s not just a ditz, she’s like Tammy; always with a problem. Now it’s her heart she says is acting up, but I think it’s anxiety. She’s naturally anxious as it is, and this shit of a married whore of a guy she’s dealing with isn’t helping.

Anyway, her birthday is the 31st of this month, so I think I’ll bead her up some necklaces. Also, we want to videotape this house before and after we paint, to add to our home videos, and I’ll mail her a copy at some point. Then she can also see how long my hair is and how fat I still am.

I had to put the bitch’s stuff back in two envelopes. I forgot that you can’t mail anything over 16 oz. without bringing it to a post office (in case of bombs). He’s too damn paranoid to bring it to a post office without a legit return address on it in case he runs into someone he knows. What? He can’t say he’s mailing it for a friend? Damn, he’s paranoid! I think he’s paranoid but is also using this as an excuse to avoid the post office. After all, you do have to wait in line forever there.

I was right. He never offered to go down on me or to screw, yet there was plenty of time for a guy who claims to be horny so much. I have such mixed feelings about it, too. It hurts to see him not take opportunities for more sex and it makes me feel a bit rejected, but it’s also great at the same time, cuz I’m sick of sex with him. I can do a way better job myself and I’d just as well get it over with quickly myself, than have these long drawn out boring sessions with him. I know that a big part of his not initiating much sex is fear of making a kid, but is there more to it? He says I’m beautiful, but unless he has a rather unique idea of beautiful, I’m not beautiful. I’m chunky, I’m aging, and I look like a geek.

Later…

That bites. You mean I can’t print in black ink just because my color ink cartridge is dead? Oh well. Guess I’ll just have to wait till tomorrow to do any more printing.

Andy called and left an 888 number (toll-free) for me to call to win $50,000 for having the best laugh. He said if I won, I could give him $1,000 of the money for referring me to this number. First off, I knew no God would let me win $50,000. It’s just not in our cards, and besides, we could use the money. People who win money tend to not need it much. Secondly, I knew there’d be a catch. The catch was, that as soon as you dial in, a recording comes on saying, “Sorry, only one call per household, but be sure to look for other Pillsbury promotions.”

Later…

I called Andy and we spoke for the better part of an hour. He’s leaving Monday, I hope, for both our sakes. This time around, I just may surprise him by sending a letter to his brother’s house in Springfield. The one he grew up in. When Judy and Al moved into condos, they gave the house to Gary. I remember the address, but not the zip so I’ll just leave it zipless.

I was right, he has no plans to work full-time when he gets back, so he told me. He works 5 days a week, 4 hours a day, and it works out well for him, he says, cuz he always feels like he needs the time off. Whatever works for him.

He said he’s gone from weighing 152 down to 146 cuz he’s been puking like hell. No wonder he’s eating like a pig if he’s losing everything he eats. Then again, it may be the overeating that’s upsetting his stomach. He says it’s the cigarettes, though. I thought he said it was nerves the last time we discussed this. He says he’s been tired a lot cuz of the weed. Too much food can tire a body out too, I’ve heard. In fact, he says he eats so much that he’s tired of washing all the zillions of dishes he uses, so he went out and got plastic dishes/silverware. Well, if he’s happy eating whatever amount he eats, and if he’s happy weighing whatever he weighs - great.

He paid Michelle $100 to stay at his house while he’s gone. Good. I’m glad he’s got someone to feed his cat and to tape his soaps. Michelle’s happy about it, according to him, cuz her mother yells at her all the time. She lives with her mother and her mother’s boyfriend, I guess.

There goes those fucking dogs again. They usually have the decency to wait till 5:00 or 6:00 before they start going off, but not this morning. They usually shut up around 9:00 or 10:00 at night too, so something must’ve been going on to get them going, but I don’t know. I think these dogs just like to go off. Period. I hope the next batch of trash to go next door is like that bitch and her associates were - real noise lovers.

Did he bring up God? Of course. He not only brought up God, but now he’s bringing the angels into his conversation, too. He was saying that he feels God and the angels kept that guy from breaking in that other morning at 4:00 AM. Could be. I asked him if he thought it was connected to Laura. He said no. He said if she was gonna send someone to break in, she’d have them come at 7:00 AM when she knew he was asleep. Even that’s stupid. If you’re gonna break into a house, do it when it’s empty and there are no potential witnesses. Anyway, I still think he gives way too much credit to God. I mean, come on! What fantastic thing has God ever done for him, huh? He has a right to believe what he believes and I don’t try to influence his beliefs one way or another, but still, who does he think he’s fooling?

Later…

Andy, you are one big pain in the fucking, motherfucking, goddamn ass! He asked me to tape a couple of saved messages of his. I wasn’t going to, but then I decided I would, just in case he asked me for the tape before we move. What a pain! I thought the living room phone would work OK, but it didn’t, so I had to fumble with getting the back room phone set up, and good God! I won’t mention leaving a few mad bogus claims on his tape in his file I’ll have for him when we move. I yelled at him about sending Michelle over to play a childish prank on me, and of course, he’ll be racking his brains trying to figure out what the fuck I’m talking about. Remember, these are supposed to be messages I left him that he saved. He’ll probably believe it’s real too, but that he just can’t remember it being the pothead that he is.

I wonder more and more just how much of my dream will come true. My dream is to move to an empty piece of land that’s more than an acre big, to put that last model we saw on it, and get all the furniture and other stuff we want for the new place pretty much right away. Why do I feel, though, that we’ll end up in some kind of development, although he says it’s unlikely, with just an acre and a house that’s already there and not be able to get all the stuff we want right away? Maybe the acre will be big enough depending on what’s around it (although that seems unlikely) and maybe the house will be as big and as nice as that last model and maybe we’ll have to slowly get the stuff we want over time, but if I do have to settle, it won’t be the first time, will it, God? Even so, any place will be better than here with people just a few feet away (when the house is occupied like it normally is) and with barking dogs that are barely 50 feet away.

I created a Dreams file. I decided to write down whatever dreams I remember. Real dreams, that is. Most of the time I don’t remember my dreams, but lately, I’ve been remembering a lot of weird dreams that I thought would be cool to document.

FRIDAY, MAY 14, 1999 Still printing journals like crazy. Got 670 more pages to go and about 32 more journals. In one box I’ll have the journals from Oswego Street, Woodside Terrace, Elm Street, Norwich, the Vista and Crystal apartments, and this house.

As you’ll see in my Dreams file, I had a dream including Jackie and Jim. Speaking of them, isn’t Jackie pregnant yet? She’s God’s “perfect” mommy. I asked Tom, who answered that he hadn’t seen them, in a very annoyed tone of voice. You can’t even talk to him about someone else getting pregnant without him getting all riled up. Don’t worry, hun. I don’t plan to ever bring up the subject again. Not even if I wanted a kid all over again tomorrow. I know better. I know when something’s not meant to be and when something shouldn’t be, since not all of us can handle these things. Anyway, I asked him, cuz of the way I know his ma talks about other family members. However, unless something big was going on with someone, all she ever did when I’d visit her was talk about Nickolena. Then about Nickolena and Parker. It got old! It really did. That’s another reason, besides the fact that I resent her for her selfishness, that I don’t want her over the new house. I don’t want to have to sit and listen to nothing but talk about those kids the whole time she’s with us.

I can’t believe no one’s been next door all week. Not that I’m complaining, but what are they waiting for?

SATURDAY, MAY 15, 1999 It’s a pretty noisy one out there now as I prepare to write. Yes, even in the middle of the night it can be noisy around here, even though it’s been great overall as far as kids and music go. The collies are back to barking even throughout the night. For a while, they had given me peace at night. Usually, they go off just to go off, but not tonight. Tonight there was a whole carload of old ladies that pulled up in front of the music people’s house, as I still call it, laughing and acting like a bunch of college kids. Tonight was also a classic example of what I mean when I say that these dogs are extreme barkers. There are at least three dogs that I’ve heard of that live in yards across the street within about a 6-house span. They weren’t going off. Only the collies had to go off. And they kept on going long after the old ladies pulled away. Yeah, I think those sick, inconsiderate fucks ought to receive a letter from me too, after we move, but I’ll act like I still live around here. What I still don’t get is how can they sleep??? How can even the soundest of sleepers sleep throughout all that loud barking that’s so close to their beds?

My vibes say no one’s moving in this weekend next door, although I dreamt that some white folks moved in there. That’s not gonna happen.

Tom’s at work for a few hours tonight, believe it or not. As I’ve told him, there’ll always be something new or out of the ordinary going on at that bank where he’ll have to work overtime or during his usual time off. He says new people are going to be hired, but that won’t make a difference. If God’s gonna let him have more free time, that probably won’t be till he retires. Maybe he’ll let him have a little after we move, knowing we could use him around here a little more now, but God’s not entirely against us with the move. Not so far, anyway. My credit report came back and it’s clean! As Tom said, that could’ve been a serious obstacle for us.

If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a million times - God, don’t ever let me dream a non-material dream again! If I do, though, since that’s not something we can usually control, at least I’ve learned through time/experience not to do anything about trying to obtain the dream. Why exhaust and frustrate myself struggling for the impossible, when I could be living and enjoying the possible? I don’t enjoy all the possible things. No one does. But you know what I mean.

I asked him if his ma had any plans to help us move or give us money before she dies since she has about a year left, give or take a couple of months.

No. Of course, not. I should’ve known better than to ask. He said she was afraid to give any money out before dying for fear of people deserting her. My first response was oh, poor poor Marge, but then Tom pointed out that we all can’t help our fears (like my fear of spiders). Anyway, I still have mixed feelings about her. She’s helped us in several ways, but sometimes, it just seems like she doesn’t help us where it really counts. That’s great that she bought Tom his contact lenses, but the cost of that is nothing compared to the cost of moving. And again, I still resent all the money and time we lost together. We were just newlyweds at the time and I needed him home with me. Now that we’ve been together this long, I still love him as much and want to be with him as much, but it doesn’t hurt so much to have him tied up. As far as the sexual end of it, things have never been the same since quitting smoking, even if the sex still is satisfactory and fulfilling enough. Ever since I quit smoking I really extinguished a big part of my sex drive along with the cigarettes. Just like I almost went back to smoking cuz of my weight, I almost went back to smoking to up my drive again, but then I said, nah. There’s no point in upping a drive that can’t be taken care of. We don’t have time for sex more than once a week and I don’t think my crotch would appreciate that very much at all. At least I don’t have to fear pregnancy and go through the hassles of birth control. It’s great to know he can cum all he wants to and not worry that it could make a kid. And it’s great to know I’m not pregnant cuz I chose not to be, regardless of the fact that that’s just part of my destiny anyway. Destiny or not, I chose not to be a mother so we could move and live life together. I may not be a doll maker after all, but at least I can collect. I may only be able to get the dolls I really like once every 5 years, but I can still get them, and other dolls.

So, to sum it up, my vibes aren’t certain as to what he’ll be doing when we move, I’ll probably be doing what I’ve always done since knowing Tom, and the health and sex will probably stay the same. That’s good on the sex part, cuz usually, if sex changes after 5 years of marriage, it isn’t for the better. It doesn’t get any better than this, which is plenty good enough, but I’d hate to ever see him bored with me. I’m sure he won’t be, though. If he were gonna bored out on me, he’d have done it by now. We’ve fallen into a comfortable routine.

I’m glad he met Dureen and Art, if only for that one time. That way he could really see what I mean as to their characters/personalities. It’s one thing for him to go by my hearsay, but another to see for himself what I meant. They didn’t do/say all they’re capable of doing/saying when they were here, thank God, but he too, is good with people’s characters and could see the positive/negative/abusive traits lurking underneath.

Can you believe a black ink cartridge costs $25 and a color one costs $29?! But why? It’s just ink, for Christ’s sake. So, although it’s a one-time deal and is well worth it, printing my journals out will end up being a $300-$400 project. Tom said we ought to get me a laserjet printer. It only prints in black, but you can print thousands of pages for about $80 or so.

Later…

I’m doing laundry now. Just changed the sheets, too.

Melanie called yesterday to remind me of my Monday appointment. I asked if I was still her patient and she said I was. I have mixed emotions about that, too. Mel’s faster and prettier, but rougher. At least it doesn’t matter as much now that my teeth are where they’re at. It’s not gonna be as painful, anyway.

Tom looked in that area where the houses were on acre lots. He said he couldn’t find the house that was advertised, but that the area sucked anyway. He said it was old farmland being converted into a development. Just dirt. No natural desert landscape like we want. He said everything was in clumps, too. You’d have a house with nothing around it for miles, then a cluster of trailers. Yeah, Arizona seems to be hung up on clumps. You either have a lot of people or no one around for miles.

Also, another problem with the area was that there was a prison nearby.

Last night, out of curiosity, I browsed through the national white pages online and came across Michael M’s name. He moved from Hamden to Longmeadow, so I see. Mike was the closest I ever came to having a crush on a guy before meeting Tom. This was when I was in the real high school when I was a freshman. He was my chorus teacher. Anyway, he ended up marrying another student. I last spoke to him somewhere between 1989-1991. They were trying to have kids, but his wife Daryl had just had a miscarriage. By now I’m sure they have a family. I wrote a half-sane, half-wacky letter. I put my return address on only cuz I know I don’t have to worry about him writing me back, which I’d prefer he not do. He’s in the past. I just wanted to surprise him, that’s all. I stuck in a few pictures of myself from when I looked my best in the mid-90s that I scanned and printed out. That ought to shock him too, since I did not look like that the last time I saw him. If I remember right, I last saw him in 1984 at 130-something pounds.

I’d bet my dolls on Andy’s calling this weekend. He’ll use his trip as an excuse, but that’s OK. Of course, I don’t even know for sure that Andy will be leaving Monday as he says. You know Andy - always gotta be late on things and make big deals of things.

Later…

I’m gonna start sleeping with a notebook by my bed so I can make notes of my dreams upon waking till I get around to typing them up. The longer I’m up, the more I forget my dreams.

Did the renters move after all? There have been no cars over there.

We screwed a little while ago and I made the dumb mistake of not using lubricant. I was so dry. I really need to use it all the time, even if it is a hassle. Besides, it’s a great spermicide cuz sperm can’t swim through its thick stickiness.

As I figured too, he did nothing about going down on me. The sex was the usual - too much time on the side, then too little time up top. He never wanted to please me. Never. All he wanted to do was play games, then please himself after the years of my bitching about his games finally got to him. Oh well. It’s only sex.

SUNDAY, MAY 16, 1999 Tom got me a couple of packs of fluorescent-colored paper. Each pack has 20 sheets of 10 colors. One pack will finish my journal printing project. If all goes well, I should have 5 sheets left over from the first pack.

I’m back from 112 pounds to 108 pounds, but there’d still be a big difference for the better if I could just get down right around 100 pounds, but I won’t count on it.

Yesterday, Tom trimmed the front hedges. That’s all he did. I’m telling you, we’re not gonna make it out of here in July or August at the slow rate he’s going. Sometimes I wonder if that’s what he wants. He seems to be obsessed with procrastinating, as well as with being different. Being a disorganized slob is one of his obsessions too, and I got really mad at this favorite pastime of his yesterday. Two Mexicans came to our door wanting to take the old car to Mexico and fix it up. They were gonna give us $50 to tow it, but the slob couldn’t find the title. The guys say they’ll return on Tuesday.

I’m sending a birthday card/letter to Becky. This is gonna sound cruel and selfish, I know, but mainly it’s to keep Tammy from calling. I’m sure that if I didn’t call or send Becky anything, Tammy would call bitching about it (like she’d ever have sent our kid anything if we had had one, right!). Who knows, though? She may call bitching about my only sending something and not calling. If she does, that’s her problem. She’s not gonna get the reaction she wants out of me, that’s for sure. We should be moved by Sarah’s birthday (I hope!). Then, a year from now, Tammy will hear from me one last time before I snip the strings for the final time and cut her loose. But as soon as we move, the bitch, the folks, the brother, and the pest will get their last word from me. Tammy will get a bullshit letter saying we had twins by way of in vitro, live in a 5-bedroom house on a 3.3-acre lot, and that I make/sell porcelain dolls. Half of this stuff may be true too, but just knowing how furious the so-called twins part of it will make her and the folks really cracks me up. Then, I shall get on with my life in peace.

It’s pretty funny how my interests have really changed throughout the time I’ve known Tom. Besides him, other people I know, the animals in general, reading, writing, singing, and listening to music, if you look at the different time frames, different words pop out at you as you skim through the pages. The common words in the beginning, are sex, pregnant, and baby. Then it changes to bitch, bass, and basketball. Lastly, to dolls, moving, and rats.

I don’t know if this would be easier said than done, but if I were to end up pregnant now that I don’t want a child (even though that’s impossible) I wouldn’t abort it, but it’d get no prenatal care, I’d stop my vitamins, eat really shitty, and pray to God to lose it for me.

MONDAY, MAY 17, 1999 It’ll be interesting to see whether or not the city comes today. I should think so, but then again, I didn’t think they’d leave the house empty for another week either, not that I’m complaining. I’m pretty sure that house is done and ready to go. It’d be great if they were waiting for the first. That way, I wouldn’t have to worry about any scum being over there for Memorial Day, cuz I know that if any freeloaders were over there then, it’d be party, party, party. It’s always the outcasts that have to make a scene.

I can’t believe Andy, who’s supposed to be leaving today, didn’t call all weekend! I guess he’ll call if he doesn’t leave today as planned. For both our sakes, I hope he made it out OK.

It looks like yes, the renters did move. There have been no cars over there for days. Could be that they’re just out of town, but I think they’re gone. I’m not too happy about this cuz, believe it or not, they actually let their dog indoors for the most part, so it was never a problem. However, they’ve got a chain-link fence instead of a block wall, and if there’s a typical outdoor dog over there next time around, it’ll be right at the fence barking its ass off and driving me crazy.

I’m right about Tom - he’s definitely stalling for time. As I’ve said a million times before, he has an obsession with making me wait on him and saying things will happen way before they actually do, if they do at all. Why does everything have to be such a big competition with him? Why does he always have to rebel? Can’t he just do something when he says he’s going to? We filmed, and he took the flag bracket down, but other than that, all he did all weekend was trim the front hedges on Saturday, and pick up the hedges and carry them to the alley on Sunday. I know for damn sure now, that there’s no way we’re moving this summer. Not if he wants to creep around so he can make sure I don’t get my way, so to speak. I’ve been saying we won’t make it out this summer and he loves to prove me right when it’s not in the way I want to be right.

A classic example of how he just has to rebel and go the opposite way of what I want is how all weekend long he never once offered to go down on me. Well, if there’s any subject he’s always been selfish with and not willing to please me with, it’s sex. But why? He’s always resented me sexually and the only reason I can think of as to why is that I never took birth control to begin with and because I used to try to push him into cumming, and for a kid. If I’d only known better from the get-go! Maybe things wouldn’t have been that different anyhow since I’m destined to be hexed sexually, but if I had to start all over again, I’d be on birth control during the so-called childbearing years that don’t even exist for me. Still, it’s sad to see him not care. I’ll be damned if I’ll beg, though. I’m not gonna beg my own husband to go down on me, which my gut feeling’s telling me is what he wants. If he wants to be selfish and only screw me, I can’t change that. I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, and I wouldn’t if I could. It’s too bad, though, that he has to play these games and therefore can’t come out and tell me he doesn’t want to go down on me. It’d be OK if he told me he didn’t want to do something I suggested, whether it was sexual or not. Aren’t people who love each other supposed to be honest with each other? Aren’t we supposed to try to do what the other wants and try to please them as best we can, and speak up when we don’t want to do something the other wants?

I know a good part of his ways are just that - his ways, but there’ll always be a part of me that regrets not starting things off differently since it’s obvious he’ll never get over it and move on. Some of what he said didn’t make sense, though, and I didn’t care to ask him to clarify himself since I know how upset he gets over sex talk. He hates even talking about how the sex went after each session. When he was talking about us getting off on the wrong foot sexually, he said something about him having to do things with me that were practically non-sexual, which I could tell by the tone of his voice he wasn’t happy about, but I have no idea what this means. What things did we have to do that were non-sexual? Does he mean not sleeping together? Well, if that ever did bother him, it doesn’t now. He said it doesn’t matter to him one way or the other if we sleep together. That’s good to know, and I feel the same. As long as we’re together and healthy and happy, we don’t have to share a bed. Just our lives.

We filmed a 5-minute walk-through of the house. We’ll keep a copy, and Paula will get a copy. God, I look like shit, though! Not only do I look 130 pounds or more, but I’m aging like hell! I can’t believe how a person can suddenly age so fast! I still look younger than my age, but also much older. I’ve got droopy jowls, and sagging lip corners. We got a kick out of how I accidentally said this was the N. 21 Dr. house. Even I fuck up our address.

My stomach’s popping back out a bit, and I’m gonna have to figure out a way to work the muscles harder. I can’t feel a burn so much anymore cuz my stomach muscles have built up a bit. I’ll bet I could keep up with some of those advanced abs workouts! I still have a good-sized bulge in between the belly button and the bikini line. I don’t think I can flatten this gut any further than it’s been flattened.

Yesterday, as Tom got up and dressed and ready to go clean the old car out and pick up the brush, he said it was hard getting going at first, but now he likes this prep work and is kind of disappointed to be moving to a new place. Don’t worry, Tom, I told him. God will have plenty of work for him. Things that shouldn’t be breaking so soon will break, and if they don’t, something else will come up. Besides, what about building a workroom or something like that like he said he wanted to?

Shortly after he said he liked the prep work and went out to clear the car out, he came back limping saying he hurt a back muscle. Hell of a timing, too. I mean, it was just quite a coincidence that this had to happen right at the start of the day so we could lose yet another day of prep work. I wondered if he was putting me on just to have an excuse to laze out in front of the TV all day, but he swore he really was hurt and that he’d keep on working no matter how much pain he was in, cuz I didn’t believe him (nice to know he was in a hurry to cum back when I didn’t believe he would). Anyway, I didn’t want him to work if he was in pain, and besides, I already know that we’re not getting out of here anyway till the fall, so what the hell? In fact, we may even be here around Christmas time.

My computer’s been doing weird things, so he installed some kind of crash preventer, but I don’t know how well it’ll work.

Later…

He just called to let me know he’d be late. Yeah, I know. I know he does 12-hour shifts on Sundays and I don’t expect him in till 8:00-9:00. He says his back still hurts.

Better go put the recycle bin out just in case he doesn’t get home in time.

Later…

That Mexican guy really did come back. He came back shortly after Tom crashed. He got up and gave him the title to sign that he finally found, then the guy gave him $50, and said he’ll get it today or tomorrow. Tom said he doesn’t know if the guy believes or understands that the car really is broken. The car could be fixed up and driven for miles, but it’d take time and money.

I hope Tom’s back is better soon enough.

I did that advanced abs video I could never do before, and sure enough, I did every single exercise without a strain or a problem. Tom and I talked about getting a machine to really tone up since there’s only so much you can do lying on a floor. Tom wants it for strengthening his back. This is the second time this has happened to him, and he says he can’t let this happen, even if it’s only every 6 months.

Unbelievably, no one came next door today. What luck, huh?! We’ll be compensated, I’m sure, but oh how I wish that place could just stay vacant till we move! I wish those freeloaders could’ve been our last neighbors! I asked Tom why he thought those people I saw didn’t move in since the place appears to be done, and he said that maybe they could’ve been shown a few houses they had available and this one wasn’t their pick. Maybe, but the waiting list is huge. Why keep the place empty like this? Well, the longer it’s empty, the happier I’ll be.

I had said earlier that I was shocked that Andy didn’t call all weekend, but he did, according to Tom. He just didn’t leave a message. Yeah, he’s taken to calling a lot without leaving messages. Knowing how much he loves to babble, this tells me all the more that he’s doing it just to get attention. Just so I have to hear the phone and check the ID box (if I’m up). It gives him a sense of control, I guess.

TUESDAY, MAY 18, 1999 Tom told me earlier that he knew this was going to make me mad since I get mad when people win things and we don’t, but Dave won a big-screen TV from a drawing they had at work. I’m not mad. I’d be mad if they won a gorgeous doll they didn’t give a shit about that I wanted, but anyway, he and I aren’t destined to win anything big. Also, if he thought it’d make me mad, why’d he tell me? Would he find it amusing to see me mad or jealous? I’ve often wondered about this.

I saw Melanie yesterday and the doctor, too. I asked the doctor how much longer on the braces. As usual, he started off being vague about it, but after a few minutes, he finally answered the goddamn question. He said it’d take 10 months to really get things lined up perfectly, but only two months to tie up loose ends on the things we set out to do that I’ve already pretty much accomplished. So, they’re coming off in 12 weeks! On August 23rd. In 4 weeks I go back for the usual check-up, then again 4 weeks after that, then I get the braces off in another 4 weeks.

Melanie says she doesn’t like her retainer. You don’t have uncomfortable knobs sticking out that you have to wax, but you feel like you’ve got a wad of gum stuck to the roof of your mouth and under your tongue, and you talk funny. So, it sounds like I’ll be swapping in one misery for another. I’ll have to have the retainer for two years. All the time during the first year, then just at night.

I told Melanie how I was bummed she wasn’t around the last time I was in, cuz of the T-shirt I made for her to see. She said I could’ve come and gotten her, but I didn’t want to bother her. She said she liked my “cute little dress” and could notice the weight I’d lost. She told me she goes to the gym after work.

When I got home I printed out a rat picture, a couple of mice pictures, and a few different pictures of myself. One from when I was really skinny and one with my hair just past the shoulders when I was 24. I’ll give this to her the next time I see her.

My hair’s now to the middle of my ass when you don’t pull the curl out, and to the tops of my legs when you do pull it out.

Later…

I wonder how Tom’s back is? Good, I hope, but no matter what happens from here on out, I’ve already resigned myself to accepting and believing that we’ll be here till the fall. Maybe even as late as the end of the year.

I’m enjoying my time off from Andy’s calls, not that he’s been pummeling me with a lot of calls lately, but still, it’s always nice not to hear from him these days. I’m not looking forward to his return, that’s for sure. Cuz then I’ll have to sit on the phone for two fucking hours while he repeats the same old shit over and over again, talking in annoying slow, broken, intermittent-like sentences. I’m sure 80% of what he’ll have to say will be all about food and God. And then because he’ll be baked, he’ll call the next day and the next and leave a million messages about what he spent those two hours telling me about, cuz he can’t fucking remember that he already told me about it! Aaaaaaaaarrrrrrrrrgggggghhhhhh! And who knows how much the little pig will be stuffing his face when we talk. Sometimes I wonder, though, if he conveniently forgets things just to have an excuse to call and tell me something on the machine. God only knows he has no life and not much new ever going on. So, when you have nothing new to tell, you usually go back over old shit.

I hate Andy, man, I’ll tell ya! Well, I don’t hate him, but I’m really sick of him!

I got a kick out of how he said he felt the same way after I told him I felt superior to others. How can a loser like that feel superior? He can’t hold a job. He’s a druggie. He’s loveless. He has immature druggies as friends. His life is exactly as it was a decade ago. He just lives in Phoenix, that’s all. He’s got these grand delusions about God and is totally clueless as to the fact that if his “friend” were really all that wonderful, the world would be a much better place. He wouldn’t always be in such a stagnant rut. Maybe he’d have love, a job he could hold, and a body and brain free of smokes and pot.

I decided to use a similar tactic on Andy as I did on Larry, Doe, and Art’s stuff. Just like I fibbed and told Larry, Doe, and Art that I sent copies to people they know, hoping this would up the chances that they read what I wrote (out of curiosity as to what these people will be reading about them), I put a note on the first page of Andy’s shit that the sentences with the letters fam in them were also shared with his family. See, a druggie has no ambition to do anything but sit on their ass. He never read that journal I wrote for his birthday a few years back. This is different, though, with different circumstances surrounding it, so hopefully, the lazy thing will be curious to read it. Maybe if I pray to Andy’s “friend” and ask that he make sure he reads what I have for him to read, he will, but I certainly won’t count on it, although as Andy claims, God always comes through for him. Yeah, right! Is that why we’ve got a kid? I’m glad we don’t, mind you, but I know he’s prayed for us for that and I know he’s told me that God always comes through for him. Oh yeah? Then why’s he still alone? And I wouldn’t doubt that he’s also prayed for help on quitting the drugs and the ciggies. Maybe for a little stability, ambition, and motivation, too. What a dreamer. A total dreamer. It’s scary when someone can’t separate fantasy from reality.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 19, 1999 Yesterday the muscles under my arms and at my sides were sore from push-ups. Today the backs of my thighs are sore.

I ran to the phone yesterday as soon as I heard the long-distance ring to see if it was Paula or Andy calling to tell me stuff that could wait till he got home, but it was Tammy’s number I saw. So I picked up the receiver and put it back as quickly and as gently as I could. The fact that the person didn’t call back told me it was probably Lisa. If you’re gonna call someone collect as she does, you don’t usually try twice in a row. If you’re gonna call a second time, you usually wait a while. If the person called right back, then I’d think it was Tammy cuz she’d probably think it was a faulty connection with the way I quickly would pick up and put the receiver right back down. So all she’d hear was a click. Not someone picking up, then hanging up. I know because I’ve done this with Andy. Sometimes I’d see his number, and I’d pick up and hang up out of annoyance, especially if he’d been calling like hell, but then he’d call right back leaving a message saying the connection didn’t quite make it or that my machine cut him off. The machine part is occasionally true, though. Sometimes our machine really does cut people off.

Still no renters across the street or people next door.

The Mexicans took the old car.

Thank God that hoop is down. Some non-white girl just went by with a smaller girl, bouncing a ball. They’re waiting for the school bus. They let them take balls to school? This girl has gotta be in junior high. Maybe even in high school. Aren’t these little animals getting out of school soon? What’s sad is that we’ll probably still be here when school starts up again in the fall.

Thank God the kids are playing ball in front of the old man’s house, which is like being two houses away since a house could fit in between ours and his. Would I be yelling at them to stop if they were in front of our house? Nah. Not since school is coming to an end and since we shouldn’t be here more than 5 more months. If it were September and if we had no plans to be moved soon, then yes. I’m sure it wouldn’t stop them unless they dropped dead, but it’d feel good to yell at them for it, anyway. But why did they come to the bus stop a whole 20 minutes early? Then again, maybe a bus passes by at 7:00, so they’ll be just 10 minutes early. There are 3-4 buses that pick up kids and drop them off at different times in the mornings and afternoons.

I hope the dream I had was not a warning sign of any kind. I hope it wasn’t a premonition of anything to come. The reason I wondered, though, was because of how I dreamt last December 28th that the freeloaders moved. Then 3 months later that happened. I also dreamt I was in the house after they moved (even though it looked nothing like it does in reality. It was a 4-bedroom, 2-story house with hardwood floors like you’d find back east). Well, after they moved, I was inside the house. However, there’s no way the place will remain empty for 3 more months, so if this dream, or any other one, does hold any clues as to the next people in there, it’s gonna happen sooner than August 19th. More like June 1st.

You’ll find this in my dreams file, but anyway, I dreamt that 5 white kids moved in. When I say “kids” I mean kids between 18-20 years old. They had their music blaring away and I went over there and threatened to have them evicted if they didn’t shut up.

There are two things about this dream that cannot happen. There’s gonna be people under 18 living over there once whoever moves in moves in. Also, they’re not gonna be white. Not unless someone buys it. No matter who’s in there, no matter what color or lifestyle, 3 feet away is just too fucking close, so it’s gonna be noisy either way. If you get owners, you get dogs. If you get renters, you get music.

If the dream I had before this one ends up a reality in any way, then things might not be so bad. This dream consisted of a white man, woman, and boy of about 10, and these people seemed more mature, more stable, and not apt to blast music.

Remember how I said I saw the blue van for a few minutes next door when the city wasn’t there? It could be that instead of the kid going into the house for something, she went in back to get something I threw over there. In fact, it’s doubtful at this point, that she was bringing anything over. I’d think she wouldn’t bring shit over this far in advance.

THURSDAY, MAY 20, 1999 I’ve been getting bruising along my spine, so I’m gonna be getting an exercise mat to cushion my back today or tomorrow.

Lisa tried calling me collect 6 times yesterday. I risked Tammy answering and called back, although I assumed Lisa was calling cuz she was alone, and quickly told her, “Lisa, I can’t talk to you. Hunt me down when you get on your own. I love you. Good-bye.”

But she’s trying to get a hold of me today, too. Isn’t she supposed to be in school? See, I’m just afraid to call. I don’t want to risk Tammy answering, and for all I know, Lisa’s aiding Tammy in some shit against me. Meaning, Tammy may’ve talked her into calling me collect and saying she’s in some deep shit to try to manipulate me to do something she wants me to do. This could be about Dureen and Art. I know, though, that if these people died or Tammy had something she really wanted to say, she’d call and leave a message. Still, I think it’s best I ignore Lisa for now. I hate to do it and I feel so mean and guilty, but I know that anything Lisa has to tell me will just get me down and maybe bring some unwanted, shitty memories along with it. She’d obviously mention people she knows like Tammy, Bill, and others, and I don’t want to hear about them. I don’t want to know them from nothing. The thought of their names makes me sick. It really does.

Later…

My guilty conscious finally got to me and I wanted to explain to Lisa outright what I planned to do. As I knew she would, even though knowing this didn’t ease my guilt, she understood that my cutting off Tammy, Larry, Dureen, and Art has nothing to do with her. She understands why I can’t have Tammy and the others in my life anymore. As I told her, though, don’t let my decision influence her. I told her that just like I have to do what I have to do, so does she. I told her that as far as she’s concerned if anyone ever asks, she hasn’t heard from me since April of 1999. However, as I told her, I’ll be hunting her down at some point when she’s in her 20s, but she cannot, under any circumstances, give whatever our number and address are at the time to anyone. She can’t let anyone know we’re still connected. I told her we shouldn’t risk calling each other and that if she calls this number in a few months, it’ll be disconnected. I told her we plan to stay in Arizona but that we want to move outside of the city.

All Lisa said, who was suspended for refusing to take a test, was that she was miserable there. I know she is. I told her, I know exactly how she’s feeling, but she has to just tough it out a couple more years, get her diploma, then get out on her own. I told her that when she does get an apartment of her own, to list her number as Lisa A. G. I told her to tell her sisters, once they get old enough to understand, that just because their aunt had to go away, she never blamed them for any of the family problems and she always loved them.

Maybe in 5-10 years from now, Lisa can come to our house out here be it to live or to visit, but again, as she says she understands, she can’t tell anyone where she’s going. I suppose the worst that could happen would be that her mother and her associates find out our number and address, try to call/write to get me back into their sick little circle, and I just play deaf and blind to it all. Just like I would right now if Tammy left me a message saying she just wanted to move on, she wouldn’t pressure me, let’s be friends. Even if that were true and we could get along, I’ve done my time with Tammy, just like with Larry and their parents. It’s time to move on. Period. Time to cut the connections to so many horrible events. I don’t need the reminders and the sad memories that these people bring. I just feel so bad for Lisa! I know the desperateness, the helplessness, the frustration, the anger, the sadness, and the hopelessness she’s feeling right now. Trapped with a bully of a father and a negative bitch of a mother. She wants to get out of there so bad that she said she was gonna get an apartment with “Joe” this summer. I reminded her of how her mother wanted out so bad too, and look where that got her. I told her to do it right, even if it takes longer.

So, after a few minutes of talking, with both of us in tears, I said that it may be a long stretch in between this conversation and the next, but that I loved her. She said she loved me too, and that was it.

I’m glad we talked one last time and that I laid things out on the line for her. I just didn’t like the idea of ignoring her calls for the next few months, then just disappearing for a while, even though she’d understand. I know she knows what’s going on. Next week, I’ll send Becky that birthday letter and letters for Lisa and Sarah, too.

First the doctor doesn’t call me back most of the time, and now they’re not calling the pharmacist back. I phoned in for refills on my water pills, but they haven’t heard from the doctor. Tomorrow, if I don’t get a call from Walgreens to come and pick it up, I’m gonna call the doctor’s office and give them a piece of my mind. I’m gonna set them straight for once and for all and make damn sure they know that when I call them, I expect a call back. Same goes for the pharmacist.

Later…

Well, it may not have been the doctor’s fault after all. First I called Walgreens and they said the doctor still hadn’t called back. So I called the doctor, and after being on hold forever, I spoke to the manager. She soon called me back saying Walgreens never called them and that that happens a lot with Walgreens.

Tom was visiting his mom today, and as you know, she’s the central source of family news. You can usually find out what’s going on with the family by asking her. She says David and Evie are renting a house in San Diego and we’re invited, as well as the rest of the family, to rent along with them, but Tom declined. Neither of us is interested. I mean, we’re not interested in visiting them in the next town over, so we certainly wouldn’t want to do it the next state over.

Ma also says there’s supposed to be a new bee repellent out. Something you put on yourself to keep bees from coming towards you. Yeah, right! None of the bee stuff we’ve tried worked.

Got a bad PMS back this month. I took a couple of ibuprofen but I doubt they’ll help.

Believe it or not, I’m really getting sick of Paula. So much so that I might cut her loose, too. Maybe I really really do need to just wipe the slate clean and start over in a new place with new people. I’ve lucked out a few times with neighbors, but the bulk of my friends haven’t been all that great. I’ve been basically hexed in that territory. Anyway, she’s just a ditz. A real fucking ditz! I left a message on her machine about a week ago, telling her that the PO Box address I have of hers is number 663 but then she leaves a message saying that’s not what it is. Thanks, Paula! Now you tell me? So, I guess I’ll be getting a couple of pieces of mail returned, but I ain’t resending it.

Also, I know the mailman’s fucking around as usual, but I’m tired of this I’ll-send-you-pictures shit. I don’t need to play games like this and you know my opinion on talkers versus doers. Don’t tell me what you’re gonna do, just do it.

Lastly, I’m tired of her screaming at her kid while we talk, threatening him, telling me she slapped him, etc.

So putting all this together, I sat and thought about it, and I asked myself, do I really want someone this stupid and this aggressive for a friend? Someone who doesn’t know what she’s saying half the time? Who beats her kids and is in and out of jail? She’ll do nothing but fuck up the information she gives us about coming out here and she’ll have us running around the airport for hours, needlessly. She’ll make Kim, Alex, and Phil seem like the quietest guests and come between us.

Just like with Andy, a part of me will always love Paula. It’s just that the cons are overriding those pros once again and I don’t need it. I just don’t need it. Period.

Tom and I have evolved to the point where he’s not going to get all jealous, hype things up, tell me he no longer loves me, tell me to leave, and say things happened that never did, but you never know. I had no idea he was going to react to Kim’s visit the way he did. It was totally out of character for him and totally unexpected. He completely fooled me that time, whereas except for that, he’s not really all that full of surprises. But even if she didn’t come between us, she’d be enough of a hassle to deal with and we don’t need it.

FRIDAY, MAY 21, 1999 God, I’m getting tired of these phone games with Paula! I’m gonna ignore her for a while, cuz I’m tired of the phone tag, and right now, I really don’t have anything to say to this air-head. Meanwhile, her video’s gone out today. She either gets it or she doesn’t. You know, I might not get the mail I sent to the wrong PO Box returned to me after all. It may go to that box, but whoever uses that box will be the one to get it. As long as you send something to an address that exists, it doesn’t matter what name you use.

I thought of something funny, but I’d never do it, cuz if I got caught, and with my luck I would, it’s a major felony. It’s just something funny to think about. I could get a change of address card and send Tammy’s mail to Larry, and another change of address card to send Larry’s to Tammy. Lastly, a card to send Dureen and Art’s to one of the houses we used to have in Longmeadow. Or perhaps the old cottage at the beach. Maybe even Judy and Al’s house in Springfield.

I’ve taken to writing my dream notes in an unusual place. The next person to buy these books will be like - what’s this? I’m writing the notes at the beginning or end of the book where you usually have a blank page or so, or a page with just a few words on it.

Oh, those fucking assholes that complain people hate them and then wonder why! Real winners, I’ll tell ya. Yes, they really are oh so mature and great for society. Great for each other, too. If it had been me to answer the door yesterday, there’d have been trouble. Especially if it were before I fully understood what was going on. I was in the bedroom with the fan on when I came out to pee and saw Tom up. The Mexican guys woke him up by coming to the door and asking where the car was.

Gee, where the fuck does he think it is, stupid fuck of an idiot!

I asked Tom if the stupid shit asked for the $50 back and he said no. Meanwhile, the little fuck’s truck was broken down on the corner. See, I thought the little fuck was trying to imply that the car was gone before he could get it, and that he was gonna ring the doorbell again and demand his $50 back after Tom told him he gave him the title and the keys, so it’s not his problem. That idiot is very very lucky that that wasn’t the case and that it didn’t ring this bell, cuz I’d have wanted to pummel the shit out of it. This shit totally reminds me of the Puerto Ricans and their scams on Oswego St. I was fuming! Anyway, what we think happened is that the shithead was double-crossed by its so-called pal. Tom said there were 3 of them that came to look at the car the first time. So obviously, one of them decided to beat the others to it. Yeah, I don’t doubt it. I mean, they even shit on their own selves, not just whites.

As I said, it brought me right back to Oswego St. How could I have been so damn naïve?! So fucking stupid?! I know it’s senseless to get all pissed off at something that happened over a decade ago and that cannot be undone, but still, it’s hard to help it at times. The first thing I should have done was to take better care of my place so that those fucking Puerto Ricans Nellie and José couldn’t have ripped me off. But since I was too stupid to keep them away from my apartment and me away from them, I should’ve kicked ass. That surely wouldn’t set them straight and scared them off of the idea of fucking with my checks or boxes. I also never should’ve cashed those stolen checks she had, but I had absolutely no idea that if you cashed bad checks you had to pay for them. And I didn’t know they were stolen, but I should’ve. I shouldn’t put two and two together.

I try to remind myself there are good and bad in all kinds, but it’s so very hard at times. When that black bitch and her associates got on my case, I tried remembering Steve, and when Mexican scammers get me riled up, I remember Gloria.

There are sooooooo many things I’d do totally differently if I had to do them again. Well, you really do live and learn!

Another thing I can’t help is my daily bitter resentment towards God and his control. I try to ask myself how I can hate someone who’s given me Tom and so many other great things. Besides, I don’t even want a baby anymore. But that should’ve been my choice. Not his. Not unless I was some murderer or something of that violent nature. I’m glad things worked out as they did, but why did I have to go through all the suffering I went through? To me, God’s taking away a woman’s right to have a child if she wants to is the ultimate punishment you can inflict upon a woman. It’s cruel, it’s vicious, it’s heartless, and the worst thing you can do to a woman. It’s even worse for him to do that than it is for him to allow a woman to be raped. It may be traumatic to be raped and it may do some serious, lasting emotional damage, but the rape is only the rape while the actual act lasts. Demanding a woman be childless is forever. All her life she has to deal with that and with having her choice taken away from her, but a rape victim only has their choice taken away from them while they’re being raped.

Still no one next door. God, I can’t believe it! It’s so weird. Maybe they are planning to sell it, but I don’t know. The grass is getting to where it needs mowing. Also, Tom says that by law, the city has to repaint the carport area where the paint is peeling. With a city-owned house, the city can do what they want.

Later…

Just got a private call with no message. Was it a wrong number, a business, or perhaps Michelle, ordered by Andy to call me while he was gone, just so he could know he got my attention while he was gone, too?

Why do I work so hard for so little? All these crunches just to have such a paunch! The upper belly’s fairly flat. It’s the area between the belly button and the bikini line that’s the problem. And this is no subtle little swell, either. It’s a very defined bulge. I really don’t think I can flatten it any more than I already have, but Tom thinks I can in time.

Later…

I love my new exercise mat! It makes a world of difference to my back and joints. It really cushions the back, knees, and hips. It’s a piece of foam 60” long and 22” wide with a burgundy cloth cover. You can unzip the cloth and take it off to wash it. Just like when I exercise, it keeps the woolly carpet from bothering my sensitive skin. It also keeps me from making odd-looking impressions in the carpet.

I left Andy a message for when he returns, saying there have been some setbacks, so we won’t be moving this summer. In fact, I exaggerated it and said we’d be here another 6-12 months (we better not be!) so all the more he’ll be surprised when we leave.

I also told Andy that it’d be nice to hear about him when he returns. Not about God. He can talk about God all he wants, just some other time. First, let’s hear about his vacation and about what he did. Save God for another time. I know I’m totally wasting my time, once again. Even though I asked nicely, and I never said that he couldn’t talk about God ever again. It’s just that it gets so old and it’s so sad to see him so delusional. How can he kid himself about God like he does? It’s like, I may as well believe that this monitor is real and is looking out for me and is oh so loving and all that. Or one of my dolls, or a pair of scissors! We all can’t help what we believe, but God’s just a fictional character in a fairytale, as far as I’m concerned. At least, the kind he believes in.

I don’t have any more puzzles to do, so I guess I’ll go read some more of Haunted. Or maybe I’ll print out some stuff for this month.

SUNDAY, MAY 23, 1999 These renters get weirder by the minute. They didn’t run, apparently. If they’re not coming to get some things they left in the house, then they did go on vacation. But why the need to pack things in several truckloads for a vacation? And why the need to come and go loading or unloading shit like they’re doing now? I can’t tell if they’re loading or unloading one of the vehicles now, but they’re doing something. Maybe they’re just hanging out in their vehicles. The people of Arizona have a strange way of doing that.

OK, I just got a better look and it looks like they’re loading the pickup. If they’re moving, what a strange way to move by moving stuff, then waiting a couple of weeks to move more stuff. The red car was here earlier, and now the Blazer and the white pickup are here. These people are more complicated to try to figure out than the blacks were with all their vehicles and their comings and goings. I still hope they don’t move, though. They may be into a lot of door slamming, but it’s across the street, not next door. Also, they don’t have a dog that barks non-stop outdoors. If they move, I could very well end up with a typical outdoor barker.

I’m loving every minute that next door stays scum-free, cuz I know it’s just a matter of a few days now. By the first, in comes the scum and back comes all that stress and lack of peace. However, I now know how to deal with these people! So, be it by the city or by my fists, I will set these people straight. They’re not gonna shit on me left and right like the blacks did. It definitely means having a dog to deal with if the city sells it, but as I told Tom, maybe that’s just what the city’s working on now, although there’s no for-sale sign up. Tom said he doesn’t see why they’d sell it cuz the law requires them to have a certain number of subsidized houses. Yeah, there are a lot of lazies out there.

Tom did more than I thought he’d do over the weekend. I thought all he’d do was just pick up the brush out front, but he did that, he removed the old ugly awning from the front bedroom window, he cleared the back patio, he filled in the AC hole in the back room, he spackled holes and smoothed the kitchen walls and ceiling, and he even drilled a hole for Mary and Dave’s new TV. Yeah, I knew them winning that would mean a job for Tom. If they get something, he has to set it up for them. Tom felt he owed her that for tagging along for so many hours the day they bought the new car. He still has another job left, though; to put an up duct in for them.

He got me some really cool computer presents, but as usual, there are problems with them. I can’t fully use them, I mean.

He got some ghost stories for me to read on the little computer to read myself to sleep, but he lost them, I guess.

He got a really cool program that lets you make your own screensavers. They have the basic effects and you add your own pictures. Some bounce, some fly, some distort, and they do all different kinds of things. There’s a 3-D cube too, and I made one of Gloria’s pictures, Norah’s, and the animals. What’s also cool about this is that you can set timers so that your themes, screensavers, and your wallpaper automatically change. The screen saver changer won’t work, and I don’t like their wallpaper changer as much as Tom’s, but the theme changer is so cool.

Yesterday we went to Walgreens. The prescription department wasn’t open when we got there, so Tom had to go back later to get my water pills. While we were there, though, I picked up 4 puzzles. Nothing spectacular. Just boring landscapes. However, they’re fun to do. I also got a couple of sports bras and they’re great. Not just for exercising and bouncing all around, but for any time.

Paula left another message yesterday with a whole different story. First she tells me that if I send anything to the 663 box, it’ll be returned to me. Now she says she’ll still get it, and that she just put in a change of address for the other box. But why change boxes? And why can’t she get her facts straight? First it’s this, then it’s that. She’s driving me nuts! Also, I thought that being long-distance, she wouldn’t bug me so much with the phone. Boy, did I think wrong!

I was also correct in assuming Andy would waste his time and money to call me just to tell me that he got my messages and is having a great time. Well, I’m happy he’s having a great time, but couldn’t this have waited?

Later…

OK, renters, come on. Let’s hurry up and wrap up whatever it is you’re doing. Your door slamming’s getting on my nerves. You’re lucky you’re not next door!

Later…

Good. The vehicles have left. I’ll enjoy the half-hour they’re gone since I know they’ll be back to play car doors all over again for another couple of hours.

Just checked my email. Kim’s jokes are getting dumber by the minute. What’s happening to her?

It just dawned on me that Andy never mentioned getting that letter from me. I’ll have to ask him the next time we talk, if and when I can get a word in edgewise.

MONDAY, MAY 24, 1999 Today’s the day. Seven years ago. It’s been that long since I left the NHA.

If I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again, I’m soooooooo sick and tired of babies on TV. Like I said, in the 80s, all you saw on TV were drug busts. In the ’90s, you’d be hard-pressed to find a show/movie with no one having a baby in it and it really gets old. I guess they felt they should really change subjects to something good, that most people can relate to. Well, even if I could relate to it too, the same old, same old gets old. I find myself less and less tolerant of the same old shit these days. I don’t know if Dureen and Art’s lack of tolerance has rubbed off on me, or if it’s just because, or what, but I’m tired of people having babies in everything I watch, which isn’t very much to begin with in the first place. So, since I rarely watch TV, it’d be nice to be able to enjoy something without the same old shit in it for a change.

Later…

Paula left yet another message today. God, she’s calling more often than Andy! Almost every day. I didn’t think she’d be such a pest since she’s long-distance. I didn’t think she’d have the phone to be a pest with most of the time, since she, like Fran, had a habit of ringing huge phone bills up and losing phones for months at a time. The whole time we were neighbors, she didn’t have a phone.

My waist is 27¼, my hips are 36, and my thighs are 21¼. I wish my waist, hips, and thighs could be 24-34-18, but that’s not going to happen. Tom says I’m going down all over, but since my upper stomach’s going down faster than the lower, it seems like my lower stomach’s not going down, but it is. Well, I hope he’s right and that it will go down some more, cuz I don’t feel like it’s gone down since I initially lowered it a bit. In fact, sometimes I feel like it’s gone up since then, so maybe Tom’s right; my upper gut going down some more makes it seem like my lower gut’s come up. My upper gut has definitely gone down a bit more. That we can both see.

I can’t wait till these braces come off, cuz then I can have carrots when I get hungry for a snack. They’re heavy compared to other vegetables like lettuce, so they’re somewhat filling, and they’re under 50 calories. Well, they’ve got 91 days to go, as long as they don’t decide to play appointment games on me again and reschedule me three fucking times. To go and schedule someone else when you’ve already got someone scheduled is totally rude. Anyway, the screen saver program that lets you put your own pictures into their effects is a countdown screen saver. Sixteen images I’ve selected flash by one by one as it counts down. So tomorrow, the same pictures will flash by, but it’ll tell me I’ve got 90 days to go in the corner.

Tom was headed out to trim the tree out front, but as we know, not being able to find things is his favorite pastime and he couldn’t find his fucking saw. Instead, though, he threw some old newspapers into the recycle bin. I’m so sick of the daily papers being thrown in our driveway. We don’t need them, we don’t want them, and we didn’t ask for them.

He slept from early morning to early afternoon, then went back to bed late afternoon. He doesn’t have to leave till 12:30, but he told me to get him up at 9:30.

He gets me an exercise mat if I ask for one, sports bras, almost anything within reason, but see? If it’s sexual, he doesn’t care to lift a finger to so much as try to meet my request. Well, I asked once and I’m certainly not gonna ask again. I have a feeling that’s what he’s waiting for and hoping for, but sorry, I’m not gonna beg my own husband to go down on me. I can see if I asked him to do something he didn’t want to do and he came out and told me so, but to just ignore a request from his wife to do something I know he’s capable of doing, tells me just how vindictive and selfish sexually he can be.

The blazer returned yesterday at 7:30 and played musical doors and loaded up for an hour, then left. So far today, I haven’t seen any vehicles over there, so I’m still guessing that they moved. They just did it in a weird way. Then again, these people are very weird, period. Well, I won’t miss their door slamming, but like I said, if it were next door, it’d be about as bad, maybe worse, as those damn blacks were with their door slamming, but I still don’t know for sure if they moved. I’m just glad they’re across the street and not next door! As for next door? I’m not sure what’s going on. My guess is still that someone will be moving in on the first, but what about that peeling carport paint and the overgrown grass that needs mowing? Are they gonna come out and do that first? We’ll just have to wait and see, I guess.

TUESDAY, MAY 25, 1999 When I got up I said to myself, I bet you have your daily message from Paula waiting for you. Sure enough, she left a message. She said she got the video, so that’s good. That’s all she said, though.

Also, in case I didn’t already say so, Andy didn’t mention any of the things I left him messages about when he called a few days ago from Springfield. That’s Mr. Into Himself for you, but he’ll rebel when he gets back and he’ll challenge or try to alter my views as far as Tom’s mom goes, or someone on my side of the family. The problem with Andy, though, is that he doesn’t listen. Do you know how many times he’s brought up manufactured homes being flimsy and how many times I’ve had to tell him that yes, ten years ago they were, but once they recognized they weren’t sturdy enough, they made them sturdier and are built of the same materials your houses and apartment complexes in Phoenix are made of?

Today and yesterday there was a messageless private call. It could be a business, but why do I have the feeling it’s Michelle calling, per orders of Andy, just to keep things going phone-wise?

Sounds like the kids are still in school.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 26, 1999 Tom got a 10% raise and will be making just over $26,000 a year!! That’s great.

Another messageless private call today. Again, it could very well be a business, but it could also be Michelle doing this so Andy could throw me off, cuz I had told him that as far as I knew, any private calls were from him, but I don’t know.

Woke up at 7:30 this morning with some cramps after falling asleep at 3:00. I took an ibuprofen, but what was weird was that an hour later, I woke up with more cramps and had to take two ibuprofen. I fell back asleep till 2:00, so I guess I needed it. The only trouble is that if someone moves in on the first, my schedule sucks for it. I’ll be woken up for damn sure that day.

I watched an old stalker movie I’d seen before and an autopsy documentary, and then I completed the day’s workout. I finished one of the four puzzles I got, but before starting another one, I think I’ll go relax with the current book I’m reading which is Stranger in the House. No, I’d better do the dishes first and get that out of the way.

THURSDAY, MAY 27, 1999 Woke up to an unwelcome surprise. When I went to check the Caller ID box, guess whose name and number were there? Art O’s. And guess what else? They never did change their number. Right before I cut them off, their area code changed. So, when I went to chew them out about Larry last winter, I was dialing the right number, but with the wrong area code. I’m glad that I forgot the new area code at the time, cuz it would’ve been a total waste of time to bitch them out about Larry, themselves, or anyone. Like it would’ve changed anything? Yeah, right! I still do intend, though, to send them and Larry that stuff when we move, although I’m sure barely a paragraph of that will be read. With my luck, they won’t have that natural curiosity of wanting to see what others are going to be reading about them, even though I’m just bluffing.

Anyway, there was no message, so I don’t know which one of them left the message or why they were calling, but I’ll bet you I can take a damn good guess! Let’s see…we want to call and act like nothing went wrong, be nicey-nicey for a while, then go through the same old cycle of bullshit, huh? Not this time, Doe and Art. Not this time! Of course, I don’t know how long it’ll take them to see that yes, I’m dead serious this time. They really did blow it for the final time last summer. It truly is over forever. Well, sort of. I mean, I’m sure they’ll try again, but obviously it can’t be that important and nobody can be dying or else they’d have left a message. It could go the other way around, though, too. There’s a chance they won’t bother calling back cuz they know I’ve got caller ID. There were times in the past that I’d call them back after seeing their number on the box, even when they didn’t leave messages. They may now say to themselves after placing this one call, “OK, we left our number on her box for her to see. Now that she knows we called, she can decide from here whether or not she wants to talk to us.” Well, I decided that last summer.

Who the fuck is taking the papers that are left in next door’s driveway and placing them by our front door? I asked Tom for his theory, but he had none. I do. I think it’s the collie people. But why? To be a nuisance to us? To not let next door look empty? If they wanted to gather up the papers to keep next door from looking empty, why can’t they just throw the papers in their own damn recycle bin? Why give them to us? They’re the only ones I can think of that’d do that to us. They’ve got to know that the anonymous letters about their dogs came from this house. The Mexicans had to have discussed me, and then they had to have put two and two together. I hope I can spot whoever’s doing it to settle my curiosity and prove my theory right or wrong. I won’t do anything to them for it, though. After all, it’s just a newspaper, and not eggs or spray paint or anything messy like that.

Yesterday I put together a whole 500-piece puzzle.

Later…

I thought about it some more. Yes, thinking and analyzing things is my favorite thing to do! It could’ve been Dureen calling to say that Art’s in the hospital (with him expected to live). She could be using that as an excuse to patch things up for another round of abuse, knowing how much closer he and I were than she and I were. Well, if he’s sick - I’m sorry. I’m sorry if they’re suffering in any way. However, they still need to forget about me and move on. Nothing we can do can stop people from getting sick or dying. I’m standing firm ground on my decision. I don’t want anything to do with them.

There’s also a chance that out of sheer spite, they were calling to accuse me of something I didn’t do that they know I didn’t do. Or maybe one of their many enemies fucked with them and they really thought it was me.

Damn! It’s coming up on June and we haven’t scratched the surface of the prep list. My October vibe may very well end up turning into a January vibe, then an April vibe, and then the bitch won’t get her shit forwarded to her.

Later…

Boy, has my computer been doing weird things! It’s been totally hexed! First I get the virus, and now, the screen saver/color theme/wallpaper changer program is fucking things up. Last night, my themes quit changing. They couldn’t even be changed manually, so Tom had to reinstall Windows. Ironically, the thing’s working again, but I’ll tell you one thing for sure and that’s that there’ll be no more downloading or adding new programs to my computer for a long long time. Not if all it’s going to do is cause such hassles.

Walgreens is getting pretty incompetent these days. I called in a refill for one of my inhalers yesterday. They made it up when Tom went to pick it up today, but they claim I never called.

There’s been no one at the renter’s house since the day they played load-up last Sunday.

I forgot to mention that part of the reason Tom’s getting a raise is that, as he says, he complained about the way things were at work, as he learned from me. Well, it’s true that you have to speak out to get results at times. They hired a couple of new people and this is supposed to be his last week of overtime. Yeah, right! We’ll just see about that, cuz I say something new will come up to tie up his time. It just seems that God wants him to never have enough time here at home. It’s bad enough that we’re bound to this house for another God only knows how many more months, cuz of lack of time in which to prepare it to sell. And thanks to a certain selfish bitch who doesn’t give a shit about helping us. God, I wish that lady would hurry up and drop dead! But nope. In fact, she’s doing well enough to be going to California with David and Evie. Maybe even to Michigan to see her sister. See, people should listen to psychics more so than doctors. The doctor said she’d be going belly up last February, while I said that that won’t be happening till around August of 2000 and look who’s been right so far.

I don’t have a bad vibe for June 1st being just around the corner, and I should. Especially if those freeloaders, or something similar enough, are to be moving in that day. That tells me, along with a vibe that began last night, however weak it may be at this point, that perhaps the city is looking to sell that house (although I’d think they’d put up a for-sale sign). That means constant barking, but I’m prepared to deal with that too, if I have to. Not just subsidized freeloaders or their music. Anything that moves in there, be it black, white, or purple, is going to mean noise from kids. That may not be such a problem depending on their ages, or it could be a problem. We’ll just have to wait and see, cuz as you know, the kid that lived there wasn’t a problem. It was all the kids who’d visit that were a problem. And then again, dogs may be a problem no matter who moves in, be it renters or owners. I don’t know what to think anymore after seeing a carless, working bitch live there, then a jobless Mexican with a nice van come to check the place out.

FRIDAY, MAY 28, 1999 Still no renters. Tom said there’s a note on their door and that he thinks they’re being evicted. I told him so. I told him they were running. I won’t miss their constant comings and goings, but what if what comes in next is worse?

Why in the world don’t I have a bad vibe concerning next door? I should. But my logic and my vibes aren’t the same. Tom’s logic says they’ll move in tomorrow. My logic says they’ll move in Tuesday the first. My vibes say my peace isn’t threatened.

Tom thinks that whoever’s leaving us next door’s paper is someone who regularly cruises the area and lives down towards the right of our house. He thinks they see the house is empty and don’t want it to look that way to passing homeless people, so they put the paper on our doorstep as they’re walking back to their house. They’re obviously too lazy to carry it all the way to their house. Know what I ought to do for the fun of it? These papers are delivered every Wednesday. So maybe, once I see the paper over there, if there’s still no one living there, I’ll leave a note on the paper itself that says, Are you going to leave this one on our doorstep too? That ought to surprise whoever our little delivery person is.

Doe and Art did what I put at the top of my list of guesses as to what their next move would be. They didn’t call back. I figured they’d leave their number for me to see and go by that. Now that they see that they didn’t get a response from me, they may ignore me indefinitely. Long enough to get out of here, anyway. Then all I have to do is take the chance that the letters to Tammy’s kids don’t spawn off calls from Tammy, but if they do, they do. All I have to do is just ignore them.

Got a letter from that art school for training at home in art. They graded me an 85, saying that if your score is between 80-98 you qualify for training. They say they’ll contact me, but if they try to call, they’re not gonna have any luck. I gave them a bogus number. If I don’t hear from them by July, I’ll contact them. I’ll take Tom’s suggestion and find out all my options, but even if this course were free, how would I get jobs afterward with no car living where we’ll be living. It’d be hard even if we stayed right here, and remember, I can’t even keep a fucking schedule. So, my life’s options are pretty limited as far as jobs and huge responsibilities (such as kids) go. Tom thinks they’re legitimate, though, and he plans to take this same art test when we move to see if they tell him the same thing or not, but he thinks he’ll score lower than 80. They tell you if you’ve scored lower than 80, to keep practicing, and then take another test.

Later…

Just did the first part of my workout. I do my abs first, then my legs. I haven’t been doing too much with the arms. Just a couple of exercises, including push-ups.

My theme changer’s working again. We’ll see how long it lasts and what gets fucked up next.

Andy is going to get some more notes from me after all. He had wanted me to make up new notes for him to distribute, but I was too lazy to do so, so he had Michelle do it. Well, Tom got more colored notepaper. I pulled out a sheet of each of the 10 colors for my dream notes, so I’ll stick that in with Andy’s stuff.

SATURDAY, MAY 29, 1999 Tom said he saw the owners of the house across the street come to mow the lawn. I just hope that whatever comes next over there isn’t worse.

This is the second day in a row I woke up at 109 pounds after I had been waking up at around 111 pounds for a while. Tom says it’s cuz of the exercise. Well, good. Then I can eat more. I had to have had about 2000 calories the last couple of days, so I was surprised to wake up at what I did, and I doubt I would’ve had I not been exercising.

Later…

I’ve been watching a lot of documentaries lately. Stuff on the Titanic, crime, natural disasters, rescues, etc. Every now and then I still check out a movie if I can find something appealing enough that I haven’t seen. It’s just that new movies are scarce! I swear they must make only 50 new movies per year. It really sucks.

Anyway, I’ve got one taping now, nonetheless, and hopefully it’ll have a good enough plot mixed in with the pregnant women having babies. And the TMs (typical males) with their so-called “ideal women.” That to them is a slim girl between the ages of 12 and 16 who’s very short, yet magically has endlessly long legs and big tits.

There’s gonna be a 12-episode Law & Order marathon on Monday. I’ve seen all I care to see on that show, but maybe I’ll tape it anyway just to see what episodes they run.

My vibes on next door have been accurate since that bitch left, but I wonder about Tuesday. You could say I kind of sense something then. Maybe someone won’t be moving in that day, but I wouldn’t be surprised if the city came to mow.

After mentioning to Tom how I’d miss never seeing Goldie and Al again, he said he felt I’d see them again. When I asked how he sort of shrugged, and then I asked if he thought I’d see Dureen and Art again. He said it was possible. Oh, is it? If so, I told him, it’d take a major backslide mentality-wise on my part. He said he didn’t say that. I asked what he meant then, but he wasn’t sure, I guess. Well, let’s just put it this way - knowing what’s good for me, I hope I never see these people unwillingly (which I don’t see as a possibility unless they broke into our house) and I most certainly hope I never see these people willingly. I’d like to think that I’ll always have self-respect and good judgment with whom I associate.

SUNDAY, MAY 30, 1999 Tom did a wonderful job trimming the tree in front, but even so, that’s all he did this weekend so far, and this is something that needs to be done anyway, moving or not. He also brought some of the stuff we have out back, like the old sink, an old little table, etc., to the alley for bulk pickup, but there’s still plenty of stuff in the backyard. I guess we’ll really need a dumpster right before we move! That alley fills up fast.

I’m surprised I haven’t heard from Paula. Well, I hope her birthday went well.

MONDAY, MAY 31, 1999 I’m feeling a little down tonight. I don’t know why. Perhaps it’s cuz the onset of June has us not too much further into the prep work as the coming of May did. Perhaps I’m feeling angry at God, once again, for cheating me out of my right as a woman to choose whether or not to have a kid. Perhaps it’s cuz I know this is the last day of not having assholes just a few feet away from me. At least, I think it is, even if I don’t vibe it, cuz not only is tomorrow the 1st, but I think I might’ve seen one of our new neighbors. The shocking thing about it is, is that she was white. White doesn’t mean better, though. Not when you’re a renter and not when you’re just a few feet away.

At just after 4 PM, Tom and I saw a new car with a couple in their 60s, accompanied by what must’ve been their daughter. I couldn’t tell her age for sure and I couldn’t see if she was pregnant. This one didn’t exactly look all that young, though. She might’ve been in her late 20s. Even her 30s. I thought the car might be too dazzling to be that of a couple that old, but Tom says differently. Well, Tom knows cars better than I do, so I trust him. I saw no kids, but I know the city isn’t going to rent to someone without kids. I suggested to Tom that maybe the people got it by word of mouth. Maybe someone with a city friend offered the house to them to either rent or buy, but Tom says they aren’t allowed to do that. Well, I know the older couple aren’t the ones to be moving in.

Since the couple drove that woman that tells me that she probably doesn’t have a car. So, I guess that means that like with the bitch, all her cronies will be running over here to see her and to take her places, huh? But is this who’s moving in? How many kids does she have? Does she work? Have dogs? Maybe tomorrow will tell. It only seems logical that someone would move in tomorrow, but again, my vibes just don’t say so. I see something going on, though. Perhaps the city will mow. Perhaps they’ll come back to see the house again. Or someone else will.

Anyway, it didn’t appear that these people had keys to the house. They pulled up, went into the carport, and tried to see into the window, then into the backyard, then a few minutes later they walked towards the front of the house, then left. They could’ve gotten into the house from the back, but I don’t think so. The good thing is that I don’t have a bad vibe, but that doesn’t mean I’m not in for rude noisy assholes. Remember, the bitch and company didn’t start off so bad. I didn’t even know anyone came to look at the house and was moving in till a couple of weeks later when I first heard that cock’s bass. I had asked him if he was a worker there when I went out and uselessly asked him to turn the music down. That’s when he told me that they’d been slowly moving in for a couple of weeks. Same with the Mormons. They were fine the first week or so.

The owners were across the street working on the house again. There’s still a paper on the door. Probably an eviction notice, but it doesn’t look like anyone’s gonna come back and claim it.

For three days I had close to 2000 calories and awoke at 109 pounds. But today, I had just over 1000 calories and woke up at 111 pounds. Nice, huh?

[daisyschains]

Hi I am here to ask about slash zines!

-what was the first

-what was the longest running

-did they have to deal with local government censorship?

-anything else you can tell me! I know NOTHING about this topic!

Okay, if you really want to dig into stuff look at https://journal.transformativeworks.org/index.php/twc

It's a proper academic journal run by the same people who run AO3.

Slash fic has arguably been around forever. The easiest one to point to and say This is A Fragment Out of Time by Diane Marchant in 1974. That wasn't a whole zine but some of the first slash publicly printed.

Longest running doesn't really work in this cintext.

They were often more one off collections of short stories. People, mostly women, would get together and write these. Someone in the group who had experience with publshing or printing would type it all up and do the layout and copying. Then staple it all together.

If you wanted to buy one you'd go to a convention and in boxes underneath the tables selling comics or actor photos would be these zines in just random order and you'd flip through.

SOMETIMES there would be a PO box listed in the back and if you wrote to them you could get a list of other zines they have done.

The problem at the time wasn't government censorship. It was that IPs would sue. (Look up the geocities purge).

ALSO this was the age when a whiff of homosexuality could kill an actor's career. When Shatner found out about slash he asked his agent if he should take legal action in case people thought he was gay. He was told to ignore it because it would go away.

There was this bit in the late 90's and early 00's when the internet made it easier to get stories from random people, there was early publishing software, and even home printers. But then people went 'well, why do I need my fic on paper'

Look up geocities purge.

Look up LiveJournal strike through

Look up what project 2025 considers porn

Now download all your favorite fic onto a high quality SSD backup drive and start learning book binding.

[adaginy]

I would almost like for this weekend to be over. (My weekends are Sun/Mon)

We are in the process of buying a house. This is a lot of paperwork and phone calls, both of which I hate. But at least the "looking at places and being dejected by the problems" phase is over.

We are also in the process of getting our current place, a trailer, ready to sell. There's been a rusted spot in the sink in our second bathroom for some time, so, we had to take the sink out and replace it. This is not generally the sort of thing that requires turning off water in the whole house, BUT all our stuff was cheaply made 25 years ago and suddenly there was a lot of swearing and I do not know where the house water shutoff is and so had to trade places with my husband so he could find it while I pressed the broken-off end of a tube into my hand to try to stop water from going everywhere.

While he was finding the water shutoff, however, he noticed water coming from somewhere else. Completely coincidentally, the water coming into the house was leaking -- but before the water meter, which means it was the park's problem and not ours. It did mean we had to make some panicked Sunday-night calls to the park, trying to alert them, and we didn't really know when/how they were going to handle it.

I took a break, because now we had a big problem but no longer an urgent problem, to have some lunch and some tea. I spilled tea on my keyboard, disabling the ' key (among others I wouldn't find until I started troubleshooting), and when i tried pressing the key harder, it started printing XCV]\' XCV]\' XCV]\' until I turned the computer off.

I removed my keyboard and started disassembling it to clean.

We took the dog on a walk and found an excavator parked behind the house and utility lines marked in fluorescent paint. Somehow they'd snuck that in. So I turned my keyboardless computer back on, because I do not have myself logged into Facebook on my phone because Reasons, and used the on-screen keyboard to make a post on the park facebook page to the effect of "hey we called in a leak and now there's an excavator behind our house, maybe stash some water in case they're turning it off."

I had no luck repairing my keyboard, having disassembled it and cleaned it and plugged it into a laptop to check. Best buy and Staples didn't have anything promising in stock, so I went to Amazon where I found a wired, mechanical keyboard that could be delivered tomorrow -- at either the wee small hours of "I feel bad for the delivery person" or at the later hours of spending all day keyboardless. I ordered it for the early morning, and left an energy drink and a granola bar on the porch with a thank you note. I threw the keys I'd popped off and the screws and the plastic frame in the trash, and asked my husband to take the keyboard to electronics recycling in the morning.

Morning comes. My husband did not take the keyboard with him.

My new keyboard has arrived. I unbox and try it out, lamenting to myself that while the switches are technically the same, my old one is much more broken-in and thunk-y instead of clicky. I realize that, with the damage being liquid, I should test the keyboard in case the liquid was somewhere I couldn't get to and it has dried. Sure enough, the keyboard is working now.

The excavator guys are here. They may have to turn my water off for a bit, but otherwise we don't need to interact. I tell them to let me know if they need a bathroom or anything, and I begin the process of fishing my keyboard parts out of the trash, which is full of yard waste and a broken blender.

I find the frame, the discarded keys, and most of the screws. I also find blender screws that are approximately the same size. I reassemble my keyboard, with two internal screws missing and 3 replaced with blender screws. My husband says not to send the new one back, because his keyboard is old and gross and maybe he'd like a replacement. I was not planning to send it back anyhow, because WHY didn't we have a spare keyboard? I put replacement keyboard anti-skid feet stickers in the amazon cart, because those I did not find, but I can live without for now.

I get a text from the realtor reminding us that we have a house inspection at the new place at 4. She is very cheerful.

[bluesideism]

someone save him. 01 | jjk/kth

Jungkook is a procrastinator straight A student—rushing around to print his essay minutes before taking a test. Basically, he bumps into Taehyung and gets their essays swapped on accident, Taehyung getting a really good grade and Jungkook getting an awful one.

Namjoon sees Jungkook fly past the window. Ugh. Not again.

Namjoon turns to Yoongi and asks, “Don’t the second years have an essay due today?”

“Yeah, Yoongi says. “And a test too.”

Namjoon sighs. “When will he learn?”

Meanwhile, Jungkook is busy. He’s got an essay and an exam on the same day, and nothing could be worse for an unorganized try-hard. As soon as the teacher left for the restroom in the teacher’s lounge, he knew he was safe to go finish his work, bolting through the hallways.

Jungkook spots Namjoon outside the window of the library. He’s probably taking a walk before the third-years’ exam.

“Hyung!” Jungkook pants and calls out to Namjoon.

Namjoon just turns to him with a knowing look of annoyance, “I’m not printing anything for you while you prepare for your test. I’ll have you know that I also go to this school and I also have a test today.” Namjoon is satisfied with the nose scrunch and semi-defeated look on his friend’s face. He adds, “And I saw you writing that essay in class just now. 15 mins before this test you’re about to take, so this is really just your lowpoint kid. Maybe you should take this chance to start, I don’t know, preparing ahead of time?”

"Never." Jungkook gives a tight and slightly spiteful smile.

Namjoon turns on his heel, laughing softly to himself and shaking his head, “Oh, Jungkook. What are we going to do with you.”

Jungkook lets out a loud sigh and continues running towards the library.

Does this school have to have this many long hallways? And one too many unhelpful Namjoons?

The printer takes a horribly long time to print, seems slower than usual. He curses himself for staying up to study and yet forgetting to print or finish the many citations for his essay. But he’s confident about it. When has he not done well anyway?

He bolts out of the library as soon as the last page is stapled, his strides lengthening. It’s almost fun how fast he has to run to make this work. It’s like time is being pressed or condensed by his pure unorganized nature. But he’s actually enjoying the push and pull, the running towards his goals, turning the corner swiftly until-

Bam.

Until he was met with this. Slammed right into it, actually.

Ouch… Jungkook’s head hurts. And the right side of his body mostly does, too.

The other boy was also sprawled out on the floor, rubbing his head.

“I’m so sorry,” Jungkook starts. Flustered, he doesn’t meet the boy’s gaze.

“No, it’s fine,” the other boy says, voice deeper than Jungkook had imagined for a highschooler. The boy’s stuff was flung all over the place.

“Here, let me help you with that.” Jungkook starts to hurriedly help the boy pick up what he was carrying, and then finds, in the mix of papers, his essay sprawled out on the floor as well.

My essay. The test.

Jungkook picks it up with such force and vigor, he momentarily forgets about the pain of the impact. “Sorry again, but I have a test to ace,” Jungkook shouts behind him as he rushes forward.

When he makes it back to class, he’s met with a bit of awkward air as he’s pretty late. 10 minutes isn't his worst, but definitely not his best. The teacher clears her throat, “Mr. Jeon, I have asked you not to repeat this kind of behavior.”

“I am sorry,” he says bowing his head down and quickly brings the essay up to her desk.

“Name?” she raises an eyebrow.

He takes a pencil from the teacher's little cup of writing utensils. Hastily writing his name at the top of the essay in the neatest handwriting he can while writing this quickly, he thanks the teacher in his head for not being strict about MLA. She might be acting a little cold now, but this teacher definitely lets a handwritten name slide.

Her stern look softens when he gives her a small smile. She knows he tries hard.

Just in time. The test hasn’t started yet.

Jungkook plops down at a desk, pretty satisfied. One more minute of the teacher talking about test strategies, and she starts to hand out the tests.

That’s when someone opens the door to the classroom.

Who could be later than I was?

The intruder is a tall boy who looks sleepy behind his glasses and has his hood halfway up. He is the epitome of nonchalance.

“Mr. Kim Taehyung…” the teacher scolds. “You are…” she checks her watch, “almost 15 minutes late for class on the day of a test. What excuse do you have for yourself this time?”

Kim Taehyung? Jungkook thought. He had never met him, but he must be a second year too because he was obviously in the same class. He seemed to be a complete and utter disgrace already (not like he could really claim he was any more punctual).

Kim Taehyung stretches his neck and looks up at the teacher. “I’m sorry, Ms. Park. I just got caught in a little collision in the hallway.” His eyes glide over to where Jungkook is watching him intently.

The realization hits Jungkook and then a slight bit of annoyance. This is totally not my fault, I ran here and got in just fine.

Taehyung continues, “And the other person wouldn’t even help me pick up my stuff.”

Jungkook narrows his eyes immediately. Bitch.

“Anyway, my sincerest apologies for my failure to be punctual,” Taehyung finishes and takes a seat by the window. He sounds sarcastic and sleepy, yet a bit soft and—Jungkook hates to say it—cute.

The class proceeds with the test, and in an hour and 30 minutes, everyone piles out of the classroom. Another day, another A for Jeon Jungkook. If not for his extra cramming last night, he wouldn’t have known half the material on it, though.

“Yoongi-hyung!” He calls out across the hallway, running toward the figure slumped against the senior lockerbay.

“Jungkookie, what’s up?” Yoongi smiles at him.

“Just finished a test that all the second years took together. Stuffy room,” Jungkook says. “Ah, and I turned in that stupid essay. Thank god I’m done with that.”

“Namjoon and I both saw you running around and he told me he refused to help you.”

Jungkook raises both eyebrows to channel his inner innocence. “Isn’t he so mean?”

“Nah.” Yoongi ruffles his hair. “Serves you right for being such a procrastinator yet still ranking at the top of your class.”

Jungkook huffs, but smiles. He could never get tired of being told he was doing well in school. “Goodluck on your exams. They’re next week, right?”

“Yeah, I’ll need the luck."

Yoongi and Jungkook part, and as Jungkook heads to his next class, he sees Taehyung, the boy from before. Jungkook avoids him and goes the other way.

I got a WHAT.

“What the fuck.”

The little numbers flash back at him on the computer screen as if to say, yep. that’s right. look at us. They read: 64%.

Namjoon peers over his shoulder at the device in Jungkook’s hands, logged onto the school website. “What?”

Namjoon’s mouth flies open and he grins. “Damn! Finally! You’re learning to live.”

“Hyung no,” Jungkook groans, “This is serious.”

The commotion peaks Jimin and Yoongi’s interests, so they perk up in their current position—Jimin sitting on Yoongi’s lap—and stare at Jungkook like two cats.

Namjoon reads their minds and tells them, “Jungkook just got a god awful mark on his essay he turned in last week. It’s amazing. A phenomenon.”

“Shhh, hyung,” Jungkook speaks softly, “You don’t have to tell the entire cafeteria."

For the rest of lunch, Jungkook racks his brain thinking of what he could have done to deserve such a bad score. He had never gotten anything like this.

In the small break before his last class, he stops by Ms. Park’s room and asks if he can see his essay. She is about to take a phone call, but she’s nice enough to hand a straight-A student his paper back with a warm smile, then does a double take at the score.

She puts down the cell phone and says, “Mr. Jeon. This is exceptionally bad. I knew one day would come when your tardiness would affect your scores.” Her eyes soften. “Although I am a bit disappointed, I will allow you to revise it for partial credit.”

Jungkook is alarmed. That bad? he thinks. Even though it was done in a rush, he didn’t think it was that far off from his normal writing, which was all done in a rush anyway.

He nods curtly and thanks her before her phone rings, and she takes the call.

But as soon as he reads the first line, he knows something is very off. These aren’t his words. And in his chest he’s almost growling, Kim Taehyung.

[the-firebird69]

Today we heard this on the radio about Trump and from people there saying for him to show up and stop talking on each and every comment people are chiming in telling him to shut up and he's saying what for and dump things like that dumb things like that in the others get back to him we told you to shut up and we're penalizing you. They can't stand him anymore he's a little baby and he's gotta go down and they said it too you're not helping you're a piece of **** **** ****. it is happening right now today this fool has taken enough of our time as well and we are going through the numbers after him and shortly he's gonna be gone. In the meantime we do have several announcements

In the meantime we do have several announcements

We have some projects starting and their major projects and a couple of updates on several projects.

## Clothing it is a necessity it is a very huge project we started it the other day and we handed it off to people they are running it getting it going hiring people and they are conscripting getting people to sign on and more and doing it to make us bigger to make our system work this particular group is interested in us telling people that if you need clothing that you have to save what you have it might take a delay for it to get to you. They're starting to run looms they're starting to get going but they need to get things like wool and cotton grown and harvested this year we had a smaller crop of cotton than last year and we're growing more now as quickly as possible and we are using things to make it speed up it'll be ready in about three weeks but we need clothing and our son and daughter say I think you can recycle it and it is true that you can recycle cotton the process doesn't make it work good though. Hemp and other things have been looked at and it's not that great there will be a shortage very soon of clothing globally cotton fields are being made everywhere people are growing and people are gonna make synthetic but that's gonna be expensive and I won't go up too much but it will cost a little bit for it to happen we're looking at super plants we don't have to do it and he says we could just use growth proteins and we know how to do that and that's safer and easier with hormones and we think we will it doesn't matter with cotton that much and people do it anyways it grows twice as fast and big so we're introducing that And we are accepting people who sign on and volunteers and anybody interested in this with experience and with office experience transportation delivery packaging and more. we're also going forwards with our

we're also going forwards with our

## There are other things too food is a big one. Planting food in huge farm areas we need to protect and keep people out of and it's for everybody in the perimeter and some people take food or buy it and they abscond with it and if they buy it they're welcome to buy it. And that would be Tommy F. And we sell a lot of stuff to him already. There's other things happening and it is pretty big in the food industry they're leaving the major major crop areas this week into next we have to protect them from sabotage and we're moving in now. Armies actually huge ones and to protected. But the food we're starting is farming and we are looking for farmers and we need a ton of them. I mean we need huge huge numbers of farm I mean we need huge huge numbers of farmers. We have food needs everywhere and it's a priority we we need food right now and we're looking for staple foods but we needed to go now and we need people to volunteer and also to sign on to this duty we have a lot of positions kernels generals lieutenants sergeants corporals huge numbers of troops are needed just for security until we can get the walls out which we're moving at this time and to protect areas. We're gonna print right now

Thor Freya

Zues Hera

Olympus

we said it most of it yes

Thor Freya

[caffeine-hifi]

of all things why am I autistic about Printers