#bad enough he got hexed in the past

[mila-bee]

[zephyrchama]

Living together in a big house with one (main) (shared) bathroom means that mornings can be tough.

When you first arrived at the House of Lamentation, it was hard to fit in. It was really hard to get into the bathroom in the mornings and fight six demons for use of the sink. If more than two others were in there at the same time, they practically formed a living wall that blocked you out, forcing you to wake up extremely early or risk being late for school.

That got better over time though. You gradually managed to fit into the house's morning routine.

---

Lucifer has his morning routine down to an exact science. Usually he's fully dressed and has his hair brushed before leaving the bedroom. He might be running on pure muscle memory though - one time you handed him a warm washcloth for his face and he just stared at it in confusion for several seconds with a furrowed brow. He has no problems getting it himself, but this break in routine gave him pause. It took Lucifer a moment to realize what it was and to thank you.

If you get the chance to eat breakfast together, Lucifer likes to ask about your day. "What do you have planned? Remember, we have that meeting at five. Did you prepare for the ancient hex exam?" He might slide a bit of his food onto your plate before he goes, a way of returning the pleasant energy boost you always provide for him.

---

Mammon can hustle. Which means that Mammon can get up early if it benefits him in some way. A part time job, an early bird discount, a chance to slip past Lucifer's defenses and borrow some cash.

That doesn't mean it's easy. Waking up takes some serious effort. Mammon will stumble into the bathroom to do his business first thing in the morning, yawning with his eyes half closed and tugging up whatever pants he just tossed on for modesty.

The tsundere part of his brain takes a few minutes to kick in if he's just woken up. If he spots you, Mammon will demand a good morning hug and wrap his arms around you, deaf to your cries of "Mammon! Go wash your hands before you touch me!"

---

Leviathan is always groaning in the morning. He's probably not aware of it. He's probably muttering complaints but is too tired to actually speak the words properly. His blankets are always a tangled mess, wrapped unevenly around his feet and contorted around his body, but Leviathan can easily Houdini his way out of them when it's time to get up. If there's no event or livestream to wake up early for, he'll sleep in for as long as he can before starting the day with a nice shower.

He finds warm running water to feel so pleasant and you can often find Leviathan spacing out next to the faucet. He'll greet you with a sleepy "ah, morning," and accidentally splash you in an attempt to wave his hand. The embarrassment and slight panic from getting you a towel to dry off with is usually enough to properly wake him up, and he sheepishly exits the bathroom and guards the door until you've finished changing into dry clothes.

---

Satan can hardly even put his shirt on properly when fully awake.

The man's a sleepy mess when he tries to get dressed in the morning. He'll stay up all night to finish a book he's invested in, then stumble out of his room "ready to go" when it's time for breakfast. His pants are unzipped and the button is coming undone. He's only got one sleeve on and it's on the wrong arm, or the buttons on his shirt are all misaligned and half have been skipped over.

He doesn't protest anymore when you tidy him up. Some mornings he'll doze off while you straighten his tie and fall forward into you, then try to play it off as a hug. Satan doesn't want to let go though, you feel so much warmer on a chilly morning.

---

Asmodeus is a rare morning riser. Too much sleep is bad for the skin, he claims. If he has trouble getting up, he'll either go soak in his private tub for energy or seek you out.

"You have to hear what happened last night," he'll say, strolling into your room while there's still ten minutes left on your alarm. He sits on the edge of your bed, and if you try falling back asleep he pulls you up into a sitting position. "Listen to this, you won't believe it!"

Asmodeus isn't afraid to get touchy if it means you'll wake up faster and he gets your attention. He'll sit you in his lap, or press you against his side, or run his hands down your face and squish your cheeks with a mischievous smile.

When the main bathroom is too crowded to use you're free to borrow his, with the caveat he gets to style you for the day and you might be late when he gets overzealous.

---

Beelzebub can also be found awake in the mornings. The quiet hours before everyone else wakes up are best for stretching, taking jogs, and grabbing a pre-breakfast appetizer. He'll get spooked if he hears footsteps approach the kitchen and slam the fridge door shut in a hurry, but all is well when he sees you enter the room instead of Lucifer.

Beelzebub is a big guy who takes up a lot of space. When you run into each other in the bathroom and are rushing to get ready, it's easy to bump into him. On days he's still pretty tired, he might not even notice you bonk your head against his arm. That's fine though - you don't want him to notice you until he's brushed his teeth. After all, Beelzebub's morning breath is a potent magical weapon.

If you need the bathroom sink while he occupies it, Beelzebub is kind enough to nudge you in front of him (once you've confirmed his mouth is minty fresh). You both get to use the mirror this way, and you can both see each other's smiling faces.

---

Belphegor is the king of oversleeping. The powers of you and his twin combined are hardly enough on some days, but mostly the responsibility of waking him falls to you. You quickly learned it's best to wake him from behind his head, if you can manage to maneuver your way into a suitable spot to do so. Anywhere his limbs can easily grab you will result in being pulled into bed. He's like a sleeping kraken.

You suspect that Belphegor wakes up easier than he lets on, but he feigns ignorance. He insists he was totally fast asleep when you struggled to physically drag him down the hallway towards the bathroom, wrapping your arms tightly around his torso with all your strength. And when he clung on to your waist and nuzzled his head into your stomach. And when Beel came to help free you from Belphegor's clutches, but he rolled you under him and muttered "mine now."

Definitely fast asleep, doesn't remember a single thing.

[captainsophiestark]

Can’t Sneak Out

Damon Salvatore x Reader

Masterlist - Join My Taglist!

Written for Fictober 2022!

Fandom: The Vampire Diaries

Prompt: “Not on my watch!”

Summary: When yet another massive supernatural threat comes to Mystic Falls, Y/N is ready to go out and help the rest of the Mystic Falls Scooby Gang beat it. Unfortunately, a bad cold ends up messing with their witchy-woo enough that they need to stay home and rest, instead. Since Y/N is the kind of person to go out and push themselves to the limits anyway, Damon's been tasked with keeping them home and resting, and he's taking his job very seriously.

Word Count: 1,604

Category: Angst, Fluff

Putting work into an AI program without permission is illegal. You do not have my permission. Do not do it.

"Damon, if you don't get out of my way-"

"What? What are you gonna do? You're sick as a dog right now Y/N, you couldn't even hex me if you tried!"

I growled in frustration and threw my hands up in the air. "Our friends are out there risking their lives right now! I can't stand being cooped up in here, so get the hell out of my way."

"No."

"Ugh!" I threw my hands up in the air, but Damon didn't budge. I huffed and stomped around a bit, but his expression didn't soften at all. Finally, I rolled my eyes and sighed. "Fine. If you're gonna be such a pain in the ass, then I'm gonna go take a nap instead of spending time in here with you. Goodnight."

I spat the last word, then turned on my heel and headed for my bedroom. In truth, I had absolutely no intention of taking a nap. I just needed my babysitter to think that was the plan so I could sneak out behind his back while he wasn't paying attention.

I slammed my bedroom door behind me, then rustled the sheets loudly like I was flopping into bed. I waited a few beats, ruffled the sheets again like I was laying there and trying to get comfortable, then waited again. Finally, when I decided I'd waited long enough, I crept across the floor to the window.

Slowly, carefully, and like I'd done more than once in high school, I eased the window open. It was completely silent, and I stepped out onto the roof with practiced ease. I walked to the edge of the roof and eased over it until I hung on by just my fingers, my feet dangling above the porch. I still really didn't feel great thanks to my cold, so it was a little harder than usual, but nothing I couldn't handle.

Finally, when I felt confident in my position, I let go and dropped down to the porch in triumph.

I found Damon standing in front of me with his arms crossed, staring at me and clearly not impressed.

"Did you really think that trick was gonna work on me?" he deadpanned.

"Dammit Damon! Get out of my way, I'm going to help my friends."

I tried to storm past him, but I didn't get very far. He picked me up and threw me over his shoulder, then started heading for the front door of the house.

"Not on my watch!" he said, his tone entirely too cheery for the mood I was currently in.

Once we were back in the house, he dumped me unceremoniously on the couch, then started heading for the kitchen.

"You lay there and rest," he ordered. "I'll make you some soup or something-"

"What the hell is wrong with you?" I finally demanded, shouting despite my sore throat as I popped back onto my feet and glared at him. He stopped in the kitchen doorway and stared back at me with a raised eyebrow, but my scowl only got more fierce.

"What do you mean?" he asked, his tone making it clear he thought I was being crazy. I clenched my fists and took a few furious steps towards him.

"I mean, who the hell are you, because you're sure as hell not being Damon Salvatore right now!" Damon scoffed and rolled his eyes, and I knew he had some witty retort on the tip of his tongue, but I jumped in before he could say it. "I've personally seen you cajole Bonnie into the middle of danger and heart-stopping spells when she's on the verge of death. You'll send Matt off to be bait with no defense at the drop of a hat. Tyler, Caroline, even Stefan! If they can be of help, you don't try to stand in their way, even if they should be resting instead of world-saving. But with me? You're a helicopter parent!"

"Y/N..." he warned, taking a few steps towards me. We were almost face to face now, but I wasn't stopping at all. In fact, I was just getting started.

"No, I mean it!" I cried. "I have a cold, and yeah, it might make it harder for me to throw down like I usually do, but it's not like I'm completely bedridden! And yet here you are, barely letting me off the couch for some fear that I'll drop dead if I do more than breathe! So why? You just want to get on my nerves that badly, that you've decided to keep me from helping our friends? You want to mess with me? So much that you're here, stopping me from sneaking out like a high schooler in a teen movie, instead of helping your brother fight something that could very well kill him? Why the hell would you do that?"

"Because I'm in love with you!"

He shouted it back with the same frustration and exasperation that I'd had in my tone. He'd been getting more and more worked up as I'd laid into him, and apparently he just couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm in love with you, Y/N, alright? So much so that I'm here, making you soup, instead of with my brother. So yes, I am hovering, but it's because I care. And because you don't know your limits at all. The number of times Bonnie's had to step in to save you from an overwhelming spell when you're healthy is so high I can't count it on one hand, and if you go out right now and push yourself past the point of no return, I'd never be able to live with myself for letting it happen. Never."

I just stared at him as he finished his speech. He was breathing hard, and it was clearly my turn to say something, but I couldn't process the confession I'd just received. After a few moments of stunned silence, I finally managed to choke out the obvious.

"You're in love with me?"

"Yes, Y/N. I'm in love with you. And I know you hate me, but-"

"Whoa, whoa, wait. I don't hate you. Damon, I've never hated you. I mean, I've definitely wanted to kill you a few times, but... but I actually like you too. Like, a lot." My heart beat faster at the admission, even though Damon had literally just told me he felt the same way.

"Really?"

"Yeah. Yeah, really. At this specific moment, I'm a little frustrated with you, but on the whole? Yeah."

Damon stared at me for a few seconds, his blue eyes piercing mine and an expression of awe on his face as he took me in. Then, in a flash of vampire speed, he crossed the room and wrapped me in his arms. I laughed as he pulled me to him, a devilish smirk on his face.

"Well, in that case, I don't want to waste any more time," he said. He leaned in to close the distance between us, aiming for a kiss, but I put my hands on his shoulders and stopped him. He raised an eyebrow in silent question.

"I have a cold, remember?" I said. "I don't want to get you sick."

"Sweetheart, I have fantastic news for you. Vampires don't get sick."

"Wait really?" He nodded. "Holy shit that's awesome!"

"I agree."

With that, he leaned in again, and this time I didn't stop him. It felt a little crazy to be kissing Damon Salvatore, but I also absolutely couldn't say I minded. Even if Bonnie was going to kill me for it later.

After a few seconds, we broke apart. Even if I couldn't pass my cold to Damon, I was still sick, and I just didn't have the energy for a dramatic, romantic make out session after a confession of love.

Thankfully, Damon could tell. When we pulled apart he kept his arms wrapped around me, then smiled at me, blissful happiness written all over his face.

"Wanna watch some dumb movies while I make us some hot soup?" he finally asked. I sighed, leaning into his chest.

"That sounds perfect."

"Good. C'mon, let's get you to the couch." He kissed the top of my head, then walked me over to the most comfortable spot on the couch. I settled into the cushions and blankets as he started queuing up one of my favorite movies. I smiled to myself as I watched him, feeling a sense of peace and belonging I never would've thought to associate with Damon before.

"This is gonna sound really lame," I mused as Damon finished setting up the movie and then headed for the kitchen. "But honestly, this is my ideal first date."

I heard Damon snort from the kitchen, and it only made me smile wider. And just like that, I found myself perfectly happy to sit here with Damon and rest a little. The dangers and challenges of Mystic Falls would still be waiting when I was healthy, after all. And now I'd be facing them with Damon as my partner instead of my adversary.

We were going to be unstoppable together. The supernatural world would have to watch its back.

[shownusgfayoooo]

A Potions Mishap

Pairing: Seonghwa x f!Y/N

Tropes: Hogwarts au, Slytherin!Hwa, Ravenclaw!reader, hurt/comfort, fluff, mutual pining

T/W: injury with a knife, feeling dizzy/sick, f word

Words: ~4k

my masterlist

You normally enjoy Potions class, you really do. But, today, the thought of spending the whole afternoon in the dungeons was filling you with a sense of tediousness and dread. Not only was it a perfect summer day- one that you couldn’t even enjoy because of double potions, but it was also exam season- so, even if you hadn’t had class blocking up the whole day, then studying for your N.E.W.T.’s was enough to ruin anyone’s mood. Add a granola bar for every meal for the past two weeks and barely four hours of sleep from the night before, and the equation spelled a truly annoying and exhausting end to your school day.

Noticing the sour look on your face, your friend and fellow Ravenclaw housemate, Hongjoong waved his fork in front of your face. “Earth to Y/N.”

You wrinkled your nose at him. “Whaaaaat?”

“Have you seen the time? We have class in 5 minutes, and – did you seriously not eat anything, again?”

You blinked down at your where your plate should be. Instead, you saw your Potions text, riddled with notes in the margins and covered in pink highlights. To the side sat your plate of food, untouched.

“Ah, shit.”

 Hongjoong began to open his mouth to lecture you before you cut him off, “Just save it- as if you haven’t forgotten to eat because you also got caught up in some project at the table!”

He quickly closed his mouth and gave you a stern smile instead. “At least I don’t do it every day. From tomorrow onwards, if you don’t eat, I will force feed you, I swear.”

You stuck your tongue out at him and finally pulled your sandwich towards you. Still, you only managed a few bites before it was time to go.

You sighed as you walked down the stairs. You were really not looking forward to – before you could even finish the thought, you were attacked from behind. Gasping, you almost lost your balance down the last step, but the perpetrators steadied you. You shot a look of annoyance over both your shoulders at the two banes of your existence.

“Aw, noona. What’s got you sighing like that?” San asked.

“Or should we ask- whoooo?” Wooyoung wagged his eyebrows at you.

You huffed as you pushed them both off. “As if. Try to kill me again, and I’ll hex you so bad you won’t be able to sit your exams, I mean it.”

“Oh, noona. Please hex me. PLEASE. I really don’t wannaa take these fucking N.E.W.T.s.” Mingi added.

You pushed ahead of the three Gryffindor idiots, hiding your smile. “Why do I even bother?”

A low chuckle reached your ears. “I ask myself the same question every day, Y/N.”

Your heart skipped a beat, but you managed to keep your features cool as you turned your head up to Seonghwa who was holding the door to the classroom open for you and the guys. You managed to say hello and thank him before the blush could really bloom on your cheeks and across your nose.

Hongjoong wagged his eyebrows at the look on your face as he took his usual spot next to you at the worktable. He was the only one who knew of your crush on the Slytherin.

It had all started in 6th year. Up until then, Potions had always been taught to you with the Hufflepuffs. As such, you, and Hongjoong for that matter, had never had this class with the Gryffindors or the Slytherins. However, at the N.E.W.T. level, there were barely enough students to fill a single classroom. This is when you first came across Seonghwa in a classroom setting. Even though you were friends with his “band of pirates” as they liked to call themselves, you had never seen or interacted with Seonghwa outside of the group. Here in class, San and Wooyoung were paired up at a workstation, as they had been their whole Hogwarts career, and the same was true for you and Hongjoong. Though Mingi and Seonghwa were from Gyrffindor and Slytherin, respectively, they had never been partners before 6th year. Even though they had always been friends, House always came first. Even you had always paired with Hongjoong, even though you were both close with Yunho who was a Hufflepuff who you had shared Potions with for 5 years.

“I’m telling you, Y/N. We gotta glamour your face or something, you’re as red as a tomato.”

You looked at Joong in horror as your hands came up to cover your cheeks. “Is it really?”

It was at that moment that Seonghwa reached his table and took his seat in front of you two. “Everything alright?” He looked between the two of you.

“Yes, of course!” You laughed awkwardly as you hit Hongjoong on the arm. It sounded a bit too high even to your ears.

Seonghwa’s smile was stiff on his face as he nodded and took his seat, just as your professor started the class.

“Alright class. New orders from above. Today, we are going to be striving towards inter-house unity!”

As the class gave each other unsure looks, the false cheery smile slipped off Professor Nott’s face. “I know it’s annoying guys, but please find a partner from a House that is not yours. And before any of you try to be sneaky- yes, I’m looking at you Mingi- if you already have a partner from a different house, then find a new one! We’re going to be working on the Shrinking Solution today, and you all know that needs two hands for the chopping and stirring that needs to happen at the same time.” The class groaned. “Do not kill me; it was not my idea,” he held up his hands. “Why the Headmaster decides at the very last minute of your academic career to shake things up; I’ll never understand,” he muttered under his breath, not quite successfully.

You stood from your spot with your bookbag, unsure of where to turn. But, before you could even take a breath, Mingi came around your corner of the table, jostling you, and wrapped his arms around Hongjoong. “Dibs!” The Ravenclaw was quick to shrug out of it and yell and start wagging a finger at him, but Mingi just stuck his tongue out at San and Wooyoung across the aisle who were throwing their arms up in the air and giving him the finger.

In the chaos, Y/N didn’t see Seongwa scowl at Mingi as she steadied her balance yet again.

You chuckled and started to make you way over to the Gryffindors you were most comfortable with, before San and Wooyoung quickly and efficiently swapped partners with the Slytherin boys that always sat in front of them, Changbin and Leeknow.

You frowned and quickly let your eyes dart around the whole classroom. Everyone was paired up, except for Seonghwa. He sat calmly at his spot, twirling a quill between his long fingers, almost as if he was waiting for you.

He sensed your gaze and looked up at your from under his long lashes.

“Wanna be my mine?”

Even though you were quick to surmise the true meaning of his not-so-innocuous question, you couldn’t help your eyes from widening as your heart heard a different meaning.

“S-sure, I’ll be your partner.” You took Mingi’s vacated seat quickly and avoided his gaze.

As the class settled, Professor Nott started his brief lecture on the potion. Your knee bounced under the table. You were so aware of every line of Seonghwa’s body, just inches from yours. Did you and Hongjoong sit this close, also? You had truly never noticed. The space between you and the Slytherin felt so heavy with static. Were you moving too much? You stopped shaking your leg, but that lasted two seconds, before your fingers started drumming against the desk.

Seonghwa suddenly leaned forward from his slouched position to place his forearms on the table next to where yours were. His fingers covered the movement of yours.

Your breath caught in your throat, but you kept your eyes on the board, as you felt him lean his head towards yours.

“If you’re so nervous about this potion, Y/N, don’t worry, I’m the top of this class. I’ve got you.” His whisper was a tickle against your ear.

Was it just you being delusional or did all his words have double meanings? You smirked back even as your heat raced in your chest at both his proximity and his teasing words.

You met his eyes briefly to retort back. “Actually, you’ll find that your tied for that position, with me. So, maybe it is I that will be carrying you.”

He smiled back, and your eyes caught in a moment that lasted what seemed like forever, before it was broken by the sound of scraping chairs.

You both blinked before also standing to start your potion. Pink dusted both student’s cheeks, unbeknownst to the other.

“Oh also, class! I know you know this but be careful when you’re chopping the cowbane. Even the juice on your knife is very poisonous blah blah, get to it!” You smiled at Professor T’s cavalier attitude, even though you knew he cared very deeply for his students and educating every generation of students he could be available to.

You and Seonghwa quickly settled into an efficient routine. It was almost like you could read each other’s minds; without even speaking, you both divvied up the tasks in a way that made sense to you. He had already chopped the shrivelfigs and added their juice to the cauldron, while you intuitively prepared the next steps by mincing the daisy root and preparing the hairy caterpillars as he heated the cauldron gently.

You were surprised, as you had never had such chemistry with another Potions partner before. You always had a hard time doing group projects, because you thought you could just do better on your own and were often irritated at having to go at someone else’s slower pace. You and Hongjoong had always worked well together, with the minor bumps caused by his temper tantrums and your passive aggressiveness, but you had thought that he was the best a partner could ever be. As you watched Seonghwa vigorously stir the potion, a step you always hated because your arm always got tired, you realized you couldn’t have been more wrong. You both naturally gravitated towards the different aspects of the potion that you favored and preferred. It was honestly euphoric to be working together like this, and the academic in you was singing with joy.  

You were working on juicing the leeches when the heat of the room started getting to you. The many fires under the cauldrons made it so that the dungeons were sweltering. Somewhere in the room, Wooyoung started screaming that he had accidentally added rose petals instead of daisy root, and the whole class groaned because any first year knows that combining rose to blood from anything made for the most disgusting smell. The fumes started to make you dizzy, and you were suddenly regretting only eating two bites of a sandwich.

Seonghwa paused in his shaking of the rat spleen you had just handed over, barely a tremble to your hand. “Are you okay, Y/N?”

You blinked at him, surprised. “Yes..?”

His eyes looked into yours deeply. You were not used to someone noticing when things were barely off with you. This little bit of dizziness was nothing.

“If you’re sure.” He didn’t look too convinced as he turned to stir the cauldron clockwise.

As you started working on the cowbane, these thoughts took another turn. Not only was he the best partner you had ever had, but he was also so caring and asked after your wellbeing! Your crush reared its big head before you could stifle it down.

You were carefully slicing the second piece of cowbane to render more liquid- the first had not yielded enough for the potion. All of a sudden, the dizziness came back in full force and your vision swam before your eyes. The knife missed its mark and instead imbedded in your thumb. You blinked and swayed.

“Y/N!”

A hand wrapped around your left wrist, while another took the knife out of your right hand.

“Sorry, Seonghwa.” You had ruined the potion. He had stopped stirring because of you.

Along with the dizziness came a new feeling. Your body felt so floaty. Everything was too bright and too loud.

A voice swam in from far away.

“I think the knife had some juice on it, Professor, and she cut herself pretty deep. I’ve been holding pressure, but…”

“No, you did the exact right thing, Seonghwa. Don’t worry; she’ll be okay. We just need to get her to Madame Patil in the hospital wing, and the antivenom will fix her right up.”

There was the sound of a bomb exploding.

“I’ll go take care of San’s potion- he clearly added the rat spleen incorrectly, seeing as it misfired. Are you ok to take Y/N up by yourself?”

“Yes, sir.”

Then, an arm wrapped around your waist to pull you up from your chair. His other arm took yours over his shoulder as he began to take you out of the classroom.

“Seonghwaaa.”

“Y/n, just hang on, ok? We’re going to the Hospital Wing.” He looked down at you.

“You’re too tall.”

He looked down at you, confused, but did not stop his hurried rush across the corridor to the stairs. “Excuse me?”

“My arm hurts at this angle.” Why were words coming out so readily right now? Was it the cowbane?

He brought you both to a standstill. “Um, yea, it’s one of the effects of cowbane poisoning. Sorry, I didn’t realize it was uncomfortable.” You could barely feel alarm that there was no filter between your brain and your mouth through the haziness that was descending over your whole body.

He looked unsurely up the stairs and back at you twice before his face set in determination.

“Ok, Y/N, I’m going to have to carry you.”

“No!” You stepped back shakily. You were definitely too heavy. This was going to be so embarrassing. But, also, it would feel so good probably. To be in his strong Chaser arms. Oh my god. Wait, he could hear everything. This is so embarrassing.

He smiled privately to himself before pulling you closer. “I hate to do this without your consent, but technically, you are not sound of mind and actively have a poison in your system, and Professor told me to get you there as fast as possible, so-”

And with that, he swung you up in your arms, like you weighed nothing and started off up the stairs.

The sudden change of position set your stomach rolling and the dizziness came back with doubled force. You whimpered and burrowed your head further into his neck, forgetting to fight him for manhandling you.

“I don’t feel so good.”

Seonghwa glanced worriedly down at your face which was turning an unhealthy-looking shade of green. “We’re almost there, love. Just hang on. I’m getting you there.”

You whimpered and tried to focus on breathing in and out slowly. Still, even though you were feeling so sick, the comfort and exhilaration of being so close to Seonghwa was not lost on you. If you threw up on Seonghwa right now, you were gonna kill yourself.

“Please don’t. I’d miss you too much.”

“Ugh, please stop reading my mind,” you managed to say between clenched teeth.

He chuckled quietly before depositing you softly onto a bed. Oh, a bed? Was it his bed? What was he going to do? What did you want him to do? Before your brain could come up with incriminating ideas to answer that question, a soft voice interrupted you.

“Oh, thank Salazar she’s conscious.”

“Um, Ms. Y/N, you are in the Hospital Wing.” There was a laughing lilt to her voice before it turned serious. “Mr. Seonghwa told me of the situation that happened in the Potions class, and I have just administered the antidote. It takes effect in 15 minutes, so just try hang on a little bit longer as it clears out the poison in your system. I also administered an anti-emetic, so just breathe in and out so you don’t throw up the antidote, or we’ll have to start all over and you will just feel worse as the cowbane spreads further. Just these 15 minutes, Y/N, and after that you should start to feel better within the hour. I’ll go whip up a hydration potion, also, because your basic diagnostic charm did not look good, young lady.”

You finally blinked open your eyes to see the high ceiling above you. Madame Patil was not wrong in taking extra measures to make sure you didn’t throw up. You felt like a ragdoll thrown at sea. The nausea was overwhelming, and the panic that it was causing wasn’t helping either. Before you could start hyperventilating in full, a hand grabbed yours.

You turned your head to where Seonghwa sat in the chair next to your bed.

“Sh, just focus on me.” He inhaled exaggeratedly and raised his eyebrows at you to follow.

You clamped down your jaw harder and mimicked him. It helped a fraction. Then, the next breath came easier. As did the next.

You don’t know how much time passed, but looking at him helped you hold on and focus even when your whole body was thrown in turmoil. Staring into his eyes and seeing him stare back just as hard at your own anchored you and healed you in more than one way.

You didn’t even realize 15 minutes had passed and that the nausea had stopped until Healer Patil bustled back into the room, a pale pink potion in her hands.

“You did so well, Y/N,” she soothed quietly. At the nurturing tone and the knowledge that you could finally relax a little now, your eyes welled up.

“There, there- none of that. The worst has passed. Now, drink this.”

You wrinkled your nose and glanced at Seonghwa in dread. Rehydrating potions tasted so bad. When will the horrors end?

He shook his head at you sternly. “Hurry up, Y/N.”

“Ugh.” You downed the whole glass, and Healer Patil leaned you back softly onto the headboard.

“All done. Now, you just rest. I’m writing you a pass for classes tomorrow as well.”

“Oh, but-”

She looked down at you sternly. “No buts. I know it’s exam season, Y/N, but if you want to write those exams to the best of your ability, then you need to take care of your body as well as your mind. That means eating well, sleeping enough, and resting when you need to. Your body has just undergone a major ordeal even if it was healed so quickly, so give it the time it needs to recuperate.”

“Okay, okay. I promise I’m not that bad at taking care of myself!”

“Do you think my diagnostics lied to me? You haven’t eaten well in the past week and a half from the looks of it and are severely dehydrated! The poison wouldn’t have worked so fast if you weren’t already so compromised!”

At that, you had nothing to say. The older Ravenclaw nodded and sniffed as she walked away.

That left you alone with Seonghwa. As the haziness of your mind started to clear, the events of the past hour came back to you.

You snuck a glance at him. He looked the most worried you had ever seen him. Even more than when Yeosang had been upset- this sent any of the pirates into a spiral. More than when Jongho had to take a break from Quidditch because of a knee injury. More than any occasion before.

You looked back down at your hands. It was surprising to see the cut that had started this whole fiasco. Though it wasn’t that deep of a gash, it was pretty long, almost the whole length of your thumb. You winced as you prodded at it.

“Oh, here. Let me heal that for you.”

You looked up, surprised. “Oh, that’s okay. It’s not necessary.”

“Yes, it is.” He frowned at you. You were scared at his expression. He had never looked at you like that before. Just what exactly had you said in your state of delirium? What if he hated you now?

Before you could suggest that Healer Patil could do it, he took your hand gently in his and pulled it towards him. He softly muttered the incantation as he waved his wand over the cut, and the cooling rush of his magic tingled all the way up your arm. It was so intimate.

The heady feeling of happiness rushing through your chest at the feel of his magic coming up against yours halted in its tracks. What if he hated you now? His whole demeanor was so off. You had to clear the air.

“Listen, Seonghwa. I just wanted to say thank you. Thank you for noticing what happened immediately and getting me here so quickly and helping me… And, also, I wanted to say I’m sorry.” You were glaring at where your hands were twisting the sheets, so you missed his look of surprise. “I feel bad that you had to take care of me and that I took time out of your learning time, especially when we know that the Shrinking Solution is probably gonna be tested on the N.E.W.T.s, and I – I , whatever I said, I’m sorry. If you could just tell me what I said that offended you, I promise I probably didn’t mean it. Or if I did, then I can just explain-”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His hands covered both of your own.

You looked up at him, your lip between your teeth.

“Who said I’m mad? I’m not. I promise.”

“But you- you looked so serious just now.”

“Well, yea! Of course, I am.” He ran his hands through his hair agitatedly. “But not because I’m mad that I had to take care of you or leave class because of you or any dumb reason you just came up with right now.” He smiled at you.

You laughed weakly. “O-oh.”

He looked up at the ceiling and muttered under his breath, “Fuck it.”

His hand came up to wrap around your own again. “Y/N, I was worried. Just now. That’s why I looked so serious. And who wouldn’t be when you hear that the girl you’re in love with pushes herself so hard that she is physically unwell? That a Healer who was trained for years had to spell that out so clearly for you?”

Where the poison couldn’t finish the job, his words just had- your heart was stopped. But that was surely impossible, because you could feel the telltale burn of blood across your cheeks. Could a girl still blush if her heart was stopped? You dropped your gaze to your hands again.

He chuckled quietly at the look on your face and leaned impossibly closer still.

“But, you don’t have to worry. I won’t look so serious again, because I figured out a solution to my problem.”

“What’s that?” Why was your voice so shaky?

“Since you won’t do it yourself, I’m just going to have to take care of you.”

You looked at his eyes, his impossibly soft brown eyes. And you saw reflected in them for the first time the same feelings you had harbored for him in your own the past two years.  

You teared up at the sudden revelation, the tenderness with which he spoke, and the utterly gentle care you had received from him. And you just knew- this was it. This was it for the rest of your life. He smiled back at you just as brightly as you both were quiet in the reverence of such a moment shared between two souls.

The sudden bang of a door could be heard, not from the entry to the wing but from the Healer’s private office. It signaled that she had stepped out. Seonghwa tilted his head and then smirked mischievously at you before quickly climbing into the bed with you.

“Hey!” You laughed as you poked him in the side.

“Don’t act like this isn’t sooo comfortable for your poor healing-from-a-poison body right now.”

“Mm, I can’t deny that.” Now that you were not nauseous or dizzy or delirious anymore, your body felt like it had been hit by a truck. You sighed against his chest and his arms squeezed around you tighter, only this time you could properly enjoy it.

The silence was peaceful.

“Now, I know I’m in your bed, Y/N, but please try to keep your thoughts a little innocent for now. You’re sick, you know. When you feel better, we can revisit all those things you wanted me to do to you in a bed, ok?”

“Shut up!”

[ewesless]

💨💀 Headcanons!

@5mary5

Okay so this is my dirty secret forbidden crack. Here there be talk about bad gas out the ass (I can't find that legendary tumblr post, but if I do I will edit this post.) Edit: As promised! No wonder I couldn't find it :( I bless old chats, thank you old chats.

Mine will be the opposite with the characters breaking the taboo with MC!

MC: Somehow they have never done this in front of anyone. Is it magic? Superhuman levels of self control? Nay, it's because they are a sheep plushie. Laughs at farts because they are pretty immature and like crude humor. So this will be their reaction!

Lucifer: Only in the sanctuary of the bathroom, but he does alone in his room or office. He has the tightest control and the stick up in there helps a bit. Even dead asleep he has ironclad hold over his sphincter. Mammon and the Anti-Lucifer League have tried to cause him to with gas causing food and drinks, but even curses, spells and hexes failed. Does he even fart or is that why he's so cranky all the time? Scolds MC for being immature and regularly chews out his brothers for being vulgar. Strings anyone up by the heels who would have the audacity to fart in front of Diavolo because it makes Diavolo lol and Barbatos looks at him like he's commit a heinous offense.

Mammon: Will hold someone down and fart on them, aka his brothers, by that I mean Levi. He would be embarrassed for letting one slip in front of MC, but when he finds out it makes them laugh and they're okay with it he's relaxes and won't worry about letting them out. Intentionally low pressure ones though and tries to be quiet about it. Will tap Luke someone else on the shoulder and say, "Guess what?" And then fart!! He fooled Luke and Little D. no. 2 with the "pull my finger" trick.

Leviathan: Rancid, third stinkiest because of his food choices and because he will hold his bowels during binge sessions and speed runs. His headphones have advanced noise cancelling now because he was having a gas attack from anxiety during an game night against MC, Diavolo and Barbatos (Because Barbatos was curbstomping him) so all of a sudden he is gifted these fancy headphones??? He doesn't connect the dots because he thought his old pair had good cancelling. When MC is hanging out with him he'll apologize only if they're audible or noticeably stinky. He thought the reason MC was laughing their ass off that fateful game night because he was so funny...

Satan: Third stinkiest. He's accustomed to being alone in his room so when he's reading in the library and wants to be left alone he will rip ass. It smells like a litter box in his room sometimes, but he blames it on Mammon's cooking rather than the cats he is able to smuggle in. He doesn't fart intentionally in front of MC, but he isn't bothered by it when he does because it's a normal bodily function so wht would he be? That's illogical.

Asmodeus: you would not catch him DEAD. He gets an upset stomach occasionally from fad dieting so he takes stomach medicine when he does, but he's an "exclusively in the bathroom" type. He will whenever he's alone though, but he resents it. He thinks his gas smells the least offensive and he's right!

Beelzebub: The stinkiest of stinkies. They have power behind them too, like gale force hurricanes (not really, but you could swear it) when he has eaten certain food. He does not hold back but he does apologize when he belches and farts.

Belphegor: Second stinkiest, silent but deadlies. No apologies, no remorse because he's lazy and his rear is just as lazy and it's a natural bodily function. He uses them to troll his brothers too, but he always gets a particular smirk when he does and they are a creeping death so if someone is observant or wary enough (like Lucifer) they will escape the room.

Diavolo: He got caught off guard by one in front of MC once and it snuck past his defenses unhindered. He almost died from embarrassment and MC almost died from trying not to laugh about it. After that he was profusely apologetic, but MC told him it was fine as they laughed and soon Diavolo was laughing with them. He's always extremely polite and socially graceful about even a stomach gurgle because he has an image (and a Barbatos who is always protecting and enforcing that image) he has trained himself to have an incredible ability to hold them in. (The chat where he had the leg cramp supports this) So when he catches a moment between public appearances or meetings to escape to the bathroom he has to make the most of the opportunity. He farts for funnies in front of Lucifer when they've been drinking because one time he did and Lucifer was so aghast by his gas that he let out a scoff-laugh of disbelief and amusement that the Devildom Prince just did that. Diavolo is hellbent on hearing that cute reaction again and uses it at unexpected moments like a ninja flashbang. With MC he feels like he doesn't have to feel the pressure to be seen as perfect and occasional fartiness (usually when Barbatos is on a kick with certain foods) is just part of him that he can be himself without fear of judgement with them about.

Barbatos: My MC would be in a long term battle of wills against anyone, but particularly Barbatos. They will not fart. He will not fart. No one has given ground in the ?(?) years they have known each other. The reason why? One time he passed gas in front of them and was so ashamed because of looking anything less than completely perfect, flawless and in control that he edited the timeline. He will go so far as to summon portals and step into pocket dimensions to fart.

Luke: Holds them and excuses himself to the bathroom because he's a polite and well mannered boy (in some ways...) and it would reflect negatively on Michael and Simeon for him to do that. If he tooted (his words) in front of MC he would be upset about being gross or uncool in front of them, but MC would reassure him everyone does and that it was kinda funny though, wasn't it? Well ;n; I guess it kinda was... never again.

Simeon: He doesn't exactly hold them back, but he doesn't exactly let them out either. These situations do call for discretion, but he gives it away even if it was overlooked because he laughs a little and apologizes every time. In front of MC it makes him embarrassed, but when he realizes they make MC laugh he's more inclined to be relaxed and might do it for funnies.

Solomon: He has a category of his own. His food may not affect him, but it does affect the smell of his farts. At PH his room smells like absolute rotten ass unless Simeon rushes and airs it out whenever Solomon leaves it because he keeps the door shut and locked and often stays in their a whole day or more. Like Leviathan he'll be busy or distracted and in flow state with his research and magic and not use the bathroom. He can go in the woods no difficulty because he has magic to assist (not like HP wizards though. The man has sensibilities and couth.) He knew MC laughs at farts by observing their reactions to others so sometimes he'll say, "Hey MC." to get their attention and then rip one and laugh with them. During routine inspections of Cocytus Hall Barbatos actually casts a spell on his nose and mouth because of the foul and despicable sham of a sorcerer's fecal particles saturate the air.

Raphael: Because he eats a variety of foods but also regularly eats Solomon's food his are a subcategory of Solomon's. He does not make an expression or reaction and noone else does either because even his farts convey threat and the danger of his rain of spears.

Mephistopheles: When he was a young Demon he was even more anxious about looking good in front of Diavolo and impressing him. He did fart in front of him once and was so mortified that he vowed to never do something so disgraceful again. Will not ever fart in front of MC.

Thirteen: THIS IS THE REASON SHE HATES SOLOMON SO MUCH. She got a severe upset stomach from his food and actually thought about 100 new death traps to murder him with. That was the only reason she didn't kill him on the spot bacause the silver lining was those 100 traps! She would sooner hide out until the extinction of all life before she would pass gas in front of MC or anyone. The number one and only who adheres to the in the bathroom!!!

These are inspired by real life! Especially Mammon and Solomon.

[greenapplebling]

So I made a post about a Twst x TOH crossover before but I now know more about Twst so I want to talk about some things

First, Idk if the Hex squad would be sort on different houses or if they'll spent x amount of days in each house to have a full experience. Ig it will make sense if they didn't get sorted bc they're from a different universe but I'll go with the "each of them get sorted in a house" route bc it's funnier lol

Ok, so here are some things I thought about:

Luz, despite being quite the extrovert, she would definitely be sorted into Ignihyde with all the weebs and gamers lol. She would make friends with Ortho quickly but Idia would hide from her despite that, as housewarden, he's in charge of showing her around

Hunter gets sorted in Savanaclaw, he gets terribly attached to Jack bc he's a wolf and often follows his lead. Jack, as a lone wolf, doesn't know how to deal with it but let's Hunter be bc he knows it's only temporary. Otherwise, Hunter is wary of Ruggie bc he seems shady and is disappointed housewarden Leona is such a lazy slump, he doesn't get why Jack admires them sm. He might get it if he gets to join them for a magic shift game

Idk where to sort Amity, I don't think she'll be in Heartslabyul but I definitely want to have her bond with Riddle over their controlling mothers. Riddle would talk about how much it helps him to have Trey's (his childhood friend) support and Amity would share about how much she's trying to rekindle her relationship with Willow

I feel like if Amity got homesick, she'll unconsciously wander around the Leech twins. They're not the same but something about them reminds her of her siblings, specially Jade who's a little shady and also has a smile that you can't tell if it's mocking or polite, he reminds her of Emira

Willow gets sorted into Diasomnia. She doesn't have any problem trying to befriend Malleus and feels a little bad for him when she notices people avoid him like the plague. Befriending Lilia and Silver it's easy and she surprisingly can stomach Lilia's cooking? (All the Hex squad can except Luz lol) She actually offers to cook for them but they're horrified when they learn about fairy pies and Willow apologizes profusely when they tell her they're faeries (which is close enough), it gets a little awkward and Silver jokes that at least it's good to know his father's cooking isn't the worse in all the multiverse. With Sebek, well, I don't think he'll be as intense as he normally is with her bc he learns she isn't human and that she has great magical talent, which I think it's something he'll be able to respect and if he doesn't, she'll make him. I do see him whining about her getting too close to Malleus though lol

I'll like to see Willow and Azul bonding over their past bullying, Idk how or why would Azul ever open up about it though 🤔

Vee gets into Scarabia and gets along with Kalim and Jamil. She will see how much Jamil works and offers to replace him whenever he feels too tired, it takes some time for him to trust her but he eventually caves but tells her not to tell Kalim bc he wants to see how long it takes before he notices. Surprisingly Kalim notices right away, he goes "WHO ARE YOU" the moment he sees a nervous smile on Jamil instead of his usual grumpy face and it escalates from there

I'm not sure where to sort Gus, but I'm inclined to put him in Octavinelle just bc I think he'll really get into the mafia vibes lol

Despite that, I can see Gus going around with Luz, Ortho, Grim, Yuu, Ace and Deuce playing pranks on students with his illusions

Either King would accompany Luz wherever she goes or he gets into Ramshackle with Yuu and Grim

And that's all for now. I'll write when I can think more stuff lol

[jinx-on-mars-19xx]

Swallowing Hard Truths

Not Natural ✨ The Devil's Trap ✨ Holy Water ✨ The Demon's Altar ✨ Midnight Meeting ✨ The Hunter's Trap ✨ Sharp Secrets and Bloody Blades ✨ A Hunter's Beast Tamed ✨ No Chick Flick Moments ✨ Witches, Bitches, and Beasts ✨ Cursed or Not ✨ Poison Lips and True Love's Kiss

Dom x Colson (Yungblud x Machine Gun Kelly)

Warnings: SPN inspired, ABO dynamics (knots, slick, heats), demon Kells, hunter Dom, getting hexed, inappropriate use of kitchens, fingering, cunnilingus, cock warming, magic downers, mentions of outside sex, mentions of death (other people's), mentions of hunting, lore, being a brat, taking care of Tom, trying to be empathetic, talks about their pasts, being jumped (in the fun way), graphic descriptions of a blow job, choking, grinding, Dom being pushy, mentions of prostitution, blowjob black out, boys not so secretly in love ⚰️ rating: explicit

Keliphos hadn't let himself be so cooped up since his time in hell as how he ended up being stuck at Tom's cabin. It wasn't a bad feeling exactly but he certainly wasn't used to it. Even though he and Dom were ignoring a mountain of shit they needed to talk about, they were having an amazing week. The demon had a bad feeling in the back of his mind so he kept the boy on the magically protected property and while they were doing great, things with the witch were… strained at times. Of course he was bedding his omega anywhere he could and some places he wasn't supposed to. When they were caught in the herb garden Tom hexed them for the day so neither of them could get it up. Joke was on him though, the beast had plenty of other fun things to teach his beauty.

He wasn't sure if he was in a mini war with the ancient or not but it made him ornery. He fingered Dom in the library, ate him out under the kitchen table, when the boy's oral fixation took over he let him warm his soft cock for as long as he wanted. The punk still hadn't truly blown him because every time they started playing they got distracted but watching him sit like the good bitch he was made Kells need it even more. The Hunter was so fucking horny the devil was almost overwhelmed. He didn't know if it was just him finally losing his v card after waiting so long, if he liked Kells that much, or if he was in heat, but Dom was turning into the perfect little slut for him. They hadn't actually been getting as much research done as they had meant to but they had time.

The nephalem made sure to wear the boy out at night and it was no different under the hex. He knew it was only twenty four hour magic but the moment Dom passed out he was sneaking out of bed to think of a way to get back at his new frenemy. He wandered out nude because he truly didn't give a shit but the home was dark and quiet. Part of him thought they should talk about it, he didn't know if Tom was truly upset with them or not so he made his way to the witch's study but found it empty there too. He'd obviously been there recently, there was a candle burning low and a book open on the desk. He knew he probably shouldn't bother it but… they were all hunting together right? He'd been welcomed to 'any volume in the library' and he was just devil enough to snap his fingers and teleport there with the book.

"It's in the library isn't it?" He whispered to himself. He knew that specific tome was from the hippy's special shelf. There were books of magic Tom didn't think anyone else should have access to so he kept them safe but Kells was just as old if not older… he could handle whatever was there. The pages were soft and thin, made out of something he could feel wasn't from the human plane. The writing was beautiful and ancient but what it said was confusing.

They were hunting an old demon but the book Tom had been focusing on was full of stories of the Grecian pantheon. From Chaos to the Muses to demigods it was all familial connections and bullet point tales as if it were someone's journal who knew them all. There were notes in the margins, doodles, and things were even angrily scratched out and rewritten. Keliphos was confused why the writer's voice felt familiar.

There was a notepad stuck inside the book with a pen hooked over it and he noticed it was a list of names with many of them crossed out. He picked it up, his preternatural night vision reading it easily but it took him a moment to realize what it was. The names that had already been crossed out were gods who had been Hunted- he knew of a few and was able to assume the rest. Aphrodite was crossed out of course but he couldn't help drawing a little tongue out devil doodle next to it and writing- 'fuck yeah!' He knew it would get him caught but just to hopefully ease the tension between them he added 'good job' next to it.

He tucked the notepad back inside and flipped through the pages a little more, but something inside him drew him to a certain page. The story there was something out of a tragic romance novel- two primordial gods torn apart because one was misunderstood. From what he was reading the stolen goddess sounded like the first true demon but he knew there were so many legends about who was the original. From what he could see in his skimming the pair were meant to be but the goddess was taken, leaving the god to disappear. He set the book down again and traced the gorgeous calligraphy of the two names. "Achlys and Aether." He whispered and the words felt weighted on his tongue. He started to find a seat to read further when he heard something.

His instincts were on high alert and he was too nervous to leave it be. He wanted to trust Tom's witch work and protections but just in case… He waved his hand and sent the book back to its spot, dressing himself in a pair of gray sweats at the same time. The sound was coming from outside so he teleported there, trying to ready himself for anything. What he wasn't prepared to find though was Tom kneeling in his garden and crying over a rose bush Kells didn't remember seeing before. For once he didn't think the witch knew he was there but as much as he wanted to leave him be, he knew Dom would be disappointed. Fuck.

"Why do none of you learn? I don't understand, it's like you beg to be hunted! Did I teach you nothing about the sanctity of life? Yet you all leave me with regret. Not him. Not- not them. It won't happen again. Though… I can't possibly be right. There's no way it's true. I'm just mad. That's it. Perhaps you've broken me." Tom cried to himself softly, his glowing tears falling to soak into the soil. Keliphos arched a brow, his nerves getting the best of him. He knew a lot of ancients went crazy and it didn't help if they kept to themselves.

He took a deep breath and stepped closer, making sure to make a noise in the leaves and the witch jumped but didn't turn around, he just stopped crying and wiped his face to hide. Kells summoned a lit joint for both of them and took a deep drag before trying to hand it over. He was thankful when Tommy reached back for it. The dude needed to relax a little. "So… I noticed a lot of Men of Letters shit inside." He tried to talk about anything besides what he heard.

Tom sniffled and nodded, sighing deep as he stood to face the beast. "Who do you think helped them begin? I thought to protect humans from things like us but… many of those people were monsters as well." They both shuddered. The MoL had been responsible for terrible things but some of them were good. Obviously the guy was regretting his whole life though. Keliphos knew that emotion, he'd been at that edge plenty of times. He just hoped Dominic pulled Tom from it as much as he did for him but… preferably not for the same reason.

"So you've always been a badass nerd. Cool." The devil teased, taking the joint back and taking a long pull before he made it vanish. "You're going to hate me but I have to ask-"

"You really don't."

"Dom will be pissed if I don't. Sorry man but I'm supposed to be a good guy now." The beast joked, giving the witch his best grin but the other ancient just rolled his eyes.

"I won't tell him. You can just leave me alone and he never has to know you didn't check on me. Besides, you were spying." Tom tried to run him off but they both knew it wouldn't work.

"I heard you. Are you okay?" His saliva tasted sour on his tongue but he still added- "Can I help?" But at the faux gag from Tommy he dropped his gaze back to the garden behind him. There were so many different blooms but the roses were definitely new. Did he plant after every kill? Or… was it in memory of?

"I'm old Keliphos, I've known many people. Thank you for the offer but I'm fine. You may tell your master you did your good deed for the day. Though the mess you left in my library might cancel it out."

"He's not my master. If anything-" Kells grumbled but he knew the witch was trying to change the subject and knew what buttons to push. "You killed someone you loved? For me?" His voice was soft and full of confusion but Tom shook his head.

"It wasn't like that. Please? Please let this go for now? Give me time. Aphrodite was not the girl I knew any longer. Or perhaps I'm not the creature I was. Please? Just… let this prove I'm on your side. Both of you. But just grant me time?" It almost sounded like a desperate beg and though it felt like torture not to understand he found enough empathy to let it rest. For a time at least. The creature must have been able to feel him agreeing or perhaps he nodded but he stepped forward and put his arm around the devil to lead him back inside. "The hex will be lifted in… oh, look at that- five minutes. Go to him, I'm sure he needs you, though I'll never know why."

Keliphos pushed him gently, sticking his tongue out for a moment. Tom knew them well enough to know that would be what got him moving. They parted ways when the got inside, Tom off to his study and the demon down the hall to his bedroom but before he could reach it the door flew open and his lover took his hand to yank him inside. The door pushed shut behind him and his back was slammed against the wood. He didn't know what was happening but suddenly he had his arms full of needy omega and fuck, wasn't that the best?

"I 'eard you wiv 'im. I woke up and got worried you was killing each over but-" The Hunter's voice was soft and whimpering already, his words coming fast between nips and kisses along his jaw. "Fank you. You was good." He whined, his already wet core grinding rough against where the demon was soon to get hard as a rock.

"Lemme get this shit straight-" Kells growled, his hands groping tight at his lover's ass. He hadn't expected that but it was a welcome surprise and he was great at going with the flow. Especially Dom's. "You're jumping me because I was sweet to another dude?"

"Shut the fuck up. You was nice to me only family Kells. Now, did he say five minutes?" The kid was almost bouncing on his cock and it wasn't even out or hard yet. The nephalem didn't know how the kid could ignore the rest of the conversation but with him so happy and desperate he couldn't be fucked.

He could feel his cocky grin curl his lips as his bitch tried to soak him through their clothes but he could already feel the magic waning and he had an idea. Dom squeaked when the only thing holding him up disappeared and he started slipping down his devil like a sexy monster stripper pole. The gray sweats were too loose so they came down with him and by the time the boy's ass hit the floor there was a hand on his head and a finally filling dick in his face.

Saliva pooled on Dom's tongue and he whimpered low, squeezing his thighs together to find some kind of relief. When his gaze rolled up they met stormclouds, though he'd swear the blue glow was stronger than the black clouds. "Need you." He huffed softly, pouting up at his lover but the devil was out to play and it sent a shiver down his spine.

"Oh? Would you rather taste my dick or lick your slick off of it? Cause one way or the other I'm stuffing this down your throat till you choke." Kells rasped, his voice deep and sharp as he curled his free hand around his already pulsing knot. Like Tom had said, he did his good deed for the day and he'd spent the rest of it pleasuring his omega. It was time to let a little of his monster out and by the heavy scent of arousal in the air, Dom was okay with that.

"And if I bend over the bed instead?" He purred back but he was already testing his jaw. He wasn't normally happy with the size of it but as he eyed the beast in front of him he knew he needed the space. Fingers tugged his hair up hard and he felt his brain start to melt.

"Like I said- either way babe. But I thought you might rather me knot your pussy instead of your mouth. I don't care, your choice." Of course he did, his new favorite thing was laying in bed blissed out, plugging his bitch full but Dom didn't need to know that. He dropped the kid's hair, pushing him a bit too rough but of course he came right back and Kells shoved two fingers between his lips, yanking his mouth open.

Dom choked at the intrusion but he obeyed as best he could. He wasn't used to it, he'd never followed directions very well but his lover deserved a treat after all he'd done. Dom couldn't even count how many times he'd cum that day and he never thought he'd care so little about his own cock but he was certainly obsessed with the one in front of him. His mouth opened wide, his tongue teasing the digits still holding him open. Even though hours had passed he could taste himself on the beast's fingers. His slick had dried there like day old perfume. Kells was right, he wanted to taste him fresh, not covered in his own juices.

Blunt teeth bit down on his fingers and before Keliphos could pull them free the boy was diving forward. He ended up still hooking Dom's mouth open as he swallowed the tip of his cock but the angle was all wrong and he finally pulled them free. "Bratty bitch." He hissed. He wished he could punish the Hunter but something always stopped him short before he caused him too much pain. The kid had been through too much already.

Dom mumbled something with his mouth full but he didn't even know what it was. He was too focused on the silky hot weight on his tongue and the salty warmth of precum already coating the back of his throat. He didn't care if his partner called him a brat or a bitch, he knew he was giving him exactly what he wanted. He just hoped his enthusiasm made up for his inexperience. He'd made a little money when he was younger in ways he regretted but that was mostly hands or letting people watch him play. Almost everything was new with his demon, and even when it wasn't it felt like it was. There was something about the beast but he wouldn't look too closely at it.

The devil let his head fall against the door as his fingers tangled back in Dom's hair but his boy was eager enough he didn't really need to help. The punk was already drooling around him, bobbing his head until he gagged, but he never stopped trying. Pushing. Shoving him deeper. "Fucking hell Dom- good boy." He didn't normally spill praises but he couldn't say anything else with the way his bitch was choking on him. The noises that floated up to make his ears twitch were better than any porn star and when Dom started humming he thought about proposing.

Dominic was on cloud nine. He never thought he'd enjoy something so much that felt so depraved but he had the most powerful demon he'd ever met moaning like a whore. When he finally got the monster's cock halfway down his throat and he felt his lips brushing his knot he paused there. His eyes rolled up, watching as the devil looked back at him, and even though his head was going light and dizzy he attempted to smirk and he swallowed.

Keliphos made a noise he'd deny forever was a whine but the way his omega felt choking around him was too much. Those plush pillow lips looked like sin pulled so tight and the steady tease of teeth was heaven. Somehow Dom knew every button he had or maybe he just really liked desperate virgins. He couldn't believe it was something as outlandish as love. No, fuck that. "Don't." He warned, though he wasn't sure what he was trying to stop him from doing. He just knew if the kid had any more tricks he'd get a belly full and not the kind he wanted.

Those jade eyes sparkled and the beast's hands slapped against the door. He could barely hold himself up anymore. Dom pulled off, almost all the way, and he waited a moment- letting them both breathe. He could feel tears and more wetting his face and he wondered if he looked like those girls Kells was watching on Casa Erotica one day. "Prettier." The devil tried to soothe and he felt the splash of joy that dosed Dom's brain. The scent of slick got stronger in the room and Keliphos was getting desperate for his favorite place- though that damn mouth was fast becoming a close second.

Suddenly a strong hand was gripping the demon's ass and the Hunter was swallowing his dick deep. Those petal soft spit wet lips kissed his knot but he didn't try to force it inside. Instead he curled his free palm there and squeezed tight. He didn't even move his head again; he just held close and kept gagging. Kells tried to pull free, he didn't think the kid could handle swallowing that much from him but Dom wouldn't move and he couldn't force him. Before he could find any way to stop himself he felt pleasure zinging up his spine and he broke. Every other time they came together he had some semblance of control but the human was learning and he was demanding every drop.

Dominic wished he could taste the demon's spend better but he knew if he pulled back at all Kells might push him off. For once he had the upper hand and even though his vision was going spotty he kept watching his lover. The nephalem was gorgeous in his rapture but the boy's instincts caught something else. At first all he could hear was the monster's grunts and moans but he swore a storm was rolling in. Or maybe it was the blood rushing in his ears. He kept swallowing, he refused to let anything break his focus but then lightning was striking, lighting up the room. He couldn't help but jump though he'd always loved storms. He just didn't know what was happening.

His gaze felt weak, his grip loosening, but even so blind he could only see his partner. Another strike and the room lit up bright but the thunder felt like pressure inside the room. As everything started going dark around him he fought passing out but he knew he would lose. It was worth it though as the world lit up around them again and he saw something he knew the devil would deny. His half angel alpha had wings.

Author's Note/Tags: @iamnotanearthlingmotherfucker @hollywoodxwhore @jaxbreaker @fenoy7 @cole-way-iero28 🖤

I need to start taking breaks again but I'm on a roll I suppose. I hope you enjoyed this! There was a little plot with the porn, just a smidge. Why was Tom reading that? What was he talking about? Why can't Kells let himself hurt Dom or let him leave the warded home? Why is Kells slowly becoming more of an angel? Who are the gods in the story? Keep reading to find out! I hope you're still loving it ⚰️🖤

[fakeosirian]

i tend to forget about it in the bustle of the Everything Else going on with the horns/hexes arc but the filming the ad for the school website bit is such an underrated gem

amber doing full on sunset boulevard norma desmond LARP. fabian vaguely scared when she pats him on the shoulder mid-take

fabian not being able to remember his “lines” about amber not being able to remember her lines so he reads it off his hand and no one comments

joy was born to be a director. her girltech ass headset. give her a movie deal NOW

palpable sense that somebody involved in the conception of this scene is using it to cope with longstanding and unresolved beef with an overbearing producer they've had to deal with in the past

every time mr sweet echoes a call before joy finishes saying it. the completely uncalled for simon cowell impression. joy fighting so hard to keep her mouth closed for the sake of the take. oh my god

like i cannot stress this enough it gets Three bullet points: if he wanted to 1st AD so bad he could at least throw out a QUIET ON SET but he can’t even do that right because He’s The Only One Talking

there are THREE (3) microphones present for ONE (1) source of sound: a shotgun mic on the camera, the boom (not hooked up to a mixer.), and this random ass standard stage mic just hanging around by one of the desks?? if all of those are hooked up directly to the camera...lord have mercy on whoever has to mix that mess

SHOPPING CART DOLLY (this is by far the most realistic detail. when i was in film school and no one wanted to drag one of the real dollies out of storage we'd push the cameraperson around in an old wheelchair)

when you take the previous two points in conjunction: the shopping cart is going to RUIN their audio. i don't think even wd-40 could save them. forget eddie's bodycount -- whoever got stuck on post-production for this mess is going to clear his record no problem

no additional lights. not even a lamp. you get whatever meager natural light comes through the windows (worst angle possible for it, too) and an overhead fixture that will no doubt look like hell in post especially because of the camera they're using (insult to injury to the post guy). SPEAKING OF THE CAMERA:

not only am i obsessed with it being a (completely appropriate for the time) digital video camera that probably records to magnetic tape but they actually bothered to hook it up to a monitor for real and show the live output as a nice tiny detail but...oh man.......that monitor.................sure provides...............information.......................

[catb-fics]

Red Part 3

Words: 3.4k

Warnings: sneaky smut, cheating, Van and Y/N are bad people but it’s hot (sorry) 🫣

Story Masterlist Main Masterlist

The last thing you wanted was a situation where you and Van were left alone. And yet here you were. The two of you. Definitely alone.

"Well... this is fucking stupid," you snap, going to walk past Van into the corridor but he counters your movement, stepping to the side, blocking you.

"Hold up, I think you owe me an apology," he says stonily.

"You called me a bitch!" You shoot back, considering trying to push past him but you know by his stance that he's not going to let that happen.

Everything about him is confrontational. He doesn't have a large build but his height alone means that he looms over you... and as for the way he's looking at you... There's anger there but there's something else simmering just beneath the surface. Something that makes your pulse race and your whole body feel hot.

"You heard Larry... he says we need to talk."

"I've got nothing to say to you!" You retort, taking a chance at moving forward, roughly shouldering Van and to your surprise he relents, moving aside to let you pass.

He doesn't leave you though. You hear the sound of his boots on the kitchen floor, heavy steps as he trails closely behind you.

"So what... are we just going to ignore it?" He says, and although you don't look back, you can feel his presence closely behind you as you step to the kitchen counter, reaching for your bottle of wine.

You can't explain it but he exudes some kind of magnetism. You can feel the pull now, a low kind of tug in your gut, urging you to turn around but you don't, finding a glass and filling it with wine instead, hoping it will dull your senses which just seem to be heightened whenever he's around.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you say, immediately following it up with a large mouthful of wine.

"I think you do."

He steps closer, close enough that you can feel his body heat. Your thoughts go to last weekend and how you felt him pressing into you in the kitchen. A part of you yearns for that again and you hate yourself for it.

"Van... just cut the crap. We don't like each other, so let's just agree to stay out of each other's way, okay?"

"You really want me to leave you alone?"

Even as he says the words you feel a stirring somewhere deep inside, the version of you that you've been trying to keep hidden. It's awakening now, imagining him ghosting you, no more loaded glances across crowded rooms, no more featherlight touches when you brush past each other in the corridor. Hidden exchanges which you try to tell yourself are all in your head but you know in reality are far from that.

"Yes... I want you to leave me alone. I mean it."

The words leave a sickly taste in your mouth and you wash them down with even more wine, aware that the more you drink the more your resolve might weaken but you're not thinking straight.

"Do you though? Do you really mean it? If you do, turn around and say it to my face. Look me in the eye and tell me..."

There's a long pause before he speaks again.

"Tell me that you don't want me."

Fuck... there it is.

No more veiled comments. No more talking in riddles. Your head spins and you grip the edge of the kitchen counter tightly for support, screwing your eyes shut.

It's out in the open now and it hangs in the air like some kind of dangerous hex, threatening to take hold of you in its spell if you dare to acknowledge it. But what choice do you have?

You open your eyes, blowing out an exhale between pursed lips, trying to steady your breathing. Now is your chance to end this. Tell Van to stay far away from you. Tell him exactly what you think of him for even entertaining the thought of betraying his lifelong best friend in such a brutal way.

You turn around, hesitantly, steeling yourself, chanting a silent mantra in your head to just tell him to leave you be, but when you come to face him the words just catch in your throat. You swallow, hard, raising your gaze to look at him directly, those cool blue-green eyes that seem to captivate you somehow.

"Well...?"

He raises his eyebrows questioningly, a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips which look plush and full and pink. A wicked part of you asks how they might feel pressed up against yours.

"I... I don't... want you," you say, slowly, dismayed that there's little conviction in your words, so you dig deep, searching for some anger that you can use. "I mean how can you even suggest that I do? I'm with Larry and I love him. And he's your best friend for fucks sake. What the hell's wrong with you?"

Now you've said the words out loud it just seems all the more immoral. You feel furious at Van, but you're even more livid with yourself for getting into this situation in the first place. You could have shut this down a long time ago but you didn't. You were too busy enjoying the heat of his gaze lingering on you, relishing the feeling of being desired by the one person who was strictly off limits.

He's forbidden fruit. But god... you just want to take a bite.

"What's wrong with me?" He chuckles low with an edge of disbelief. "Don't put all of this on me Y/N. I've seen the way you look at me. Don't play the innocent. You want this just as much as I do."

This inflames you. "Don't flatter yourself!" You blurt, full of scorn. Your hands clench and unclench at your sides, itching to lash out at him again.

His grin widens as he shakes his head, ignoring your denial. "You know you look pretty sexy when you're mad, like a little wildcat!"

He steps forward and you counter his movement, pressing yourself back into the counter. He was close before but now your hips are practically touching.

Those hips... You imagine how they'd feel, naked, clashing with yours.

STOP IT Y/N!

You're sure Van can read your mind from the knowing look he's wearing and heat rises to your cheeks. He moves his hands forward so that he's gripping the countertop on either side of you, effectively caging you in. Your heart practically leaps out of your chest.

You know what you should do. You should walk away. Plant your hands firmly on his chest, push him back and walk away. But you don't. You just stand there, letting the tension simmer unbearably, your mind in a spin.

"You're fucking infuriating, you know that? This is all a game to you isn't it? You just don't give a shit about anything! Hold on... you actually think this is funny don't you? Is that it?"

"Nuh-uh." He shakes his head. "Not funny. Not funny at all. In fact I've never been more serious about anything in my life."

His eyes lock on to yours and they're mesmerising. You can feel yourself melting under his gaze. One of his hands raises up to your face, two of his fingers brushing gently over your cheek. Your knees feel weak as your legs knock against the cabinets.

"Van... don't..."

Your voice is barely a whisper, more of a plea than a command and Van ignores it, his fingers trailing down to rest under your chin which he tilts upwards, ensuring that you can't look away.

"I don't think you want me to stop..."

"I do..."

"Prove it then..."

Your eyes flick down to his mouth as you watch his tongue dart out to wet his lower lip. When you look back up his eyes are firmly on your lips too. It's so quiet in the kitchen all you can hear is both of your deep breathing. You want him. You want to kiss him. You want it so bad you can almost taste him.

BUT WHAT ABOUT LARRY?

Your mind is blaring at you but you're powerless to resist. It's like you're entranced as Van leans in, he's now only inches away, his breath warm on your face. If you closed the gap your lips would be on his.

Van moves at the exact same time that you push up on to your tip toes and your mouths connect. It's feather light, they barely brush but you both hover there, eyes wide open watching the other's reactions.

"What if Larry comes back?" You whisper, and your gut twists as you digest the fact that this is your most immediate and biggest concern, not the fact that you've just crossed an illicit line that there's no way back from.

You hear Van swallow, hard, his breathing deepening as he raises his other hand to your face, cupping it gently now, his eyes burning with a hungry fire.

"He won't be back for at least ten more minutes... do you realise how much damage we could do to each other in ten minutes?"

FUCK...

There's not even enough of a pause for you to take a breath this time. Van's lips are on yours in a fraction of a second and this time he's not gentle. His mouth is warm and intoxicating, his tongue swiping the seam of your lips demanding access. You grant it to him, sighing into his mouth as you finally let yourself go. The relief is incredible and your mind spins away from the fact that what you're doing is wrong.

How can something that's so wrong feel so goddamn good?

He kisses you with passion and you respond fervently. The taste of him, his breath hot in your mouth, the way he dominates the kiss, it's everything. Your body reacts autonomously and your hands shoot forward to curl around his hips, drawing him in. He has one hand on the back of your head, his fingers wound tightly through your hair like he can't bear the thought of you pulling away. Not that he needs to worry. You feel like you could carry on like this all night, drowning in him. His body's flush against yours, pushing you back hard against the counter.

Eventually he breaks away, catching your bottom lip in his teeth before he pulls back, his eyes darkened with lust.

It hits you then. Even as you feel the pulse of desire throb between your legs you realise the enormity of what you've done.

But it doesn't stop you from wanting him, if anything you just crave him all the more. Self-loathing floods you and you turn it on Van, trying to resist.

"I still fucking hate you," you say sharply.

Van smirks as he watches you with hooded eyes, in no way bothered by your comment.

"And you're still a bitch," is his simple reply, and he lifts a hand up to your shoulder, hooking a finger under the strap of your dress, easing it slowly down until it's hanging loosely around the top of your arm. "But that doesn't mean that I don't want to fuck you..."

His words should enrage you but they just flood your lower body with heat. You do nothing whilst his finger dips down to the neckline of your dress, pushing lightly inside, causing goosebumps to erupt on your skin. He holds you there in his gaze, a sly smile curling his lips as his fingertip grazes your skin, moving slowly, tracing over the tops of your breasts. You feel your nipples pucker under the fabric of your dress as he skims the top of one. Your breathing hitches and his smile grows.

"I could bend you over the kitchen counter right now. What d'ya say? No one would ever need to know anything about it."

STOP IT Y/N! STOP IT BEFORE YOU GO TOO FAR!

Once again your mind is screaming at you to stop but your body is on automatic pilot, driven by the desire that's now flooding between your thighs. You go to squeeze them together, but one of Van's legs slides in between yours, parting them. He pushes his hips into yours and the sensation of his body pressing against you almost makes you lose control.

"We can't do this," you say, and you can hear the arousal in your voice, deep and breathy. "We can't..."

"Yes we can." He cuts you off, his fingers straying even lower, lightly brushing your stiffened nipple. You let out an involuntary moan, face flushing at your obvious need. "This is just between us okay? We can do whatever we like..."

He emphasises the word and your mind immediately clouds over, the illicit fantasies you've been trying to deny flooding you. His thigh slides higher and you push yourself on to him, trying to find some relief. Your body shudders as it connects with his and you feel something inside of you let go, your need overtaking any sense of decency. You grind yourself on his leg, one hand clutching at his hips, the other raising up to the nape of his neck, your fingers twisting through his hair.

"Van..."

His name escapes through your lips, unbidden, deepening your shame. He's looking at you like a hungry wolf might regard his prey, eyes dark, lips slightly parted, drinking in your need as he pinches your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it gently, sending sparks of pleasure through you.

"That feel good, huh? Do you want more?"

"Yes," you urge, completely lost now, your whole body thrumming, your back arching as he pulls the front of your dress down, exposing your breasts completely.

You're coiled that tightly you feel like the slightest touch will tip you over the edge and he knows it. The smirk he's wearing is wide, victorious, his eyes trailing hungrily over you as your hips twitch, rolling against him, the friction a tantalising promise of the pleasure that you'll feel when he finally touches you there.

"Fuck... you look so good," he murmurs. "You wouldn't believe how long I've wanted this. And I knew it... I knew I'd have you one day."

The knowledge that he has you right where he wants you fills you with self-disgust but you're too far gone to care, if anything the wickedness just makes you even hotter.

"Just shut up and fuck me!" You hear yourself say, any shock you feel at your depravity being borne away on the swell of desire that consumes you.

His head dips down to kiss a hot wet trail down your neck. You bury your fingers further into his hair, tugging it at the roots as he descends further, taking a nipple into his mouth, his tongue swirling over the sensitive bud, making you gasp. Your other hand clutches at the fabric of his shirt, balling it into a fist.

His hands are on your thighs now, roughly hitching up your dress around your hips, his fingers immediately finding their way to the thin scrap of lace between your legs, caressing you through it.

You let out a desperate moan at the sensation, closing your eyes and throwing your head back, the feeling of his lips and his fingers in unison driving you into a frenzy. Your body goes taut as you feel his fingertips curl around the edge of your panties, moving them aside, sliding against your skin which is slick from your arousal. His teeth graze your nipple as his tongue flicks against it.

"Fuck..." you hiss, pressing yourself on to his fingers, feeling one pushing inside you as his lips go to your neck, kissing and nipping, his breath hot in your ear.

You're turned on beyond belief, not caring about anything but your own pleasure now, hungry for it... desperate. You grab at his wrist, holding it firmly in place, needing more, grinding yourself shamelessly against him.

"That's right baby, wanna see you fuck yourself on my fingers."

And then you hear the front door slam shut.

Your heart almost stutters to a stop as your eyes flick open and you release Van in a instant, pushing him back as you do. He stumbles but quickly rights himself, his jaw slack, his eyes glazed-looking. You let out a noise which is halfway between a whine and a whimper, frantically pulling up the neckline of your dress and smoothing it down over your thighs which are still trembling. You press your legs together, a nauseating guilt squirming in you at the feel of the sodden lace there, confirmation of just how badly you wanted him.

"Y/N..." Van hisses, his voice low, and you look over at him, panic setting in as you hear footsteps in the hallway accompanying the crisp sound of plastic carrier bags rustling as Larry makes his way to the kitchen. "Pull yourself together for christs sake!"

Van straightens up, brushing down his clothes with one hand, running the other through his hair. Despite his initial flustered reaction his recovery is swift and flawless, unsettlingly so. He looks unruffled, cool and collected whilst your whole body still feels on fire, anxiety lighting up your nerves and chasing away the passion.

The bastard's probably used to this, you think bitterly.

You go to open your mouth, scathing words ready to roll off your tongue, but before you can even form them Larry appears around the doorway, eyes bright, holding two carrier bags aloft.

"Wait till you guys see what I got!" He announces proudly, plonking the bags down on the kitchen counter with aplomb. The same counter Van had you pressed up against only moments earlier.

"What ya got mate?" Van replies in excitement, stepping forward to peer into the bags. "Hope you remembered my ciggies."

"Course I did, beer, fags, more wine for Y/N, and loads of snacks. Jaffa cakes for you Van, and those spicy crisps you love... they're your favourite aren't they?"

Larry's looking at you now, waiting for a reaction, an approval for what he's purchased, but you can't answer him. All you can think about is him perusing the shelves of the local shop, thoughtfully picking out the best loved snacks for the two most precious people in his life whilst you were both there, betraying him. You feel sick with guilt, mumbling a thank you, moving forward to reach for your glass of wine then stepping quickly back, as far as you can away from Van.

"What's up with you? You pair haven't been arguing again have you?" Larry's smile slips right off his face as he looks between you and Van. "I told you to sort it out. What do I have to do? Lock you both in a room together until you're forced to get along?"

You can feel your cheeks flushing crimson at the thought of what might occur in that situation, eyes darting to Van who's standing there like he doesn't have a care in the world.

"Oh, you don't need to worry about that anymore," he says, moving across the kitchen towards you as he speaks, slipping an arm casually over your shoulder. You stiffen, not sure how to act, taking a gulp of your wine so you don't have to look at Larry.

"Had a really good chat whilst you were gone didn't we Y/N? Got things out into the open. It's all sorted now. I'm pretty sure things are gonna be very different from now on..."

You swallow your wine down with difficulty, your throat thick, the urge to shrug Van off and walk away strong, but you resist, raising your eyes to meet Larry's instead, giving him a meek smile.

"Yeah... yeah, things are all good now," you mumble, feeling Van's fingers gently squeeze your shoulder as he tucks you tightly into his side like you're best friends.

Larry's face instantly lights up as he reaches into one of the carrier bags for a bottle of beer, smiling to himself.

"It's about bloody time! Honestly you don't know how happy that makes me feel hearing that. Come on then... let's go and finish watching this film shall we?"

[quiverwingquack]

71 with glitchless for the fic prompts? <3

I'm always down to write for glitchless! Thanks for the request. (Here's the prompt list for everyone else!)

“It’s like they’re always waiting to catch you off your guard,” Gyro mutters. He’s hardly even focusing, hands busy dismantling a glitchy piece of the cloud. “And then they mess things up.”

Gandra laughs, a nervous but pretty sound. “Something like that, yeah.”

Gyro looks up, just for a second. She’s typing something on a hologram keyboard, her bangs hanging halfway in her face, a band-aid across one cheek after their fight with Beaks. Her free hand is shaking a little, betraying her worry with so many new people, but she’s still smiling and doing her best to finish her work. He turns back to his own task before he starts blushing.

Fenton was right. She is incredible.

“When you aren’t paying attention, they watch you,” he presses something wrong, and the glitch turns the familiar blue of a computer error. He frowns. “And then things go haywire as soon as they start going well.”

“Exactly! Huey said you’d get it. That you, uh… how did he phrase it? You didn’t start out a hero either.” She sits down beside him at the workstation, reaching for his tools. “But something tells me it wasn’t FOWL you got mixed up with.”

“It was just as bad,” he admits, turning the glitched piece so she can look at it. “My old mentor tried to destroy Tokyolk.”

“Very cool of him,” she says sarcastically, squinting and tilting her head as she looks over the glitch. “I bet you weren’t getting paid near enough for that.”

He laughs. It’s been a while since he’s talked to someone he felt could actually understand him, much less joke about the things he’s dealt with. “Of course not, when do they ever?”

“Never. At least, not with Bradford.”

“I was almost glad when he turned out evil,” he flicks his hand, creating a set of hex keys, then pulls out the smallest one. “He’s a terrible boss. Always talking about budgets and turning down good projects.”

“He really is!” Gandra laughs again, leaning over the glitch with a screwdriver in one hand. This time, she sounds a little more comfortable. “You’d think after decades of master planning he’d at least be a good villain, but he’s just some tightwad in a suit.”

“That’s Bradford, alright,” Gyro laughs too. But he’s distracted now, spinning the hex key between his fingers. She hates stuck-up businessmen almost as much as he does, and she’s prickly but kind, and her hair is falling over her very blue eyes again like it’s a shield, but she’s letting him past it. He remembers Fenton telling him earlier, in a hurry, that she was a “really good person and so understanding and just like us, if you’ll give her a chance” and he gets it. He gets her.

She’s a scientist with big dreams that the world keeps burying. A hopeful heart she’s had to hide, because sometimes plans don’t work out and people aren’t kind to new ideas. He understands that all too well. It’s what he bonded with Fenton over, despite their many differences—they see each other, all of each other, like nobody else has ever been able to before. And though they’ve barely met, he knows why Fenton’s fallen in love with her, and he’s trying to keep himself from doing the same.

After all, what are the odds they both look at him the same way?

“I think that should do it,” Gandra declares, a hint of triumph pushing through the anxiety. “That might be all of them.”

“It should be,” Gyro agrees, looking around at the beautiful landscape. “You two built something really… special. I’m impressed.”

“Oh! Um, thanks. Thank you,” all of a sudden, she’s blushing. “Fenton said you’d be happy to help work out the kinks, but I was worried it would go wrong and… well, you know.”

“Yeah. I know.” He sighs, pushing away bad memories of past disasters. “That’s the hardest part of inventing things. But I’m… glad you trusted us.”

“I’m glad I trusted you too,” she looks away, her voice suddenly turning soft. “It’s… nice to know someone else understands, I guess. Nobody else has before.”

“Yeah,” Gyro looks out over the yellowed sky, the jagged clouds drifting past. He could never have invented something of this magnitude alone, but working together has brought one of Fenton’s elaborate ideas to life. And though he’s loathe to admit it, his former intern is becoming a great scientist in his own—

“Hi, Dr. Gearloose! And hi Gandra!” Fenton chirps, suddenly behind them. “M’ma had to head home, and honestly I’m kind of relieved. She can be so protective sometimes, and I know she means well, but—well, I can take care of myself. And I trust you guys! I think I managed to convince her it’ll be okay if I stay late to work on the Gizmocloud a little while longer.”

“Gizmocloud. What a stupid name,” Gyro remarks, before he can stop himself. He’s trying to be the mentor Akita could never be for himself, but sometimes Fenton’s personality and his just… clash.

“That’s what I said!” Gandra declares, reaching over to kiss Fenton’s cheek. “We’re still workshopping.”

And there, beside them both, watching the pixelated waves roll and taking in a view they’ve built together, Gyro decides he could get used to this. He could get used to being loved and part of something.

[sl-newsie]

Spelled (Carlos de Vil x Sanderson Daughter)- Ch. 12: Cats And Dogs

When Ben and I get to the tourney field, we find Carlos already waiting for us by the bleachers. But he still seems uneasy.

“Ben, are you sure I can do this? I mean it’s not-” Then he sees me, and his eyes widen. “Um, hey trixie- Magica! Uh, are you here to help too?”

Ben pats his shoulder. “Relax, Carlos. Sparks is here for any positivity spells or healing tonics you might need.”

Carlos’ jaw drops. “Wait, healing? Am I gonna get sent to the hospital or something?”

“It’s a sport, Carlos. You’re gonna get hurt sometimes,” I say with a shrug. 

Ben starts walking over to the coach’s booth. “I’m gonna go set my gear down.”

Carlos seems just as uneasy as I am, and keeps looking at the ground. At least it’s not siren magic- I hope. I busy myself by hexing rocks into flowers.

“You’re really good at that,” Carlos observes.

I shrug. “This? These are just simple pocket spells. We haven’t gotten to the big stuff in class yet, but-” I look over to make sure Ben’s out of earshot and lean in to whisper: “I’m way past pocket spells. I’ve been practicing advanced spells since I was 12! But don’t tell Ben.”

Carlos’ POV

“Remind me to never get on your bad side,” I smirk. “And don’t tell Mal, but I think you’re cool.”

Magica frowns. “Mal doesn’t like me?”

Oh. I didn’t mean to upset her.

“Um, she thinks you’re “too good.” But you gotta remember who our parents are, I mean… We’re always gonna be wicked and running a-muck everywhere-”

Suddenly Magica’s eyes light up and she starts dancing around, clapping and chanting “A-muck! A-muck! A-muck!” Normally I’d cautiously ask her to sit down and see if she’s feeling ok… if it wasn’t so cute. Jeez, Carlos! Why are you so loopy for this girl you just met? Stop staring at her like she’s eye candy!

But Magica’s giddy outburst soon comes to an end, and when she realizes what she’s doing she nervously folds her arms across her chest and hangs her head.

“I- I’m sorry, Carlos. That… That’s what happens when I hear that.”

“What? A-m-?”

“Don’t say it!” She shushes me. “It’s like a trigger word. It’s like I’m not in my right mind and start to do crazy stuff. Please don’t tell anyone.”

Trigger word? That’s odd… But who am I to judge? I have a mom who wanted to skin puppies.

“I won’t say anything. I promise.”

She seems to relax. “Thanks. If I’m being honest, you’re one of the few people I trust here. And I don’t trust easily.”

That makes two of us.

“But enough of that. Looks like you’ve got training to do!” She points to Ben, who’s walking up with a stopwatch.

Magica’s POV

“Ok Carlos, we’re gonna do some sprints! You ready?” Ben calls after looking at his clipboard.

I give Carlos one last smile. “Don’t worry, you’ll be fine.”

He sighs. “I hope so, but I don’t think- ah!”

Carlos suddenly takes off as if he’s been lit on fire, and when I turn to see what the commotion is all I can find is a small dog running our way. 

“Ah! A dog! A dog!”

“Nice pace Carlos- wait!” Ben yells after him as Carlos takes off into the woods.

As Ben goes running after Carlos, Binx bounds up and perches up on a rock.

“Hey!” he pants. “That’s Dude. He lives on campus, he’s no threat. I don’t know why Carlos is running.”

I tilt my head. “I don’t think he’s ever been around dogs. I’m going to go find out.” I stop, and turn around to give Binx a look. “You’ve been hanging out with Dude, and didn’t bother to introduce me?”

The black cat seems to shrug. “Sorry. You’ve been so busy.”

“I’ll meet up with you later. Right now I gotta go keep Carlos from having a heart attack.”

When I catch up with the two boys, Dude has chased Carlos up a tree.

“Ben! Magica! Help!” Carlos calls from the tree. “This dog is an evil beast and he’s going to rip out my throat! He’s a vicious pack animal!”

“Whoa whoa whoa!” I hold my hands up. “Who told you that?”

“My mother!”

“Cruella?” Ben asks.

“Yes, she’s a dog expert!”

I huff. “Some expert. If she’s such a dog expert then why does every dog hate her?”

Ben picks the brown mutt up and holds him up to Carlos, who looks as if Ben’s offering him poison.

“Why are you holding him? He’s gonna attack you!”

“Carlos, you haven’t really actually met a dog, have you?” Ben asks. “Dude, meet Carlos. Carlos, this is Dude! The campus mutt.”

Slowly Carlos descends the tree, all while looking at Dude with a new-found interest.

“You’re a good boy, aren’t you?” He cautiously holds his hand out to pat Dude’s head.

“You guys must have it pretty rough on the island, huh?”

“Yeah, well… let’s just say we don’t get a lot of belly rubs,” Carlos jokes.

“Good boy.” Ben seems to rethink his sentence. “I mean- you’re a good runner, y’know…”

“Yeah… thanks.” Carlos smiles awkwardly.

“Um, I’m gonna give you guys some space to, y’know, get to know each other and all that. So, just find me when you’re done!” 

I give Ben a smirk. “Real smooth, Bennie. Real smooth!”

He rolls his eyes. “Shut up, Sparks!”

When Ben walks off Carlos gives me a dazed look, as if he’s never been happy before.

“I never realized how great animals are.”

I avoid his smitten gaze and play with my skirt. “Yes, animals are the very best of companions. Far better than people, I think. They don’t judge and claw at your every flaw.”

Just then Binx wanders over.

“So did Carlos faint?” 

Dude barks at the black cat, who just scoffs. “You’ve got a new best friend, Carlos.”

The freckled VK chuckles. “So you’re Binx, Magica’s faithful companion? Nice to meet you.”

Binx bows his head. “Thank you. And Magica’s told me so much-”

“Um, Binx!” I interrupt before he can blab anymore. “We’ve got to head back.”

Carlos looks disappointed. “Really? Already?”

“Yes. C’mon Binx!” I scoop him up. “I’ve- got homework to do and some errands to run for Ben. Why don’t you take Dude for a walk?”

Carlos grins at the idea and sets the pooch down. “Come on, Dude! Let’s go see the Enchanted Lake! See ya later, Magica!” He waves goodbye as he chases after Dude.

“Well that was a bust!” Binx complains as I start walking back. “Why’d you stop me? I was going to tell Carlos-”

“I know very well what you were going to tell him! You can’t just spill my secrets to Carlos!”

He grunts. “Why not? You can’t have feelings for him and stay quiet.”

“Oh yes I can! I’m trying to keep things professional, remember? I’ve got enough to be worried about without adding love to the mix! Besides, eventually he’d find out about my family. Who’d ever want to date the daughter of a Sanderson?” I give a heavy sigh as I climb the steps towards the dorms.

“Better find an outlet soon,” Binx warns when I set him down. “Keep your feelings bottled up and it only leads to something dangerous.”

“Don’t remind me,” I hiss as Jane comes rushing up. Binx gives me one last look of caution before scurrying up and out the windowsill.

“Hey, Magica! I’m about to go visit the VKs. Want to come?” 

I tilt my head. “Something seems… different about you.”

Jane grins and fluffs her locks. “Yes! Mal spelled my hair to be cool! I wanted to ask if she could help me with some other features, but mom was opposed to it.”

“What was wrong with your hair before? Also I thought you were skittish about the VKs?”

“Yeah, well… I changed my mind.” She shrugs.

Oh. So villain descendants are only accepted if they do you favors? If only they knew who I really was.

I nod, with a slightly half-crazed expression.

“The VKs actually aren’t that mean once you get to know them!”

Jane, you have no idea.

[coffeedrgn87]

December 12th Drarry Drabble: "Gingerbread House"

Tags: Fluff, Young Love, Moving In Together, Meeting Teddy, Draco has a bit of a meltdown, Harry is quite possibly the best and most supportive boyfriend, I love those dorks, do you?

When the side wall panels of the gingerbread house collapsed for the umpteenth time, and the peaked wall panel broke in half, Draco felt like setting fire to the whole darn kitchen. He couldn’t remember why he’d decided to build a miniature version of Hogwarts out of gingerbread when Charming Cinnamints made them to order. 

Except, he could.

Because it was all Harry Potter’s fault.

“Bloody Chosen Wanker,” Draco grumbled, wondering how Harry had talked him into tagging along to finally meet little Teddy Lupin, his maternal cousin once removed. Wasn’t it bad enough that Draco, in a fit of incurable madness, had given in and drunkenly confessed that he was probably, most likely, absolutely, definitely in love with Harry? Paradoxically, said confession hadn’t ended with Potter’s mates hexing his balls off because Harry reciprocated his feelings for some wretched reason. Mystifyingly, two years into this madness, they were now in a steady relationship, and the fact that Draco spent more time in Harry’s flat than in his tiny studio concerned him greatly. It didn’t cause him as much anguish as Harry’s suggestion to meet Teddy.

Draco scowled at his ruined efforts and growled. This sorry attempt at bribing little Teddy into liking him wouldn’t work out. Teddy was bound to hate him; if Teddy hated him, well, his relationship with Harry was as good as over. Draco’s chest constricted painfully; holding on to the edges of the kitchen counter, he let his head fall forward. He tried to focus on breathing, but Draco’s anxiety had other plans. It foiled his attempts at trying to calm down, and after nervously tapping the counter until he chipped a nail, Draco gave up entirely.

Instead, he grabbed an entire stack of gingerbread wall panels and hurled them across the kitchen. Unfortunately for Draco, his flurry of anger coincided with Harry’s return home. He just about managed to duck to avoid being assaulted by flying gingerbread. Draco stared in absolute horror, then let out a wretched sob. He stomped his foot like a petulant child and announced his departure, but Harry’s thick layer of wards thwarted his attempt to apparate on the spot. Instead, he bounced off the wards like a rubber ball and ended up on the floor.

Harry was at his side in an instant. Before Draco could react and try to shove him away, Harry knelt beside him and pulled him into a comforting hug. Draco dejectedly let his head fall against Harry’s chest and closed his eyes. They burned with unshed tears, but Draco was determined to keep it together. He wasn’t going to cry over a failed attempt at baking; no, he absolutely wasn’t. Except, a sob forced its way past the thick lump in his throat and before Draco knew it, he had his fingers twisted in Harry’s oversized winter jacket and was blubbering like a three-year-old who’d just fallen off his first toy broom. With the unwanted howls came an avalanche of lamentation as Draco spilt his guts to Harry. He didn’t want to confess it all, but the harder he tried to keep it together, the more got out.

By the end, Draco’s tear-stained face was blotchy, and he was snivelling into a ball of soft paper tissues. His eyes were bloodshot and blinking; he looked at Harry and felt his face flush crimson.

“I’m sorry; I’ll just get out of your hair; you’ll never have to see me again.”

Harry frowned.

“You’re not in my hair. And don’t you think whether I want to see you again should be my decision and not yours?”

Draco blinked, trying to process the question. He opened his mouth with the very intention to object, but before he could get a single syllable out, Harry pressed a single digit against his lips and shushed him.

“I’ll be honest, I understood less than half of what you wailed about just now, but if I’m not entirely mistaken, baking didn’t go so well. Unless, of course, I fucked up, and you were just waiting for me to come home so you could throw gingerbread at me. I will go out on a limb here and say that’s not the case. But somehow Teddy is involved, though I don’t quite understand how, and weirdly enough, you got it in your head that I’m on the verge of breaking up with you?”

Draco wanted to speak, desperately wanted to clarify things, but Harry refused to let him get a word in edgewise. Draco scowled at him, but it did not affect Harry, who simply smiled. His green eyes danced with a hint of mischief, and Draco reminded himself that right now was not the best time to drown in those sparkling emeralds.

“OK, so even though I’m flummoxed, I’d like you to know one thing. I am not on the verge of breaking up with you. Quite the opposite, actually. I meant to ask you over Christmas, but I might as well tell you now. I’d very much like it if you moved in here with me. The place is big enough for us both. Besides, you spent more time with me than in your own place. It doesn’t make sense for us both to pay rent for two places. You don’t have to answer me right now, take some time to think about it and tell me then. Now, as for your gingerbread endeavour. I’ve never made a gingerbread house, but I used to do a fair bit of baking at my aunt and uncle’s place, so if you’re game, maybe we can try again together. As for how Teddy fits into all this, you’ll have to explain again, as I’m afraid that part made zero sense.”

Draco let out a long sigh. He wanted to explain that he was sure that Teddy would hate him and that this was why he worried about Harry and their relationship, but his brain had a different idea altogether.

“You want me to move in with you?” he asked, perplexed.

Harry nodded.

“Yeah, I’d love to have you here full-time. We could do a trial run for a couple of months if you don’t want to give up your place immediately, although it feels like we’ve been doing just that for the past year.”

Draco swallowed hard. The gigantic smile on Harry’s face was tough to resist, and if Draco was completely honest, he wanted to live with Harry very much. He wasn’t sure whether it was the wisest decision, and heated arguments were most definitely in their future, but Harry made him feel safe and at home for the most part.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

“Of living with me?”

Draco nodded, then shook his head immediately after.

“No, I’m scared Teddy will hate me.”

Harry’s eyes widened.

Draco half expected him to laugh, but instead, Harry crawled forward, took his face in his hand and kissed him softly.

“Don’t be daft; he’s been talking about meeting you for weeks.”

Draco sighed.

“That’s even worse. You’ve hyped me up, and now I won’t live up to his expectations.”

Harry huffed a laugh.

“Nutter. I did nothing of the sort. I just told him that I’d love him to meet his cousin. Draco, the kid’s only got his gran and me. Finding out that he’s got more family out there is like his birthday and Christmas happening on the same day. You could be a toad, and Teddy would love you to bits.”

Strangely enough, the toad reference made Draco laugh, but a wave of silent tears still rolled down his cheeks. He looked embarrassed and tried to wipe them away, but Harry was faster, and he kissed the tears away, then gently booped his nose.

“Go have a shower or a bath. I’ll clean up and make us some tea. We can talk some more then.”

Draco wanted to reject the suggestion, but Harry practically shooed him out of the room, and to be quite honest, a bath did sound nice.

[augment-techs]

Six-Word Starter Prompts (part I)

Watching quietly from every door frame.

Catholic school backfired. Sin is in!

Savior complex makes for many disappointments.

Nobody cared, then they did. Why?

Some cross-eyed kid, forgotten then found.

Born in the desert. Still thirsty.

I asked. They answered. I wrote.

No future, no past. Not lost.

Joined army. Came out. Got booted.

Almost a victim of my family.

The psychic said I'd be richer.

Painful nerd kid, happy nerd adult.

Fourteen years old, story untold.

One long train ride to darkness.

Wolf! She cried. No one listened.

I'm my mother and I'm fine.

All day I dream about sex.

I still make coffee for two.

I like girls. Girls like boys.

Never should have bought that ring.

Stranded by ten-thousand-mile crush.

Time heals all wounds? Not quite.

Made a mess. Cleaned it up.

Says deaf boyfriend: You're too quiet.

My family is overflowing with therapists.

Boy, if I had a hammer.

Followed white rabbit, became black sheep.

Followed Yellow Brick Road. Disappointment ensued.

Nerdy girl smutmonger. Now, baby fever.

Recent doctorate means overeducated and underemployed.

Taking a lifetime to grow up.

Bad breaks discovered at high speed.

In the office. It smells here.

I am trying, in every regard.

Happiest when ignoring huge financial debt.

Not pretty enough, so now unemployed.

Mistakes were made, but smarter now.

Likes everything too much to choose.

Curly haired sad kid chose fun.

Now I blog and drink wine.

Egomaniac with inferiority complex defies odds.

I thought I was someone else.

Dancing for now, one day farming.

I grew and grew and grew.

Starving artist. Lucky break. Life downhill.

The Hustle: turn champion into sucker.

I was born 'some assembly required.'

I drank to much last night.

Took scenic route, got a date.

I like big butts, can't lie.

I'm enjoying even this downward dance.

Without ideas, intelligence could not exist!

I hope I outlive my regrets.

All night phone calls complete me.

Tragic childhood can lead to wisdom.

Which comes first: tequila or accident?

A sundress will solve life's woes.

I recognize red flags faster, now.

I sucked even the lobster legs.

Nothing profound, I just sat around.

Others left early: he continued cooking.

Quiet guy; please pay closer attention.

I sell hamburgers and french fries.

the shit invariably hits the fan

and he nerded as never before

tow truck drivers are my psychiatrists

should have used condom that time

infinite calm beset with emotional architecture

won the fight; lost the girl

slightly psychotic, in a good way

found true love after nine months

Afraid of everything. Did it anyway.

I wrote it all down somewhere

lost and found, rescued by dog

afraid of becoming like my mother

What the hell. Might as well.

Hexed: curse of the happy childhood.

Can't tonight, watching Law & Order

my life's a bunch of almosts

It's not you. It's me. Honest.

Thought I would have more impact

this is aggression in pink, bitch

oh, to have just one puff!

at the end of Normal Street

found great happiness in insignificant details

spent life looking for dead people

enjoying my fuck ups too much

an unusual turn of gender circumstances

hiding in apartment knitting against depression

they kissed me and said yes!

always dreamt of kissing pretty girls

everyone who loved me is dead

it was embarrassing, don't ask

Verbal hemophilia. Why can't I clot?

the car accident changed my life

burned my bridges and my britches

Batteries are cheap. Who needs men?

Clueless meets Ophelia, without the suicide.

anything possible--but I was tired

I ate, drank, and was hairy

still have not learned to swim

glass half full; pockets half empty

you are all in my imagination

school geek married a luscious cheerleader

I couldn't protect me from myself

aspiring lady pirate, disillusioned, sells boat

I was and now I'm not.

oh sweet nectar of life, coffee

no shit I'm critical--you're flawed

It's pretty high. You go first.

Wasn't noticed so I painted trains.

running away: best decision I made

when she proposed, I said yes

Nobody knows how I have suffered.

Dweeb, pussy...stronger than anyone knows.

too many lovers--too little time

couldn't cope so I wrote songs

long lost girl recently found, unharmed

born a twin, died a loner

It was worth it, I think.

Dorothy Gale had the right idea

take a left turn, then fly

I was never the pretty one

born at 23, childhood doesn't count

memory was my drug of choice

gay physician designed life-saving AIDS drugs

never lived up to my potential

never really finished anything, except cake

cursed with cancer; blessed with friends

crappy parents killed my self esteem

lonely artist turned waitress in love

my life is just like yours

lucky in everything else except love

I'm just here for the beer

With three cats I'm never unloved

came, saw, conquered, had second thoughts

the weather up here is better

baby dyke now raising two babies

Stoned. Boned. Where am I now?

town car, tailored suit, dirty nails

I fell far from the tree

the image was large with silence

after you jump, the net appears

I colored outside the lines

should not have eaten those mushrooms

Wanked furiously. Married. Furious no more.

even the quietest sounds make noise

many hands have kept me afloat

all of my students hate me

I managed not to destroy anything.

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, APRIL 30, 1999 Will the new noisemakers be here tomorrow? After the city leaves at 4:00, I’ll look over the wall and see if the stuff’s still there and if the grass is mowed. That should be a sign in itself. When I went to hang a few things on the line just now, I could hear soft music coming from over there. Just what have they been doing for eight hours a day for these past two weeks?

I just hope my vibes are right about us moving in July or early August, cuz getting the house up for sale by mid-May is just a dream. I knew he was full of shit when he said the house would be ready to put on the market by then. He’s much too intelligent to be giving off-the-wall time frames like he’s done a lot in the past, and it makes me wonder if he likes don’t that.

He called that realtor, who was with customers, to find out what land was available and where, but he never returned the call. People seem to be doing that a lot lately; not returning calls.

I wonder if the guy with the braids doll will return Tom’s email. Tom told him we haven’t gotten the doll, but I’ll bet you anything that if he does reply, he’ll say it’s been sent. This guy has sold over 200 items and has a good rep with the auction. Tom says he thinks he’s procrastinating, but I think it’s the mailman. That’s two packages he’s given away and I’m really fed up with him! I want to kick his ass so bad! Ironically enough, the two packages I never got had dolls involved. So, it’s a combination of my being hexed in the doll department, and having a mailman who likes to give our mail away. I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never have this braids doll any more than I’ll ever have pictures from Paula. I just hope we can get our money back on this doll.

Andy left a message yesterday. It was a quick one, cuz he was expecting a couple of co-workers to visit. I thought he wasn’t mixing business with pleasure, but I guess not. He said he’s got all his bills paid. That’s good.

I’m halfway done reading Black Ice, then I’ll read Amy Girl.

Yesterday and the day before, I spent a lot of time on the web getting back the Gloria pictures I lost. I also got a Gloria theme and it sucked, so I made it better. They used a few icons with her picture. Their colors sucked, so I chose my own. The only thing I really like about it is the music clips, although they should’ve put more on and more variety of songs, too. They’ve got two clips from Anything for You. I went and made my own picture icons, but they didn’t look too good cuz of the way my wallpaper picture colors would get into them. Then they started doing weird things on me and changing into bizarre things. Maybe I’ll try again today.

Later…

Fell asleep for an hour cuz I had to take Benadryl. Had the typical allergy attack I get every 2-3 weeks. It looks like it isn’t over either, since I just started sneezing again. These things go on all day and I usually can’t stop it till the next day. I may go for 20-30 minute periods without sneezing, but on days I have these attacks, I sneeze all day on and off. I don’t have an attack for just a part of a day, although I wish that were the case if I had to have them at all! God doesn’t recognize hard work when he sees it. I dust, vacuum, and quit smoking, only to keep on having allergy trouble. Maybe he’ll care enough to help me help myself someday, but I won’t count on it.

It’s just about May now, but we’ve barely scratched the surface of our list of prep jobs. Tom is out there putting flashing on the patio, so that’s another step in the right direction.

My vibes say next door will be empty again this weekend, but we’ll see what my logic says after I do a spy check after they leave today.

Tom fixed the bird clock. I didn’t think to check it myself, but when he did he saw that the part that makes the birds chirp uses two separate batteries from the one battery that keeps time. The “chirping” batteries were dead.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 28, 1999 Due to having major computer problems, I haven’t written in a few days.

First, Patch died yesterday, so now I just have Katie and Ashley. I could’ve sworn I saw Katie fucking Ashley, though, which makes no sense at all. Even if Katie was a male, they should be well on their second batch by now. It’s too late to not have produced any babies since they only carry litters for three weeks.

Tom has an anti-virus thing installed on his computer. He never bothered to put one in mine, cuz I hardly ever download anything. We suspect that the new screensavers we recently got had a virus in them that infected my computer. One day my computer just wouldn’t boot up. I ended up losing so much. I lost some of the Gloria pictures I downloaded not too long ago, the superimposed pictures I made, the pictures I put pretty backgrounds on, all the family pictures, doll pictures, and some pet pictures, my cardfiles, and more. Tom says he’s really sorry he didn’t back me up more often. Yeah, me too, but now I’ve set things up so that I can’t lose much, if anything at all, the next time something like this happens. Fortunately, though, I didn’t lose any journal stuff. I lost four pages from Andy’s file, but I was able to rebuild that by copying/pasting excerpts from my journal just like I would for the freeloaders.

Since my weight hasn’t fluctuated much in the last several months, I quit doing a weight file, then I condensed things. I rebuilt my dolls and pets files in my word processor so I can back things up more easily. I pretty much went back to basics. The main reason I got into computers in the first place was to do journals and write letters. Not sit and look at pictures. My picture days are over. If I want a picture, I’ll print it out. That way it can’t get lost so easily.

Aside from AOL, a few games I like, some empty files I use for letters, and my journals, I have my journal chart, the grocery list, an index of subjects I once began, phone numbers, lyrics, edits, and pet and doll info all backed up onto one floppy. So, from now on, all that should matter is that I keep my journal stuff backed up regularly. Yesterday, I figured out how to restore floppies for the first time in my life. It was only January 9th, as far as the computer was concerned, cuz that was when we last backed up on CDs, so I had to restore the journal stuff from then on up till now. Every time I get a page worth of Andy’s stuff, I’ll print it out.

Got my period. It started yesterday. Will I get those mid-cycle pains for the 4th month in a row in two weeks? Anyway, even if it’s dryer when he doesn’t get off, the good thing about when he does get off is that I know it’ll be many months before he does it again. Also, if he cums at the wrong time of month, it’s the wrong time of month for me. If he cums at the right time of month, it’s the wrong time of month for me. I still trust him to be smart enough not to go squirting at the right time, and for God to take care of destiny even if he does.

I had been worried that it’d be a bitch to peel off stickers and contact paper from shelves/doors, but Tom got this really cool thing that sands it right off. It’ll even sand the paint off too, in no time at all. It’s a chalky, rough pumice-like thing. It makes a mess, but it works.

I moved Velvet into the aquarium that’ll be his home when we move. He seems content enough in it. Especially since he’s such a lazy pig who just sits there. I put him right next to the mice and I think he likes being able to see them. Makes him feel less alone, I guess.

I also put Bailey back in the living room, cuz the room just looks so boring without a doll in it. The rest are still in boxes, but not Mary, Giselle, Maria, or Rapunzel. I don’t have suitable boxes for them, but that’s fine. They can ride in the backseat of the car wrapped in towels.

It looks like I’ll be keeping Giselle #2 which I’ll rename Liselle to go with her twin Giselle. Giselle and Liselle. I’ll leave her in her box till we move, of course, and then I’ll do different things to make her look somewhat different than her twin.

I was right, so far, when I said I’d only get two or three out of the four dolls I got from eBay (the auction), so Tom will email the guy tonight so we can get our money back. That’s two packages of mine the mailman didn’t give me this month.

I got that form for that art test. I did a good job considering that I haven’t drawn in about a year. They asked a few questions - age, marital status, why you like art. Then you draw a copy of a couple of cartoon heads and dress up an outline of a house. If the mailman lets me have it, I should receive a score and evaluation on it. Tom said I did a great job and that he’s looking forward to hearing what my options are on it. I don’t know. This is a fun experiment, but I’m sure that they tell everyone their work is good. Even if I’d scribbled, I’m sure I’d get an encouraging reply about it with a high score attached. They want to entice anyone they can into their training program.

Later…

The city van’s not here yet. Usually, he’s here from 8:30-4:00, with an hour and a half off for lunch. Just three more days till the freeloader animals get over there. There may be no basketball games, but there’ll be music, car doors, loudmouths, and maybe even a dog or two to go with it. Thank God we’ll be getting out of here soon enough.

I realized a reason I don’t want to be with Andy in his car again. I may’ve been lucky enough not to go down with him for years, but I’m reluctant to push my luck any further. Very reluctant. Even he says he doesn’t want to take certain risks, like having furniture stick out of his trunk, cuz he’s not insured. That doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have weed on him when he drives around. To think that I could’ve gone down with him those many times I’d ride in his car with him in the past is a bit scary. I can’t afford to push my luck nowadays. I’m not some poor, young, cute girl with connections any more. I’m a married, middle-aged woman with a decent income. I can’t afford to go down with him now that my life is what it is. I just don’t want losers or druggies for friends. Period. Out of the very few things Andy has an interest in, he knows his stuff well, and there is some good to Andy, but if I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a million times - I’ve outgrown Andy. I’m not going down for some waste product who doesn’t give a shit about life. Who only cares about himself. If he wants to be a dope case that hangs with the wrong people and that sits on his ass day in and day out with a phone in one hand and a joint in the other - let him. Let him stuff his face and ruin his life at his own expense. I’m not taking any more risks. Period.

Here’s something that’s pretty amazing. By 4:00 yesterday, there had been only one sales call. I don’t know what calls came later, though, cuz I went to bed around then.

Later…

The city van’s here. An hour later today.

Later…

Now there are two city vans.

Later…

We’re back down to one van. Just what in the world are they doing over there, hour after hour, day after day? What did those freeloaders do over there?

Anyway, Tom was in for about a half hour. He put in a sell order to cash in some stock if it hit 76 points, but it hasn’t so far. He’s gone now to the eye doctor. I’ll be calling in an order for pork-fried rice at noon which he’ll pick up.

If there’s one thing, and one thing only, that I’m glad is gone, it’s the cardfile. I inserted a table with rows and columns of blocks for keeping track of pet and doll info and it looks much better this way.

SUNDAY, APRIL 25, 1999 No one moved in yesterday, and there were signs saying that no one would move in this weekend that we didn’t see or think of right away. The grass isn’t mowed, the recycle bin’s out, and they still haven’t picked up the shit I threw in the backyard I couldn’t believe it!

The only activity that I know of that went on over there yesterday, was this car that pulled deep into the carport. A fat lady and a little boy got out of the car and they went straight to the back. The first thing I thought was that the pregnant kid’s mother came over with one of the kid’s kids, and they were getting the dog set up in back, but nope. They were only here a few minutes, too. Maybe they went to get something I threw over.

Then Tom went up on the roof to read some numbers off the side of the cooler, and to spy, and that’s when I totally regretted throwing things over there! Mr. Paranoid saw the shit over there and lectured me for a good hour or so on why I shouldn’t do things like that and why it’s important that he be paranoid and cautious in life. I’m very very sorry to have upset him, and now I’ll be just as paranoid and cautious just so I can spare him from having to get all worried again. I’ll never again do anything remotely like that.

Also, there’s no way I’m gonna tell him about the hoop when we move. He’d be a basket case of nerves over it and he doesn’t need it if I can spare him from it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Not even after ten years will I tell him about the hoop, cuz even then he’ll probably worry that something bad may come of it.

Meanwhile, I’m going to finish enjoying this weekend with next door empty. It’s to be our last weekend here with it empty.

Later…

Tom fixed the stereo in seconds yesterday. All that was keeping it from playing CDs was a loose wire.

I went around and counted cracked outlets and light switches for him so he can pick up new ones to replace them when he gets other things we need. It’s gonna cost $500 to put the fence around the pool! But it’s the law.

SATURDAY, APRIL 24, 1999 I have so much to write about! Let me start with the bad news, then I’ll get to the good news. I saw what’s probably going to be the new scum that’s gonna be next to us either this weekend or sometime during next week for sure. We’ve gone from Mormons to blacks to Mexicans. I am so sick of them! I’m so sick of having to be the one stuck next to lazy, rude, selfish kids with kids. At 9:45 on Thursday, the city van came back, and shortly after, at 10:00, a nice blue/gray van pulled in. Too nice for someone who’s supposed to be poor and in need of subsidized housing. Anyway, out hopped a pregnant woman with two little kids and with what appeared to be her mother. A little later, the city van and the asshole's van left. At 12:30, the pregnant kid returned with two guys. She and the guys couldn’t have been over 18 and they all looked like total scum. Totally. One of the guys had a T-shirt on that said: Don’t ask me 4 shit. I was thinking to myself, don’t worry. I’m not gonna bother wasting my time, guy. I’m gonna have the city deal with you.

At 1:00, the van came back. I saw that same gray-haired guy step out topless and pull a door out of the back of the van, and a paint roller.

I hate these loud-mouthed Mexicans! Although they didn’t seem to be that loud for being Mexican. Not as loud as that black bitch was. She sounded like a mad bull butch. Anyway, I’m just so sick of these lazy people who have one kid, jump on welfare, then keep popping kids so they can avoid having to work. Meanwhile, it’s people like us who struggle to earn a living that has to foot their bills with our tax dollars, and I’m sick of it. Fucking sick of it! They couldn’t wait to have kids. They just had to run out and have them before they were ready and on stable ground financially. They probably made a contest out of which would come first - their diploma or the kids, although I doubt Miss Mex went all the way through high school.

I could’ve sworn I heard one of them mention us having a pool, so they were probably peaking in our yard. I hope Tom doesn’t leave anything of value out there.

Tom says I’m pretty bigoted. Well, if they don’t force their lives on me then I won’t be. If they let me sleep and don’t constantly invade my home with their noise, they can be whatever color/race they happen to be. It’s not the color or race I’m against so much as the ways of lazy people like this. I’ve lived in two projects. I know how most of them are. Not all, but most. It’s rude, selfish assholes I’m against. Not blacks or Mexicans, although I use those words as a way to vent. I’d do that with a white person I disliked, too. It may be wrong, but within my own journals, I think I should be able to say whatever I please. I’ll be damned if I’ll watch what I say in my journal. I could’ve lowered myself to that bitch’s level and called her a N after she stormed off calling me a ho, but I didn’t. The issue wasn’t about her black skin. The issue was about her and her associates harassing me with noise.

Now for the good news. I saw the city van pull in yesterday at the usual time of 8:30. This time, the gray-haired guy was with that black guy again. The black guy got out and took hold of the lock on the hoop just like one of the black boys had done. Then I stepped out and asked if the place was gonna be rented to the people that came yesterday. He said not for sure. They had just come to look at the place. I don’t buy it, though. I think it is gonna be them living there, but can they have that nice van? I thought Tom said subsidized housing was for the working poor, but there’s no way this Mexie’s gonna be working. Not with kid number three on the way by August at the latest. So, if she can stay home and have a van like that, she can have a dog too, right?

I asked when the new people would be in. He said when they were done fixing the place up.

Anyway, I asked if they could do me the favor of taking the hoop down cuz kids were coming around in the middle of the night playing ball. This is BS, of course, but I figured that’d get me further than saying that I just didn’t want to listen to the new kids, or their kids, thump balls just outside my window all day long. So, the guy got up and took it down!!! With my luck, though, the new scum will be bouncing balls up and down the driveway, anyway. I’m still thrilled to see this thing go, and I wish I’d done this in between the Mormons and the blacks. Better later than never, I guess, even though Tom says we can have the house up for sale as soon as May 15th. I just hope we can sell it privately, although $65,000-$75,000 is a lot of cash to come up with.

Anyway, I’ve opted to wait till after we move before telling Tom that I asked that the hoop be taken down, cuz he can get more paranoid than Andy at times. He’ll fear trouble will come from it, but I know that even if the city suspects I’m the one who locked the hoop, they can’t prove it, and I don’t think they’d bother with such petty shit anyway. They should have better things to do with their time. Tom, though, may fear we’ll have to go to court on vandalism charges.

We saw the hoop sitting just inside the carport on our way out at around 10:00 and I feared they’d put the hoop back up as soon as the lazies moved in, but Tom said he didn’t think they would. He was the one to be right, fortunately. He said he saw a pickup haul it away. Good riddance!!

On our way back, we saw an APS truck. That means they could be moving in this weekend, but more than likely, they’ll be in next week. I’ll have to see if they replaced the security light yet when I listen to music. I’ll go do that now, then write about our little outing yesterday.

Later…

The security light hasn’t been replaced yet, but I’ve been compensated for getting rid of the hoop with a dead stereo. I was listening to CDs and everything was just fine, but then it quit playing anything. It goes from disk to disk, then stops as if it had no CDs loaded in its carousel. Great timing. Just what we need to be dealing with now. I might not tell Tom about it till after we move and I may just listen to tapes till then.

We went to Wal-Mart yesterday and he got a couple of pairs of shorts. I got a bright pink cotton pair of shorts and two satin pairs in black and royal blue. Their sundresses were boring. I got a pair of denim shorts, two white bras, and two shiny pairs of panties. One’s gold and white checkered, the other’s magenta and black.

The only problem with the shorts is that because I’m so thick-waisted, in order to get a comfortable fit around the waist, the rest is too big and baggy. In order to get the shorts to fit well, I have to get a tight waist. So I took the good fit with the tight waist and am now stretching the waists on chair backs.

Then we went to the bookstore, got Jack-n-the-Box, and came home. Not right away, though, cuz some stupid shit had to hold us up by parking in a way that we couldn’t get by them till they decided to move. I was getting more pissed by the moment. Two more minutes and I’d have been pulling the dumb fuck out of its car and beating the fuck out of it, I swear to God!

We still want to go to the library some other time and to the mall so I can get more clothes.

If I don’t get my braids doll today, then I guess I’ll get her next week.

Ashton-Drake sent me their new catalog. They had a couple of new Indian dolls that were nice, but for $135, no thanks. If they weren’t 17” and under, that’d be different.

Later…

Tom came this morning. I was shocked. He cums so rarely that it was just so unexpected that I wondered if he’d quit for good.

So, are our new assholes coming today? I’d guess that if they’re moving in today, they should be here any time now. Well, they won’t be playing basketball in the midst of moving in! Anyway, Tom says he’ll stick around and spy along with me till 11:00, but that if they don’t come by then, he’s gonna go out to the racetrack.

THURSDAY, APRIL 22, 1999 Andy left a message about an hour ago saying he was bored and lonely, so call him if I was up. I called, but he didn’t answer. Then he called me back saying he was out walking and wanted another hour before calling. I thought he was supposed to be so bored and lonely. He’s probably lowering himself out of desperation to cruising the streets for sex. So, I just left him a message to please have his eating done when he calls me but to just let the phone ring once, and I’ll take that as my cue to make my coffee, then I’ll call him back. Knowing him, though, he’ll have a mouthful of food, the little pig!

In the first message he left, he told me he didn’t know if he’d told me yet, but that he was going back east in May for a visit, and he went through that spiel again, after telling me three times. Of course, if he stopped potting his brains out, he may remember what he’s already told me. Sometimes, though, I think he just rambles about the same old things just to be leaving me a lengthy message, since he never really has anything new going on with him. He says he realizes he chooses to be bored. Yeah, I realized that a long time ago. I know he doesn’t want to do anything. As I told him, though, I’ll still accept him no matter what he does, and this is true whether or not I dumped him. He has to be what he wants to be. No one can make him work or do anything he doesn’t want to do. Only God can do that to any of us.

Then he says he’s gonna get his act together and seriously work when he gets back. Yeah, right! And I’ll get serious about being a brain surgeon!

I’m surprised Tammy hasn’t called yet, but she will. It’s just a matter of time. I knew the pathological liar had no intentions of sending a letter or pictures either like she said she would, but do I really care or want these anymore? No. I’m done with these people.

It’ll be nice to have Andy go back east and give me a break from the phone for two weeks, but will he call Tammy? I hope not, for his sake. She’s a very insecure person, uncomfortable with gays, and living in the past. She’ll only be rude, cold and distant to Andy and bring up the past, but Andy has to be Andy, as always, and do whatever he wants to do.

Later…

I managed to get Andy off the phone in just a half hour. He was falling asleep anyway, and the stoned ditz who never listens to a damn thing I say asked the same questions for the tenth time and brought up yet again manufactured homes being cheaper and blowing away in storms. For the tenth time, I explained to him why they’re cheaper and why they won’t blow away (he’s just jealous and is trying to burst my bubble). So, after hearing about stuff I already know, he mentioned us going to Camelback Mountain and then to his house. I reminded him of how he recently said he was sick of Camelback Mountain, then he goes, “Boy, I contradict myself a lot, huh?” Yeah, he does. Anyway, I don’t want to go, but what am I supposed to do? Tell him, “No, I don’t feel like it. Besides, why do you think I’m not giving you our address and number when we move? Cuz I’m sick of you. I’ve moved on in life, you haven’t. You’re a lazy druggie and I don’t need that.”

He wanted me to hand-write more notes up for him to distribute, but I told him no. Not just because I don’t feel like writing the notes, but because I’m sick of doing for him and not getting much in return for it. There’s nothing he can really offer me. Also, why doesn’t he do it? He has the time. While he’s sitting at home stuffing his face or getting high, why doesn’t he do it? He said he might have Michelle do it.

Lastly, during our talk, he said he was picking food out of his teeth but I know he was really eating the whole time. God, what a fucking, major fucking pig this guy’s become! That’s about 35 minutes of eating - damn!

I wonder what Naper dolls are? Andy says Barbara Nicks collects these.

Later…

That fucking pest! Here we go again with the phone. He just called twice. Let me make some coffee, then see what this general nuisance wants now.

Later…

Well, Andy just had himself a little scare. I’d have been furious and I’d have run out after the person but to each their own. He sleeps with music on and had just turned his radio on to go to bed when he heard these weird noises. So he turned the music off and listened and then saw someone running from his backyard. I don’t know if the person heard him, changed their mind, or what their intentions were in the first place, but Andy was appalled that someone tried breaking in at 4:00 in the morning with him there. He says he keeps his kitchen window open sometimes and that they got the screen out. I say it’s Laura-related or someone he’s had problems with cuz 4:00 in the morning is not the time to go breaking into houses when you know the people are probably home and could very well shoot you since so many people have guns.

I sort of played a joke on Tom. I told him on the machine that I saw a show about people like him who rarely cum and that it has to do with some blockage, so it’s physical and not mental. It’s rare, but maybe not as rare as people think cuz some people won’t speak up about it cuz they’re either shy, embarrassed, or afraid they won’t be believed. Meanwhile, he can do what he wants with the information and doesn’t have to change a thing on account of me.

It’s a long shot. Quite a long shot. But maybe his problem is physical. Whatever it is, although I still think it’s fear of making a kid, I hope he doesn’t change unless he wants to. I prefer him as he is. Especially since I don’t want a kid, regardless of how much it’s not meant to be, anyway.

For a few hours this morning, a city van was next door. I don’t know if they were around in the afternoon, though. It appears the electricity’s not on yet. Also, that unmarked white car that looks like ours and a little like one of the ones that would visit the bitch was there today, too.

The lock’s still on. I hope they wait till after the weekend before cutting it off, cuz then that’ll be one less weekend that it could be used.

I wonder why they haven’t taken the recycle bin in from off of the side of the road.

Tom’s still sure we can beat our deadline and be out of here in July or August. I hope so! I really, really do!

Yesterday I dragged out two old, beat-up chairs to be put in the alley during bulk pickup, an old table, and that wavy, furry recliner that Andy gave us.

Woke up to find that I lost a pound, naturally, without water pills. I’m down to 107 pounds. Of course, though, that meant no shitting, so I’ll be back to 108-109 by tomorrow.

Later…

Got the bitch’s new number. Yesterday, I used the message-send thing (which is untraceable as far as I know) as a test and sent a message to her old number. All I did was moan for a second. It went through, but why would it send to a number that’s been changed and that’s not in use now? Must’ve gotten forwarded to her new number. Also, I thought this bitch didn’t accept blocked calls. Maybe she’s too broke to have kept her Caller ID.

Anyway, I called at 5:45 and whispered her name. She said, “Uh-huh” and there was no doubt about it being her. She asked who it was and I whispered something unclear, hoping she’d guess a name that I’d go along with. Bitch did just that. She asked, “Michelle?” I said yes, and that I was scared about this guy Brian I met last night who was outside my window. She asked what I wanted her to do and I asked if she could come over. She said she didn’t have a car to come over. I asked if her dad was there yet. She said no one was there yet. I asked if she had to go to work. She said yes. So, I told her I’d call her later and that was it.

I wonder if the bitch will suspect me when she finds out Michelle never called her.

I really think she’s still subsidized and that’s why she moved quietly and hasn’t done anything to the house. I think that for some reason, the city just transferred her to some other house. Maybe not even a house. Maybe an apartment, but my guess is that she’s in another house. She’s not living with Mike. At least I don’t think she is, cuz she said, “Nobody’s here yet.” Not, “He’s not here yet,” when I asked about her dad, and remember, both Bill and the cock would come over in the mornings.

I thought about waiting till Bill got there to call him. I could probably come up with a clever enough line that he’d buy and weasel the new address out of him, but I won’t just in case he were to be a little suspicious and give me the wrong address. I’ll just stick with the original plan and mail it next door and let it get forwarded.

The final chapter of the bitch will be when I call her two more times. I’m gonna wait a week or two after sending her her stuff, then call her when I think she’ll answer and ask if she got the stuff. If she didn’t, she’d more than likely sound curious and confused and ask who I was. If she did, she should go off on me. I’ll make the last call a little later by way of the message-send thing. I’ll just remind her how lucky she is I didn’t maul her what with all the shit she and her cronies stuck me with, and just laugh and laugh away at her. Then just like Tammy, Larry, Dureen, Art, and Andy, we’ll be finished with each other.

Later…

I was right on assuming the city van would be here at 8:30. It just pulled in.

Tom mentioned us possibly looking in the paper for ads with people wanting to buy houses with cash. Oh, how wonderful it’d be if we could privately sell this house! Then I wouldn’t have to be woken up a billion times while waiting for a Realtor to call. Also, we’d get out of having to pay percentage fees.

Later…

Just saw this gray-haired guy, who I’ve seen working next door before, but who isn’t the one I spoke to, pull a door out from the back of the van. An inner door. Bitch and cock must’ve had a fight and punched a door out.

No white car today. At least not yet. That white car’s gotta be some kind of inspector checking up on the workers to make sure everything’s going well.

The van’s leaving. That was fast. And from what I could see, it was just that one guy.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 21, 1999 Typical, typical Tom. He has me get him up at 10:00 so he can do some work on the back room before leaving at 12:30, but what does he do? Finds out he was outbid on a computer part on the online auction, then sat in front of the TV till he had to shower and leave. We’re never gonna get out of here by July or August at this rate. Not if he keeps contradicting and procrastinating, and not if the car keeps having problems. His being sad about having too much to do tells me something right there; that he’s gonna resist doing things till the last minute, causing us to be stuck here till October or something.

At 12:30, I went and put the lock on the hoop which will be cut off by the weekend tops, I’m sure. Can’t these fucking city people, when they see another lock, just say to themselves, Alright. Somebody must really want this locked for a reason. So be it then. But no. Knowing how people work, that’ll only egg them on to rebel and cut the lock off again and make a competition of it.

At 1:00, the renters had company. This is the latest I’ve ever known them to have company, but somehow, it doesn’t surprise me. All I heard was a car door, but for about 10 minutes they had their front door wide open and I could see people milling about. Then the white pickup that came and had parked on the street left and now the only two cars there are the ones that are always there. They’ve shut their door and lights.

The doll with braids could get here tomorrow!

Later…

I recorded myself singing to hear if there was a difference in the way my voice sounds since not smoking for a year and a half but it was the same. In other words, it sucked but was better than most could do. It was as nasally as it usually is. The only thing I didn’t hear that I’d always hear when I’d tape myself singing, was me clearing my throat. It was still strong, on key, and vibrant, but other than that, I didn’t like what I heard.

I could’ve sworn I just saw Katie trying to fuck Ashley. I took her out, and Patch too, since she was easier to get at than Ashley at the moment, and looked at their parts. They look the same to me, but boy is Patch’s weird cuz of her tumor that’s growing fast. Unlike the others that had tumors, hers goes down from her hip to her crotch. Although I could see her parts, her crotch is bulging at one side making it look sort of twisted. How can she shit with this thing?

Another racially motivated school shooting. This one’s in Denver where my braids doll is. They need to go back to segregation, I swear! It shouldn’t have to be that way, but it’s the only way to cut down some of the problems like this. Especially since kids nowadays can get a hold of guns as easily as bubble gum. Kids are mean enough as it is and will shoot another kid for the color of their shirt, so why add fuel to the fire and give them more reasons? It’s not fair, it’s not right, blacks and whites should be able to get along, but that’s just pure fantasy and never to be a reality. You can’t just say, “OK boys and girls. I want you to all get along now no matter what color you are.” That’s not the way it works. In reality, blacks and whites don’t mix. Period. We may not like it or think it should be that way, but that’s just the way it is. It’s always been that way and it always will be.

It’s pretty sick to see how almost all schools are installing metal detectors. What have schools become? Airports? Well, I’m glad I’ll never be having a kid. I’d have hated to send it to such a war zone and be wondering all the time if it’d get shot. Sending kids off to school today is like sending them off to some military base with beefed-up security. Instead of learning what they should be learning, they’ve got to fear for their lives (if they aren’t one of the ones on some murderous rampage).

TUESDAY, APRIL 20, 1999 I’m to get Tom up at 10:00, according to the message he left when he came in while I was asleep, so he can get some work done in the back room.

He stops at his ma’s on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He says she’s doing OK. Yeah, I figured.

Last night, we had our typical cumless sex. Neither of us could really get into it. He didn’t even go on top, claiming he likes variety. I really believe that whether or not I was with just Tom for the rest of my life, or slutting around with women, sex will never again be new, exciting, and fulfilling. It’s easier to just get myself off when I need to get off since I don’t have the patience to get off with him since it now takes me forever to get off. I don’t think he could hold out long enough for me to get off. I don’t want to run the guy ragged in bed.

I forgot to mention that I saw an ad on TV for free information on being an art student and taking an art test. I don’t want to be an art student anywhere, but I’m curious to take the test and have it graded. You take some art test that’s judged by people who teach at this school, I guess, and I’m curious to see what they say about it. I haven’t drawn in ages!

I had Ratsy running around the music room the other night like Piggy used to do. He seemed to have a good time.

Someone had to be next door early Monday morning; cuz the recycle bin was out (with the stuff I threw over there in it?). I don’t know if anyone was there today, cuz the bin’s still out.

As I knew would be the case sooner or later, though, the lock’s been cut off. Tonight, after Tom goes to work, I’ll put another lock on, just in case the other very old lock broke off. I doubt it, though. I’m sure it was cut off and that this one will get cut off, too. If God insists that the hoop not be locked and that I must deal with ball games till we move - so be it. At least that can’t wake me up and can be fanned out when I’m up. It’s getting hot too, so maybe kids won’t want to play much ball.

A good way to tell when the new scum’s about to move in will be by the security light. I know the city will replace that obnoxious light. Freeloaders, why did you have to move?!

We went to Staples and Walgreens yesterday. The seatbelt adjuster’s great. It really keeps the belt off my neck.

We bought a package of 10 boxes that are the same size as the ones he used to be able to get at work. I packed stuff we won’t need while we’re still here.

Got a V-shaped keyboard, but it was awful! I couldn’t type on it to save my life, so I’ve got my old one back. Tom may use it, though.

Got a book to hold me over till we go to the bookstore on Friday called Black and Blue. I’m almost done with The Other Side.

Got a puzzle, a potpourri thing you clip along the rim of the toilet, and lilac-scented refills which really do smell just like lilac.

I’m hoping that this Friday, Tom will not only feel up to going to Wal-Mart and to the bookstore but maybe to the library too, to get books on face exercises and doll making. Also, to get this 200 CD changer that you can hook up to your stereo. That’d be great! Then I’d never have to handle the CDs and risk damage to them or hairs getting caught in the stereo and Tom could have my CD rack for his computer CDs.

Speaking of exercises, I’m making yet another attempt to be consistent with that by developing another routine. I’ll do my abs, hips, and inner thighs every day (my worst areas), my upper body every other day, and my lower body every other day. About 8 exercises a day. Then when we move, I’ll walk on the walker for 15 minutes every day, too.

Talked to Paula earlier, who’s up to the usual - health problems, neighbor problems, and male problems. She’s getting her money back on the package. She either wrote the address out wrong, or the mailman gave it away. Maybe he really didn’t give it away, since I got these other packages. I think the ditz addressed it wrong and that I’m not meant to get mail from her. A doll from her would’ve been nice, but pictures would’ve been even nicer. However, I know I’ll never have pictures of her. This is the second attempt at her getting pictures to me. Something up there, for whatever reason, just doesn’t want me having pictures of her.

Andy mentioned coming over to use this program that prints out music you play on the keyboard. Always when he wants something. Can’t come over just to see me. I told him we don’t have the program anymore, but in truth, our computers aren’t set up for it, and I’m not gonna go out of my way or steal any of Tom’s sparse, valuable free time, to cater to Andy. We’ve given and done enough for Andy. Everything’s what Andy wants.

I did tell him, though, that he might want to come over to get the round glass shelves in the living room, cuz he should be able to haul it in his trunk, the more I think of it. It’ll stick out the back of his trunk, but he should still be able to transport it that way. It’s heavy enough that it won’t bounce out, even without a rope across it.

MONDAY, APRIL 19, 1999 Here’s a weird observation. We got this car on a Sunday, March 21st. So, exactly one month to the date, just four weeks later, there’s already a problem. I suppose some would consider me a selfish, greedy, ungrateful person, but I’m so sick of God’s unfairness. I resent his not letting us get ahead. If we have to play car, we’re never gonna get out of here come July or August. Not if every other weekend has to go to the car. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he had to spend the next weekend on the car, so there goes two days right there to prep and relax.

God, give the poor guy a break, will you? Have mercy on the guy! He works his ass off, has no free time, so leave him alone! Just leave the guy alone!

Talk about mixed emotions about God. Just yesterday I was feeling blessed by him for allowing me not to want a child, about the moving, the doll making, etc. Today, though, I could strangle him. Enough is enough is enough of the same old, same old.

I suppose he’s gonna go after the toilet again anytime now, too.

Later…

Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d expand on my mixed emotions about God. Well, his ordering me childless, for example. I know I’ve probably said this before, but I hate him and I love him for it. I hate his taking away what was supposed to be my right and my responsibility as a human being to choose, yet I love him for letting me out of the misery and hardships it would’ve brought. Then I find myself feeling sorry for myself that God has no faith in me and that that’s why he didn’t let me have a child back when I wanted one, but he shouldn’t have faith in me. There are things I can handle, but we all have our limits. Mine is children. I could never handle a child.

SUNDAY, APRIL 18, 1999 Another stress-free weekend as far as next door goes. God, please don’t take it away too soon! I know better, though. The new subsidized blacks or Mexicans will be here this week. If not, definitely by the 1st of May.

Speaking of freeloaders, who was that that rang our bell an hour ago with the clipboard? It might not have been a clipboard, but the black guy was holding something. Some papers of some kind. He only rang once. Usually, people don’t give up that quickly. What says he could be an associate of Miss Bitch was how he walked directly to the collie house as if he knew the freeloaders' house was empty. On the other hand, if he’s innocent of any asshole connections, he may’ve decided not to bother with houses that had no cars in their driveways or carports, upon doing whatever he’s doing. Maybe a survey? I also couldn’t see if he went on to another house after stopping at the collies. Lastly, I think the bitch and the collie people had a fight at some point and are no longer in touch.

Anyway, we’ve been compensated for the dolls and peace with the usual - car trouble. I knew it. I just knew it and I told him this would happen. I knew that no matter what car he got, no matter how old, it’d have one problem after another. A hose sprung a leak. He taped it, but who knows if it’ll hold till he can replace it? And as soon as he does fix it, there’ll be a new problem in 2-4 weeks. We’re totally hexed with cars. I still see us moving this summer and so does he, but what? Are we gonna get held up in life again to have to play car constantly? The back room still looks the same, although he swears he filled up a box of CDs. Car trouble or not, he’s full of shit when he says he’ll clear/pack the back room. He ain’t gonna do that till it gets close to us moving.

He “says” he’s gonna have the pool fence delivered next Monday, but we’ll see. Everything’s always gotta get delayed with him. Yesterday he got the tools to do the fence with. He also says he’s gonna get more roofing (he was a little short) and do the patio roof soon.

He didn’t get to go to the track. Said so many things were going wrong with the handicapping program he wrote for his little computer that he took that as a sign saying he wasn’t meant to go. He did some shopping instead and got a sketch board for the computer. You draw on this board with a stylus and what you draw appears on the screen. We haven’t used it yet cuz he has to get a special adapter for it.

He also got this thing to move the seatbelt off of my neck.

He said they have some really cool contacts that you can get custom-made with your prescription. You can get cat’s eyes, spirals, contacts that whiteout the eyeballs, etc. That’d be interesting to see.

Later…

Cocoa’s dead. No more originals left. How sad. I guess Patch, although she still appears to be well, will be next soon enough. Ashley and Katie, who should have at least a year of life in them, should be the only ones to move with us.

I got up too early this afternoon to go to Wal-Mart and the bookstore when Tom gets in in the morning, so we’ll just go to Walgreens and buy a book, then hit Wal-Mart and the bookstore this Friday. I should be able to go then unless the new pieces of shit move in this week and wake me up in the process. Most people move on weekends, but who knows if the new assholes will even work?

I know I’m gonna be stuck with either blacks or Mexicans, and you know what? Mexicans may be even worse cuz they have kids like rabbits. I could end up with a Mex woman over there with 8 little kids who do nothing but stay home all day and play ball, while the boyfriend who isn’t supposed to be there comes in and out all day slamming doors and blasting music, along with their millions of just as rude, selfish, buddies.

I’d like to think that the city, knowing how much I don’t want shit like that, will think twice about who they put in there, but that’s not the way it works. Anyone in a subsidized house is gonna be like those freeloaders were. They’re not gonna give a damn about anyone but themselves. They want to be heard. Society’s so against people like this that they have to work for acknowledgment. The more you try to ignore most people and tell them to shut up, the more they’re gonna do things to be heard and noticed. These kinds of scum feel the dire need to remind people of their sorry existence. Yes, Mexicans could end up worse, making it seem like the black folks never had company and like the kids that were associated with them were comatose. The adults talk really loud just like adult blacks do, and the women are typically just as aggressive as black women and butches are. The guys are all the same. So, while I could end up with a home-all-the-time Mex woman over there, plus adults that aren’t supposed to be living there, plus tons of kids, the shithead’s sister and her 5 kids are gonna be over constantly, and her other sister and her 6 kids will be too, and so on and so forth.

God, why do you do this to me?! Why is it that the biggest family has to go next to me? Or the blacks and the Hispanics? Why do I have to get stuck with them, huh? Can’t I have some nice, white, quiet, respectful, dogless, childless person or persons over there till we move? No! Of course not! That’d be the day! Can’t it stay empty till we move? No! That’d also be the day!

What is it with all these off-brands I’ve seen walking around these streets lately, anyway? I thought this was mainly a white, middle-class neighborhood.

I envy Tom, who says depending on what he eats, he can be full for up to 3-4 hours. I couldn’t be full past 20 minutes if I tried! The only way to satisfy my hunger regularly would be to eat the same amount, maybe a little more, than your average adult eats, which will put 20-50 pounds on me in less than half a year.

For when it comes time to show the house and to move, I’ve got five boxes that Summer Dream, Patrice, Angel, Falling Star and Christina will fit perfectly in. Meanwhile, the doll with braids that’s on its way can sit safely in her box. Anne, Edie, Victoria and Sunshine and Lollipops will fit on the tallest closet shelf which is Tom’s closet. Bailey, Maria, Giselle, Rapunzel and Mary can sit on the top of my journal bookcase. That way, they’ll be out of the way of unruly children that’ll be coming to see the house, and in a safe place for moving. Not all the dolls need to go in a box. It’s OK if some of them sit in the backseat of the car. I’ll just stick one of my shirts over them for extra cushioning.

That was weird. Some lonely desperado just went down the street honking. About 10 quick honks. What? Your stereo don’t work? Must’ve blown those speakers!

Those fucking sales calls are now coming even on Sundays. Sundays were the only day I had to look forward to getting a break from them, but not anymore. A guy called from some opinion/research thing. I told him I’d give him my opinion, alright - fuck off! I know I’m wasting my breath with these people, but it feels good to cuss them out now and then. He had a woman try again later, but I told her to fuck off too, and that was it for tonight.

Guess who couldn’t wait another weekend to not call? You got it. The motor mouth itself called and left three messages. Two for the last two weekends he didn’t call, and one for this weekend. Trying to make up for lost time, I guess. He didn’t mention God, but he brought up the food. He said he has a cold and should eat, but won’t. Right! I know he’s stuffing his face left and right cold or not. Like I said, he’s obsessed with finding common ground with people. He’s trying to reflect Michelle onto himself, so he’s eating like a pig and trying to gain weight. I don’t know if he knows this on a conscious level or not. Well, if he keeps eating like he has been, he may not end up like Michelle, but he will gain weight. Things have a way of catching up to us.

Anyway, the thing I like about his messages, although I’d rather a few short ones than lots of long ones, is that I can hit 3 to skip the boring parts. Most of what he says is boring or stuff that I already know, and he almost always leaves full 3-minute messages. But by hitting the 3 button it forwards 10 seconds. I also have to 6 it too, to speed him up. Like I said, I’m not gonna try to change his ways or politely ask for simple reasonable things that a friend should have no problem complying with. I’m just gonna let Andy be Andy and walk away.

So I skimmed through most of his messages being glad he wasn’t live. When we talk live, I can’t fast-forward him. I did listen to one part, though, but that’s because what he had to say was such a crock of shit that I was laughing all the way through it. His “new career move” (he’s only had about a thousand of these this year alone) is gonna be to tour with bands selling T-shirts. Right, Andy! Sure! That’s the biggest crock of shit. Brilliant, Andy! Real brilliant. Wake up, boy! You gonna spend your whole life an immature druggie loser with your head in the sand? Damn! Some people never change. They never grow. They never move on, learn, develop, and mature. I mean, I’m still a kid at heart too, in many ways. I still have teddy bears and shit like that, but look at all I’ve learned and done since 1988. But look at Andy - still a druggie, still smoking, still poor, still unstable, still loveless, still can’t hold a job, still obsessed with losers, looks, and youth. Still thinks he can mix dreams with reality, and is still as selfish and contradicting as always. Still loves abusers and conflicts with people. The only difference is that he never shuts up and he eats like a pig.

I used to look up to this guy. Now I’m not saying I’m perfect and that there’s no good in him. It’s just that I now see him as a few steps below myself and if he hasn’t come up a few pegs closer to my level by now, he ain’t gonna at all. He’s as set in his ways as I am in mine. Although I’d say I have a little more of an open mind for change than he does, and change is exactly what I need - meaning - no Mr. M in the new house! As hard as this may be to comprehend, I still do love and care for him and I want him to succeed in life and be happy. After we move, I’ll make it a point, on the first of every month, to close my eyes and think of Andy and Lisa and pray for their health and happiness in life, even if prayer almost never works for me. The power of prayer? Ha! How about the power of wishful thinking? That’s what they ought to call it. Meanwhile, let Andy chew in my ear, call up a storm, and bore me with God and food talk all he wants till it’s time to move on.

Guess the sales calls are done for the night. The question is, though - how long must the payback go on? And why is it that Andy never had to lose as much sleep as I did and get 5-10 sales calls a day? God must really favor anything male over anything female. Andy’s rude untrue friends may’ve woken him up here and there, but that’s something he could’ve avoided. He chose to associate with friends that aren’t true friends. People that don’t respect him enough to even let him sleep. Me? I had no choice. There was nothing I could do to keep from being woken up like I constantly was from 1991-1993. Especially during 1992. In 1992, I got woke up nearly every single day. Much more often than not. But sure enough, Andy’s beloved God wouldn’t have him be woken up day after day for over a year. Nor would he have him get nearly a dozen sales calls a day.

Speaking of lost sleep, I sure as hell can count on losing plenty when the house goes up for sale. I won’t allow the new subsidized scum to wake me up, but I gotta answer the phone if the Realtor calls to show the house when I’m on nights. Not that it’s not worth it, but knowing I’ll have to answer to a zillion sales calls and Andy, does not go over well with me at all. Andy says he’ll use the message-send thing. Yeah, right! This selfish loser’s gonna be calling me directly and we both know it. You’re such a true friend, Andy. Such a true friend. It’s nice to know I can count on you for a favor. Hey, what are friends for anyway, right?

I decided not to mail Andy his stuff right away. I’ll wait a few weeks after we move. I’ll give him a few weeks to sit and wonder where I am. Maybe that’ll just make him all the more determined to read his stuff thoroughly. That’ll depend on how curious he is, but it’s hard to get a druggie to do anything. They are so non-ambitious! Sorry, but I think I deserve better for a friend. I have too much respect for myself to have selfish little potheads for pals.

The spotting stopped yesterday. I have no idea when my next full flow will come, but if it comes at the end of the month, then I guess that’d be pretty much on time.

I saw an ad on TV for getting a video and some audiotapes for $40 on face exercises to tighten the face/neck. When we go to the library to look for the doll-making book (when he’s not playing car) I’ll have to look for a book on this. I could use those exercises, if they really work, to pick up my sagging neck and keep the folds that run from the sides of the nose to the sides of the mouth from getting any worse.

SATURDAY, APRIL 17, 1999 Falling Star could very well arrive tomorrow (today). I wish! I won’t count on it, though. Not if this stupid fuck of a mailman is gonna give it away or take his sweet time with delivering it, even if it is priority mail.

Monday morning we’re gonna go to Walmart. I’ve been needing more bras. We’re also gonna go to the bookstore.

Later…

Got Falling Star, Mary, and Christina today! I was shocked. Tom said they came as early as 9:15 this morning. Was there any doll trouble since they came so soon? You bet. But it was nothing I couldn’t fix or improve and deal with. Falling Star had no problems. She’s 12” kneeling and is on her brown bear rug right by me as I type, but I was afraid at first that I wouldn’t be able to pose her kneeling, cuz she’d pitch forward. I didn’t realize her legs would be soft and that they’d bend. Guess there’s a wire in them. Only her feet and lower calves are porcelain. She has cream-colored moccasins with a few tiny red and green beads. Her dress, which is sort of corduroy up top and felt on the bottom, is cream-colored from the chest down. There’s a dark aqua stripe along the hem and below that are fringes. She’s got longer fringes streaming off the front lower part. She has a brown leather belt with round silver studs. There are red and green beads throughout the dress. The upper part of the dress and the sleeves are dark aqua with white trim. The sleeves, which go down to the wrists, have fringes off the ends and are a little wide. Her arms are a little too long with hands a little too big, but other than that, she’s gorgeous. Her face reminds me of Summer Dream’s, even though they’re very different. Her face, with its delicate and distinct features, is more realistic looking than most of my dolls. Her dark brown eyes really have that wet look and they shimmer and sparkle with light as you move around them. She came with a beaded knife pocket (she doesn’t have a real knife. It’s just a handle glued to the top of the pocket), a beaded bracelet, and four beaded necklaces. Two reds and two blues. She looked good with one I made on too, but that was before I put her hair in a ponytail and exposed the big silver clasp in back. She has two white feathers in her hair that stick up in back. Also, some round gold thing, but I don’t know what you’d call it. Her black straight hair is short for being Indian. It’s barely to the middle of her back, but it’s long enough still. I’ve been wanting a doll that’d look good in a ponytail for variety. I used a red elastic to put her hair back with and it looks better this way. The red elastic goes with the red beads well, too. She has no bangs and her hair is close to one length. It’s parted in the middle.

Falling Star’s the doll we won even though we lost. I was outbid on her, but the woman offered us another one anyway for our bidding price of $46. An excellent deal, cuz I know these dolls go for $132 from Ashton-Drake. They have one similar to her, only she sits on a log, has a different outfit, and has braided hair. Ashton-Drake would want $80 for Christina and over $100 for Mary, but they don’t do dolls over 20” and Mary’s 22”.

Christina, the 16” ballerina, was a mistake. However, if the guy who sold her to me offered to buy her back, I’d say no. Unlike Mary and Falling Star, she’s not extremely detailed. Her hair is, though. It’s blond with bangs and up in two braids across the top of her head. She’s got flowers and ribbons of different shades of blue in her hair. Her face, though, is the worst of all. Her eyes are such a weird and ugly color. It’s like a grayish gold/green color with stripes, and eyelashes that are too long. She was very poorly put together. This is a girl doll no older than 10. Probably between 6-8, yet she had tits. Not only did she have tits but they were also so low. They were on her upper stomach. She was also pitching forward in her stand and was standing disproportionately. Slightly twisted at the waist. Her head, just like the other two that came today, was turned slightly towards one side. She’s supposed to be standing on both toes, but one toe doesn’t quite touch. Her dress is very nice, but I had to use the steamer on it at first. It’s made of that stiff stuff that Patrice has in the skirt of her dress, and it was a little crinkled at first. It’s white, with white solid dots on it. The only blue part is on the chest and sleeves, and that part’s satin. She has the same stiff stuff at the shoulders and blue satin ballet slippers that crisscross up to below the knee and tie in a bow as do Giselle’s. Her dress and blows consist of two different shades of blue. Sky blue, and a blue/green color. So all three of my ballerinas are wearing blue. This one just has blue only at the top of her dress. I undressed her to see if I could better proportion her so she’d look better and stand sturdier. That was when I noticed the “tit pillow” that was glued onto her upper stomach area. What a stupid thing to do. Anyway, I couldn’t pull or cut it off without having to cut the cloth part of the body out altogether. At first, it felt like foam was the body packing, but when I looked at it, it looked exactly like multi-colored lint that you’d pull out of a dryer. Fortunately, it was tightly packed enough that I could just leave it as it was. The stuffing won’t go falling out. Her pantaloons had a million threads hanging from them so I trimmed those off, and out of her pants came a little silica gel packet. This is the first doll I’ve seen packed with this. It’s to keep moisture out, but why would a porcelain doll need it? I’m not gonna bother to see if Mary’s got one in her pants. So after removing her so-called implants, I wiggled her around to a better position, and now she’s standing steadier on her stand and looking much better than when she arrived.

Mary is runner-up on my list of those who came today, and for a Victorian doll, she’s beautiful. She’s skinny for 22” tall. Her face is bigger than Giselle’s, but not as big as Maria’s and Bailey’s. I thought she’d be Maria’s size, but she’s just a tad shorter and wider than Giselle. I love how her dress, which is about a half-inch past her feet, falls straight down. It’s a nice change from the typical full-circle gown like Rapunzel’s that stands out. I don’t know if I’d describe it as burgundy, though. I’d say it’s a maroon (or dark red) and pink floral design. The dress is very detailed and sort of hard to describe. It’s got two white ribbon sashes across the chest with two button-like things in the middle. It’s long-sleeved, and there’s white lace at the neck, sleeves and the very bottom. The sleeves are so long that they only made her porcelain just a little above the wrists. Usually, the arms are porcelain to just above the elbow. There’s white netting from the waist down, and an area at the bottom that’s about two inches wide of white, gathered satin. There are also three pink rosebuds in the front with a few off-white embroidered lines that go down and across the front. She has yellow rosebuds with leaves in one hand. Well, sort of. The stem is wrapped around her wrist. She has white shoes, a pearl necklace, green eyes, and a matching hat. I couldn’t take the hat off cuz it’s glued on in a way that I could tear off, but there’d be glue in her hair that’d be impossible to get out and that’d look really dumb. The hat’s nice, though, with a feather, a yellow bow, and a yellow, orange and pink flower. She has curly brown hair with bangs and two small braids at the sides. Her hair’s a lot like Sunshine and Lollipop’s, and just like with Sunshine and Lollipop’s, I straightened her hair out a little bit. Mary’s stand was a bit bent and Tom straightened it out for me.

Of all my dolls, Bailey’s still number one. She’s the best looking and the most realistic looking too. Tom agrees.

So now I have 7 dark-haired dolls and 7 light-haired dolls, but that’ll change to 8 light-haired dolls when Miss Braids gets here, whatever her real name is. The guy, who’s in Denver, should’ve gotten our check for her yesterday or today, so that means we should get her probably Wednesday or Thursday if all goes as swiftly as the others did. Falling Star came from Ohio and the other two came from Wisconsin.

I have 9 girl dolls and 5 women dolls, but again, that’ll be changing. I’ll soon have 10 girl dolls. They’re all very detailed except for Christina, and I’m very happy with them all. Especially with Falling Star and Mary. I don’t know why Falling Star didn’t come with a certificate of authenticity, but Mary and Christina did.

The guy that packed Mary and Christina, packed them in a big box. Great for moving. I’ll also keep their boxes to put them in when it comes time to show the house and move.

Tom says that tomorrow he’ll clear the massive mound of clutter in the back room. That’s great, but every time he decides to do this, although that hasn’t been very many times, he retrashes it. I hope he won’t do that yet again. He needs to get some of this shit packed and out of the way for packed boxes. I can only fit so many boxes in the other rooms.

FRIDAY, APRIL 16, 1999 The van was next door again. The hoop is still locked, though.

I’m gonna deal with these new black, rude, selfish assholes right this time. As soon as they stick their bass on me or whatever the fuck noise they’re gonna throw out, I’m not even gonna waste my breath going over there and asking them to quiet down. I’m not gonna get a phony, “Sure. No problem,” only to have them keep right up with their shit. A city letter’s going right in as soon as they start up.

The phone rang earlier and I saw Tammy’s number. I said to myself, I knew it was just a matter of time before she started calling, but the person tried calling collect so that told me it was Lisa. Lisa calling with a problem since she rarely calls just to say hi. But the call came at 8:00 her time. Isn’t she supposed to be with the sick fuck at that time? Tammy says he takes them on weekends. I can’t believe a woman would place her kids in danger like that no matter what the courts order. What if he kills one of them? These things may not happen as often as we brush our teeth, but they do happen.

Anyway, I know this may sound like the cruelest, most selfish thing, but I’ve washed my hands of all Os and Gs. I don’t want nothing to do with their goddamn misery and problems and all that. Had it with their control, their negativity, their selfishness, their lies, etc. My life is too good right now to mar it with their shit. All it does is get me upset or angry when I hear about how Bill’s doing this or Larry’s doing that. The mention of Art and Doe’s names doesn’t do well with me, either. Just thinking of these people is enough to get me riled up. I moved on and that’s what I need to keep on doing. I need good, positive people like Tom in my life. People who haven’t abused me like they have. People who don’t pressure me into doing what they think I should be doing. After the overkill on the control and non-acceptance I grew up with and put up with as an adult, I’m a freedom freak in almost every sense of the word. I spent my childhood taking their abuse. I spent my 20s taking more of their abuse and trying to impress them and win them over. By the time I hit my 30s, I was fed up. I just don’t care anymore what they say, what they do, or what they think. They can all go to each other with problems I’ve had with them. They can lie, they can exaggerate, they can all kill themselves or each other. I’m not saying I want these people to suffer, I’m just saying they’re out of my life and that they’re people of the past. It’s up to them to either sink or swim.

I forgot to take the phone off the hook so these fucking sales calls wouldn’t keep distracting me, so when one called just now, I simply picked the phone up and left it off its hook. Didn’t even bother wasting my time telling them to fuck off.

Later…

Another half hour and I’ll put the phone back on the hook.

Last night was rather shitty, but only for a few minutes, fortunately. I swear, whether or not I stay not wanting a kid, or return to wanting one, I’ll never again bring up the subject of Invitro or a kid again. All it brings is trouble, as always. I told Tom I’d consider in vitro in a few years cuz he says he wants a kid. I knew I really wasn’t gonna do this, though. Then he said he was against it and never felt we needed a doctor. He said that just like he supported me last December, he’d support me in the future if I decided I wanted in vitro, and that’s really sweet of him, but why is this otherwise logical, practical, realistic, sensible guy so heavy in denial? First he thinks I could conceive naturally, then he felt something was wrong, and now he thinks both (he’d say I was still gonna conceive naturally even if I had to have a hysterectomy!). He said he sometimes has conflicting beliefs. We all have a right to our beliefs, but this one’s just too far-fetched and that of a delusional person. It may not be more than a dozen times, but he’s cum enough to prove to a rational human being that it’s thoroughly impossible for me, Jodi Lin, to conceive. That is a completely foreign thing as far as my body’s concerned. My body just doesn’t do that. It doesn’t understand that. It’s like it sees embryos as enemies. This may not be the case, but the point is, if he thinks I’m gonna conceive naturally someday, he’s kidding himself. He’s too smart to have these conflicting beliefs he says he has. I don’t think he really believes what he says he does. I think it’s his way of conning me. It’s easier for someone to go into denial than it is to face a situation and try to change it for the better. He also knows, though, that he’s not alone anymore. I don’t want a child any more than he does. I still say I could never have handled it, it would’ve caused major conflict between us constantly, and stolen our lives and freedom. This is another reason why he’s in denial and not eager to see if there really is something wrong that hasn’t been detected yet. This is why he doesn’t cum. Not that I’m not OK with this attitude, I’m just stating the facts here. He used, to his advantage, how I talk about meant to be and not meant to be. He said that if it was meant to be, it’d happen naturally. Oh, I’m sure he’s right. However, I was meant to have an ear canal too, but only through surgery. Not naturally. Nonetheless, I believe what he believes. For me, if it were meant to be, it would’ve happened by now and it would’ve happened naturally.

The peak of our arguing and analyzing our beliefs came when I threw one of my dog mugs and smashed it against the bedroom wall and said mean things to him. Right before this, he stormed out of the room swearing. Then he came back and apologized and insisted he help pick up the mess. I know it was wrong of both of us to go off, but like I knew better, I should never have brought it up. God, how I hate having such a curious mind and loving to analyze things left and right!

Even up to this day, I don’t believe him when he says he can’t help his not cumming. Forget about whether or not I accept the cumless sex and have come to be used to it, forget about whether or not I want a kid. The point is, I always thought he was lying and I still do. There’s got to be a reason for this. I can’t be so sure he’s been lying to me about this for years without a legit reason. Again, there’s no such thing as being able to get hard but not cum. If you can’t cum, you can’t get hard. I could do another five years of asking myself why he won’t just admit his fear of cumming and ask that we use some method of birth control, regardless of how sure I am that I can’t conceive naturally, but I have to trust that he has his reasons for sacrificing cumming altogether with his own wife. I don’t want to be accused of trying to control/change him.

Then the dream came. I’m still not sure whether or not I was asleep, or if this was just a dream or something more, but it was my maternal grandmother Shirley G. She came and sat down on the side of the bed beside me, and in her no-nonsense tone of voice, informed me that the choice is now mine. God’s given me a full bag of rights as a woman. I must be sure I don’t want a child, cuz if I don’t heed her warning, so to speak, consequences could result.

I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but it makes no sense. Why would God suddenly hand me my rights as a woman? All my rights as a woman? Why now? Why now when we’re in the middle of moving? This would be an awful time for that. It wouldn’t fit into our lives now. Why would he think I deserve the rights? Why would he think I could handle them? Why would he stop looking out for me? God wouldn’t let me get into something that was not right for me, that I couldn’t handle, that wasn’t meant to be, whether it was intentional or accidental. So I chose to ignore this dream, this whatever it was, for two reasons. One is that I know I’m not meant to have a child. Two is that he quit cumming. So as long as he refuses to cum out of sheer stubbornness and fear, I’m not about to conceive at all. This, though, will be a sign as to how right I am about it not being meant to be. If he stays not cumming, all the more I know I’m right. Then again, it’s not like he’s never cum before, or that other guys haven’t, so does it matter if he cums or not? No. Destiny is destiny is destiny. Period. I don’t know my full destiny. But I know parts of it. A child isn’t part of it. Trust me. His not cumming is simply part of God’s orders that said my sex life shall be hexed, just like he ordered me to be short and brunette. If I were suddenly with someone else, male or female, they too, would have a problem.

Ironically enough, though, is this spotting for a few days when I’m approximately mid-cycle. The spots seem to have stopped. Guess I’m not gonna go into a full flow anytime too soon. Anyway, I have had times where I’ve spotted for a few days a week before my period, but if I get my period in a week, that’s still pretty damn early. Is something changing? I get the feeling something’s “resetting” itself, so to speak, but I don’t know. I don’t see how this dream could have a single grain of truth to it. Like it or not, the choice was never mine. It was always God’s choice and it always will be. I don’t need to worry if he cums, I don’t need to worry about using birth control. I won’t lose my life to a child. I have too many other things planned for me, and as God knows, there’s only so much one can do at once or in their whole lifetime.

Andy says that since Laura’s moved out, his shit’s solid and the stress has really lifted. Yeah, I know. I know what that’s like. I went through that when he left the Woodside Terrace apartment.

I can only imagine how much fighting he and his friend Wendy will do along the way back east. By the way, they’re gonna stay in Outdoor Camps of America and save hotel money. Andy says that different people want to see him or do things with him when he visits, but as Andy himself admitted, he’ll be doing only what he wants to do. However, he’s been anything but selfish lately. No pigging out in my ear. No constant calls. I know Tom wouldn’t call him up and warn him saying, “Look. Be a little less selfish and back off if you don’t want to lose her,” so it’s made me wonder if he sensed what’s coming to him the day he was here getting the comforter and telling me about Stevie and Cheryl. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s sensed something and he is sort of psychic if you ask me.

Later…

Speaking of spotting, I’m doing it again.

Tom went for his eye appointment today to get a 6-month supply of disposable contacts. He missed contacts, but because he hasn’t worn them in so long, he has to get used to them again little by little.

Tom’s hip was bothering him really badly today. I don’t know if it’s arthritis starting, or if he pulled a muscle. I don’t think he knows, either. I just hope it’s better tomorrow so he can go to the track. As he said, it means a lot to him. I hope God will help give him the break he deserves. He’s been depressed cuz of not having enough free time due to all that has to be done.

There were some pieces of wood that were about three feet long and three inches wide. I don’t know what we were gonna use them for, but anyway, I’ve got them in between the bars of the rat’s cage so they can use them as little shelf beams to climb/sit on.

Mickey, Porky and Butterscotch all ended up bigger than Ratsy.

First I straightened Rapunzel’s hair, then I crimped it, and I just went and tried to curl it but it wouldn’t curl too easily. So I went to wash out what little curl I started, but it wouldn’t wash out. Not even the crimps would wash out. So, I’m just gonna leave her as she is.

This is the first manufactured home place that sent us a card urging and hoping we’d do business with them. It was that nosy Maria we saw the last time. The card said: The friendship of those we serve is the foundation of our progress. We truly appreciate the opportunity to assist you with your upcoming housing change. We sincerely want your business and we intend to earn it.

Do they? Well, I’m hoping they will. They got the best house yet. I really like the floor plan of that last house we saw.

Saw a documentary last night with different people’s points of view on why they believe the world may end in 20 years and why they believe it may not. They talked about the different sources that believe we’re in the last days and why, as well as those that feel life will go on. I would say our biggest fear shouldn’t be the antichrist, global disasters such as fire, floods, earthquakes, tornadoes, title waves or war. I think that if anything ended the world it’d be a falling asteroid, comet or meteorite. It’s happened before and it’s what most believe is responsible for killing the dinosaurs. Anyway, life will end when it ends.

THURSDAY, APRIL 15, 1999 Evie’s being her typical self with the health problems - had to have a hose with a camera down her nose and throat and into her vocal cords - yuck! How can anyone have a hose down their throat and not gag it up? I could never handle that!

The city van was next door again today. I can’t say how long they were there but they left at the same time as yesterday at 4:00. Also, a white car was parked in the front of the house while they were there. There was no writing on this car and it sort of looked like one of the cars that would visit the bitch. I wonder if the city called her bitching about the yard she supposedly trashed, she denied it, then came over here to see the stuff she’s supposed to have left here.

So, I guess the new assholes will be here by May 1st and so we’ll have to deal with whatever shit and noise they bring for a few months. Better than a few years, though!

Later…

Talked to Paula earlier. She said she wonders if she could’ve written the package address out to N. 21 St. instead of Ave. Yeah, that’s something she may’ve done. Anyway, she said she’ll put a trace on it and that the store still has those dolls, so if I don’t get this package, she’ll send another. However, I know it’ll never happen. I’m just not meant to get packages or pictures from her, and again, if there’s a doll in the picture, there’ll be a problem. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I only got two or three out of the four dolls I got from the auction. I advised her, though, that if she’s gonna send any packages anywhere, she should use priority mail and not parcel post. Tom says priority mail’s not much more expensive anyway than parcel post. Parcel post takes forever, and of course, there’s always the possibility that this package will show up in a week or two from now.

Paula’s up to the usual - onto another Puerto Rican guy and already talking about moving again. She changes guys and apartments like we change clothes!

She says her stomach’s been on the fritz due to nerves. She fears having to go to jail and has to go to court on the 23rd. She says it’s mainly traffic stuff, but also, there were some stolen car parts that were supposed to have been in the new car she just got that she didn’t know about, but had no receipt to prove was hers. Something along those lines, but you can never make out exactly what the fuck Paula’s talking about half the time. I mean, she talks in disjointed sentences and half the stuff she says makes no sense. Anyway, I highly doubt she has to worry about jail.

Later…

Tom’s up now and is on his way to get us some fast food. I haven’t had any in a while and suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to binge.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 14, 1999 A city van was next door for a while, but I couldn’t see who it was or what they were doing (I wonder if they hauled away the shit I threw over there?). There was a water truck over there yesterday. Guess they turned off the water, too.

Three of the dolls I got on eBay “supposedly” will arrive in about a week, give or take a couple of days. The other one is a person so we can’t use a credit card on them. We have to send them a money order, so it’ll take longer. I just hope these people are for real.

After the regular mail gets delivered today, I’ll call Paula to advise her to trace her package.

Yesterday morning at 9:30, shortly after I’d gotten up, I heard the phone ringing from the bathroom. As I went to answer it, I thought to myself about how I was gonna tell them, “I’m coming in today. Live with it!” However, shockingly enough, it was Dr. Brown’s office calling about the referral.

I got to the 10:45 appointment with no problem but didn’t even see Melanie. I wore the animal T-shirt I made too, just to show her, but all I saw was the doctor and Anne, the black lady. Anne said she was there but with another patient.

I’d been having irritation in a certain area of my gums and the doctor said it was because of one of the cavities I had. Food would get stuck in the hole in the tooth and it’d irritate the gums like a splinter. Since filling in the hole, though, I’ve had no discomfort whatsoever.

The doctor did my fillings and Anne did my braces. She said she only does it if she has to, cuz she’s too chicken. She said she was slow at it but didn’t want to hurt me. She was much slower than Mel, but so much gentler. She’s also much friendlier too, and I wouldn’t cry if I never saw Mel again and had to have Anne do my ortho. She was concerned with how I felt, not with getting the job done and over with in a hurry like Mel is, not that Mel doesn’t know what she’s doing. She knows her stuff, she’s just rough, and talk about impersonal!

A woman won $5,000 on the radio and Anne said she wished she could win $5,000 on the radio. I told her that if I did, I’d get new clothes since I haven’t gone shopping since losing weight, and she said she noticed my face was smaller. That was good to hear.

The UT pain, if that’s what it really was, was gone as of yesterday, but now I’ve got my period. Isn’t this a little early? Aren’t I like 10-15 days early? My body sure is a weird one.

I’ll take a break now, but later, I’ll get into the manufactured house we saw yesterday. For now, I’ll just say that it was the best house yet!

Later…

Tom’s home now after working 9 hrs. and 45 min. He’s beat.

I called Paula to let her know her package wasn’t coming but didn’t get the chance. She was busy, I guess, cuz she said she’d call back. No, the regular mail hasn’t come yet, but I know that if I haven’t gotten the package by 1:30, it’s not coming. He would’ve delivered his packages for the day already. Also, a parcel post package has had plenty of time to get here, so it obviously isn’t coming at all. I wonder, though, if this stupid shit of a mailman doesn’t let his packages sit for a while. I think the lazy fuck lets his packages sit and build up at the PO for a while before he delivers them.

Later…

I was right - no package. I’m just not meant to get mail from Paula B! This is the second thing she’s said she sent me that I didn’t get. Either she’s a very good liar, or it’s just not meant to be. I really think it was misdelivered, so Paula ought to call her local PO and get her money back. I’m totally hexed anyway when it comes to packages. Especially when there’s a doll involved.

Tom told me that Falling Star’s coming priority mail, not parcel post. So, if the woman mails her out today or tomorrow like she said she would, then it’s guaranteed to take only 2-3 days to get delivered. She should be here Saturday or Monday, but we’ll see.

A city van’s next door again. Can’t tell if it’s the same van, but I saw a different guy over there. He was at the water control that’s in the front yard, maybe turning the water on or off.

Later…

The van’s still over there. Must be a big job. The freeloaders no doubt trashed the place.

I set Bailey up in a totally new pose and new place. I brought a stool out and put it right by my computer. At first I had Rapunzel on it, but then I put her in Bailey’s usual spot on the stereo speaker by the TV, then put Bailey on the stool by the computer. I have one of her hands reaching out for my pen holder. It looks really cute. I still can’t believe how beautiful and realistic this doll is!

I just left Paula, who’s never punctual about returning phone calls, a message. At first, a friend of hers answered saying Paula was out, so I asked that she ignore the phone and let me call right back and leave a message. I let Paula know the package never came.

Yesterday after the dentist, we went to Palm Harbor’s factory lot. We met with a Spanish woman first, who talked too much and asked too many damn questions (had to ask twice if we had any kids), then we only saw one house, cuz this was a new lot that wasn’t fully set up yet. That was fine, though, cuz this was it. This was the perfect house! I loved its layout. The master bedroom is still separate from the other three bedrooms but in a different way. Usually, the other three bedrooms are at the end of the house with two next to each other and one across from them. These were all in a row, though, and what I liked was that the master bedroom and the room where I’d have my computer were away from where the TV would be (even though Tom and I both like headphones better).

The house was 2100 square feet and priced at $68,000. It had a retreat that was almost like a room that’s off of the master bedroom and a walk-in closet big enough to put two twin beds in.

What may be a plus to this place is that you can get a realtor to not only get you land for your new house but also sell your old house. As Tom said, if they had their way, our house would’ve been on the market as of yesterday. It was also nice that certain things were included in the base price that weren’t included in the bass prices of other models we’ve seen. ACs and dishwashers are included. Other things are, too. We’d even save money on this model. This model has 3 baths and we only want two.

Using three different programs, I scanned the layout in, then erased the furniture they drew in and put my own in.

It’s almost 4:00 now and the city van’s still here. My vibes don’t really say anything, but this isn’t a good sign - his working this long. Show’s he may be in a hurry so the new batch of rude, selfish assholes can move in.

No one’s discovered the lock yet. I’ve got two more locks to go, though, so if this one gets cut off, I’ll just try again. Unless they cut the net off. If they cut the net off, I’d have to get a chain to tangle around the hoop to block a ball from being able to pass through it, and since we should only have 3-5 more months left here, it wouldn’t be worth the time, money and effort. Thank God we’re moving this summer, though, and I hope that since God knows that we’ll be moving this summer, he won’t be so determined to get someone really noisy in there. I know, though, that we’re not gonna beat the new people and that it’s still gonna be noisier than most houses on this street, be it cuz of kids, dogs, or bass. That’s just my kind of luck.

Later…

The van just left. There were two people this time. I didn’t like how slowly they were backing out. I thought for a minute they noticed the lock in the net and were contemplating stopping to cut it out before leaving. So, they were there for about 2½ to 3 hours. I’d say, by the number on the van, that it was the same one that was there when I got up at 11:00 that didn’t leave till noon.

I don’t understand why the sudden pause in my metabolism. I swear to God - I just think of food and gain weight! I’m still 110 pounds and haven’t eaten hardly anything in the last two days. I did slip down to 108½, but not for long. That’s what I woke up at, and how I gained a pound and a half from a 400-calorie bowl of soup, water and coffee, beats me.

I can’t believe I’ve got my period now, although it’s not a full, regular period. I’m spotting. I would absolutely love it if my plumbing went on the fritz and needed to be removed so I wouldn’t have any more periods! Especially since I don’t want a child and know I’m not meant to have one, although I knew that for most of my life. At the same time, though, I don’t want to go through the pain and hassles of surgery. The fewer health problems and trips to the doctor, the better, but who doesn’t feel that way?

I still wonder what, for sure, is this monthly pain about. Why the same time every month? They say you can bleed a little when you ovulate, but I never have. I wouldn’t feel slight cramps in my uterus like I do right when a period’s starting if it were just a case of ovulation. Also, like I said before, you’re supposed to rotate from ovary to ovary. Since I’m hexed and controlled plumbing-wise, no matter how normal any test results are, maybe I’m suddenly ovulating on just the side that the pain’s been on and maybe the ovary wall is opening up more than normal and causing the pain. Maybe instead of releasing just one egg and rotating between ovaries, I’m now ovulating on just one side and a bigger hole is forming in the ovary wall cuz more than one egg is coming out. Maybe a lot of eggs are coming out.

If I prayed for my plumbing to fail and need removal, I wonder if God would grant me that. He might. I still can’t believe he never saw to it that I needed a hysterectomy years ago. This is the only thing that makes no sense and that doesn’t fit into his plans to keep me childless, like it or not, normal-appearing or not.

Anyway, I’m saving cranberry juice for if this happens again next time I’m almost mid-cycle. If this keeps happening for too many months, I may need to see a Dr.

Later…

I went and peered over the wall. My shit’s still next door.

I asked Evie how long the forwarding rules are and she said they forward mail for up to a year. Yeah, but can I trust this carrier to forward her mail? I hope so! If it’s meant to get to her, it will.

Saw bits and pieces of Titanic which is now on HBO. It was just as entertaining, scary, and sad as the first time I saw it.

I called Paula again, who was busy with a friend and who swears she’ll call me back at 8:00 my time, but if I don’t hear from her shortly after then, I’m not waiting on her. I’m gonna go listen to music.

MONDAY, APRIL 12, 1999 Believe it or not, I may have five dolls on their way to me counting Paula’s (if Paula’s ever gets here. There’s always a problem getting packages to me when there’s a doll involved)! We registered yesterday and had the winning bid on two of the six dolls we bid on and it looks like I’ll have the winning bid on another doll in a couple of hours! We even won where we lost, too. They had this beautiful Indian doll up for auction but we got outbid. Nonetheless, the lady selling her sent an email saying she had another one like her that we could have for our $46 bid. We bid between $20-$35 on the others. So far, we were the only bidders for the two we won and the one that I’m almost sure we’ll win today.

The Indian doll’s name is Falling Star, but I don’t know the names of the other three. She’s kneeling on a bearskin rug and has a nice outfit for being an Indian outfit. Most Indian outfits suck. She’s 12” kneeling.

The first one I won yesterday has green eyes and brown hair and is 22” tall. She has a burgundy dress on with white lace.

The second one has blue eyes (I think) and blond hair that’s up. She’s another ballerina doll with a gorgeous blue dress. She’s 16” tall.

The one we’ll win today has I don’t know what color eyes, and blond hair in two braids. She’s 18” tall. She’s wearing a floral dress of some kind that’s hard to describe without seeing it in person.

And I thought I wasn’t getting any more dolls till we moved!

Later…

Sixteen years ago. That’s how long it’s been since I jumped and broke my arm.

Anyway, to speak of more pleasant things - Falling Star should be here next Wednesday or Thursday, but for me, she’ll be here no earlier than next Saturday.

We still haven’t been able to get ahold of one of the sellers by phone that we got two dolls from. The last person we’ll be sending a check to because they’re not a business so we can’t use plastic on them.

We’re thinking of selling the other Giselle we got at this auction.

If I don’t get Paula’s package by Wednesday, I’ll call her and tell her to put a trace on it.

Tom made the appointment with the spit doctor for me to have my ear cleaned out, hoping that they’d be the ones to get the referral from Dr. Brown. Other doctors get through to other doctors better than we non-doctors do. However, the spit doctor’s office told us to get the referral. We tried for the second time, but haven’t had any luck. This is the third time they’ve said they’d call us back about a certain matter and they never did. I’m changing regular doctors. I’m sick of this shit. If you’re my doctor, I expect you to call me back when I need something.

I’m also getting fed up with the dentist’s shit. As I knew would be the case, the secretary left a message asking if I could come in at 10:45 instead of 1:00. I was pissed, cuz 1:00 would’ve been perfect for me. So I called back letting her know I was getting really frustrated. She said the doctor had crowns he had to do. Then why’d they schedule my fillings in at that time if he knew he had crowns to do? Stupid shits! And the sad part of it is, is that in just six months I’ll have to play this game all over again. I think that once the braces come off, it may be time to think about getting another dentist. I just hate to give up the quiet waiting room and getting in on time.

Got some really nice new screensavers for a change. It was time for more variety. I got cats, dogs, waterfalls, and psychedelic screen savers that are really cool. Tom also installed a utility that allowed me to delete screensavers I didn’t like.

This is really weird. Totally curse-like. Like something’s hexing my mice. Well, some of them. Anyway, now Patch has a tumor developing. It’s in the same spot; on the hip. It can’t be hereditary cuz Cocoa and Patch aren’t related. Spot wasn’t related to Patch or Cocoa, either.

Unbelievably, I didn’t get a call from Andy all weekend. He didn’t even respond to my message I left last night telling him about the dolls I won, but that may’ve been cuz he was jealous that we have that much money to spend on stuff like that. This is nothing new for him. Whenever I leave messages about something really neat we got, I don’t seem to hear from him right away, and when I do, he never mentions it. He doesn’t mention most of the things I tell him anyway, cuz he’s either too stoned to remember them, or he just doesn’t care. Too wrapped up in himself.

Not that I’m complaining, since I’m not a phone person, but can Andy sense what’s coming to him? I wonder if he subconsciously senses that I plan to faze him out of my life when we move, cuz ever since I made up my mind to do so, he’s backed off.

The freeloaders haven’t come near the house or called, so unless they’re thinking about waiting a few months to try to look less obvious, which I highly doubt, they really are a thing of the past, and guess what? I was in their house today.

I saw a city van over there, so I went over there. A guy all by himself was there. I asked if the house was sold, or re-rented. He said he didn’t know anything about it. Just that they didn’t have new people at the moment ready to move in. I asked to see the layout, and it sure is different, but it’s not a two-bath. It has just one. The layout’s much nicer than ours, except that they don’t have the nice big room we’ve got in back. The bathroom’s longer, and so’s the living room. I like how the kitchen’s in sort of an alcove-like area. Also, I like how you can’t see into the bedrooms and kitchen (just the eating area) from the living room. I like how the rooms aren’t as connected as ours. We have such a little L-shaped hallway where our bedrooms are that one of the bedrooms is practically an extension of the living room. From their living room, the bedrooms are down a straight hallway. They had these mini sunken shelves in one of the living room walls. It may be nicer than this house, but it sure as hell is a dump compared to what we’ll be living in this summer!

Just like I attract the sexual weirdo, I attract the paranoid. Tom’s almost as paranoid as Andy. He said not to ask workers over there too many questions about the house so as not to attract attention to us. Like we should care? Who gives a shit who’s paying attention to us as long as they don’t do anything to us and we don’t do anything wrong?

I’m sure it won’t do me any good, but I asked Evie if David could get me the bitch’s new address (not in those words, naturally). I also asked if we were right about mail being forwarded for up to six months. Watch. With my luck, she’ll reply saying that they just changed the forwarding rules to three months.

I can’t believe I’ve spent a whole year being hungry most of the time and struggling as I have just to lose a lousy 15 pounds. I realize more and more that I not only would have to starve to get down to 100 pounds, but I’d have to keep on starving just to stay there. At this age, as soon as I had just one bite, I’d fly right back up to 110 pounds. Until the time comes that I let my body have the food it needs and craves, even if that’s 3,000 calories worth a day and 50 more pounds, it has to be all or nothing. Trying to minimize my food just doesn’t work, cuz one bite leads to another and another and another, then before I know it I’ve had 1,500 calories that day. That’s a good 500 too much to be losing weight on, so it’s either don’t eat at all or eat what I need to eat since I can’t puke up my food. I don’t see how that would do me any good even if I could, cuz if I ate, satisfied my hunger, then lost it, wouldn’t I just be hungry all over again? The way to lose weight and keep it off, and the only way to lose weight and keep it off, is total or near starvation. I have to ask myself - do I want to look like shit or feel like shit? I feel like shit when I don’t eat, but I’ll really look like shit if I do eat and gain weight. Then again, I look like shit right now at 110 pounds. I look like I’m 125 pounds. I’d have to get down to 90 pounds to look like I did the last time I was at 100 pounds.

Later…

I just called Andy to see if he wanted to talk. Sure enough, he had a mouthful of food when he picked up. So I let him finish eating while I went to make coffee and said I’d call him back in five minutes. But then when I called just now, he didn’t answer. Guess he’s still stuffing his face.

Later…

I spoke with Andy for about an hour. God, he is so hard to talk to! He keeps budding in, and where are his brains? This guy’s not exactly stupid, yet he couldn’t get half the things I said. What made it harder for him to understand things I’d say were his constant interruptions so I couldn’t even finish explaining things to him in the first place.

He asks why I get upset that he brings up God every single time we talk. It doesn’t upset me, it just gets old. He has a right to talk about what he wants to, though, even if I disagree with half the things he says.

Michelle’s finally lucked out with this feminine, stable schoolteacher. She’ll get dumped. It’s just a matter of time.

Andy had a friend named Wendy whom he met here that moved to New Hampshire. He says she’s gonna drive out in her van the third week in May and together they’ll drive back there. After about a week, he’ll fly back here. I’ll believe it when I see it.

SATURDAY, APRIL 10, 1999 Took the phone off the hook to give me a break from the slew of sales calls we get that are now even coming on Sundays. The one and only day I had to look forward to being free of these calls. Also, Andy didn’t call last weekend, so you can bet your ass he’ll make damn sure he does today, no doubt with food stuffed in his pig of a mouth.

This has got to be the most stress-free weekend I’ve had in a long long time! No freeloaders! No freeloaders to slam doors, bass the house walls, scream and yell, thump balls! I love it! God, please keep that lock on that hoop and the place empty till we move!

Tom was shocked they didn’t come to clean last week and wondered what the point of waiting was. I wondered that, too. Maybe they’re planning on selling it, cuz you’d think that if they were keeping it as a subsidized house, they’d be in a hurry to get the next batch of assholes in there pronto, what with how the waiting list is so long.

If the freeloaders are gonna do anything to the house, although I don’t sense it and I highly doubt it, it’d be this weekend, since that seems to be when these sick fucks have more time, and I know these assholes are still in the valley, judging by how long it took the cock to make trips back and forth. They’re probably no more than 15 minutes away.

I still can’t believe they moved! Their rude antics are over. They’re really over. Now all I have to do is wait and see if we get rude, loud renters, or an owner with a dog or two that never shuts up. I know there’ll be kids in the package either way. The mistake turned out to be OK to live next to. It was all her little cousins or whoever the fuck all the kids were that came over to play ball that was a problem. Meanwhile, I don’t have a bad vibe coming from next door, so if the next people really are noisy in any way, I guess they’re not due in anytime too soon.

God, just please let the bitch get my stuff when we move!

Tom and I had our usual cumless sex this morning. I forgot the KY, so I was a bit dry. I swear I’ve really dried up down there! I wonder, though, if something’s wrong with me. Shouldn’t I be upset that sex has become so mechanical? I mean, we just go through the motions at this point without any real feeling. I guess I’m OK with it cuz he’s OK with it. Besides, you know how he is when it comes to sex. He’ll admit to almost any non-sexual problem and even try to do something about it, but he’d never see this as a problem, let alone admit it and seriously try to fix it. That’s another way I can tell he’s deliberately afraid to cum. If it were truly out of his hands, wouldn’t he want to get help? Wouldn’t he want to try to fix the problem if it were truly a “problem?” To me, though, this is good cuz once again, it not only keeps the sheets clean, but it’s still better not to hold that gun to one’s head, even if you know it’s unloaded. So, even though I know God’s on my side and that it’s not destined that I conceive, why take risks? If I want out of my so-called womanly duties and if I want freedom in this life, it’s only fair I do my part and not stick it all on God, even if God’s supposed to be able to do everything and anything.

Woke up yesterday at 106 pounds, and sure enough, I couldn’t shit. My body’s definitely resisting going under 105. It does everything it can to get back up to 108-109 which is usually by holding onto its shit.

I don’t know what the real package deal is with Paula. She’s a lot like Fran. Remember how Fran said that if you were 16 you were born in 1985? Well, Paula says she mailed the package last Friday when we spoke, so I should’ve gotten it a week ago. No, Paula, I shouldn’t have gotten it the exact same day you sent it. She said she got the thing insured, though, so that’s good.

I’ve got my leg weights on now, but sometimes I have to take a break from them cuz of the pressure they put on my ankles.

When we move, I’ll be walking again on the walker daily. I’m also trying to be consistent with exercising my upper body every other day and my lower body every other day.

Tom found a “spit doctor” online for me to see to have my ear cleaned properly. He should have the same knowledge as Nielsen. His name’s Daspit.

He also found this great auction online with dolls. You can get three 16” dolls for just $20 or $30! Even less! It seems that most of their dolls are 16”. Haven’t found any biggies yet. I may sell dolls this way in the future, too.

Later…

I don’t fucking believe this, but this is the third month in a row I got a UT infection right before mid-cycle! Is it truly a UT? Something else? Is there a connection to the timing? I don’t see how it can be my ovary. It’s too high, and besides, aren’t you supposed to not feel ovulation, and rotate ovaries every month? Well, all I can do is live with it and hope for the best. I’m drinking lots of cranberry juice.

Later…

Today the renters made up for the freeloader’s lack of door slamming. I’ve never seen so much company over there! Thank God they’re across the street and not next door. There had to have been 20 people, both adults and kids and about 7 vehicles and 2 motorcycles. I can’t believe there wasn’t any music of any kind.

Tom’s taking a nap right now. Earlier he went to Sears and got a sandblaster, a drill, and some other things. He got himself a camera bag yesterday.

He filled in the two holes in the back room ceiling. He did an incredibly good job so amazingly fast. Just maybe it won’t take longer to prep after all.

I got what I wanted by backing up my schedule to make it easier to get to my Tuesday appointment (unless they cancel) but not without a real doozy of an allergy attack. Yesterday was one of those days I have every one to two weeks where I just can’t stop sneezing. I had gotten up at 10 AM, and by 4 PM I wimped out and took a Benadryl. It didn’t knock me out, though, or dry up my nose. It just dried up my mouth and made me groggy. I still sneezed periodically, so at 8 PM I took a second Benadryl and was asleep by 10 PM. I got up at 6 AM. The good thing throughout it all was that my lungs were so open. I swear, if it isn’t my nose, it’s my lungs. If my lungs aren’t tight, they’re congested.

Tom and I were browsing online for screensavers. I got some really beautiful colorful ones, and one with pictures of waterfalls.

He told me the name of another search engine I may want to try out. Yeah, but as soon as God sees me doing a no-no by looking for pictures of Gloria, or whatever other women, crash it goes.

THURSDAY, APRIL 8, 1999 Tom left me a message saying he’ll support whatever I choose to do as far as Art goes, and not to sound defensive of Tammy, but it’s in Tammy’s nature to be a pessimist and hype things up to the worst possible case scenario (concerning her saying he’s ill). True. She’s even more of a pessimist than I am. Tom says to remember that he will die someday, so as long as I’m at peace with whatever I decide, that’s what counts. True again. My being in contact with them won’t keep Art from dying, though. We’re all gonna die someday. And yes, I’m at total peace with myself for cutting these people out of my life. No matter how old or ill they are, they’re still detrimental to my mental health. Even if we could all get along from here on out, which could never be a fact, the horrible memories that are attached to these people are things I don’t need, and I could never fully trust these people again. My life here with Tom in Arizona is too wonderful to mar with these people of the past that I associate with rather traumatic events. Tom and I may still have problems in life like everyone else, but what I’m at peace with is moving this summer, being with Tom forever, and not having anything to do with Dureen, Art, Larry, Tammy, and Andy. I understand, though, that some things are subject to change. The doll-making may bomb and Tom may continue to have shitty job luck. However, whatever happens is God’s will, I believe, and for a reason. I’ll keep in touch with Paula, but I’m not going to give Bob our new address/number. I may not even give them to Kim either cuz once again, I respect my husband and I don’t want to risk trouble for us. I want to stick around to see if Kim will get her lifelong dream of having kids, I love most of the jokes she sends me, but once again, it’s a matter of weighing the pros and cons. It’s more important that I don’t chance her coming between us than it is for me to get her jokes and watch her dreams come true or be denied by God. Kim and I don’t have much in common and this is someone I’ll probably never see again. Even if she lived next door to me; she’s never home, so we wouldn’t have much of a friendship. I’ll just wait and see what I feel like doing when we move. I think, though, that it’d be best for me to basically start over with a clean slate. New house, new land, new people, new life, so to speak. Tom’s not gonna be someone I met after moving and I’m still gonna be me, but you know what I mean. If I make a new friend after moving, and that friend’s good to me, then fine. Meanwhile, I could sit and write the cons to my family all day and have any pros written in just seconds. With Tom, it’s just the opposite. There’s no comparison. His biggest faults are that he makes disgusting noises when he eats, snores, is a disorganized clutter-slob and is a dysfunctional bore sexually (except for when he goes down on me). Big fucking deal, huh?! Meanwhile, I could be here until our anniversary writing his pros.

Later…

I’m having trouble controlling my food. I’ve been having between 1500-2000 calories per day, and already, my weight’s slowly but surely climbing. Woke up at 110 pounds today and I could be back to 125 pounds by June. No problem. I realize more and more that getting down to 100 pounds is just a dream that’ll never happen unless I agree to nearly starve myself day after day after day. I ask myself again - is this worth it? Shouldn’t I just live life, eat when I’m hungry, and say so what if I gain weight? But how much would I gain? How much higher than 125 would it go? To 135? To 200?

Later…

Just let Shiny in to do some eating. Changed my mind about writing now. I want to go clean some wall hangings I packed, so they’ll be clean and ready to go in the new place.

Later…

Didn’t clean the wall hangings yet, but I sure did do a lot of other stuff. Tom was impressed. The closet that’s off the utility area in between the kitchen and garage was cluttered with a bunch of shit. So I junked what we didn’t want, and vacuumed it out really well. The city’s gonna have a field day with all the shit I threw over the wall.

Tom suggested the possibility of the bitch moving cuz she suddenly couldn’t pay her rent. If she couldn’t pay up, I’d think Bill or someone would’ve helped her. I think her time was up and that she had a 3-year lease. I’m surprised the city’s not anxious to get the house ready for the next tenant. Tom says that it’s not too easy to get a crew over there, so maybe they have to wait till a certain time to fix it up. I wonder, though, if this is a sign that they plan to sell it because, with the huge waiting list for those in need of subsidized housing, you’d think they’d be in more of a hurry to get it ready.

It’s gonna be so nice this weekend not having to worry about the freeloaders and ball games! I just hope to hell she gets my shit when we move!

I took down the old screen door in back, so that’s one less thing Tom will have to do, even if it’s a quick and easy job.

Tom’s fed up at work. Well, he’s been fed up, but he really let his boss know it today which he said felt good to do. He’s tired of all the overtime they’re throwing at him. He’s sure he can find a job where he only has to work 40 hours a week, and that this guy will ease up on him and then help him find another job within the bank since he has no one to replace him with, but I don’t know. I think it’s just destined that Tom works overtime no matter where he goes. Thank God there are laws, though, as to how many hours a person can work, or else this user he’s got for a boss would make him work 14-16 hour shifts. Again, though, we’re all pretty much compensated for the shit we go through, and every burden has its blessing. Meaning that we’re in for one hell of a paycheck! Still, they’re tiring the hell out of him and taking time away from him that he could spend doing other things. I worry about him. First I feared his mother would kill him and now I fear his boss will. Of course, I always fear God will take him away from me, too. Well, if God kills him, he’s gonna have to deal with me too, cuz I’ll be hanging in no time. Even if I could have all the money and stuff in the world; life isn’t worth it without him. I’d be too miserable to enjoy any house, money, or material things.

I’m just so glad God didn’t let us have a kid back when I wanted one, cuz we wouldn’t be where we are today. We’d have to wait 5-10 more years to move, I wouldn’t have these dolls or be going into doll making, and on and on and on.

I guess Minnie finally gave up on trying to call.

I put in a prayer for Kim to have the kid she wants (watch, God will grant my prayers for another woman to have a baby, but not for my own baby a few years ago) and although God seems to have a problem with allowing kids to go to people who’d make great mothers, I think she’ll have them. I don’t know if it’ll be by way of in vitro or adoption, but she’s got the looks, the money, and nothing that I can think of to stop her except for God. I know there are a few good-looking women who have kids, but I also know a pattern when I see one. It’s usually the fat, plain, or ugly ones that end up with kids.

Later…

Tom says I’m foolish to worry about this, but I know how destructive kids are. Therefore, I’m gonna put these dolls on high shelves or in boxes when it comes time to show the house. I know disrespectful parents will be coming in here with rowdy kids that the parents won’t keep tabs on. They’ll act like the kids are not even there while they tear the place apart.

I fazed Alex out of my email and buddy list. I hardly ever talk with him, and again, what’s the point? I know that to an outsider I’d seem like a cold person by dumping all these people, but trust me, I’m doing the right thing. I know I am. The only two that I’ll feel a little guilty over are Andy and Lisa, but what has to be done, has to be done.

No package today. I believe Paula when she says a package is on its way. Just by the way she said it, I highly doubt she’s lying. However, I think that if it didn’t get misdelivered, the ditz addressed it wrong. This is, of course, unless it’s parcel post and too soon to be here anyway. I left her a message about it.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 7, 1999 Tom did lock the net. I don’t know how securely, though. I get a nagging feeling deep in my gut that he may’ve made it easy to undo. Sometimes I think he gets a kick out of seeing things annoy me! Anyway, he was worried it’d draw attention and cause someone to do something about it, but I think that’s just his way of upping the chances of me wondering more often if someone will undo it, not that they might not anyway. I think that if the lock isn’t undone before, it’ll be undone when the new family moves in. And they’ll do it that day. The very day they move in. They won’t wait a week or a month or whatever. He said he couldn’t lock the net to the rim cuz it was too far of a stretch and that he couldn’t reach the rim like I thought he could. Maybe it is too far of a stretch to hook the net to the rim in a way a ball can’t go through, but why can’t he reach the rim? It looks like he can, anyway. Then he said something about having trouble locking the lock cuz it was old. This made me wonder if he deliberately didn’t lock it, but we’ll see. He doesn’t have to worry about it drawing attention. I can barely see it from the window. The rusted lock blends in really well with the rusted chain. The smaller lock would’ve shown up more, cuz it’s silver.

Later…

It’s barely 10:00 and already there’s been two sales calls. It is unfuckingbelievable! Today’s call came as early as 8:10. It’s gonna be so hard on me when I’m on nights, yet have to answer the phone in case it’s the Realtor wanting to show the house. I’m gonna be woken up a dozen times throughout my sleep. It’ll be just like the NHA! At least I don’t have to do that two dozen times a day for 4-6 months like I would’ve had if we had a kid. According to Tom, they’re doing this to everyone everywhere, and changing our number to an unlisted number won’t really curb the problem, cuz they dial randomly. If we got an unlisted number and he stopped giving our number out to everyone, then why wouldn’t it make a significant difference? Andy doesn’t get 5-10 calls a day. Andy doesn’t own a home and has a lot of magazine subscriptions or credit cards either, so I guess that makes a difference. Tom says they’re driving Mary crazy. She too, owns a house, has credit cards, and a listed number that’s been given out to the whole world.

I saw a nice white older lady out front planting something about five houses down. Now why couldn’t I have a nice lady like that, who’s no doubt quiet, with kids on their own, if she has any at all, living next to me? Why is it that of all the people on the block, the noisiest, rudest ones have to be next to me? If it isn’t Mormon chaos, it’s black trash. Although, this nice white older lady could have noisy grandkids that visit a lot, and a barking dog. I doubt it, though. Several of the houses right around ours are quiet as far as bass, kids, dogs, and constant vehicles go. If someone moves in before we move, and they probably will, God may not have them be as noisy as he normally would have if he knew we were staying here.

It’s hard to believe it’s all over. I no longer have to worry about some bass-thumping freeloaders next door waking me up. Not unless a new set of bass-thumping freeloaders moves in. It’ll be nice to be able to relax this weekend and not have to worry about what next door may do, and as far as I know, I don’t have to be interrupted by a ball game next door, even if there hasn’t been much hoop activity in about a year. Just these fucking sales calls! It’s not even 11:00 and there goes call number three.

Later…

I guess I misunderstood Tom. Yes, changing our number to an unlisted number and not giving it to anyone we don’t absolutely have to give it to will make a difference, but having this number unlisted won’t. Meanwhile, I took the fucking phone off the hook after the sixth call.

I just took my nosy little ass over to spy in the freeloaders’ yard. I still call it “the freeloaders’” place, even if it was never truly theirs. I pulled a chair up to the wall and stood on it so I could see over. What a tiny clothesline and even their patio seems smaller. Their yard is almost grassless. It’s like a dirt yard with a touch of grass. They have more space between the left side of their house and the block wall, so that may help to not amplify noise as much from the collies and from whatever, although you gotta be able to hear those dogs just fine, even if the wall’s not as close and even if they do have double-paned windows. The dogs are just a few feet away from their house. The reason they have more space between the bedrooms and the block wall is cuz they’re not on a corner. At one point the block wall curves in if you’re on a corner, but all the yards and houses are the same size. The yards are longer than they are wide. They’re about 120’ long and about 60’ wide. The houses are around 30’-40’ wide not counting garages or carports. I wish I could really settle my curiosity and break in there and walk through the place and see its layout. It’s very different from ours. It started off similar, but then, instead of adding a huge big room in back, they split the master bedroom in two and took out a little part of the living room to make a second bath. Even their front door is different. It faces the side while ours faces the street.

Here goes a school bus. You know, I never see kids that live at the collie house get on or off the bus. All the more I think they’re Mormons and that the kids are home-taught. But they don’t have more than 3-4 kids. Maybe she couldn’t have any more than that and that’s why they do daycare to sort of supplement things, although I don’t know if they’re still doing it.

Another day of weird weather. Is it really April out there? It’s cool and windy out there today. The barometer’s not that low, though. It keeps going back and forth between sunny and cloudy.

Later…

I knew it. It just knew it. It was only a matter of time. I knew telling Tammy not to push Art and Doe on me would do no good and that she’d start pressuring me to “do the right thing” and contact them. She’s such a contradicting asshole, too. In one breath she says she’s not gonna try to persuade me one way or another, but then she does. She tells me not to get huffy on her, but then when she saw she wasn’t gonna get her way, she hung up on me saying, “Goodbye, Jodi. I don’t need this shit.”

Does she know they changed their number and that I don’t know the new number? That’s beside the point, though. The point is that I’m done with Tammy now. Not when we move. The first thing she says is that our father’s ill and that she’s just giving me the knowledge which is mine to do as I choose with it (all the while she’s implying otherwise). She says she’s not buddy-buddy with them and never will be. She says that she and the kids “did the right thing” by talking to them. Yeah, well, like I tried telling her before - if “doing the right thing” means talking to a person like he is, I don’t want to “do the right thing.” Period. I’m not obligated to him. Just because he’s my biological father does not mean I have to associate with him or anyone else I don’t exactly like. He’s not as bad as his wife is, but to do away with one you have to do away with the other, too. I just don’t want anything to do with anyone associated with Tammy G or Larry or Art or Dureen O. Period. My mind’s been made up since last what? August? And it’s going to stay that way.

At one point Tammy asked how I was gonna deal with him dying. I told her I’m sorry if he’s in any pain or suffering in any way, but that people do die. Meanwhile, life has to go on. She has to live her life her way and I have to live mine my way and if that means I’m the selfish one - tough shit! And if she’s talking about my being included in their will, I’m not interested, I told her. Then she said that wasn’t what she was talking about. She was talking about my dealing with it within myself. I already did that months ago. I did it in my head, I talked about it with Tom, and I wrote about it. I weighed all the pros and cons and went over the reasons why it was best that I ignore these people. I’m not stupid, either. I know that people eventually die.

So I suppose Tammy will “do right” by going to Art and Doe’s funerals. I’m telling you, she and Larry, or she and Ronnie, or all three, are gonna get into a fight that could turn deadly (I’m sure macho Marty will have to be a part of it too, if he’s there). I just sense it, and you know what? I don’t want no part of it. I’m done with that life and with those people.

Watch, now Tammy will use the kids to get me to respond to and acknowledge her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she called up crying that one of the kids was in a crisis. It’s something she would do. She’s done it with Larry to try to get his attention. With me, she’ll probably use Lisa, and call up and say that she’s depressed, and suddenly, I’ll be the only one who can do something about it. Well, I’m not gonna give her the satisfaction of a reaction or a response of any kind, in any way.

Lastly, I’ll bet anything that Art’s not that ill. He may be a 68-year-old man with a bum ticker, but I know how Tammy exaggerates when she either wants attention or to get you to do something. She’s exaggerated health issues with the kids, Bill, and even herself. Do you know how many times Tammy might’ve been and was terminally ill? She’s always got a “fatal” problem or one that might be. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Doe and Art have another 10-20 years to go. I’m not saying Art couldn’t kick the bucket right now cuz of his heart, or that Doe won’t die in a few years of lung cancer from smoking for 50 years, I’m saying it’s unlikely that they’ll go anytime soon, but they’re still a closed chapter in my life, regardless of when they die.

Tom showed me how to get the word find to work. It wasn’t finding words that were in documents. He also set it up so I could number pages again. That wasn’t working, either.

Later…

I got to missing Steve the other night. Steve H from Woodside Terr. I wish, if only for one time, that I could see him and tell/show him just how wonderful my life turned out, and introduce him to Tom. I hope the guy’s happy, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing.

Still no package from Paula.

The new TV Guide came, and every now and then I check the horoscopes out. Mine’s wonderful and Tom’s is pretty good, too. My sister’s hits it right on the nose. I’d mail it to her, but she’s not worth the effort.

Mine - You can wish upon a star this week and start turning dreams into reality. Close relationships will flourish, and even those who have opposed you in the past (you mean God?) can be won over.

Tom’s - Someone in a position of influence seems to believe you’re ready for a step up the ladder (must be at work) and is willing to support you. Such a chance must not be wasted, even if it means massaging the egos of those for whom you have little respect.

Tammy’s - Something you discover this week will make you realize that there’s more to the world than the view from where you now stand (love that line!). It may encourage you to travel further afield or to simply broaden your outlook. Either way, you’ll learn more about life…and yourself.

Later…

Finally talked to Kim. She sure had a hell of a time of it. She was so depressed. Walt was diagnosed with a brain tumor, so here they were, sure he was gonna die and that Kim would be alone again after finally finding someone. However, it was a mistake. It might’ve been a mild stroke or something like that, but he’s gonna live. What a horrible thing to have to go through. At least there was a happy ending to this sad story!

She’s gonna have Invitro sometime soon enough. Not cuz she can’t get pregnant, but cuz Walt had a vasectomy and has a low sperm count. It takes 3-4 tries and is about $10,000 each. I’m glad I decided to forget about having in vitro and I’m glad I don’t want a kid! Hope it always is that way, too! Meanwhile, it’s been her lifelong dream to have at least two kids. I don’t know if they have to use some other man’s sperm. Maybe not. I think a guy with a vasectomy still makes sperm. It just can’t get to the woman. I just hope God will let Kim have her dream!

Just finished one of the puzzles I got. This is the second puzzle that had an extra piece.

Well, I guess I’ll go finish out the rest of my day with my book. I’m halfway through Night Stone and it’s great.

TUESDAY, APRIL 6, 1999 I still can’t believe that bitch up and moved. Tom was teasing me saying how much I miss her and that I’m not happy if she’s there, and I’m not happy if she’s not there. If I don’t have to deal with bass or dogs from whoever’s going in there next, even though it wouldn’t be for long, and if the bitch gets my shit - let her be moved. I doubt anything will happen to the house since it would’ve happened by now, I suppose. I’m not too shocked that they didn’t mess with the house, but I still can’t believe they moved quietly and that I didn’t sense it coming.

The city hasn’t come yet to fix the place up. I wish to hell it could stay empty till we move, but if the city keeps it, it’ll be refilled fast. May 1st the new people should be coming. The new subsidized trash. However, if I had to choose between the city selling it and the city keeping it, I’d rather they keep it and risk having it stay empty till we moved, which could be the case if they sold it. This is cuz it’s easier to do something about any problems we may have with the new people if the city owns the house. If the people are renting from the city, it’s quicker and easier to get results by mailing the city a letter. If they own, it’ll be harder to deal with them. I can do something quickly about a renter thumping its bass than with an owner’s barking dog that never shuts up.

We screwed yesterday, but he just wouldn’t or couldn’t get into it, and the sex was brief (this confirms my belief that his saying I was the one who wasn’t into it the day before, was just an excuse to get out of it altogether cuz he wasn’t in the mood). The way he acted afterward was so phony and obvious. It was so obvious that he was trying to butter me up afterward by tickling me and insisting I had a mopey look on my face. Did he want me to have a mopey look on my face? It’s his dick. If he wants it in me semi-hard, cumless, and not for long, that’s his choice. I just hope to God I never want a child again, cuz all I’d get is his stubbornness and his resistance to get off. He’d never fully cooperate and do all he could do to allow us a kid, and so then I’d end up not just madder at God for not allowing me the right to choose to have a child or not, but mad at him all over again, feeling like he’s controlling and manipulating me and conning his way out of cumming and having a kid. He still swears he’s not consciously or subconsciously keeping from cumming. Sorry, Tom. No one gets off as rarely as you do without a reason. There’s no such thing as a guy being able to get hard with no problem without being able to cum. You either can get hard and can cum, or you can’t get hard in the first place, let alone cum.

Later…

I saw an APS truck pull up in front of the freeloaders’ and I stepped out and asked the guy if the house was sold. He said he didn’t know what was going on. He was just there to turn the electricity off. Yeah, I didn’t think he’d know what was going on. This is a good sign, though, saying they’re not anxious to do any work over there right away and the things I threw over the wall (I’m sure they’ll assume the stuff was the freeloaders'). It’s just a few old odds and ends. Nothing major. A couple of old plant holders, the old foam mattress, and some old chicken wire we had surrounding cactuses to keep Bunny away from them.

Later…

Tom has an old lock that’s bigger than your average padlock, and tonight he’ll lock up the hoop. This will be even better cuz now he can lock the net to the rim and make it harder to break through. Tom was being his usual paranoid self, suggesting it’d draw attention. I don’t think so. And even if it does, how would that harm anything? If attention is drawn to a hoop that can’t be used, so what? Maybe this was his last feeble attempt at talking me out of it. I just hope he really does lock the thing up and doesn’t make it easy to be removed, even if we only have a few months left here. He says he’s gonna do it tonight, but I’m prepared for him to stall a night or two, making some excuse as to why it has to wait.

I still can’t believe that bitch moved! See what I mean, though? They shut up, they move. It’s always after they finally shut up that one of us moves.

Spoke with Andy earlier who’s up to the usual - food, pot, God, phones, music, and TV. He said he was slutting up a storm earlier, cruising the neighborhood and hitting on everything with a dick. Then he said he woke up the next day and realized he doesn’t need to be a slut with all the diseases out there, and that he has more class than that.

Later…

That was the fourth fucking sales call today and today I was in the mood to tell them off, but these last two hung up on me as soon as I picked up, suggesting maybe it’s Jenny C or someone with the last name O.

I’m having a lot of boredom spells lately. I can only read, write, and do puzzles so much. Maybe I should start a story. It’s just that I’m embarrassed by my writing and aren’t the greatest storyteller. I’m not as shy about my journal writing, but I am about stories. I regret ever sharing any past stories with anyone. I cringe with embarrassment at the thought of it. The only kinds of stories that appeal to me as far as writing one goes involve lesbian lovers. Romance novels, only it’s two women and not a woman and a guy.

Three black boys in their early teens just went around the corner thumping a basketball. I cannot believe they didn’t stop to play next door!

The kids, by the way, are in school. They do go on vacation sometime in April, though.

MONDAY, APRIL 5, 1999 Let me back up to Friday. Friday, we went to look at manufactured homes again at that place that has more than one brand. They didn’t have Shultz, though (the first ones we saw). They had Cavco, which was at the second place we went to, Palm Harbor, and Redman. We picked out a Redman house as our number one choice and a Cavco as our second choice. Palm Harbor, though, has these really cool-looking shelves built into the living room walls. They’re optional and called accent walls. They also have a lot of things I’m not sure what you’d call, but they’re high shelves/beams and would be great for plants and stuff like that. So, we narrowed down our favorite floor plans, then compared features between the different brands.

The guy there was so obnoxious yet so funny. Tom and I were laughing about him afterward. As obnoxious as he was, he was a very soft-spoken, easygoing guy. The last kind to go raping/beating a woman, and I was pleased to see he was a family man by the pictures he had in his office. This may not be God’s ideal type of man for a father, but I think the world needs more guys like this as fathers.

The obnoxious part of him was that he asked too many needless questions and he talked in slow motion. He also took forever answering questions and he’d sometimes dodge answering the question fully. He’d dance around the subject when I’d ask him the price of a certain model.

The funny part of him was that his expression never changed. He had a fixed grin on his face. Even after a minute or two of silently walking to a model, he’d still be grinning as if someone just said something so hysterically funny.

Then we went to JB’s for lunch, and oh my God! What a big mistake to go during lunchtime. The food was good, though, even if it was a bit greasy, but as my luck would have it, I was seated right next to a baby that screamed bloody murder. It was ear-piercing, brain-splitting loud, and neither of its parents seemed to give a shit or make an attempt to quiet the thing, although what could they do? A child is like a wild animal that cannot be tamed. Not for the first five years, anyway. I’m so glad I don’t want a child and that I can’t conceive whether or not one of us is sterile. I asked that we be moved and sure enough, the thing quieted down after we were moved several tables away.

Then we went to the grocery store, which also has a little department store connected to it. I got a purple T-shirt dress, a couple of cute puzzles, some different scents for my plug-ins (the vanilla smells like baby oil), a big long pink pillow for great back support, a pretty butterfly 3-D soap dispenser, and I think that’s it. The soap dispenser is clear plastic with butterflies on it. Then they inserted a clear plastic card inside with more butterflies and it looks nice. We looked at their soap dispensers, bathroom pails, and other things and they sure had some nice stuff. One of the bathroom pails they had was gorgeous. It had colorful flowers, mostly pink. I can’t wait to set up the new place! Can’t wait to pick out towels, bathroom accessories, dishes, etc.

Friday, Paula also called and I wonder if she’s gonna lose Justin, although I highly doubt it. If I weren’t her friend, maybe so, but since I am, God just has to keep that thing whining in the background while we talk. Every single fucking time we talk, it’s there! Anyway, she said they found a knife on him at school. Paula said they said it was a steak knife, but she says it was a butter knife he used to cut Play-dough with. But why would he need a knife of any kind to cut Play-dough with?

She said that what I said would happen came true about the guys in her life fucking her over. Part of seeing that was logic. You don’t need to be psychic to know what kind of guys Paula attracts.

Wonder if I’ll get the package she says she sent today. She seemed sincere enough and I can’t picture her lying about something like that. All I have to worry about is that she addressed the thing properly and that the mailman lets me have it if she did. She says she sent pictures (that were on their way when we talked on Friday) and that porcelain doll too, which she said is “arm’s length” for just $7. I think it’s really about 6”-8” tall, though, like the ones we saw for $7 in Walgreens.

Paula also says she’s gonna use some guy’s sperm to fertilize one of her eggs (she had her tubes tied) cuz she wants a little girl who looks like her that she’ll name either Nakita or Selena. Wait till she finds out this procedure costs many thousands of dollars and that her insurance doesn’t cover it.

There’s no for sale sign next door, but I wonder if there will be. That’ll depend on if the city chooses to sell the house.

I was out dumping garbage earlier. The two dumpsters in our alley were chock full and looked like a lot of the stuff in them came from the freeloaders. I saw that they put a table in the alley just outside their gate, and there’s some stuff on it, too.

Saturday Tom replaced the two broken light fixtures that were in the kitchen and utility area with new fixtures and fluorescent bulbs.

Saturday he also took out the old, ugly cast-iron sink from the bathroom and put in the nice new sink/cabinet. It’s so much nicer. There’s just one knob and you push it up to turn the water on, right for cold water, left for hot, and down to turn it off. It’s washerless, so it doesn’t drip. Next, we have to do the walls in there and put the vent in.

Yesterday’s attempt to screw was a bust. I just couldn’t get him firmed up. He said I seemed to be distracted and distant. That’s possible, but I thought I was getting him hard by hand and ready for sex the same way I always do, and I wondered if he was just using this as an excuse cuz he wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t in the mood, so it turned out OK, and he didn’t appear deprived in any way.

Tell me I’m not hexed sexually and I’ll tell you you’re crazy. Already, one of the vibrators sort of broke on me. It suddenly died and I thought it was completely broken. I put it in the garbage before bed, then when he came in, he took it out and fixed it. He said, though, it’s either high speed or no speed cuz one of the wires inside it broke. But why must there always be a problem with sex and with vibrators? Can’t God just leave it alone? Just let me be sexually, God, just let me be. If I were smart I’d ditch Tom and the vibrators and just use my hand. It’s the only thing I can count on unless it gets chopped off in some accident.

Also, it’s not gonna cost $15 to mail the bitch’s shit to her. It’s gonna cost $3.20. Tom reminded me that you can send anything between a pound or two for $3.20. So, it’ll cost $16 to mail the five manila envelopes I’ll be mailing when we move. The bitch’s two envelopes and one for Andy, Larry, and Dureen and Art.

Tom’s gonna see about finding a doctor that knows ears like Neilson did so I can have my ear properly cleaned. It’s been bothering me lately and Tom could see it was clogged up. Don’t I have enough hexes, God? Hexed with the ears, the sex, toilets, cars, etc.

Later…

A kid of about 4 years of age is bouncing a basketball in the collie’s driveway. I suppose it’s a matter of time before she finds her way over to the hoop. The kids are on vacation this week, so hopefully Tom can get the damn thing locked up real soon.

SUNDAY, APRIL 4, 1999 I don’t believe it! I just don’t fucking believe it! The bitch next door moved! I didn’t even sense it either, and they’ve been so quiet about it, too. Why didn’t they bang up a storm and why didn’t I sense it coming?

Tom says not to worry, they won’t damage our house, and mail gets forward for at least a year when a person moves, so she’ll still get the writings that I worked so long and hard on for her. Well, I sure hope so! As long as nothing happens to the house and as long as she gets my stuff - fine. Let them move. Tom also says that even if they did do a little graffiti or anything like that, we have to paint the house anyway, so it’d be no big deal. I’m talking about them breaking windows or shooting at the house. That’s what I worry about, although I don’t have a bad vibe. Yeah, but can I trust my vibes anymore? I didn’t even sense this move. The two biggest questions that keep going through my head are why are they so quiet about it and why didn’t I sense it? Is this, combined with the fact that there were a million stereos to drive by yesterday, a bad moving sign for us? I still sense us moving this summer, but now, I can’t be sure of anything when it comes to moving. Tom says he’s 95% sure we can move this summer. Logically speaking, there should be nothing to stop us. Then, I’ll mail her the two manila envelopes I’ve got for her, then to do a test, I’ll send myself mail to this address to see if it really does get forwarded to me. There’s always a chance she didn’t leave a forwarding address and that she won’t get it, or will get it and won’t read my writings, and if that’s the case, it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world, but after working so long and hard on it, I really would prefer that she gets/reads it.

I wonder why and where she moved to? It’s been exactly three years since she moved in. Could she have been on a 3-year deal with the housing people? Did he ask her to marry him? Is she moving in with him? Into another house? An apt.? And why was everyone so quiet about the move? Are they waiting for something? Are they biding their time for some reason? Maybe she’s still dependent on the city and that’s why they’re behaving. Tom thinks it’s cuz I’m not that big a deal to them and they’ve got better things to do with their time than harass me, and if they did anything to the house, it’d be too obvious that it was them.

I wonder, although I highly doubt they could’ve gotten evicted upon my third complaint, but I’d think that if that was the case the cock wouldn’t be almost smiling at Tom and that there certainly would’ve been some shit to go down around here by now cuz of it. I’m still not so sure the bitch and her cronies will still be willing to forget that I was the one that caused her to have to quiet down the music and have her boy toy move out, though. After thinking about it - wouldn’t I be pissed off at anyone who caused Tom to have to be away from me? You damn well better know I would be. I’d be furious and I’d want to get them for it somehow, some time, although I have to agree with Tom. They probably won’t bother with us.

Here’s how it went - at 9:30 yesterday morning, I saw a U-Haul pull up in front of the house. Just as the cock opened the door, Tom came in from the store and saw that the truck was empty, so that ruled out the possibility of him moving back in. I saw the cock looking at Tom, but not with any meanness. In fact, it was sort of a friendly expression. One that no doubt said, Glad to be leaving you. Now I can do whatever I want and be an asshole. Probably get away with it, too. The cock’s buddy showed up soon afterward in the Buick and spotted as the cock backed the U-Haul into the driveway. I also saw what I think was a dark green car pull in front of the truck, and some big black girl walk by. They loaded up for three hours. At 12:30, the U-Haul left and the cock returned at 3:30 with some little white guy with a mustache and a purple cap. I think the guy’s name was Dave, from what I heard. I heard him ask the cock if he had city sewer or septic tank and the cock answered city sewer. For a second I saw a blue Blazer and the bitch and the mistake. The Blazer wasn’t there long. Then, from there on out till at least 7:30 (I went to bed then) the cock’s car came and went as it took loads out of the house.

Today, the cock came at 9:00 with the little white guy (this is the first white person I’ve known them to associate with). A white van pulled in shortly after, 2-3 Mexicans jumped out, then cleaned the carpet. After the carpet was cleaned, they stood around chatting for five minutes, then the carpet cleaners left, followed by the cock and whitey, not too long afterward.

One of the living room blinds is now raised and I can see the living room surely is empty.

Tom agreed to take one of my old locks and lock up the basketball hoop on his way to work sometime this week. We’ll only be able to lock up the net part of it, but hopefully, no one will take the net off till after we move. If God’s on my side, he’ll spare me the ball games till then. It won’t be as easy to remove a metal link chain net, as it would be to just cut a nylon net.

Thank God I was on days this weekend, so I could spy on them and so I could sleep. I probably could’ve slept just fine yesterday, though. I never heard anything drop or go crashing around, but the carpet cleaning motor was a bit fierce. It’s got a serious rumbling sound to it.

Later…

I officially closed the freeloader’s file. I printed out most of what I wrote in my last entry and sealed up the bitch’s two envelopes (hers, Larry’s, and Doe’s and Art’s envelopes are now ready to go upon moving, except for Andy’s). Come this summer, she’ll hopefully have these forwarded to her (it sucks that I have to pay about $15 to mail this shit to her, but it’s worth it). I wrote in her file, though, that we were staying here now that she’s gone.

So what am I in for now? Will the place remain vacant for a while? Or will I get a new pack of subsidized freeloaders to have to deal with? Will the city sell the place to some nice white folks? Nice or not, will they have a dog I’ll have to listen to 24/7 just three feet away till we move? And how many kids? How often will cars be coming and going, and will there be any loud motorcycle-like engines? I just thank God we only have 4-5 more months to go, now that I’ve got to deal with yet another turnover over there. Although, in between the Ms and the freeloaders, the place was vacant for 6 months, so maybe it’ll stay that way till we move. Tom may be sure she’ll get forwarded her mail, but still, I wish she could’ve just stayed put for 4-5 more months to really be sure she gets my stuff and so I could save money getting it to her, too. If it’s to be a case of her moving and leaving the house alone, and her still getting my stuff, and being able to have the place empty till we move - then that’d be an even better deal. Especially with the hoop net locked up as an added bonus. I supposed the not knowing what’s to come next should be unnerving to me, but it isn’t. Maybe that’s cuz we’re moving.

Later…

I can’t believe Andy hasn’t called this weekend. Not so far, anyway.

Speaking of Andy, the day after his visit, I was about to tell Tom of his adventures with Stevie and Cheryl and told him that even though it was OK, the visit was all Andy, Andy, Andy. Just as I said that, the phone rang, Tom glanced at the Caller ID box, saw it said private, and goes, “Andy, Andy, Andy!”

As with Tammy, some guilt goes with my walking away from him. I know he’ll feel hurt at first, despite having not much in common these days. However, as I weighed all the pros and cons in my mind of staying involved with them, I still feel that the best thing to do would be to walk away.

Anyway, to finish my talk with Tammy. I covered the inevitable reunion with Dureen and Art, the asking that we visit, now let’s cover the shocking part. Tammy said I had to find religion and God at one point, and I thought she was joking. Tammy’s always been the least religious person I know. She said although she didn’t grow up with it, she’s been going to church with Mark. I asked if she was planning on conforming and she said she wasn’t going to till she was sure what she wanted.

I’m pretty surprised. I wonder just what she does in church and what she gets out of it. I’ll have to ask her some time what it does for her. I’ve never liked churches cuz of how they’re prejudiced. They badmouth gays and people who are different and send a message saying that if you don’t live by their rules, you go to hell. Tammy says it isn’t that way, but I’ve never seen or heard differently.

Looks like I got my rain wish after all, but why do I feel it’s only because they moved? I’ll bet if they were still here, it wouldn’t be raining. I can’t believe all this rain we’ve had.

SATURDAY, APRIL 3, 1999 Another Saturday on N. 21 Ave., but I don’t have a bad vibe. At least not for today I don’t. Also, although it’s doubtful, the freeloaders may not even be there. It’s too early to tell. The cock was here and Bill was gone as early as 1:00 yesterday. I had seen the cock’s trunk open at some point, then the cock left and came back. I then noticed the car seemed a little full, suggesting maybe, just maybe, they took off for the Easter weekend. I crashed too early to tell if someone was there at night last night.

Tom’s mom offered to buy him contact lenses. That’s very nice, but I sure hope she helps with the move.

Tom’s at the store now picking up stuff to prep the bathroom with. We also need to replace the kitchen and utility area light fixtures. They’re cracked. So he’s picking up odds and ends like that.

It’s not even 10:00 yet and there have already been three calls. One sales and two from Minnie.

Tammy called again and we talked. First of all, she did nothing wrong, but the things we discussed reinforced in my mind that making a clean break from her really is the right thing to do.

She brought up a couple of things I knew were only inevitable that she’d bring up sooner or later. Then she brought up something else that totally shocked me.

The first thing that I knew she’d bring up and that I knew I couldn’t be lucky enough to avoid forever, was wanting us to come for a visit since it’s easier for two people to go cross country than four or more. As I’ve written and as I’ve told Tom, who’s very supportive of me and of how I feel, I have no desire whatsoever to go back there. If it were a matter of snapping my fingers, being there, seeing them, introducing them to Tom, and showing him places I lived in, etc., then I probably would. However, I just don’t care to see her. I do miss Lisa and I’d love to see her, but seeing her isn’t worth everything else that’d come with seeing her. I mean, I’d have to go on a big trip, which I hate, worry about my schedule and being able to sleep, and worry that I’d run into Bill and kill him. I’d no doubt have to talk about people and subjects that I’d rather not discuss with Tammy, I’d have to deal with her pressuring me, her cigarette smoke, the unhappy memories that go with the place, and who knows what else?

I told her we’d be there in the fall or the winter, cuz of course, I certainly wasn’t gonna tell her that I plan on disappearing.

The other thing I felt would only be a matter of time is that from what she said, she’s already working Dureen and Art back into her life. Now, I don’t know how chummy they are, or if she’s on speaking terms with Dureen, but she’s sending Art a birthday present. At first, I thought she was joking when she mentioned it and asked if I was gonna send one. Then she actually came out and told me that I should cuz then I’d know I was doing the right thing. If sending a present to abusive people like that is doing the right thing, then I’d rather do wrong. I was really surprised to hear she was sending him a birthday present. I thought she said she was 100% through with both of them for what they’ve said and done to her for so many years. Me? If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times - I’m 100% finished with them. Just cuz they created me, does not mean that I should be obligated to associate with them in any way shape or form after the years of abuse I took from them. I totally detest selfish control freaks who always have a problem with how people are, what they do, what they say, etc. I’d tell this to anyone and that’s that if you don’t like my husband or myself as we are, don’t bother with us, and don’t think we’re about to change our ways for you or anyone else. I also reminded her that I think it’s really sick when a parent pits one of their kids against another, and when they go to one kid about a dispute they had with another. It’s her life, but how can she send a present to someone who urged his son to call the state on her and who said and did the things he’s said and done to her and say she’s done the right thing? Well, to each their own, but I feel I deserve better than to associate with people like that, and I’d like to think I had self-respect by not doing so, too.

Tom brought up a very good point too, and I think he’s right. Sadly enough, though, this is human nature for most people, but money’s an issue here. When people get old and have money, they tend to stick around and put up with their abuse for it. Me? I’d rather be happy and with people who are supportive, non-selfish, accepting, and respectful. Tom said that Larry no doubt got the money for his business from Dureen and Art. I wouldn’t doubt it. That’s probably why he made a point of reuniting with them in 1993. Cuz he knew he wanted to go into business and therefore, why not get their help financing it? Isn’t it a little too soon, though, for Tammy to be kissing their asses and being all nicey? They’ve got another 10-20 years to go, sis. Is the money really worth putting up with another 10-20 years of abuse?

FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 1999 I can’t believe this weather! Yesterday would’ve been perfect for Easter Sunday. It rained all day long, and even when I got up a few hours ago, it was coming down in torrents! It went from being between warm and hot to being chilly and rainy. It seems like just when you think summer’s gonna work its way in, we go back to cooler weather. The wonderful thing of it all was that despite how long and hard it rained, not one drop leaked in here!! Not one!!

Tom says that if next door’s a normal family, they won’t do Easter here this year cuz they did it here last year. They’re not “normal” anything, and yes, they will. They know I can’t legally do anything about the ball playing, so why not? They’ll make sure they do it here on account of me.

Minnie tried calling again but didn’t leave a message. Kim did, though. I’ll call her today. I’ll call Tammy, too. I left her a message yesterday since it had been a while and she called back when I was listening to music. She said she was busy, she and Mark were opening a retail store, and the kids were fine. No illnesses or injuries? That’s good.

I can’t believe I woke up at 107 pounds today, which was what I woke up at yesterday, cuz yesterday I had to have had around 2,000 calories.

The Acutrim I tried was totally worthless in suppressing my appetite.

I like it when I accidentally learn new things on the computer. I discovered a way to bring up the statistics and all that on just my Word document files. That way I don’t have to weed through a bunch of shit I don’t use. I can delete files from here, too. What was weird, though, was that one journal file had 130 pages and 100,000 words, while another had 144 pages and 96,000 words. How can I have 4,000 fewer words with 14 more pages?

It’s so cool to look in the mirror and see even, white, non-smoker’s teeth!

THURSDAY, APRIL 1, 1999 I just went out back and could smell the rain in the air as soon as I did. The sky’s a mass of clouds and it’s drizzling out. I noticed the barometer was down when I got up at 2:00, but it will come up with the weekend. It really truly almost never rains on weekends, and if it does, it’s early in the morning. If I didn’t know any better, and if I believed in the power of prayer, I’d be on my knees begging God to have it rain all through Easter Sunday, but I know the weather will be perfect for a three-hour ball game, whether or not the bass is thrown into the package. If all goes as planned, we should have only two more big holidays here - Easter and Memorial Day. Once again, though, any day next door could be a major holiday and call for hours’ worth of ball thumping.

Although yesterday’s visit, not surprisingly, was Andy, Andy, Andy, it was a cool visit that I did enjoy. He didn’t call again or bring food, either.

I told him Tuesday would be a good day of the week for us to chat and that I’d fill him in some more on the houses then since I didn’t get a chance to tell him anything about it, cuz he had to leave for his appointment, although there really isn’t much more to tell till we know for sure what’s going on.

He was only ten minutes late and was baked, as usual. I should’ve known I was wasting my time by telling him that I hoped he’d visit sober. Remind me never to ask my “best friend” for a favor again!

He didn’t seem bigger like I thought he’d be, what with all the eating he does. Just in the gut. This is probably why the buttons popped off his shirt, too. I saw that they were in the gut area.

I first showed him my dolls, then the animals. He had trouble focusing, though, and I couldn’t get his attention to hold on to any one subject for too long. If I’d comment about the dolls, he’d ask about the rats. If I’d comment about the mice, he’d ask about objects in the back room. I was amazed, though, that he remembered Giselle, which I just mailed him a picture of.

Then he surfed the web while I sewed his buttons on. Then he went out back and smoked a cigarette. Then he came back in and told me about last night. He first asked me if I would write about it in my journal. I told him yes, and added to myself - and you’ll read it one of these days too. That’s still a maybe, though, cuz I don’t think Andy’s a big reader, and if he didn’t read the other journal - why read this? Maybe he will given the circumstances. It’s up to him.

It was when he went to tell me the Stevie/Cheryl story that he seemed to sober right up.

He said his friend Wendy from “New Hamster” called to tell him that it was just posted online that Stevie, a friend of Cheryl Crow’s, would be singing at Cheryl’s concert at an old high school in Phoenix that holds 2,000 people.

He called Barbara Nicks and asked if she knew Stevie was gonna be performing. She said no, and he told her he’d call her in a couple of days to let her know how it went. She asked that he call sooner, which he agreed to.

So he and Michelle went to the concert and traded weed for scalper’s tickets. They were $37 a piece if I heard Andy right.

On their way in, Michelle was told she couldn’t take her water jug in. Andy said he told her to just put it down and they’d get it when they returned while distracting the person so Michelle could weasel the jug in.

The concert then went on. Andy said he didn’t know most of the songs, but that Cheryl performed well and was really into it. At some point during the concert, he and Michelle got separated. Then Stevie came on in the end and Andy got to be the closest to her he’d ever been in his life (about 15’). He got 13th-row seats, but Cheryl kept everyone on their feet and I guess people were moving all around. He got right up to the stage. He said Stevie’s lost a lot of weight, and although she still had fat hands and fingers, she looked great. She wore an old, faded red pair of platform boots and her gold/brown hair was straight.

He said some fat guy with a bulging belly walked up to the front of the stage and just stood there staring at Stevie with no emotion whatsoever. Usually, when a guy gives a woman that sort of still, emotionless look, they’re raping or beating her within their minds.

Another weirdo was some girl up on the balcony who just couldn’t stop twirling around and around and around.

So after the concert, he hung around an area with a ramp that connected two buildings. About an hour and three cigarettes later, he saw Stevie with two relatives and a security guard shorter than she was, coming up the ramp. As soon as Stevie got within a five-foot range, he stood up from where he was sitting and said, “May I say hi to Miss Stevie Nicks?” She kept on walking, but called out, “Hi,” as she quickly glanced at him. Then he casually followed her a little way. Meanwhile, all the fans were in front of them several yards away, calling out to Stevie. From just behind Stevie, Andy yelled out to Michelle. Then Stevie and company got in a car and left.

He said he exchanged hellos with Stevie’s brother Chris, too, who went walking by at some point. I can’t remember what he said about this, but he gave him something. Some piece of paper that had to do with Wendy, but he didn’t make himself too clear about what that was all about.

Then shortly afterward, Cheryl and the same security guard came walking up the ramp (Cheryl was heading for her tour bus). Andy approached her when she walked by and told her she put on a wonderful show and was looking forward to a future album that she and Stevie were to produce together, and during the minute or two they spoke, the security guard was pulling her away from him and telling him he had his turn, while she was saying, “It’s OK. It’s OK,” and thanking him.

Then he decided he wanted a Cheryl T-shirt and asked the guy selling them if he’d be willing to trade for one. The guy asked what he wanted to trade, and after Andy hesitated in answering, the guy said, “You want to trade some hushables, huh?” So, Andy weeded his way into a shirt, and now he just may have one more customer to deal to and to risk ending up in jail with, although I can’t see it. Andy’s always been lucky when it comes to getting caught with shit. It’s amazing, though, that some cop didn’t pull us over for some reason during one of the many times I was in his car with him and that I didn’t end up going down with him, since he almost always has pot on him.

I told him I could imagine how much Michelle had to have envied him. He said she was quiet afterward, so he could tell she was jealous.

As always, Andy can’t get through a conversation without mentioning God, and he said he thanked God when he got home and told him he could die now. I got a kick out of that one.

Later…

Sometime next week, we’ll be going to look at one more manufactured home dealer, as I said before, then the next step will be to look for land. I just hope God’s with us, and that we don’t have to settle in a big way. It’s impersonal, so I don’t see why God wouldn’t help us. As long as the dream/goal is material, he usually has no problem with allowing it. I hope to hell we can find some decent land that’s already prepped, cuz that’d save us money that we could put towards the house, furniture, etc.

Tom says that the fact that our house is on the corner is a plus cuz then you don’t have neighbors on two sides of you. Really? I thought most people wouldn’t mind noise/neighbors and wouldn’t want the corner cuz of how people cut across it all the time.

It was my turn to have to reschedule my appointment with Mel and the Doc the other day. The appointment on the 7th was too early for Tom to get home and get me there, so I upped it to the 13th. Tisha understood and said it was only fair since they’ve had to reschedule on me.

Now there’s a blue/white Blazer at the renter’s that some guy and a little kid got out of. These people are just like the freeloaders - so many cars, so many people.

[cozy--dragon]

No clue what to call this lmao

He knocked on the door to his brother’s room. He had been in there for a while, and he wanted to make sure that he wasn’t dying or possessed, both of which were entirely possible, seeing as his brother’s shadow was alive and capable of possessing him. When Hex heard no response, He asked, “Dude, did you die in there, or are you possessed again?” The shadow wasn’t very good at talking, or really functioning, in a human body, and the first time Arson got possessed, Hex had nearly gotten one of his many arms cut off, so he learned that when his brother wasn’t talking right or was moving or acting weird to go and run and hide, because even though he was stronger than Arson (6 arms, all stronger than his brother’s 2, Hex could easily beat Arson in a fight), he was not stronger than The Shadow in Arson’s body.

 So when Arson responded with “Ye a h, I’ m pe r fec tl y fin e, wa nn a co me  i n?” he tried backing away, but he also realized that it could easily break through the door and it just so happened to be right up against it.

 The sound of wood smashing, 5 claws scratch his neck, 5 scratch his face, he goes running, a chase ensues and it wins. Hex is tackled and pinned to the ground and gets stabbed (Punched? Cut? He couldn’t tell, but it was REALLY FUCKING PAINFUL) in the stomach and he passes out.

--------------------------POV-switches-to-Arson-------------------------

 Arson is given back his body and is over his brother’s dying and unconcious body with blood all over his hands. His worst fear is hurting his brother and that is very clearly what happened here. He starts shaking and he gets off of Hex hoping that he’s ok. He lays down his brother’s limp body (corpse? He was getting very pale) in a better spot, steadies his hands, and unbuttons his shirt.

 It was BAD. Like, “if the bleeding didn’t stop in the next 10 seconds, he would be nothing but a dead body in Arson’s arms“ bad. There was a giant gash (hole? There was so much blood he couldn’t tell) in his brother’s stomach. His shirt was already soaked through with blood before it was taken off. Arson was lucky Hex had run to the kitchen since that was where the bandages were. First he cleaned out the blood from the wound then bandaged it. It wasn’t a hole, thankfully, but 10 GIANT gashes that were INCREDIBLY deep. The cuts on his neck were kinda worrying, but that was easy enough to bandage.

 Arson brought Hex to his bed and went into his own room. He grabbed a pillow and some blankets and went back to Hex’s room to sleep on the floor because there was no way in hell he wasn’t gonna be there when Hex woke up. The two of them could heal pretty fast as long as something wasn’t cut off or out. Hex’s missing eye that was always bandaged was a reminder of that, and their other mutations were a constant reminder of their past.

[writteninscarlet]

🛑 (he's going to be very annoyed because he has armor, but go punch things, wanda) ;; @overclocks

send 🛑 to clean blood off of my muse after they protected yours. ;; accepting

The armour didn’t matter. The armour wasn’t the point.

When necessary, SHE could create shields to block attacks. And if forceful enough or in just the right place, armour and shields could be pierced. And useless.

He had been distracted whilst she had been free to assist. That he could take a blow did not come to her mind because he shouldn’t have to when she could do something about it. …and perhaps by that point she was a little drained of energy and running on the last dregs of adrenaline. Wanda wasn’t in ‘the danger zone’, but logical and tactical thinking had fled in the moment. The moment was all about action.

Since she could fight, she did. The blow she took was maybe a little worse than she thought initially, but Wanda gave as good as she got. In close proximity, it was easy to indulge in physical fighting rather than draining her last energy dams by using any spells or hexes.

She’d protected him because she could and because she wanted to. She’d not thought about it and simply acted because it was Tony.

There was no regret for her actions, but there was almost a surge of irritation that she had to swallow back. He was only worried, she tried to remind herself. Concerned. That was all.

But as his hand went to her face again to help clean off the injuries, Wanda could sense the tension. It was so thick it could be cut, so heavy that it drained her further. She tried to pull herself together, to look as though she was fine but he would see past that. She could put up a good front around most, but he could obviously see her injuries and knew how bad it was. So Wanda didn’t even bother to say anything about being fine.

But she didn’t want a lecture. And if he was only going to be ANGRY then she could just see to things herself. She was fine. She would be fine. She was okay on her own and she’d only been helping and wouldn’t she have been angry and annoyed and upset if HE had been hurt?

“I don’t need a lecture, Tony,” she snapped, tired and sore and… upset. Okay, maybe she was being theatrical. But Wanda couldn’t help it.

A hand reached up to his, a little shaky at the start but it steadied as she caught his eye. And as she touched his hand, she took hold and pushed him away. “If YOU don’t need help then neither do I. I won’t apologise for what I did. I knew what I was getting into, Tony. I wanted to. It’s not your fault, it’s not my fault. It’s…”

Oh… well, maybe his anger wasn’t entirely directed at her, she realised. Whilst she knew he wasn’t happy, he was surely smart enough to direct the anger at those who had inflicted the pain. Right.

Wanda sighed, giving a groan (only a tiny bit out of pain, and mostly of frustration). She leant forwards, forehead touching his chest just for a second before she straightened - because he didn’t need her blood on her.

She turned her head away, sighing as she wrapped her arms around her. “Sorry, Tony. Not for jumping in. For you, I’d do it again. But I’m sorry for getting annoyed. I’m annoyed at myself for getting hurt, for not having the energy to heal - and at those who did this. But not you. Thank you. Thanks for helping me clean up.”