#i have it that way for a couple reasons and it’d be real nice if everybody respected that

[p0ssywhippedcream]

anon saying this account is mdni it’s worth mentioning this account is owned by a minor too so really it’s all for show

hi hun! let’s actually not make assumptions about people! I am not a minor, I don’t know what post that anon is talking about and the reason I don’t share my age is because of something personal you have no business knowing, not because I’m underage.

please keep in mind that while you know my name and some other bits of personal information, you don’t know everything about me and I keep it that way for a reason.

[trippinsorrows]

with me + part two

authors note: well, holy shit, the response to this has been so unexpected yet insanely appreciated and humbling! the kind words of support and interest really have been so wonderful to receive. thank you thank you thank you!

this ended up much longer than i intended, but i couldn't find a "good" place to break it in half, so i apologize for the length.

i also feel like this is a bit on the boring but necessary side in terms of setting the scene and backdrop for what's to come....

i also feel like this is gonna def be more than 4 parts, so sorry!!!!

warnings: language, slight sexy time, suggestive themes

song inspo: with me by destiny's child

words: 7.5k

tag gang: @pixiedust4000 @southerngirl41 @yolobloggers @msbigredmachine @wonderingfashion @tshepisho @lizzycaraballo-blog @xiamentshoneypot

“I need a break.” He slid out of you, the absence of his thick dick noticeable and borderline uncomfortable. Despite the fact that your voice was hoarse, limbs jello, and pussy tender as all outdoors, you still wanted him. Wanted to feel him inside you. But you knew you also needed some amount of time for your body recoup for the next round, so you made logic overpowered lust.

He made a sound, lying on his back, eyes on the ceiling. “So fucking needy for this dick.”

“Shut up.” It was intentionally not a denial, because he wasn’t entirely wrong. It’d been a shitty past couple weeks, what with parent teacher conferences, your least favorite time of the year. There were only so many different ways you could try to gently explain to parents that their child wasn’t the next Cornel West and actually could benefit from “additional evaluations.” But that almost always went over their heads as they attempted to tell you, the professional, the real reason why their child wasn’t doing well.

You were just over all of it and damn near at your wits end when you got the text from Joe that he’d be in town this weekend. That goofy ‘i’m about to get some good dick’ smile was damn near stamped on your face in the days preceding his arrival. You needed an outlet, and wearing yourself out on his dick until you were physically incapacitated happened to be the perfect one, the best one.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have options, you did, but they were subpar. And that was the problem with having a chance to experience superior dick, everything else that followed was mid. No one had ever fucked you like Joe. No man before him had ever made you come from just penetration. You always needed more. Had to sometimes physically instruct them on what you needed. Not with him. He gave you more—-the man could and had stayed with his face buried between your legs for hours on end—-but it wasn’t necessary. He could fuck you to a toe curling, light blinding climax with just a few good, deep strokes.

And yes, you still struggled with the guilt of fucking someone else’s man, but in times like this, where you were beyond stressed the fuck out, all you could think about was getting off and decreasing that stress. The guilt session could come later.

“What’s wrong?” He asked after a few minutes of comfortable silence. You could both be around each other and not say a word without an ounce of discomfort. It was nice.

“Parents suck.” You answer, bluntly, afterwards realizing how vague that is. “I’ve had parent teacher conferences the past couple weeks, and they’ve been getting on my nerves trying to tell me how to do my job.”

“That sounds annoying.”

“Beyond, and makes me feel like they’re insinuating I don’t know what I’m talking about. I do. They just don’t want to hear it.” They prepared you in school, to some extent, to expect those select parents that weren’t the easiest to work with but to always stand behind your professional judgment regardless if one agreed or not. And for the most part, your parents in the years since you’d been teaching were relatively chill. It just seemed that this time of the year is when all of them decided to be in their difficult era.

One hand behind his head, Joe looks over at you. “Then that’s on them.” He shrugs. “You can’t make them hear what they don’t want to hear.”

Groaning loudly, you turn on your side, propping your own head up with your hand. “I know. It just sucks for the kids. There’s a couple who might be on the spectrum or have ADHD, but I can’t outright say it, so all I can do is strongly imply. And trust me, my implications are clear as fucking day. It’s just annoying when I have to work harder than I should to get people to be their kids' advocate, not their adversary.”

He’s quiet for a second and then asks. “What’s the best part of your job?”

The answer doesn’t even require contemplation. “My students. Hands down. I love kids. I love helping them learn and seeing the excitement on their face when they finally grasp a concept I’m teaching. It’s super rewarding.” 

His gaze lingers on you, “Then focus on that. You do this because it’s a passion and a love and you’re clearly good at it.” 

His words marinate over you, reminiscent of past conversations where you’re the one feeding positivity into him, reminding him to not lose focus of what’s most important and why he does what he does. The roles being reversed is different but nice. It’s nice to have him to talk to, it’s always easy to do so.

You move your hand to his chest and slowly walk your fingers downward. “Good dick and good advice. This trip is a double win for me.”

His jaw clenches when you begin to stroke him, sinfully and intentionally slowly. A smirk forms on your face. He’s just as needy for you as you are for him.

Joe’s voice is hoarse with desire. “You ready for the next round?”

“Yes.” You’re not sure if physically, you’re well enough, but that’s what epsom salt baths are for. And Motrin. You need him. Climbing on top, you grab his hardened length and align it at your entrance, dew coating the tip and serving as natural lubricant. “But I want to be on top this time.” 

________

“Mommy!”

You’re startled awake by the loud voice, jumping body, and smiling face of your personal alarm clock. The only alarm clock you’ve ever had that you can’t dictate the time it goes off. It takes a second for you to settle yourself, to push away the inappropriate afterthoughts of such a salacious dream—one you’re slightly disappointed couldn’t play out longer—to focus on the little human in front of you.

The shining sun beaming down on you from the curtains you’re certain she opened assists in doing just that. You rub at your eyes, a small, warm smile growing. “Good morning, Callie Bear.”

Her eyes, big, brown, and always full of curiosity are focused on you as she stops jumping and lands on her knees. “You’re up!”

You chuckle, how can you not be up with a rambunctious four year old jumping on your bed and screaming for you to wake up? ”I’m up.”

“Yay!” She cheers, tiny fists raised up and victory. “Can we have pancakes?” 

“I don’t know.” You pretend to contemplate her request, index finger against your bottom lip. “Can we?”

She pouts, and you bite on your lip to suppress your laughter. Her arms cross over her tiny chest, bonnet covered head tilting to the side. “May we have pancakes?”

Sometimes, you feel bad for your daughter, having a teacher for a mother. You’re always going to be on her about anything academic related, especially English. “We certainly can.” Yawning, you sit up in bed and scratch your scalp through your bonnet. “But first, hygiene.” 

Swooping her into your arms, you’re met with a chorus of giggles as you tickle her stomach with your index finger. Walking into the bathroom, you sit her on the counter and reach her her toothbrush, putting on her (Halle Bailey) Little Mermaid themed toothpaste before letting her do her thing as you do hers.

This is the first time in a while that you’re grateful for your daughter waking you up so early on a weekend. Those dreams….you’d be lying if you said they didn’t happen more than you’d like to admit. You’d tried to figure out what triggered them but have yet to be successful. 

The simplest answer would be that you miss him. You miss Joe, but that’s also the answer you refuse to admit. You can’t miss him. Don’t have the right to miss someone else’s man, someone else’s husband. 

All you can do is be appreciative that one of the biggest regrets in your life brought you your biggest blessing.

Calista, Callie, to almost everyone she knows, was a complete and utter surprise.

It was time for your women’s wellness exam, and in the set of questions they asked you, one was of course the date of your last menstrual cycle. Being stumped for a second was normal, hence why you used your beloved Flo app to track your cycle. But, it’s when you opened the app and realized you hadn’t logged a period in two months, you knew.

Didn’t need a blood test to tell you the obvious. 

You were most definitely pregnant. 

You’d used Flo consistently since you were 14 years old, there was no way in hell you’d forgotten for two whole months to input the period dates.

So, after crying and damn near having a panic attack, your doctor provided you with pamphlets. Options, as they were called. You wouldn’t review them until a couple days later, needing that time to process that you were actually pregnant. Pregnant by a married man that you’d ended things with, ironically, on the night your daughter was conceived.

What in the actual fuck were you supposed to do? Send him a text and say ‘nvm. Congrats, we’re expecting. Are you gonna tell your wife or should I?’ To this day, you’re convinced that the nasty wave of ‘morning sickness’ you experienced the first few weeks of finding out you were with child was actually just your absolute disgust that you’d allowed another woman’s husband to impregnate you.

It was like you were walking in the same footsteps your mother molded for you. Something you swore you’d die before letting happen.

What’s that saying? We make plans, and God laughs. Well, he must be having a field day with you. 

It was actually in confiding in Mariah, your best friend since kindergarten, that you were able to look past your shame and panic to see this for what it is.

“You want to have kids, don’t you?” She asked in an obvious tone, picking through the big bowl of popcorn you two shared while Insecure played at a low volume on your TV. “Well, here’s the kid.”

“I wanted to have kids with a husband, Mariah.”

“Well—“

“Shut up.” You tossed a few pieces of popcorn in her direction. This was not the time for her occasional joke. You were too busy having a mental breakdown.

“Does it really matter how the baby got here? Aren’t you the one always saying kids are a blessing? Why are you trying to block yours?” It’s a fair, valid point that you’re too stubborn to want to hear, even if it’s what you needed to hear. “I’m just saying if you’ve been blessed with being a mom, something you’ve always wanted. Seems kinda silly we’re having this discussion instead of baby names, baby showers, and gender reveals.”

“I’m not doing a gender reveal.” That much you are absolutely sure of. Never. But, Mariah’s words do resonate with you. Why were you so caught up on how you got pregnant? Yeah, it was fucked up, but dwelling on it did nothing but make you feel worse. You always imagined this would be a happy occasion, couldn’t you find it in you to be happy? Regardless of the father and that whole Tubi of a situation.

There was a life growing inside of you, no matter the dynamics of the creation, the child had done nothing wrong, didn’t deserve to be blamed. And the truth was you weren’t really that upset, you were more happy than anything, if you really allowed yourself to feel without reservation. Borderline excited, even. Maybe even at the fact that you would always have a small piece of him with you in a really big way. 

Even if he wouldn’t be a part of that experience.

And it was then that you decided. You didn’t care what anyone thought, couldn’t think about how your mother, who was completely unaware about your relationship with Joe for the entire three years, would react. You’d figure out the rest of this later because you were having this baby, but you were having this baby by yourself. Joe couldn’t know.

He wouldn’t know.

And almost five years later, nothing has changed. Yes, you absolutely couldn’t see yourself making it through your pregnancy and even the first few weeks postpartum without the help of your mom and Mariah. But, for the most part, you did everything you could by yourself for your daughter, wanting her to see the strength and perseverance of a strong, single mother. 

She finishes brushing before you and spits out the remnant toothpaste in her mouth. “Are we gonna see grandma today?”

You finish a few seconds after, spitting and wiping your mouth before answering. “We certainly are.”

“Yay!” She celebrates as you bring the towel to her face, giving it a gentle cleanse before tossing it into the hamper. Callie wastes no time in removing her bonnet and giving her curls a good shake. The two of you share a laugh as you follow suit. 

 “Pancake time?”

Separating some of her coils, you answer with a wink. “Let mommy wash her face, and I’ll be right out, kiddo.”

“Okay.” Nodding, she jumps off the counter and hurries into the kitchen knowing good and well what’s about to come out of your mouth.

“Sis, what have I told you about jumping off this damn counter?” All you hear is giggling in the wake of her dash. This child has daredevil tendencies that bring out a certain, uncomfortable level of anxiety. Medical bills weren’t in the budget, so you needed her to calm the hell down. 

She probably gets it from–

Shaking your head from unnecessary thoughts, you quickly work your way through your routine and eventually meet her in the kitchen to find her on her tablet, probably trying to figure out what movie to put on while you two cook. On the weekends, you remove the passcode from her device but still maintain the time limits for her overall screen time. 

You refuse to allow her to become an “ipad kid.”

“What’cha pick for us?” Moving through the kitchen, you pull out the necessary items and place them on the small island. 

Climbing onto the barstool, she flips the screen with a proud smile. “Moana!”

Gasping with faux surprise, you ask, “again?”

Much like her mother who was like her mother, an affinity and passion for all things Disney is another thing your child inherited. She could watch Disney movies for the rest of life and never get bored. And Moana was at the top of that list, the new Little Mermaid was a close favorite, but Moana resonated deeply with Callie for reasons you still don’t fully understand. 

Well, she is half Pacific Islan—

Clearing your throat, you and Callie get to work on breakfast, both singing along and dancing to the catchy Disney music. It’s a sweet bonding moment between the two of you, a bit of a tradition on the weekends. You’re not much of a cook, at all, but breakfast food is relatively simple. And thankfully, your child is not as picky as some other kids. A stack of pancakes with sausage is always enough to satisfy her. 

It’s when you’re both sitting in the living room, on the floor, legs crossed while you eat the delicious breakfast that you’d prepared together that a thought crosses your mind.

A distraction could be beneficial, the dream from earlier still floating around in the back of your head. And not even the dream in as much as the main event from the theme. 

You needed some dick. It’d been too long, that itch needing a scratch to give you some much needed reset. 

So, it’s when Callie is focused on the scene in Moana when Maui’s hook is broken that you grab your phone and shoot off a text. 

You free today?

Not even five minutes later, your phone buzzes with a response. 

Just tell me when and where.

________

Walking through the doors of your mother’s hair salon is always an experience, nostalgic almost, to all the times you and your friends would hang out there with the hopes that you could get free or discounted services. Usually free for you, not so much for your friends. 

Business was still business.

The familiar smell of hair oils, deep conditioner, and the overall sound of flat irons sizzling through hair brings a warm smile to your face. It’s things like this, this place even, that remind you why you decided to come home after college.

Home, where the closest major stores like Target and Walmart, and even the airport, are nearly half an hour away. Where you have only one elementary school, one middle school, and one high school. Where many of the streets are two laned and littered with storefronts, like your mom’s salon. Hell, the freaking bank, post office, and city hall are in the same building.

Everyone knows everyone, and for the most part, everyone looks out for each other. 

It isn’t for everybody, this almost Hallmark movie type setup. You know this. Hence why many leave for school and never or seldom return. But, for you, it’s home.

It’s also the perfect place to discreetly and raise the daughter of a celebrity.

“Grandma!”

Your mom is in the middle of a conversation with a patron but almost immediately redirects her attention to the equally familiar voice of Calista. “There’s my grandbaby!” Callie runs into your mom’s arms and is peppered with kisses all over. “Looking more and more like your mama every day.”

That genuinely makes you smile. You tend to think she favors Joe more than yourself, usually when she’s making certain facial expressions. She has a lot of his mannerisms, which you are grateful for, happy that she has characteristics from both sides. But any and all of the good things she can take from you, you want her to have.  

Callie’s smile is bright and infectious, as always. “That’s cause mommy’s my mommy!”

You laugh, approaching them and leaning in for your mom’s one armed hug as she has Callie in her other arm. “Hey, mama.”

“Hey, baby.”

Your relationship with your mom has definitely been up and down over the years, which you’d like to think is the standard for most mother-daughters. It’s something that’s arguably strengthened over time, especially post Callie. You’d gained so much more appreciation for your mother raising you on her own as a single parent. There was always appreciation, but infinitely more now as you were also in the same position. 

“I was hoping she could hang out with you for a little bit today. I have some business to take care of. If that’s okay?” 

Your mother gives you the look, the look that indicates she knows there’s more to what you’re saying but she won’t push out of respect for your privacy. And you’re grateful for that. You don’t necessarily want to explain that you need her to keep an eye out on Callie while you attend your dick appointment. 

Sucking her teeth, she starts walking to the back where her office is located. “When have I ever had an issue spending time with my only grandchild?” She has you there. Your mom would take Callie every day if you let her, and you’re so thankful for that. Not even for the tremendous assistance your mom provides but for the close relationship she has with Callie, similar to how close you were with your grandma. “Want me to do her wash day for her while she’s here?”

At that, Callie’s eyes go wide as she starts to whine, “noooo. I don’t want to.”

You chuckle. “That’s how mommy feels too, babes.” You dreaded her wash day as much as you dreaded your own. The women in your family were blessed with long, thick, healthy curls that Callie clearly inherited from you but also her father’s side cause the girl had some hair. “If you don’t mind, mama.”

She waves off your unnecessary added comment and starts to assess the state of Callie’s hair, murmuring comments to herself. 

You lean down in front of Callie and move your hand to her knee. “You sure you’re gonna be okay, sweetie?”

She nods and asks, “can we get ice cream when you come back?”

“We surely can.” You don’t allow her to have a lot of sweets—she already has enough energy as it is—but every so often, you two get the homemade ice cream cones at the local parlor. Sometimes you’ll sit outside and just talk, sharing laughs and inside jokes over the best ice cream anyone could ever have. And considering she’s about to endure a wash day, she deserves it. “I love you, Callie Bear.”

Putting her tablet on her lap, she leans over and hugs you tight. For such a tiny human, she always gives the best, most loving hugs. “I love you too, mama.”

Callie goes back to her tablet, and you issue your mom one more statement of appreciation before heading out so you can have your urge squashed and get back in time to have dessert with your little girl. 

On the car ride there, you send up a quick prayer that this time will be different, that you can get what you need and be gone without being asked to stay. It’s always the same answer, so maybe the last one finally stuck to where he won’t hope.

Won’t get his own feelings hurt.

________

“You know you don’t always have to leave right away.”

Of course.....of course.

You’re in the midst of hooking your bra back on when he hits you with the offer you were stupidly hoping he’d pass on this time around. 

Bold of you to assume you could come get some dick without this man trying to turn it into a cuddle session. 

Your smile is tight as you politely decline. “I don’t want to leave Callie at the salon too long. You never know what she’s hearing.”

It’s a weak excuse, hence him poking a hole right through it. “You know your mom would shut that down right away. Get back in the bed.”

“Really, Amir, I can’t stay.” Once your bra is on, you reach on the ground for your panties, sliding them back on as well. The sooner you get yourself decent, the sooner you can dip.

“Can’t or won’t?”

And here it goes. Sometimes, you wonder why you continue to put yourself in this situation. Amir’s stroke game is nice, but is it really worth this constant routine? You two fuck, he tries to make it more, an argument, silence on both ends for a little while until one of you needs that urge handled. Wash. Rinse. Repeat. 

It’s been roughly the same since you were in high school.

Amir was your first damn near everything: first crush, first boyfriend, first kiss, first time. It was a textbook small town romance. He was the quarterback, and you were the cheerleading captain. Everyone said you were perfect together and predicted at one point you’d get married after college. Truthfully, you once thought the same. But outside of aesthetics, your relationship was always rocky, borderline toxic. 

He had poor boundaries with other girls but never saw an issue because it never went beyond flirting. And because you were young, dumb, and just as toxic sometimes, you’d intentionally flirt with other guys to piss him off, knowing it was wrong to drag innocents into your Bobby and Whitney of a relationship but more interested in making him see your side of it.. 

Still, young and dumb. Not an excuse, but definitely a reason.

Even as you both went off to college, each attending separate schools, you’d occasionally hookup during the winter breaks. More often during the summer. He was your constant, preferred over allowing random dick into you, especially as he was most familiar and you knew he was clean. The devil you know type of thing.

Post college was when you really ended it, deciding that it was time to put the childish things behind you, time to put him behind you.

And you’d done relatively well for a while, the two of you becoming damn near strangers. Especially when Joe came into the picture. Amir was good in bed, but Joe was heavenly. Just the thought of anyone other than him fucking you at that time was repulsing. 

But, Joe is gone, has been, so now you’re stuck returning to the same nigga you just can’t seem to get rid of because he has a decent sized dick he, mostly, knows how to use.

And your rose can only go so far. 

“Fine. Won’t. Don’t. Not interested.” Standing up, you shoot him a look of challenge, of defiance. “Better?”

Your words understandably tick him off as he cruelly asks, “How long are you gonna let yourself be stuck on him? That nigga abandoned you and his kid, what is there to even be stuck on?”

Regardless of what happened between you and Joe, mostly with how it played out, you refuse to allow anyone to speak badly of him. Specifically when it pertains to his absence in your and Callie’s lives, especially since that was 100% your call. Only a select few know the full story, therefore the majority have no right to speak on it. “You don’t know what you’re talking about, so please just shut the fuck up.”

“Where is he then, huh? It’s been almost 5 years, Y/N. You need to move the fuck on. He’s your past.” Moving out of the bed, he comes up to you and places one hand to your face. You fight the desire to pull away. His touch is suddenly uncomfortable, feels wrong and noisome. “It’s time to focus on your future.”

Not that you’d ever admit it to Amir, but there’s a hint of truth to his voice. Eventually, random hookups to fulfill your sexual needs will become insufficient. Hell, even now, you still desire to be married, to give Callie that 'traditional' family. The problem is mostly lack of options, even if Amir seems convinced you two should give it another try.

 When hell freezes over. 

Your voice is even and to the point as you finish dressing and pull out your key fob. “Like I said, thanks for the scratch, but that’s all this is.” Without giving him time to talk more shit, you head out the door without another fucking word.

________

“Oh shit, is that ole girl Randy used to mess with?” Joe is only halfheartedly listening to what his cousin is saying, mostly focused on the work email he’s reading on his phone. It’s far and few in between they actually have time off, let alone enough time to go home and be among the rest of family. He’s trying to enjoy it and is enjoying it, but work is always on his mind, hence his inability to ignore the email notification that slid in mid-group conversation. “What was her name?”

“It started with an M, didn’t it?” Jey suggests. “Mariah, I think.” 

It's when the correct name is stated that Joe’s attention is briefly redirected. Mariah was your friend, the reason he was ever introduced to you. It’s a name he hasn’t heard in years. If only that was the same amount of time it’s been since he thought of you. No, instead, you’ve taken up real estate in his mind more than he’d ever like to admit or acknowledge.

“Wait, isn’t that—-” Jimmy is silenced, and out of the corner of Joe’s eye, he can see it’s because Jey gave him a look. That look you give someone when you want them to shut up.

Now…now they have his attention.

“What?” It’s when the twins share a look with each other, Jey shaking his head that Joe puts his phone to the side as Jimmy hits the lock button on his phone. “Let me see.” 

“Look, Uce—”

“I said, let me see.” One thing Joe can’t stand more than anything is when people beat around the bush or try to hide things from him. He prefers people to be upfront and honest, damn whatever feelings come up. The truth is always better, in his mind.

And yet……

Shaking his head, Jimmy blows out a breath and hands his cousin the phone.

Joe looks down and instantly regrets ever pushing the matter.

Five years.

It’s been almost five fucking years since he’s seen that beautiful smile, those deep dimples that were one of the first things he noticed about you, outside of your breathtaking beauty. You looked almost exactly the same, maybe a bit heavier, still in all of the right places. Hair a little longer but still the same deep onyx with streaks of purple. You’re smiling and posing with Mariah who also hasn’t changed much outside of a new hair color and the huge baby bump she’s sporting. A baby shower, he’d guess. 

But outside the shock of seeing you, Joe’s attention is also on the third person in the photo. A child, young in age, no more than 4 or 5, black, curly hair styled in two space-buns and a deep dimpled smile that’s almost identical to yours. Her eyes are a beautiful light brown shade, a contrast to your chocolate colored eyes.

But similar to….similiar to his. 

Brows furrowed, Joe is surprised to see you’re tagged in the photo, so he goes to your profile and is even more shocked to find it public. You were always such a private person, but he chalks it up to the fact that the only people who’d really know how to find it would have to be those close to you.

You don’t have a ton of pictures, but he clicks on the first one that has a set of photos of you and the same little girl from the baby shower. It’s dated almost six months ago, so not the newest but better than nothing. The post is a slideshow, so he begins to scroll through the photos, each of them with you and that same child, clearly at various points in her life. The last one stops him for a moment, a photo of you, crying, in a hospital bed holding a newborn baby. 

Swallowing back his emotions, Joe redirects his gaze to the caption:

my calista, my callie, my baby girl. God used one of the hardest periods of my life to bless me with the best gift anyone can receive. every day with you is an adventure. from your incessant questions about the most random of things, constant requests for disney movie marathons, to the way you refuse to part from me without giving the biggest hug and kiss goodbye while yelling ‘i love you, mommy!’. callie, you are my whole heart, and there’s nothing i wouldn’t do for you, sweet girl. here’s to year 4 and many many more of having the biggest honor and privilege ever of being your mama bear. 

So many things are going through his head right now. 

You had a child.

You have a child.

Based upon the date of the post, you have a child who will be five years old in a couple of months.

A child who has your smile, but his eyes, his nose, and a complexion that looks the perfect combination of the two of you. She looks like the perfect combination of the two of you.

It’s hard to not jump to the obviously glaring conclusion that all of this brings, and still, he tries to not allow his head to go there. You would….you would never do that. You would never keep his child from him, no matter how things ended between the two of you. There was wrongness to that that reached low levels of depravity, and he just couldn’t conjoin that kind of deception with who he always knew you to be. 

You were a woman who believed and tried to live by her morals. It was the reason you eventually cut him out of your life. Nothing about not telling him he has a child is moral. 

He wordlessly hands the phone back to Jimmy and goes back to reading the email, acting like nothing just happened and he doesn't have a million and one thoughts running through the back of his mind. 

It’s after he walks away, giving off an excuse that he needs to call Hunter to discuss a proposed promo that the conversation commences.

“So, we all just gon act like that lil' girl don’t look like Uce? She even got his eyes, man,” Jimmy, being Jimmy, is the first to say it aloud, the only one to actually verbalize what the others are thinking. 

“Jimmy,” Naomi chides but can’t help adding. “Do you really think that could be his kid?”

Jey decides to join in on the conversation. “It’s possible. They messed around for years.”

“But would she really do that? Have his baby and not even tell him about her?” Naomi only met you a handful of times, but all of the interactions were pleasant, and she secretly thought you and Joe would have made a cute couple if the stars were aligned differently. “She had to have told him.”

Jimmy gestures to the sliding door Joe walked through minutes earlier. “Does that look like he knew?”

“This is all just speculation.” Joseph decides to join the conversation, always the one who prefers to listen to all sides before adding his two cents. “Similiar facial features don’t mean they’re related.”

“No, but add in the timeline plus the way it ended, and you can’t help but lean one way.”

“What did happen between them?” Somewhat newer to this circle, Joseph realizes that’s a topic he’s never really heard much about. He knows his cousin basically has an open marriage and sleeps around, but he’s always heard whispers there was a woman he was with for years. 

“She just ended it one day.” Jey answers with a shrug. “Uce really ain't say much outside of that. It was sudden though.”

“But was it? Three years of waiting around for a guy to maybe or maybe not leave his wife for you?” Naomi serves as a counter, shaking her head and leaning forward to rest her chin in her hand. “Sounds like more than enough time to me.”

“It wasn’t nothing like that though. They was just messing around,” Jimmy defends.

“He cut off every other woman he was messing with when they were together.” Jey distinctly remembers how his cousin had one woman and only one woman on speed dial during that period, and it was you. It was always you. “I think it was more than just messing around.”

Joseph nods, taking in all this information. “So, if she is his, do you think she kept her a secret to get back at him for not divorcing Jadah?” It’s a bold question, but a valid one that Jey is the first to dispute.

“Naw, I’m with Naomi. Y/N wouldn’t do that.”

Jimmy shakes his head, starting to see how this is all looking to play out. “Well, if that is Joe’s daughter and that’s how he found out he has a child….this shit is about to get real ugly.”

________

Joe tried to tell himself it was just a wild coincidence. Reminded himself that you yourself said you wanted to get married, have kids. And you’d done that, had a kid. However, revisiting your Instagram pictures, in none of your posts did he see a man.

Or a wedding ring.

And just how fucking quickly could you have moved on? Doing the math, you would have had to have someone on speed dial to get pregnant as fast as you did. And that doesn’t line up with who he knew you to be. You were fucking him and only him. 

You were with him and only him.

So that left him and only him.

And like a man hyperfixated on trying to solve a puzzle, he looks at every single post on your Instagram, starting from the year you met up until now. He focuses especially on the posts that include your daughter, not that many, but enough. 

And when it’s all said and done, thoughts vs counterthoughts, logic vs emotion, Joe is 100% convinced that this is his child.

That he’s just now found out he’s a father through fucking Instagram. 

And now he’s pissed because who the hell were you to keep his child from him? He didn’t give a fuck how you felt about him and his being married, that didn’t give you an excuse to hide a whole kid? 

His kid. 

________

“Ready for your bedtime story, Callie Bear?” 

Reading with Callie has been a must since you found out you were pregnant. Your mom always told you how she read to you in the womb and to this day believes it’s why you always tested out so high with your reading abilities, even in the first grade. You’re not sure how accurate it is, having read some studies and whatnot, but you’ve followed suit, reading to Callie even when she was in your belly. Almost five years later, it’s now a tradition. She can’t go to sleep without a story.

She nods happily. You laugh and slide into the bed next to her. Naturally, she cuddles close to you, book already picked out and waiting on the bed. It’s one she’s heard a dozen times before but one of her favorites, so you read it just as theatrically, voice changes, and everything. Her giggles of happiness and merriment warm your heart. You love these one-on-one moments, wishing you could jar them and keep them stored away forever.

You’re a couple chapters in when she starts to yawn, eyes struggling to stay open, that you slide in the bookmark and promise to pick it up again tomorrow. You know Callie is ready to call it a night when she doesn’t protest. 

But, it’s after placing the book on the shelf and going to tuck her into her covers that she hits you with a question that nearly sends you into cardiac arrest.

“Mommy, why don’t I have a daddy?”

You’re not stupid, far from it. This question was bound to come up, sooner or later. For your own selfish sake though, you were hopeful for later, much much later.

She continues, almost nervous in tone. “Ms. Leah said you need a mommy and a daddy to make a baby, so where’s my daddy?”

Curious how the conversation of where babies came from came about, you make a mental note to discuss this with your daughter’s preschool teacher before working to answer her valid question. Truth be told, you have no idea how to answer it. But if anxiety was the dominant emotion before, sadness and devastation easily topple that at the next thing to come out of her mouth.

“Does he not  love me?”

It’s not until that moment that you truly know what it feels like for your heart to shatter into absolute pieces.

“Oh, baby….” Crouching down beside her bed, you move your hand to her forehead, thumb gently caressing her soft skin. You’re so damn lost on how to handle this, what to say to take away her obvious pain, that you go with the soonest thing that hits the forefront of your brain. “Your daddy…..he….he wasn’t ready to be a daddy.”

It could be the truth, it could be a lie. You never gave yourself—or him—the chance to find out, and up until this point, you never saw an issue with that. But now….now you’re wondering just who you made that decision for. 

And if it was the right one.

Callie’s frown deepens, the answer clearly not one that makes her feel any better. “What if I’m a really good girl? Will he be ready then?”

The shattered pieces are now dust, granulated dust that you struggle to hold together in trembling palms. You bring both hands to her face. “Calista, you listen to me. You are the kindest, sweetest, most amazing little girl in the whole wide world. You don’t need to do anything to be a good girl because you are already a good girl, the best girl.”

Her eyes glaze over as she sniffles and asks in a small voice. “So why doesn’t he want me?”

“Oh, sweetie…” You pull her into a hug, holding her close and tight, as if doing so will allow her to absorb all of the love and adoration you have for this tiny human who made your life have meaning. “I’m gonna talk to him, okay? I’ll….I’ll talk to him.” That’s all you can say, even if it’s not a guarantee, even if you have no idea where such an offer came from. And you hate yourself for doing that, for getting her hopes up over something that may not even happen. You haven’t spoken to Joe in almost five years, there’s no guarantee the number is even still the same.

Still, you know you have to at least try, especially when you pull back and see the renewed hope in her teary eyes, the eyes she shares with the father she’s clearly desperate to know about, to meet, to have. 

You close your eyes and press your forehead against hers, speaking with all the love and affirmation in the world, “I love you, Calista. Always, baby.” 

You’re relieved to hear her reply in a less saddened and more hopeful tone, “I love you too, mommy.”

It’s after you’re certain Callie is knocked out and you’ve exhausted every single step of your nighttime routine that you pace around your room, partially trying to avoid an action you know you need to take. 

Especially when you find his number in your phone from an old text thread you could never find it in you to delete. 

You go back and forth for nearly twenty minutes before deciding on a simple question.

is this still joe’s number?

You feel like a damn child, throwing the phone down on the bed and burying your face into your hands. This is so much more difficult than it needs to be, or maybe it isn’t. You made the executive decision to not make Joe aware of your pregnancy for a variety of reasons that felt solid at the time.

Now…now you don’t know any fucking thing anymore, it seems. 

What you do know is that you nearly jump off the bed when your phone begins to ring. Frowning, you look at the time, wondering who in the hell could be calling you at damn near midnight.

But, it’s when you lift your phone to see the caller you know exactly why someone is calling you at damn near midnight.

Ignoring it is so tempting, but the image of Callie in tears wondering why she’s not loved or wanted is more than enough to trample your selfish desires. Sliding the green button upward, you place the phone against your ear, take a deep breath, and speak, “hi.” 

He exhales, your name leaving his mouth for the first time in years. Hearing his voice, let alone hearing him say your name, creates a heaviness you weren’t expecting. Then again, you weren’t expecting to speak to him at all tonight.

Or ever, for that matter.

Communication is suddenly incredibly difficult as you struggle to string words together to create a cohesive statement. “I’m….I’m sorry for calling so late, but—”

“We need to talk.” While your tone is soft and nervous, his is serious and borderline stoic. It takes you for a bit of a loop, but you try not to put too much into it. The real focus should be why he interrupted you so harshly with such a bold statement. He’s not wrong, but why does he think you need to talk? “I’ll get a flight out tomorrow.”

That breaks you from your thoughts. A what?  “wait—”

“You still at the same place?”

Swallowing, still very much confused, you answer, “yes, but—”

“I’ll see you tomorrow night.”

The phone goes silent on the other end, and you realize it’s because he’s ended the call. You must stare at that phone for a good five minutes in complete utter shock. Eventually, coming out of the catatonia, only one thought circulates around your mind.

What in the actual fuck just happened? 

[frvnkcastles]

YOU’RE GOOD TO ME ➵ F. CASTLE

Summary: When you’ve been working all day, Frank decides to intervene.

Warnings: Stressed reader, feminine nicknames, she/her pronouns, reader wears glasses and is a university student, fluff :)

Word count: 929

Author’s note: I’m very aware I have some requests to get to but honestly I’m so tired because of college lately, so this happened. 😭 I’ve been writing a ton of essays in the past couple of weeks and all I want is Frank to hold me and give me an ”attagirl.” PLEASE. So this is for all my overworked girlies <3

Your neck throbbed with an uncomfortable ache when you craned it to the side, and with a low groan, you reached with your hand to rub the painful spot and averted your eyes from the laptop screen in front of you. Your pained sounds earned an unamused look from Frank who had gone without complaint when you had turned down movie night in favor of your coursework — he always supported his girl and her academic aspirations, of course — but this was where he drew the line.

”Aight, that’s it”, he decided with a grunt, kicking his feet off of the coffee table and reaching for your laptop, only for you to defensively pull back and stop him from stopping you. You knitted your eyebrrows together and glared at him, only for him to chuckle at your protests. ”Sweetheart, it’s been hours. You deserve a break”, Frank insisted, deciding to get up from the couch and circle around the back to drop his face in your neck and his arms around you.

”I know, I know, but I gotta finish this essay by midnight”, you argued through a stifled yawn, and with a grumble against the soft skin of your neck, Frank huffed.

”The fuck? Didn’t ya just write one the other day?” he queried, a frown distorting his handsome face when you tilted your head back to look at him.

”Yes, but that was a scientific text, this is a reflective one”, you explained the difference with a faint smile before leaning up enough to kiss his chin. After that, you looked back at the screen and the jumble of words and shoved your hand underneath your glasses to tiredly rub your eyes.

Humming, Frank kissed the top of your head. ”What a bunch of bullshit”, he muttered under his breath before stealing a glance at the clock on the living room wall and then making his decision for you. ”Hey, it’s barely 10 PM. You’re gonna gimme half an hour without that damn thing between us and then I’ll let ya do your thing, yeah?” he announced, and before you could protest, he was uncurling his strong arms from around your neck to slam your laptop shut and snatch it from your laptop.

”Frankie!” you tried to reason with him, but he shook his head and carried the laptop to the kitchen counter before striding back to the couch and pulling you onto his lap.

”Half an hour, sweetheart”, he emphasized, and as much as you wanted to keep arguing, you couldn’t deny that his warm, firm chest did feel nice against yours, and his big hands drawing soothing circles on your back offered some much-needed relief. As you laid down on top of him, he gently reached for your glasses and folded them on the coffee table before running his thumb across the indents they had left on your face.

”M’pretty girl”, he rasped, and immediately blushing at the praise, you buried your face in his chest and he laughed in a way that was so genuine it made his whole body tremble. ”Still get shy on me, huh?” he teased with a low voice, running his fingers through your hair before taking your hand and placing a kiss on your knuckles, ”don’t ya know I’m sweet on you?”

Chuckling, you nodded and looked back up at him. ”You’re real sweet, Frankie. Kinda think it’d ruin your reputation if people found out what a teddy bear you are with me”, you contemplated out loud, and with a snort, Frank smiled and reeled you in by the jaw, planting a soft kiss on your lips when you were mere inches away.

”As if anyone’d believe that shit”, he pointed out smugly, before kissing you again, slow and sweet.

Sighing, you lowered your head on his chest and listened to the steady beat of his heart as he mindlessly played with your hair. Minutes passed and you started to feel drowsy, even more so when a gentle rain began to tap against the windows and you could just enjoy the moment. You had noticed that with Frank, you didn’t even daydream anymore. What was there to daydream about? You already had the man of your dreams, always there to make you feel good in every sense of the word.

”Half an hour’s up”, Frank mumbled quietly eventually, sooner than you had expected, and with heavy eyelids, you glanced at him only to find him smiling lazily at you. ”You know you’re fuckin’ amazing, right?” he asked, much to your surprise, and with widening eyes, you crossed your hands over his chest and rested against the soft material of his sweater.

”What makes you say that?” you questioned sheepishly, and licking his lips, Frank nodded at the laptop waiting for you once more.

”The way you work. I know you’re tired but you still keep goin’. I fuckin’ adore you, girl. You’re kickin’ ass and it’s so goddamn amazin’ to see. Just know, I’mma always be on your team, yeah?” he praised, and once again, it was hard for you to accept it without getting bashful. But before you could hide, he snuck a thumb beneath your jaw and locked his eyes with you.

”Just really love you, y’know?” he muttered, and with a widening smile, you leaned in to kiss his nose.

”I love you, Frank”, you whispered before reluctantly getting off of him and heading for your laptop where the unfinished work awaited.

”You got this, baby”, he grinned at you from his nook of the couch, ”attagirl.”

[piratefishmama]

Forgiven Not Forgotten | Part 7

Never let it be said that the Harringtons knew how to go small. They didn’t. The quaint little two bed they’d been living in was always going to be temporary if Steve came home. Even if it was now… technically theirs. It was a nice house, perfect for many a small family, which technically they were.

But they were also… filthy stinking rich.

The Harringtons didn’t really know how to go and stay small. Which is why by the following weekend, Eddie’s release from hospital looming upon them and the two bed house feeling more and more cramped by the day, they already had a cash offer in place on a five bedroom estate in Bloomington.

Five bedrooms, four bathrooms, a finished basement games room, just under eight acres of land, a pool, and an extra little pool house outfitted as a detached bungalow on the property.

The little house they’d lived in… given it was theirs, well. They had no real plans for it yet. Selling it on was a potential, it was too far from the estate to even contemplate handing the keys to one of the families linked to theirs through their children’s shared trauma, although that’d be a nice gesture on their part, the idea of separating their kids after such an ordeal?

Nope. They’d clung to each other. Kept each other alive. They needed each other.

One of the reasons they even chose the bigger property was because “It’s big enough for you all to be there.” That’s what Lynda had told Steve when he’d asked about it. “It’s not going to happen for another couple of weeks, so the house is still going to be a little cramped with everyone in it, but…”

“We have no intentions of separating you from your family, Steven.” John finished for her, nodding over Steve’s shoulder to the multiple sets of eyes watching them. “Like your mother said, what we have now is too cramped, this new place will have plenty of room for everyone.”

“And… what about when their parents turn up?” Because it was a when, not an if. “Just gonna go back to an empty house?” They were operating on when. Nevermind that they’d never seen their parents get out of Hawkins. Nevermind that the only parent they knew for certain was alive and well outside of Joyce and Hopper, was Karen Wheeler, Ted having put himself between his kids and a Demogorgon during the early days and hadn’t come out as the victor. It didn’t matter that they’d seen horrors beyond anything a child should have to witness.

The kids needed to operate on when.

“Then we’ll help them find homes in the area, but until then, the house will be… a home base of sorts. A comfortable starting point for all of you so you’re not too far away from each other, it’ll never be an empty house, Steven. I know it might look like we’re just spending money for the sake of it but… it’s not like that anymore.” They weren’t doing that anymore. They’d found a better way than being away from home all the time. John worked from a home office and delegated important tasks and jobs to others to free up his time, and Lynda decided she wanted to be at home.

They were just glad Steve was allowing them to just decide to be there for him all of a sudden. He didn’t have to.

“…Forgive me if I still doubt that.” No amount of tearful apologies could erase all that history “But thanks, for… for thinking of us. It’s true, we kinda stuck together like glue after Mr Wheeler…” he trailed off. After they’d gotten Karen and Holly out of that house while Ted held back that shaking door, huge, clawed fingers tearing through wood. He still remembered Holly’s screams, still remembered Karen crying, begging them to go back as Nancy and Mike dragged her out, Holly running straight to Steve. “We were never far apart from each other.” It’d be weird without them, unsettling when the dust finally settled. When parents returned to claim their kids.

“And you wont be.” John placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, firm, squeezing it in comforting reassurance. “You won’t be.”

~~

“Aaaand this is your room.” Had it not been for the fact that Eddie had been in a coma for the last god only knows, where he could, with rules, conjure ridiculous shit, he’d have probably assumed he was still out.

He had a room. In what was essentially. A mansion. But he’d never seen it before, so he wasn’t still in his funky little void because he wouldn’t have been able to conjure it.

Only what he’d seen, only places he’d been.

He had his own room. Bigger than his old one at the trailer because of course it was. Currently empty of personal belongings, void of personality, but Steve was holding boxes. Boxes with stuff in them, rolled up tubes of paper, stuff wrapped in newspapers, and he was setting those boxes down one by one inside the room. “…What’s in those?”

“Shit we saved from the trailer, it’s not much but… it’s something.” Eddie silently turned to just. Stare at him. Brows furrowed, confusion so evident Steve had to ask “what?”

“…How long has it been since I died, Steve?” He had to ask again, just to be sure of something, even if it was a weird question to ask.

“Bout two years, why?”

“… And in that time, Hawkins basically ate shit, right?”

“Yup, where’s this going?”

“How’d you save my stuff for that long? Why did you save my stuff for that long? Shit couldn’t have been easy to keep safe, right? So… why?” Steve fell silent, his jaw shifting, lips pursing, visibly going through all the possible reasons he could have saved that stuff, all the reasons why he would have saved that stuff, all the potential excuses, the boy would be terrible at poker.

He settled on shrugging his shoulders.

“Because I did. Because I could. Like I said, it’s not much.” It was so much. Not quantity wise, no… Steve was right there wasn’t much in those boxes, probably why Steve could carry multiple at a time but it meant so much. Steve obviously wasn’t going to go into the why’s or the how’s with him though. He was going to brush them away, without answers. “We saved some mugs, there’s some posters in here, uhh, I got a bunch of your tapes and your deck, I wish I could say I saved your guitars but… I’m sorry man, it was just too risky carting around something that could make noise. I think… they might still be there but—”

“It’s fine, Steve… this—this is way more than I could have asked for.” He could always get a new guitar, eventually. It’d mean saving up somehow, or using some of the hush money that the government had promised him for signing, he was planning on using that to find Wayne though.

It’d been over a week, the hospital had slowly been cleared of survivors, the Sinclair’s were the only parents who’d made it thus far, having been staying with Sue’s sister a few towns over doing the exact same thing as the Harringtons. Waiting. Hoping. Praying for news on their kids, any news. Anything.

They’d taken the Harrington’s offer to stay in the converted pool house with Karen until they could get housing arranged, the kids staying in the main house with everyone else.

“Yeah well… we’ll sort you out a new one eventually. Can’t leave the bard without his instrument, right?” Eddie’s wide eyes were on him again, a beaming smile spreading across his lips, dimpling his cheeks, stretching the scar tissue on his jaw, and Steve had to look away, he had to, because otherwise he just might fall again, and he couldn’t… he couldn’t make that mistake twice.

“Be still my beating heart, was that a D&D reference, Harrington?” He could feel the warmth seeping into his cheeks at the attention, as Eddie leaned in a little closer, got into his space, it’d been so long since someone had paid him any attention. Even if it meant nothing to Eddie, even if he was just being silly, be still his own beating heart.

“Maybe. Now get to unpacking your shit.” He put the last of the boxes down on the bed, purposefully turning away from Eddie to hide his reddening face, to hide what he knew Eddie had never wanted to see. “We’ll be heading out into town in an hour to find us all some new clothes, maybe some new stuff for the rooms too. Hop to it.”

“You’re not gonna help lil ol me unpack? I just got out of hospital!” Eddie called after him as Steve made to leave the room.

“With a clean bill of health! You can manage a few boxes!” And he was gone. Running away. Like a coward.

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for quietellen, @qwertynerd97, and K; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! 

“Cool!” Billy says, beaming at Superboy. He considers if the house rules conversation should be next, but probably the “no” conversation needs to come before that, but–

Actually, wait. Before any of that–

“So, um, what do you wanna do about your name?” he asks curiously, tilting his head. They need something to give Batman to put on Superboy’s civilian paperwork, obviously. Superboy–stills, then looks uncomfortable, and Billy tries not to frown. 

“Do I have to be Marvel Boy now?” Superboy mutters, looking at the floor. Billy blinks, startled by the question. 

“Well, I don’t think you have to,” he says, not quite sure how to approach the tight look on Superboy’s face. “I mean, you’re not magic, that might be confusing for people. But you can if you want?” 

“. . . no,” Superboy says, not lifting his eyes from the floor. “Being Superboy is–fine."

Billy doesn’t know if that’s a real “no” or not, for obvious reasons, but he figures they can work that out later. Hero names are easy to change, after all. And even a civilian name they can come up with a reason to change if they need to, obviously. And that one’s the real concern right now anyway, since Batman needs to finish the paperwork and also Billy just needs something not a hero name to call him. And the team will too, he figures.

“Okay, cool, then you just need a real name!” Billy says firmly, smiling encouragingly at Superboy, who finally looks back up. He looks skeptical. 

“You mean a civilian alias for that paperwork you were talking about?” he asks. 

“Well, yeah, but also just for having?” Billy says with a shrug. “Like, so people can call you it.” 

“People already call me Superboy,” Superboy says with a frown, folding his arms. 

“Yeah, but when you're not Superboy and stuff,” Billy explains, because maybe Superboy doesn’t really understand that that’s a thing, considering his life experience so far and all. Which–why would he, after all? “Like, I'm not always Captain Marvel. Er. Although don't tell anyone that either, please, 'cause I think the Justice League kind of thinks I am? And like . . . I'd rather they all just keep thinking that, honestly, it's just way more convenient that way.” 

“Uh . . . okay?” Superboy says, looking puzzled. “So I need an alias for . . . pretending to be a civilian, then.” 

“Yeah,” Billy says, figuring “for when you are a civilian” might be a little too confusing right now. “For when you’re off-duty, you know?” 

“The only names I know already belong to other people,” Superboy says with a deepening frown, which makes sense, Billy thinks. Probably Cadmus didn’t upload too many unattached names into Superboy’s head, and for the past couple of days he’s probably only been hearing names that belong to the people he’s been meeting. “And I barely even know any last names at all.” 

"Oh! Well, that one’s easy, your last name can be Batson," Billy tells him helpfully, smiling encouragingly at him again. At least that part’s easy, yeah. "I let Batman just make something up for the paperwork and stuff because I didn’t wanna tell him my real name, but Batson is my last name, so it’d be nice if that was your last name too." 

". . . what?" Superboy asks in bemusement, just staring at him again. “Why are you telling me your real last name if you didn't even tell Batman?"

"I mean, it's your name too now," Billy says reasonably. "Of course I'm gonna tell you your name." 

Superboy stares blankly at him. 

". . . the fake one is 'Rocky Morgan', though," Billy supplies in the awkward-feeling silence, a little sheepish again. "My fake one, I mean. So your paperwork is all gonna say 'Morgan' too." 

"'Rocky Morgan'?" Superboy repeats, wrinkling his nose. 

"The last time Batman went undercover he told us all to call him 'Matches Malone' so I'm pretty sure I got off lucky," Billy says with a shrug. He doesn't really know where Batman gets his fake names, but maybe he just likes being creative? 

". . . yeah, I think you did," Superboy agrees, making a face.

[bridgyrose]

Good afternoon Briddy. Most humbly do I request the next part of Transfer Student Weiss Redux. Please have a nice day.

(You asked, and you shall receive)

“Of course they’re late!” Weiss growled to herself as she paced in front of the restaurant while she waited for Yang and Blake. She had told them the time to come around and it wasnt like Vale was all that much busier than it had been a couple hours ago. Even getting a scope for Ruby didnt take that long. “What’s taking them so long?” 

“Maybe they got stuck in line somewhere,” Ruby answered as she tinkered around with the scope. “We almost did.” 

Weiss rolled her eyes and leaned against the wall near the door. “They could at least let us know why they’re running late.” 

“Yang will be here any minute with Blake. Just be patient.” 

Weiss sighed and looked at her scroll to watch the seconds tick by. Yang was already five minutes late, which she had to admit wasnt like her. Both her and Ruby seemed to always be on time for everything, even getting up earlier than the rest of them for class. So seeing Yang run this late… something had to be off.

A frown crossed her lips as she saw a call from Yang pop up on her scroll. “Where are you?” she asked angrily. 

“We’re on our way, but we ended up getting a bit… sidetracked,” Yang answered. 

“And what is that supposed to mean?” 

Yang paused for a moment, only a faint whisper coming over the speaker for the call before she finally spoke clearly. “I… Blake can explain once we get back to the dorm.” 

“Fine,” Weiss sighed, annoyance in her voice. “Just get here as soon as you can. We’re already late and I dont want to lose our reservation.” 

“We’re five minutes away, so we’ll be there soon.” 

Weiss hung up the call and stuffed her scroll back into her skirt pocket as she huffed. “Of course Blake’s the one making them late and they cant even give an excuse for it.” 

Ruby slipped the scope back into its bag and sighed. “You know, you should go easier on her.” 

“If she wants me to treat her better-” 

“She’s our teammate, that should be reason enough. I dont know what Atlas is like, but if treating people like this is how everyone acts, then you’re going to make a lot more enemies than you will friends. How do you expect to work with your team if you cant treat them with just a little respect?”

Weiss went quiet as the words got stuck in her throat, her heart started to ache about the team she had lost. As far as she cared, this team wasnt *her* team, it was just a replacement until graduation and she could be a real huntress. Though, she did have to admit that maybe she was being a lot rougher on them than she should be. They werent Atlas trainees, but they still seemed to be one of the best teams in their class. And even if they were willing to open up to her, it was hard for her to want to put down the icy shield she kept up to keep herself safe. 

And then there was still the matter of her promise to try to help find Penny, the lie that brought them out here in the first place. Or at least, it had been a lie that she wanted to try to help. And as much as she wanted to keep buying time to prevent herself from having to help, with one of the SDC Vale branch office not too far away, it’d only be a matter of time before Ruby would say something. “I… I spoke out of turn,” Weiss responded as she had been trained. “It wont happen again.” 

Ruby smiled a bit. “After we try to find a clue or two about where Penny went, then maybe we can all try to open up with each other and at least try to understand each other. Maybe you can even let us know what brought you here to begin with.” 

“You were given the paperwork, it’ll tell you everything you need to know.” 

“Yeah, but, I want to hear it from you.” 

“That’s not-” Weiss’s words stopped as she looked over Ruby, almost seeing the same look her original partner had given her whenever he tried to get close to her. Her breathing hitched as she felt her heart start to pound and she instinctively reached for her scroll. “I-I have a text from my Father I need to answer,” she lied as she started to pull away. “I’ll be right back.” 

“Dont take too long!” Ruby called out.

Weiss nodded and checked her vitals as her fingers shook while moving over the screen of her scroll. The only thing she could see wrong with her was that her heart rate was more elevated than normal, but nothing else indicated she was having a panic attack like normal. Though, even if it was a panic attack, there wasnt much she could do now to take care of it. At least, not without letting her team know the full truth of everything she’d gone through. And she wasnt ready for that. With a deep breath, Weiss did her best to calm down and made it to the restaurant with a small smile as she saw Yang and Blake finally there. “About time you both made it.” 

“I told you we were coming,” Yang answered. “Like I said, we got a bit… distracted.” 

“Right…” Weiss sighed and opened the door to the restaurant for her teammates to file in. “Just as long as you keep your promise and tell us when we get back to the dorm.” She quickly grabbed Blake’s arm as she passed, letting go just as quick and turning away. “I’m… sorry about getting upset at you earlier.” 

Blake paused in her step, still not looking at Weiss. “Its fine, but… you really should give them a chance before hating them like you do. I know they havent exactly been keeping everything lawful-” 

“I know. But things are… complicated.” 

“Then will you talk about it with us?” 

“I-I… I’ll try.” 

“That’s all we ask.” 

Weiss let out a heavy sigh as Blake walked through the door, heart pounding nervously at the thought of even discussing any of her feelings with her teammates. But for now, she could enjoy lunch with them and maybe get them to forget about that kind of talk before heading back to Beacon. She glanced over at Ruby, frowning a bit when she saw her looking down the street. “Ruby, you coming?” 

Ruby nodded for a moment, eyes still locked down the street as she took a step forward. “I need to go check something.” 

“Wait, Ruby!” Weiss growled as she watched Ruby rush off in a flurry of rose petals. “That… that dolt!” 

“Weiss, you and Ruby coming?” Yang asked. 

Weiss took a breath as she looked into the restaurant, seeing how packed it already was as the maître d' waited for them to give him the information for the reservation. She then looked off in the direction that Ruby had rushed off in, seeing the rose petals already fading. “Dammit,” she whispered to herself. “Ruby ran off and we need to go after her.” 

“What about the reservation you were worried about?” Blake asked in almost an annoyed tone. 

Weiss took a step into the restaurant and gave a quick smile to the maître d'. “I need to move our reservation back a couple hours. Will that be okay?” 

He nodded and flipped through the waiting list. “We have a spot for four this afternoon-” 

“I’ll take it. The name is under Schnee.” 

“Alright, I’ll have that moved for four today.” 

“Thanks.” Weiss turned away from the maître d' and walked to the door, her smile fading into a frown as she left. “That dolt!” 

Blake sighed and followed behind Weiss. “I’m sure whatever made her run off had to be important.” 

Yang nodded. “Do you remember which way she went?” 

“She went down that way,” Weiss said as she pointed down the street in the direction that she and Ruby had originally come from. “We’ll have to start going down that way and if we’re fast enough, we can follow her trail-” 

“No time.” Yang started to run off. “You and Blake search together, I’m going to check the places that Ruby likes to go.” 

“Wait, Yang-” 

“Come on, lets go,” Blake said. “Yang knows Ruby better than anyone and we’ll slow her down if we go with. Besides, I’m better at tracking when I have someone who can follow me.” 

Weiss paused for a moment and looked over at Blake. “You know how to track?” 

“Its a… skill I picked up outside the kingdom. Doesnt matter, which way did you say she went again?” 

“To the north.” 

“Try to keep up.” 

Weiss sighed as she watched Blake use her weapon to get up onto the rooftops and started racing over the streets. She cursed quietly under her breath and used her glyphs to follow, making sure to stay behind Blake. “Dont worry, I wont slow you down!”

[anx1oustig3r]

“After you, my dear,” the fairy chirps, her voice is a stark contrast to how she presents herself. While she speaks in a high, melodic song, she stands before Lina in a suit so sharp it would put the finest of aristocratic gentlemen to shame. Her bony hand is outstretched into the tavern, and Lina playfully curtsies in response.

“Why thank you, handsome,” she purrs, feeling incredibly smug as a dark pink blush forms on Mireska’s face, covering her freckles. Handsome, at first it had been strange to call her handsome - admittedly the rather restrictive culture she had grown up in, both in Misrule and especially the Helio Imperium, had had a heavy impact on her. Now, however, it comes to her as naturally as the word ‘hello’, and for good reason too, Mireska is very handsome.

A couple of heads turn as they make their way to an unoccupied booth, the standard drunken men who are all too eager to throw unwanted winks and comments, but their open mouths clamp shut when they get a good look at her companion. Lina looks up at Mireska who has her fangs bared in a mocking smile. There had been comments before, fools who would remark that she should ‘pick one and stick with it’. Others had demanded Lina to ‘try a real man and not some cheap imitation’. Of course they had been silenced fast by fireballs to the face and hanging upside down by a bramble snare, but the experiences often left her apprehensive walking into a tavern.

If it bothered Mireska, she was very good at hiding it, still grinning as they slide into their seat side by side. The fairy puts a spindly arm around her and pulls her in close, which Lina welcomes with a contented sigh. They had been travelling together for only a couple of months, but those months had been the most normal she had felt in … well in her life really. Sure it had been hard to adjust to the fairy’s … unconventional lifestyle, but after the first month it was like clockwork. Visit a new city, let Mireska off her leash to get them some gold, sight see, get into trouble with the law then run like hells. She had to admit it was nice getting to see the world, she could never have dreamed of this as Shabarrah’s human weapon.

“Whiskey,” Mireska announces and Lina jumps, realising a waiter had approached them. Mireska is going for her old reliable, and Lina decides to be a little bit cute.

“You don’t happen to have Molten Red, do you?” She asks. The waiter nods, casting a questioning look between the two of them, although he keeps his trap shut for his own sake as he paces off to the bartender.

“Molten Red?” Mireska asks with a chuckle, “Are ye tryin’ to cause me war flashbacks?”

Lina gives her a gentle nudge.

“I thought it’d be funny,” she says. “Since you tried it ten months ago.”

Mireska’s eyes widen and she tugs at the collar of her shirt.

“Ten months?” She cocks her head, antennae flopping gently. “Ach! Sure time flies when yer havin’ fun!”

Mutterings catch Lina’s attention and she looks out, aware of some patrons pointing at them and shaking their heads. She catches the words ‘wrong’ and ‘disgraceful’. Mireska notices too, her antennae perk at their voices.

“Does it bother you too?” Lina asks. The fairy snorts although there’s a tremble in her voice when she speaks.

“Ah, I’m used to it,” she says. “It’s insecurity on their end, I’m all too comfortable in meself an’ it drives them mental!”

“I wish I had your confidence,” Lina wraps her arms around herself, feeling the other patrons gazes burning into her skin and she can feel that unbearable itch to scorch the earth writhing underneath it. Mireska pulls her in tighter and her voice is gentle in her ear over the chatter of the tavern.

“Hey,” she coos. “I wish I had your confidence! Yer the one sendin’ them all packin’ with one blast of fire!”

“It’s hardly confidence, just aggression.”

Mireska simply shrugs.

“Potato potato.”

Molten Red burns the throat in all the right ways, Lina could never imagine a better drink and beside her, Mireska is shaking her head.

“I dunno how ye down that,” she says.

“I don’t know how you down that,” Lina responds, nodding to her mug of whiskey. Mireska takes a long swig of it without flinching and smirks back at her.

“Well whiskey’s actually lovely,” she says. “One o’ the best poisons money can buy-“

She’s promptly interrupted by approaching men and isn’t that a treat? Their night is about to get ruined. Lina takes a deep breath and balls her fists, trying to quell the fire rapidly increasing in size in her veins. Mireska is eyeing them too, although she’s clearly scanning for any loose change they may be carrying.

“Hey!” One of them barks, Lina can smell the alcohol on his breath from where she’s sitting. “What are you?!”

He’s pointing right at Mireska who frowns back at him, her lip curls and reveals her fangs.

“A faerie,” she says, attempting to lower her voice but the man’s companion lets out a laugh.

“That’s a chick!” He nudges his friend, “You guys inverts or what?”

Mireska lets out a hiss so ferocious that shadowcats would run in terror. Lina’s done trying to bury the fire in order to avoid a scene.

“I’ll fuckin’ batter yis!” She snarls, “C’mere an’ say that again! I dare ye!”

Lina knows what Mireska is up to, and the man leans across the table, glaring right into her green eyes with a mocking sneer.

“Invert!”

Lina jumps up like a shot, launching her forehead right into his nose. Pain ricochets through her skull but years of training means she shrugs it off while he falls backwards clutching his face. She’s quick to bring the fire out, pinning him down and raining burning punches while he howls. Mireska has his friend, clawing his eyes and swiping him, fighting the old fashioned way as she put it.

As quickly as the fight started, they’re grabbed by guards and tossed out of the city. Mireska fires two middle fingers up at the gate as it’s slammed shut.

“Is that how yis wanna be?!” She screeches, “Well joke’s on the lotta yis! I didn’t pay me tab, ye shower o’ gobshites!”

Lina places a hand on her shoulder, the fire ebbing away as the adrenaline wears off, rapidly replaced by growing shame.

“Are you alright?” She asks. Mireska turns and spits blood into the grass.

“I hate that word,” she grunts, a fury that seemed to span back years twisting her face. Lina wraps her arms gently around her.

“I hate it too,” she tries to sound soothing but her voice only shakes. “What’ll we do now?”

Mireska is quiet for a moment, resting her chin on top of her head.

“We could go fish for bottle ends in the outskirt district?” The chirp returns to her voice, although Lina can tell when she’s forcing it. However it doesn’t stop the chuckle from escaping her.

“How romantic!” She looks back up at her. “You’re such a gentleman, do you know that?”

“More of a gentleman than most fellas,” Mireska shakes her head with a hearty tut. Lina brings a hand up to her face.

“But that’s what I love about you.”

[leagueofdccm]

negan & maggie - ultimate ship meme

ULTIMATE SHIP MEME! || @nghtmarish

General:

Rate the Ship -   Awful | Ew | No pics pls | I’m not comfortable | Alright | I like it! | Got Pics? | Let’s do it! | Why is this not getting more attention?! | The OTP to rule all other OTPs

How long will they last? - as i always say, for our ships forever

How quickly did/will they fall in love? - honestly. i know this version of (your)negan x (my)maggie is different from (my)negan x (your)maggie, which i think it's great cause it's like different versions of how they fell in love. or the relationship started & such. def didn't fall in love right away. the issues between them are a huge part of why, but I think the hate/the tension that clouds around them is too heavy for them to ignore. all that hate maggie has for negan. enemies to lovers on the real deal. cause while she spends a lot of time hating him, trying to kill him- we know that just ends in hate sex, fucking the hate out as the kids say. LMAO. but also what's our biggest enemy? the heart. because the way it would piss maggie off with the way her heart would ache for him. omfg. when she finally understands her feelings for HIM. that she loves this killer ? -- she's gonna avoid him like the plague LMAO.

How was their first kiss? - hot and heavy, teeth and all when. like no room to breath.

Wedding:

Who proposed? - negan def, cause i feel like he's one to say fuck it ! like yolo up in here and is always more daring.

Who is the best man/men? - gabe maybe cause lbr lmao.. carol ? AHHA !

Who is the braid’s maid(s)? - rosita !!!! our boo thang !

Who did the most planning? - maggie, does she get negan involved though ? yes, cause she wants it to be something they BOTH want. not just hers. also it's all new to her, so it's nice to have help.

Who stressed the most? - maggie i think cause from planning, and also negan being a pain in her ass. like MEN. I SWEAR. but also when isn't planning a wedding stressful ?

How fancy was the ceremony? - Back of a pickup truck | 2 | 3 | 4 | Normal Church Wedding | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Kate and William wish they were this big.

Who was specifically not invited to the wedding? - i have no idea !

Sex:

Who is on top? - no doubt negan is top. but lbr if anyone could handle negan in bed, it's maggie. she's just as feisty and daring. I think I imagine these two fighting over dominance.

Who is the one to instigate things? - negan def would be, especially in the beginning ? maggie would try her hardest to ignore him. but that don't work out. But the time she's like, imma give him a taste of his own medicine and instigates it when he's doing something important ? Yes.

How healthy is their sex life? - Barely touch themselves let alone each other | 2 | 3 | 4 | Once a couple weeks, nothing overboard | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They are humping each other on the couch right now

How kinky are they? - Straight missionary with the lights off | 2 | 3 | 4 | Might try some butt stuff and toys | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Don’t go into the sex dungeon without a horse’s head

How long do they normally last? - a good ass while. all that sex drive !

Do they make sure each person gets an equal amount of orgasms? - of course they would. negan always wants a reason to be cocky. and maggie? i think maggie would want to remind him just on what she can do, and how she does it. and thrives to make him come apart like he makes her come apart.

How rough are they in bed? - Softer than a butterfly on the back of a bunny | 2 | 3 | 4 | The bed’s shaking and squeaking every time | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | Their dirty talk is so vulgar it’d make Dwayne Johnson blush. Also, the wall’s so weak it could collapse the next time they do it.

How much cuddling/snuggling do they do? - No touching after sex | 2 | 3 | 4 | A little spooning at night, or on the couch, but not in public | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | They snuggle and kiss more often than a teen couple on their fifth date to a pillow factory.

Children:

How many children will they have naturally? - 1 ( jack ) / and if we do the same in our ( my negan x your maggie verses ) where tilly is also maggie's --- then also 2 ( tilly and jack )

How many children will they adopt? - well, they kinda adopt each other kids in a way. LMAO ! you know. like maggie with tilly, negan with hershel. also if we wanna add ginny. that also.

Who gets stuck with the most diapers? - maggie. but does she force negan to help ? fucking yes she does.

Who is the stricter parent? - maggie gotta be seeing that negan will be a kid along with their kids

Who stops the kid(s) from doing dangerous stunts after school? - maggie omfg. she's gonna go nuts with ALL of them. i imagine her being around when tilly is small and she's like TILLY NO ! and then with jack ( hershel ) lmao maggie gonna have a heart attack.

Who remembers to pack the lunch(es)? - maggie does. she packs one for negan also if he doesn't cook for them.

Who is the more loved parent? - both of them. they are both amazing in their own ways.

Who is more likely to attend the PTA meetings?- maggie. she had negan come with her once, never again.

Who cried the most at graduation? - maggie like a big baby. but lbr negan did too.

Who is more likely to bail the child(ren) out of trouble with the law? - negan cause if maggie knew she'd murder him for it. LMAO.

Cooking:

Who does the most cooking? - i think they take turns tbh. like some days negan does it, some days maggie does. though she prefers the days negan does.

Who is the most picky in their food choice? - neither one of them.

Who does the grocery shopping? - maggie. she's controlling. lmao.

How often do they bake desserts? - not as often but when maggie is in the mood.

Are they more of a meat lover or a salad eater? - maggie loves both meat and salad. negan is more towards eating meat. but he respects the salad from time to time.

Who is more likely to surprise the other(s) with an anniversary dinner? - negan probably would. he can be loving, he can be romantic. and this would be one of those times where he would be.

Who is more likely to suggest going out? - negan or maggie.

Who is more likely to burn the house down accidently while cooking? - distracted during sexy time ? yup.

Chores:

Who cleans the room? - maggie, but damn straight she puts negan to work.

Who is really against chores? - negan cause lbr who isn't ?

Who cleans up after the pets? - negan also, cause maggie says she does more of the house cleaning ( unless it comes to cleaning farm animals- she'll do it )

Who is more likely to sweep everything under the rug? - negan :|

Who stresses the most when guests are coming over? - neither one of them do. they have a handle over it.

Who found a dollar between the couch cushions while cleaning? - Maggie and she definitely puts it in her back pocket.

Misc:

Who takes the longer showers/baths? - maggie loves her baths, negan seems more into shower time- but loves taking baths with maggie. so if they are doing it together- they take a long ass time in the shower/bath -- but separate. i think maggie would take the longest.

Who takes the dog out for a walk? - negan would.

How often do they decorate the room/house for the holidays? - often ! maggie wants all the kids to enjoy the holidays and bring traditions to their house on things she used to do when she was little.

What are their goals for the relationship? - stick together like glue, don't go to bed angry unless hate sex is involved.

Who is most likely to sleep till noon? - neither of them.

Who plays the most pranks? - none. maggie isn't into that. and she'll murder negan LMAO.

[echo-echo31]

Speaking of werecheetah!Yancy, since I mentioned before that cheetahs are chronically anxious lil’ bbs, I can’t stop thinking about werecheetah!Yancy being perpetually full of anxiety. This could totally work into his backstory as all his crimes/fights/murders could’ve been due to anger caused by anxiety (might sound a little strange, I know, but I am definitely the type of person who gets mad, loud, and even violent when I’m scared, especially if it’s a situation I have little to no control over. It’s likely an adhd thing, since my dad was like that too and I’m fairly certain he had adhd that went undiagnosed his whole life since he grew up in a family that didn’t exactly consider mental wellness to be… relevant. Anyway, siderant, but also potentially an argument for adhd!Yancy 👀). This could also be why he’s so attached to stuffed animals (@itsjustkyss 😏 hi) or Chica, for those who like either of those headcanons

But ALSO, I love the idea of Illy and Markus becoming almost like Yancy’s adoptive dads in a way, especially after they have Rosa. Markus meets Yancy in prison on one of the very few (not) occasions when he gets caught in the middle of a heist, and ofc Illy has to (reluctantly) bail him out (I think it’d be funny if Illy keeps saying “one of these times I’m not gonna bail your ass out and you won’t get out so easily”, which is the emptiest threat in the history of empty threats, especially after Rosa comes along, although I feel like Markus slows down with the heists after their daughter is born and this would all take place quite early on in their relationship).

Yancy gives Markus his whole “I don’t wanna be free” speech/song (it’d be hilarious if he did the whole musical number every time someone asked if he wanted to break out lmao), but Markus isn’t convinced. He recognizes the anxious part of himself in Yancy and knows that behind his cool and collected exterior, the real reason he doesn’t want to leave prison is because he’s afraid of the outside world.

When Markus gets back out, he talks to Illy about it, and soon the couple ends up visiting Yancy every third Sunday for visitation hours. They sometimes have long talks about how Markus is worried about Yancy, especially during the other times when Markus ends up in prison and tries to convince Yancy to apply for parole - he gets a strong NO in response every time. Although, as the months and years go by, and Markus and Illy visiting as often as possible, Yancy slowly, slowly starts to change his mind.

I like the thought of Markus and Illy being the reason Yancy applies for parole, even if he doesn’t tell the Captain that when they see him again - bc how strange would it be to explain that to his old friend? A rich Indiana Jones-esqe world traveller and adventurer/university history professor and a former crook who is clearly really bad at his job based on the amount of times he ends up behind bars who are also dating convinced him to apply? And he’s not even sure why it was them of all people who changed his mind, maybe because they were the first people - besides you - who were nice to him?

Yancy gets out and moves in with Markus and Illy around the same time as Rosa comes along, and suddenly the four of them are like a little family. Yancy was afraid at first that him being there would cramp Markus and Illy’s style or that he’d just be in the way while they were trying to be good parents (and, deep down, even though he knows it’s selfish, he was afraid that Rosa being around would make Markus and Illy not want him around as much or make them care for him less), but shockingly, the opposite is true. Markus and Illy are both thrilled to have Yancy around, and Rosa absolutely adores him, as he ends up spending time with her when her dads need a break from parenting.

I kinda hc that Yancy is younger than Markus and Illy by at least seven years or so, so while he’s not exactly young enough to be their son, they kinda do end up having that kind of dynamic, with Yancy becoming like Rosa’s big brother.

Sometimes Yancy has panic attacks or night terrors when he thinks about his life before prison, or about some of the things that were done to him while he was in prison (solitary was the absolute worst for him 😢), and on those nights he often ends up snuggled up between Markus and Illinois in their bed. Some nights Rosa gets fussy as well and refuses to sleep in her own room, so every once and a while all four of them wind up all sleeping together in a messy heap of blankets and limbs. (I also like the idea of Rosa being scared one night and not wanting to wake up her dads so she goes to sleep in Yancy’s bed, and Yancy is also feeling panicky that night and her presence helps calm him down 🥹)

On those mornings, Illy and Markus wake up, and upon seeing Rosa curled up against Yancy’s chest with his arms wrapped around her, they just smile at each other and bask in the beauty of their little misfit family

… this was a-fucking-lot and I absolutely need to write a fic about this NOW

~ @sammys-magical-au

WRITE. THE. FIC

[danganronpasurvivoraskblog]

“Those” dialogues I owe Rpg Anon.

//I’m doing this in the same format as the couples interactions we did a while back. I hope that’s what we were going for.

Kyoko and Makoto - Maid Costume:

Makoto: Um... Kyoko: Yes? Makoto: So, it’s uh...time to scout...right? Kyoko: Indeed. Are you alright? You don’t look well. Makoto: I’m ok...promise... Makoto: ... Kyoko: ... Makoto: Ok, seriously...Kyoko...why are you wearing that? Kyoko: Ah. I was wondering how long it’d take you to notice my outfit. Makoto: I noticed it the moment we got to the field! Kinda hard not to! Kyoko: Why didn’t you say anything then? Makoto: Ngh...*blushes* Kyoko: Some movies or anime series have maid characters who double as secret agents or investigators. In that sense, an outfit like this isn’t out of place for me. It’s almost like a disguise. Makoto: That’s not why you’re wearing it though, is it? Kyoko: Hmhmhmhm... Makoto: Jeez Kyoko! How am I supposed to fight if I’m constantly being distracted like this!? Makoto: ...In all seriousness though, are you really ok with wearing that? Not only would it put me off my game, but it doesn’t look particularly easy to fight in. Makoto: I’m not doubting your abilities, I promise. I’m just saying, this might not be a good idea, for several reasons. Kyoko: You leave me little room to argue...Admittedly, this is rather embarrassing...However... Makoto: Hm? Kyoko: I don’t particularly mind if any of our allies or enemies see me in this...So long as you’re watching me the whole time, it doesn’t matter. Makoto: Wha-!? HUH!? Kyoko: Come along...“Master”...we have some Despair to wipe out.~ *Kyoko exaunts.* Makoto: ... Makoto: Get it together Makoto...She certainly is quite...yes... Makoto: Ugh! I can’t be left behind! 

Hajime and Mahiru - Goth Getup:

Mahiru: ... Hajime: ... Mahiru: ... Hajime: So...Mahiru... Mahiru: ... *Mahiru starts to exaunt.* Hajime: Mahiru? Mahiru: Please...don’t... *Hajime stands in the way.* Hajime: Hold on a second! Mahiru: Not...a word... Hajime: Not even one? Mahiru: NO! Hajime: But you look so hooot~ Mahiru: Grrgh! *She shoves him.* Mahiru: How can you say stuff like that so blatantly!? You know we’re not the only people on the squad, right!? Hajime: Uh...YOU’RE the one who decided to pick THAT getup. Mahiru: Hoogh... *Mahiru fidgets.* [Comms Open] Chiaki: Hey...Mahiru? If it’s worth anything, I agree with Hajime. You look sexy in that outfit. I think you should have more confidence. Mahiru: ...Thanks...Chiaki...but honestly...you saying that just makes me feel even worse... Hajime: Honestly though, the outfit isn’t completely ideal for combat... Mahiru: Huh? Hajime: You’re a little...underdressed...Mahiru. So if a Monokuma even so much as grazes you with it’s claws, you’re finished. Hajime: Plus, the accessories could get caught on something... Mahiru: Uh... Hajime: And uh...I wouldn’t really know...where to look... Mahiru: I knew it...! UGH! Why did I even pick this out!? This isn’t even my style to begin with! Hajime: Hey, come now. I think we both know the reason you put that outfit on. You wanted to wear something nice for me? Right? Mahiru: ... *Mahiru sheepishly nods.* Hajime: Then there’s nothing for it. Mahiru? Stay close to me. Mahiru: Huh? Hajime: The fact that I won’t be able to take my eyes off you might be a good thing. I can keep you safe. Consider if thanks for the eye candy~ Mahiru: Hehe...Jerk...Fine. I’ll accept your company...Thank you. Chiaki: Aww... [Comms Close]

Shuichi and Kaede - Bunny Girl Outfit:

Kaede: Awesome! About damn time that I got to fight in this thing! Shuichi: You did say you were looking forward to it... Kaede: You ok Shuichi? You don’t sound too chipper. Shuichi: I’m fine! Just...uh... Kaede: Oh...haha...I get it. You’re flustered that I’m fighting in such a revealing outfit, right? Shuichi: What? No...I...ok, yes...That is...PART of it... Kaede: Only part? Wait, don’t tell me the rest...let me guess. Shuichi: Uh... Kaede: Hm...Is it because you’re worried that the seams will come undone while I fight? Shuichi: Huh!? Kaede: Yeah, that sounds like a real problem...This outfit is held together tougher than it looks though, so don’t worry! That won’t be a problem! Kaede: If it wasn’t, I could end up...naked...while fighting...in front of everyone...*blushes* Kaede: Gah! I just thought about it! Never mind! Oh, I really hope that doesn’t happen. Shuichi: N-No, don’t worry. The thought hadn’t crossed my mind... Kaede: Then...what’s the problem? Shuichi: You know what? It doesn’t matter. You wear what you want to wear. Shuichi: For now, taking out the Despair’s in this area is our top priority. And hey, the outfit might distract them long enough for you to get a good attack in. Kaede: I know right! That was what I told Maki when she tried to talk me out of this. Seems we’re ready, so let’s go Shuichi! *Kaede exaunts* Shuichi: ... Shuichi: ...If those seams get cut, she’ll be naked...? NO! No! Don’t imagine it Shuichi! It’s rude...! Shuichi: *sigh* Kaede...Truthfully, I thought you would only wear that outfit when it was just us two...I feel a little jealous... Shuichi: ... Shuichi: Those enemies better not try to lay a finger on her...If they do...Then I won’t show them mercy... *Shuichi exaunts.*

Toko and Komaru - Battling in a Bath Towel:

Toko: ... Komaru: ... Toko: ... Komaru: ... Toko: Hey...Komaru...what the hell are you wearing? Komaru: Look, quit...staring at me... Toko: Then put your damn assets away! *blushes* Toko: Christ...Don’t tell me you basically just jumped out of the bath and came here? Komaru: Well uh...about that...The call to come in was pretty last minute... Toko: Wait, so I was right!? Komaru: I didn’t have time to get changed, ok!? Look, I’m wearing underwear underneath the towel, so I don’t have to worry if it drops at any point. Toko: Just to be safe, stay put for a second. *Toko walks behind Komaru.* Komaru: What are you doing? Toko: Stay still. I’m gonna sew this towel together so it doesn’t fall off while we fight. Like you said, it’s not like we have the time to get you back and changed. Toko: If it gets too hard to fight, I’ll lend you my clothes. I don’t mind swapping. Komaru: ... Toko: Something up? Komaru: ...You’re blushing... Toko: Huh!? Well uh...You ARE wearing basically nothing...I’m not sure where I should be looking when I’m talking to you... Komaru: *blushes* Toko: It’s...not like the bath towel isn’t getting a reaction out of me...but...I’m more worried for your health than turned on or anything... Toko: Worried about both your lack of protection and...your deteriorating brain... Komaru: Hey! That last part was unnecessary! Toko: I’m just nervous, ok!? Gah...Look. Let’s finish this mission up quickly. Komaru: I promise. I’ll go back and get changed when we’re done. In the meantime, I’m leaving it up to you to make sure no one oggles me~ Toko: If they do, that’s entirely your fault. But...Sure. 

Kuripa and Kibin - Dominating Dominatarix:

Kibin: You’ve really let this whole relationship thing get to your head, you know that? Kuripa: I will have you know, I phrased the suggestion as a REQUEST. I wasn’t expecting you to actually wear it. Kibin: What WERE you expecting? Kuripa: To be dominated, for lack of better words? I thought you’d kick me for even suggesting it. Kibin: Me wearing this while we’re on a mission is exposing your hidden fetishes to everyone else on the squad, so I get a win out of this. Kuripa: Pah! Bold of you to assume that I keep any of my fetishes secret. Kibin: Perverted bastard...Sounds like someone needs to feel some discipline. Kuripa: Oh, really?~ *Kuripa brings his face close to hers.* Kuripa: Aren’t you the one who likes to be dominated, Hatsudorky? Kibin: Nah...I just like it when you show your tough and manly side~ Not against hearing you squeal like a girl though. Kuripa: Better hit me just right then, if you want a reaction like that... Kibin: Planning to expose your weaknesses to me?~ Kuripa: Come on, my deadly dear dominatrix...That ruins the fun~ [Comms Open] Uchui: If I may interrupt...Please... Kuripa: What is it buddy? We’re kinda...doing something here... Uchui: Yes...something other than the mission, which you are supposed to be part of. Uchui: Just so you know, you’re both on open comms. Everyone here at HQ can hear you going at it. ...Kinda awkward... Kuripa: Sounds like a them problem. Uchui: Well, it’ll become a YOU problem very soon if you don’t get your act together!  Kibin: I think he’s just trying to kinkshame us... Uchui: I’M NOT-! Ugh! I’m not doing anything of the sort! Uchui: I’m making a simple request that you two get your heads in the game, and then get a room! Over and out... [Comms Close] Kuripa: Hate to admit it, but he’s got a point. Let’s show the Future Foundation some mercy for now. Kuripa: If you’re gonna dominate anyone, let’s dominate these bastards together. How about that? Kibin: Fine by me...But it’s your turn afterwards. Kuripa: Oh boy oh boy oh boy!~

Yoruko and Sora - MILF (Mom I’d Like to Fight)

[Comms Open] Sora: Ok, we’re here...Now say it. Yoruko: Sora... Sora: Yeah? Yoruko: Do I really have to? Sora: What’s the problem? Yoruko: It’s just...I’m on a mission with other people right now, and this outfit is a little...provocative... Sora: What? No it’s not! I’d argue your old hostess outfit is way more provocative! Yoruko: Well, yeah, of course it is! But this one’s not much better! I just look like Stacy’s mom! Sora: Yeah, that’s the point! So give me the line and let’s get this over with. Yoruko: Ugh... *Yoruko breathes in and out.* Yoruko: “Welcome home darling~ Would you like a dinner? Or perhaps a bath? Or maybe even...” Yoruko: ... Sora: ... Yoruko: GAH! I can’t do this! You can’t make me! Sora: Wait, Yoruko, don’t run off!  Yoruko: Stop making me do embarrassing things then! Sora: Alright! Alright...Calm down. Clearly I made you uncomfortable... Yoruko: ... Sora: I’m sorry...I made you do something that you didn’t want to, and made you wear something you’re not comfy with.  Yoruko: Hm... Sora: I just wanted to hear you say it, no matter what...Sorry, I did a dumb thing... Yoruko: Sora...it’s not like I didn’t want to do it... Sora: Huh...!? Yoruko: My problem isn’t the outfit, or what it is you’re making me do...It’s the time and place that’s bothering me. Yoruko: Future Foundation called me in to scout. There are better times to roleplay like this...like when we’re alone. Sora: Yoruko... Yoruko: Thanks to you, I’m gonna have to wear this outfit for the rest of the mission. But I’ll forgive you if you find a way to make it up to me later. Sora: Welp, guess I’d better buy you a nice present. For now, the most I can do is make sure you don’t die. Yoruko: Please do that. I don’t want this to be the last thing I wear before I die. Yoruko: And Sora? You may be the bane of my existence, but I love you a lot. You can have a dinner, a bath, AND me later, if you want. Sora: Yes! Love you too Yoruko. Stay safe. Over and out. [Comms Closed]

//That’s what I got for now.

-Mod

[unsprouted-seed]

I set up a date to hang out w/ my uncle on wednesday. I’ve been really looking forward to it, since we last did 2 wednesdays ago and he said “Let’s make this a thing we do.”

When we had hung out that time I’d not really eaten much of anything in like, a fair while, and I thought that we were going to go to a restaurant or something. I’d set it up that way so that I wouldn’t be able to wriggle out of it. By the time the day came along, I was kind of almost looking forward to it... to not just seeing him, my one social outlet, the one person in my life who I genuinely truly love to see... but the idea of a real meal that I had a hope in hell of maybe just maybe not freaking out about.

He ended up taking me to a food court. I got sushi. It was 350 cals. It WAS good, and I really enjoyed being out with him I just... it was ... anticlimactic. And I wasn’t strong enough to be able to request that we have anything a bit... more.

So he’s coming over again and we’ll go out again and I don’t know where we’ll go. I’ve been thinking about it, not obsessively, but a fair bit... I’m not exaggerating that he’s my only social outlet.... and I kinda made it up in my head this big thing like “If I can just make it to lunch with my uncle I’m okay, if I can get there I can prove I’m okay, and I’ll even eat a real meal and that proves that I’m okay and everything’s okay and will be okay.”

And I’ve been thinking about how like... about what kind of thing we might get... what kind of food we might have... where we might go. And I just realised... it doesn’t even matter. It flat out doesn’t matter. We could go to a dozen restaurants in a row and have a dozen courses at each and .... it wouldn’t matter. One meal, one day, one afternoon isn’t going to make up for my reality. My cal intake is so low it’s barely above fasting, AND I’m exercising almost to the point of collapse, AND I’m undermedicated AND I’m taking diet pills AND I’m pumping myself full of caffeine AND I’m underhydrated and and and and....

Every single measure I consider to “help” is so pathetic it’s practically comedy. If I think about “eating more” it’s one 300 cal meal one time to get slightly more protein. If I “seek help” it’s a tiny conversation with someone and then saying “I’m doing okay” when they follow up later. Multiple ed friends now have started to tell me that it’s time to pull the trigger and call it what it is... and I laugh it off and go “Oh well, it just SOUNDS worse than it is when I write it down, I just catastrophise...”

I genuinely honestly was on the verge of getting in touch with mum on friday. I came SUPER close a couple times, to pulling that trigger. And then my housemates took me out to lunch, told me it’d be okay, told me about this friend they have who’s looking for a housemate to get a house with. I got in touch with her and she seems really nice, we clicked pretty fast and genuinely ... I felt temporarily a lot more hopeful about the future, and I felt like...hey... I have AN OPTION. FINALLY...

But if I’m realistic... I never stopped starving. Never stopped exercising. Never stopped any of it. And I told her, straight up, “Look, I’m in this place where I don’t know where my health is going to be in the future, I can’t guarantee if I can pull myself out of this nosedive, and I just cannot be relied upon to be healthy enough not to cause drama, or not suddenly fucking die, or not be unable to pay the rent ... and unless I can trust in myself having some basic amount of stability I’m not going to put you in that position, because it’s not fair, you’re not my mum, you don’t deserve to deal with it.”

She took it well, and I said I’ve got this doctor’s appointment on the 25th that I’m just trying to make it to, and then see if I can sort out some kind of .... I don’t know. Some kind of plan from there. And if I can work out a reasonable plan then ... yeah maybe that’s an option. And .... and that’s still... that still sounds, in theory, reasonable.

But man... this realisation today about my uncle... it’s just one of a series of big like, eye-openers I’ve been having in the last week or so... just like, big scary reality checks of going “Fuck. This isn’t a relapse... I was never in recovery. Fuck. This isn’t a slide, this is a nosedive. Fuck. This isn’t a nosedive, it’s a death spiral.” And I see it... I do... and I get more and more sure that I’m not even going to make it to the doctor... at this point my vibe is that I’m going to get to my wednesday hangout and then................ the future is just.................. blank. I ... at this point, I like to think that I’m on the verge of hitting the emergency button and calling mum. I like to think that I’m about to make a big change...

I fear that in a weeks time nothing’ll be different. And I have NO idea how much longer I can push it.

Last night I had a series of extreme nightmares. Halfway through I woke up, and had this strong belief that I was having a heart attack. I’m not... sure why. I didn’t have lots of chest pain or something, I just had this intense idea that I was having a heart attack, and my entire body felt really heavy and awful. And I just................................................. laid there. Like “This is it. Okay.”

I’m willing to admit it. I need help.

I’m just not sure if I’m capable of getting it.

[yabagofmilfs]

It’s good I’m not a hockey player for a variety of reasons, but chief among them the way I would be SO MORTIFIED if I managed a breakaway and then missed the net. I would have to leave the game immediately and fake my own death, leave the country and assume a new identity in some tropical locale that had never even heard of hockey.

Except one day there’d be this kid playing ball hockey all by himself that would give me this pang in my belly, you know? I’d try to ignore it but every time I’d see the kid it’d get worse until finally I’m not eating, I’m not sleeping, I’m just thinking about this kid (not in a weird way) and how hockey always finds a way. And so next time I see him playing on my way to my shift at the local beachfront bar, slinging mai tais for tourists (it’s an honest living), I say “hey kid!” real casual like and give him a couple of pointers. Hey says “thanks, mister!” and the next time I catch him he’s got a couple more kids playing with him, and the next time even more until finally there are enough kids for a full scrimmage. I end up buying them all rollerblades and it’s a fucking horror show of skinned knees and sprained wrists but i can’t remember the last time I felt so alive. (Yes I can, but we don’t talk about that—don’t bring it up again. That life is dead to me now.)

Finally I decide I’m gonna build a real rink for these kids, they deserve to experience real hockey. I spend hundreds of thousands of dollars on this thing. It’s elite. I outfit these kids impeccably. I put on a fucking clinic okay. These kids are going to be contenders. The local media gets wind of it, they show up to interview me. I’m nervous, right? There’s no reason anyone should put me and my past self together but you just never know. I’m sweating through my mustache, but I keep it together. “Mike,” they say, “what inspired you to built an ice hockey rink in Orlando, Florida?” It occurs to me that I’ve forgotten I live at the Disney World beach resort and not actually in the Caribbean. Nevermind, it doesn’t matter. “Uh, I just wanted to give these kids the same opportunities I had,” I say. The newscaster raises a brow. “Did you play hockey as a kid?” Shit. “No,” I say too quickly. “I mean yes. But obviously you know, not professionally. I was never drafted first overall or anything crazy like that haha.” Nailed it.

It’s a nice piece. It gets more kids interested. I’m feeling pretty good about life, all things considered. Until June rolls around. I’m running practice for my kids, we’re having a good time. I’m in the middle of explaining a drill when all the hair on my body stands up like I’ve been struck by lightning. I think damn, I better pop some echinacea right? You know, normal. And then I hear it. The voice that haunts my nightmares. He says my name. I don’t answer. I can’t. That’s not my name, not anymore. I buried that name back in pittsburgh over six months ago. “I know you hear me.” I blow my whistle. “Take five,” I tell the kids, and turn to face my past.

“My name’s Mike now. I’m not that guy anymore, G.” I look down at my feet. “I don’t know if I ever was.” G scoffs. “You miss one goal, give up everything?” I shake my head. He wouldn’t understand. With his big body and the way he dominates everyone he plays with, he’d never understand the humiliation of being a generously rounded up 5’11 and shaped like a weeble when you can’t even score an undefended goal. “It’s not just that. Since being here I’ve had the space to figure out what’s important to me. Like being able to eat bread and having at least two Reese’s cups per day.” I swallow hard. “And I kissed a boy. It was nice.” It was not nice. Brendan the tram driver tasted like weed and orange juice which was a combination I’d never considered but now am cursed to never forget.

“Can come home, kiss a boy, Sid,” G says quietly and I can’t look at him. I can’t. He tips my chin up gently. “You teach kids breakaway yet?” I shake my head, squeezing my eyes shut. “You know I can’t.” Geno laughs softly. “I make you deal. We teach them together, if they score you come home with me.” I laugh, I can’t help it. This devious bastard. He knows I can’t resist teamwork and repetitive drills. “You’re on.”

The kids score. I go home with Geno. The next season, I claw myself out of the grave I dug myself (it involved several lawyers and a lot of paperwork), and I put that sweater on and got back out onto the ice. The crowds cheer and the pucks go in. And I kiss a boy.

And that’s the moral of the story. Sometimes you have to get through hard times, like kissing a boy who tastes terrible, in order to get to the good stuff: kissing a boy who tastes like spearmint gum and all your wildest dreams. It’s all about the journey.

[jodilin65]

TUESDAY, JUNE 30, 1998 Oh, my fucking God! Caddy kid just went blasting by like you wouldn’t believe. He did this yesterday at this time, too, but not as loud. So what are we in for here? We back to the blasting by several times a day? I think one of these mornings Caddy kid may find me waiting for him in the street. It obviously isn’t a kid in school since school’s out, so I guess it’s going to a job in the mornings.

It’s pretty ironic that Caddy Kid starts up again right when El Cocko leaves. As if something wants to compensate me for the lack of door slams and for just knowing that that fuck’s not there as much.

At 7:15, we went through the same weird ritual next door. The Caddy pulled up just to the opening of the carport, then we went through 10-15 minutes of door slamming, then El Cocko pulled up at the curb in front of the house. I came to peek out just as I saw him walking from the back of his car, then he got in and drove off. I don’t think it was in its trunk, so maybe, the Caddy comes to get the bitch and he comes to get the kid.

In my email to my folks, I mentioned how cutting out real sugar has helped a bit, and in her reply, she said I could do anything I set my mind to do. Oh yeah? Well, that’s weird coming from her. Weird, but nice. She’d never have said that to me in the past, but it’s nice to have her vote of confidence.

For the third day in a row, I was 120 pounds even at the end of my day. Even after not eating for 12 hours, though, I stayed at 120 for a couple of reasons. Well, first off, my metabolism’s still slow and secondly, getting down into the one-teens is gonna be very very hard cuz it’s now completely foreign to my body to do that. It’d take it time to “learn” how to get down there. Just like it took time for my body to get the hang of being at 100 pounds and staying there for quite a while. I still don’t think this 120 will keep on holding, let alone drop into the one-teens. I still think I’ll return to 124 and stay there indefinitely.

We did go to Melanie’s yesterday after all. Tom still has to have work done on the car and is gonna be taking it to a dealer since the place he brought the car to yesterday didn’t touch it after promising to have it done by noon.

Melanie looked hot, but I like her with bangs better than with her hair swept back off her forehead. Either way, she has nice hair. I just hope she doesn’t ever hack it off short while I’m seeing her.

She asked me more about the mice and if Tom likes animals too. I asked her when I was gonna get to see her with her hair straightened and she said she didn’t know, but she straightens it a couple of times a week. If she were attracted to me too, and cared about my opinion, and wanted me to see her in different ways for variety, she’d have it straightened next time I go to her, but I know better. She’s not the least bit attracted to me and could care less about showing me her hair straightened. As you know, I like straight hair better than curls, but it’s hard to picture her hair straight. Maybe because she’s so exceptionally good-looking, she looks better with it curled and to me, it does take a great-looking woman to look good in curly hair.

For a moment, as she was in front of me getting tools as I was lying back, she turned, and her eyes swept me from head to toe for a second. Oh, how I wish she was checking me out with lust in her eyes, but nope. It was just a casual glance, I’m sure.

I try hard not to stare too long into those gorgeous, dark brown eyes cuz I wouldn’t want to make her uncomfortable. Melanie will never know of my crush on her, but I wonder how she’d react to being told of my attraction for her. Would she be OK with it? Even flattered? Or would she freak? Part of me thinks she’d be OK with it, but the other part’s not sure cuz I see a hint of Rosemarie in her. She’s friendly and is more talkative, but she’s more serious and I can see traces of that snobbish, judgmental Rosemarie in her. Given those touches of Rosemarie in her, if they really are there, she may refer someone like me to someone else if she knew.

I still wish she were my neighbor, rather than my ortho. It’d be worth her two dogs that’d be outside barking just a few feet away 24/7. I’m sure her dogs, like all dogs out here, are outside all the time. It’s a bummer that we’ll never be friends. Even just friends, which would be enough for me, but that’s life.

Anyway, getting the bracket on was no easy task for her. She didn’t have enough hands and even had me help by holding a tool in place while she went to get a couple of others to help hold wires. I almost got poked in the eye by one of the wires. I was pretty sore, as she said I’d be, for a few hours last night and today. I took some Ibuprofen. I’m OK as long as I don’t bite into any hard foods. Besides, I’m not eating much, and I don’t want to risk knocking off this bracket.

I have to see her now every two weeks till that tooth comes into place. What a bitch and what a bitch on my scheduling. Tom says it’ll be easier than I think. I hope so and thank God, she’s so gorgeous! It helps.

Later…

I knew I’d gain weight again. I’m up to 122 pounds and climbing. My body’s really comfortable in this day and age at 124 pounds. It’ll get back there by the end of today or tomorrow.

Lisa called and she’s fed up. She says she knows she deserves punishment for getting suspended, doesn’t mind helping out, loves her mother, but has had enough of the never-ending grueling chores and is sick of having no life. She also says she’s to be leaving with Bill in a couple of days to go to Florida. Tammy’s gonna let her be alone with a guy who beats her and who just came close to hitting her again? Real smart, Tammy!

God, when are you gonna kill this guy? What? Do you love him that much? Is he just too great of a guy for hitting Lisa that you just can’t kill him? How can you let such sick, unfair shit go on in this world, you fucking bastard?!

Anyway, Lisa’s afraid that doing what she’s got to do would interfere with her seeing my folks. Also, Tammy said she’d never talk to her again if she went to live with Larry. What kind of a mother would say that to their own kid? She’s really a hell of a mother for not accepting what her kid wants and for being so selfish.

I told Lisa that she’s got to worry about herself and her own needs. Not what Tammy would do or think and not about visiting people. I told her that she could either stay where she is, go to Larry’s, or talk to her therapist about taking legal action through the courts to get her out of that house and into God knows where. Kids have a ton of rights nowadays where they used to have none. There should be some legal action she can take to get her out of that house. Something they didn’t have when I was her age. She can petition the courts to live with Larry or at least somewhere that’s not a funny farm that’ll just dope her up.

Later…

I spoke with Larry a little while ago. I began to tell him of my earlier talk with Lisa and he stopped me and said that before I went any further, he didn’t want to get into that he said she said ordeal, and said he’s working on it, just listen to Lisa, and that’s it. So after I reminded him that I was on his side and would never repeat any of our discussions with the wrong person, he let me know that he’s still on top of it and hasn’t given up. Thank God! He also said he’s talked to Mom. I’m sure that since Mom’s mad at Tammy, she’s encouraging him to do what he’s gotta do. If she weren’t mad at Tammy, she’d probably tell him not to get involved.

I’m hoping that he and Lisa can petition the courts to allow Lisa to live with Larry. I would think that any normal, rational court would take Lisa’s feelings into consideration and listen to her when she talks of her emotional state at that house.

Later…

Here’s that blue pickup that does the freeloader’s yard. Guess they’re gonna be coming every Tuesday, huh?

Got that Olivia Newton-John CD after all. I didn’t think I’d get it.

Later…

Yup, we’re back to the 3 times a day routine from Caddy Kid. Well, tomorrow I’ll be waiting for him.

Got the bedding my parents sent. It’s bright, but sort of boring. The sheets are plain yellow and the comforter has a yellow floral design. It beats that blue-striped one they sent, though, and is always nice to have.

MONDAY, JUNE 29, 1998 Yesterday, Tom relaxed and did his two favorite things - TV and computer.

We screwed too, and this time, he stayed in there for a while. Neither of us came, but as always these days, I’m glad to see him not cum. I don’t like the mess it makes, and he’s just as happy not cumming, so it works out well. Nowadays, I consider us to finally have the ideal sex life but back when I was horny all the time and wanted him to cum, it was a humiliating, frustrating ordeal!

Today I see Melanie. Can’t wait! I’m gonna be kind of tired when I see her, but at least I don’t have to worry about having to take Benadryl and get back to sleep if I wake up after just 4 hours after today.

In two weeks I see that Dr. Linda Brown. I hope I have the strength to do right by God and do the proper thing period, by not mentioning my infertility. It’s not a health hazard, therefore, I should be left as God created me and allowed me to be. It’s for a reason and a good one, too. I shouldn’t be mentioning my weight either, as God’s gonna get me for the few pounds I’ve lost as it is. At least I believe he will. Maybe not, though. Maybe it’d take me losing 10-15 pounds before compensation made its way to me.

I wonder if Melanie will notice the difference in me. It’d be nice if she were just as attracted to me as I am to her, but I know better. Still, the fantasy is nice. Most people, gay or straight, aren’t attracted to overweight people, though. Yes, I’m definitely smaller, and for the 3rd day in a row I woke up at 120 pounds, but I’m still a chunky one. I still say my appetite will return and I’ll go back to that infamous 124 pounds, as I always end up doing.

I knew it. Andy didn’t call during the weekend cuz I told him it’d be OK to. If I had asked him yet again not to, he’d have called for sure.

Marla’s gone back east for 3 weeks to stay at the beach. Charlotte and Jim are there now. They still come to New England for the summers. Boo and Max are gonna be selling their house in Longmeadow.

Anyway, Marla says that once she gets back home, she’ll discuss jury duty with me. All she said so far was that a guy was found guilty of murder, sane at the time of the shooting, and got sentenced to death. But he won’t die if you ask me. Unfortunately, criminals get much less than they’re sentenced to. If you get death, you really get life in prison 99% of the time. If you get 20 years, you serve 5-10. It’s really asinine.

For fun and for stuff like email, I’m gonna try out this new talker that Tom’s got once he makes my computer even faster. With this one, you don’t have to talk so slowly. It can keep up with you talking at normal speed, but it still won’t be as fast and as accurate as my typing.

Also, Tom’s gonna see about Mary sending me a copy of a really high-tech, sophisticated word processor, now that she’s got a modem (which she miraculously installed herself!) and can send it by phone. This one’s supposed to let me have more color choices.

On Saturday, we went to a used bookstore which is great. It groups books more organized compared to the library. There was a section with hundreds of books that I like that is like searching for a needle in a haystack at the library. It only costs $16 for 8 books and I can take these books back when I’m done with them for credit and get 8 more for just $8. Usually, though, they charge half of the cover price.

It appears Tom was right - the red car that’s been next door is a rental. A couple, I guess, flew in from God knows where to visit the bitch. They may be gone now, though, cuz unless the car’s pulled up in the carport, it’s not there. I can’t believe how quiet they were, but again, I really believe that’s cuz the cock’s been out of the picture. If it were around, they’d be barbecuing and having loud parties for hours, not to mention blasting music. Speaking of music, that’s why I think Tom’s right about the rental car. Those don’t come with those killer stereos, so that explains why there was no music, cuz I’m sure that they’d be happy to bang in and out if it did have a stereo like that, with or without the cock around.

The Caddy just pulled in. I can’t see the driver, though, and who knows if it’s to pick up the kid, her, or both? Speaking of Caddies, Caddy Kid’s been by only once that I know of since Tom said he heard him bang by a few days ago. Thank God it’s not cruising by 3 times a day every day, though!

Those wireless headphones Tom got are great. You can go all around the house and into the backyard with them. They’ll be great for housework and for doing anything out back during the winter when the guard dogs are at it non-stop.

OK bitch, that’s the eighth door slam. Why don’t you get in or out and have Caddy get the fuck out now? What? Is this bitch packing little by little cuz she couldn’t make her late rent payment?

What the fuck’s going on now? I just up and checked and the Caddy’s finally fucked off now, but guess who was parked on the street? Mr. Baldy himself. Yeah, I saw him get into his car and leave. Again, no music, fortunately for them, but why would he pop in so early in the morning? I doubt he’s moved back in yet, cuz if he spent the night, he wouldn’t have parked in the carport, then moved it to the street. And I know it wasn’t on the street all night cuz I’d have seen it. I’m hoping that he used the U-Haul to move his shit out for at least a few months. Cuz if he were only taking off for a week or two, why would you need enough stuff to pack in a U-Haul for just a couple of weeks?

Later…

Well, we’re not going to see Melanie today. I worked really hard at getting on schedule all for nothing. Out of our two shitty cars, one won’t start, and one’s in the shop. Tom said they said the car would be ready at noon. Bullshit! I know how people overestimate time. I’ll be seeing Melanie some other day.

SUNDAY, JUNE 28, 1998 It's gonna be a really close call getting to Melanie's tomorrow. I didn't sleep as late as I'd have liked to. I want to stay up at least until 8 PM, but already I am so tired!

Today Tom's 41. He's still asleep. He picked out a birthday cake, got wireless headphones, and he even picked me up a really nice Arizona puzzle with cactuses and palm trees.

He also got food for the critters and a bottle for Bunny. I have it hooked to a piece of chicken wire that's surrounding one of the cactuses out there. This'll be better than a water dish so that bugs, dirt, and leaves won't get in it.

SATURDAY, JUNE 27, 1998 God, the Humane Society really is full of its share of desperate, begging, bribing people who just don’t give up! They sent me more animal labels in the hopes of getting some money from me. Well, I can use these, thanks to them, till we move.

The red car was still parked here when I crashed at 11:00 this morning. And thanks to the Benadryl, which I don’t know what I’d do without, I slept well and long. I slept on and off for 12 hours so seeing Melanie should be no prob!

Before Tom went to bed at 10:00 he left me a message saying that that car had been in and out, but he couldn’t always hear when they’d come or go. By that, he means car doors, or else he’d have told me there was music or something else if he’d heard it. He said he got a quick glimpse of that guy and said he didn’t think it was the same guy. He said this guy appeared older and had some hair. Well, I don’t know about that, but I got to thinking about it afterward and perhaps this guy isn’t black enough. Wasn’t Mike darker than this guy?

I looked out and didn’t see the car, so unless it’s in the carport, I don’t know what the story is with this car or who these people are. Maybe it’s the kid and a girlfriend, who knows? I just hope there won’t be no shit this weekend. Things have been great and I want to keep it that way as long as I can, preferably till we move, if God will allow it. What? Is this car gonna come and go and slam me 20 times a day this weekend? That’d be better than music, but I’d still rather not have to deal with that.

I awoke at 120 pounds. I could eat my way back up to 124 by the end of my day if I ate normally, but I’m still not hungry enough to do so and don’t want to risk getting sick again. I’ll be back to 124. I always am sooner or later. This is the third or fourth time I’ve hit down at 120. It never lasts long and again, I better hope, in a way, that I don’t get thin again cuz the compensation and price to pay for it may be worse than being fat itself.

Tom was telling me that for now, since people’s needs constantly change, he’s sacrificing his dream of having a home business for me. He says he doesn’t know what he’ll do in the future, but says that right now, it’d be a bad thing to do cuz it’d take our time away from each other. Then why would he ever think he wanted a kid? I think I know what he’s driving at by saying this to me. There may be a very serious grain of truth to what he’s saying. I’m not saying he doesn’t have a point, but could he be hoping that he could use that to get me to put off being tested? He said that he notices that if he encourages me daily to do something that’s not easy for me to do, it pressures me. Well, he can rest assured cuz even if I did want a kid still, I wouldn’t do anything to steal our time away from each other. I would say no to a kid no matter what, but I don’t want that anymore, and I’m not so sure I’m that curious anymore to go through the hassles of testing and all that. I’ve had enough tests and medical procedures to last me 20 lifetimes. And I’m still one gutless puppy. It’s not that I’m embarrassed to talk about it to a doctor or afraid of the testing itself. I’m afraid of God. If I go against him, he wouldn’t hesitate to lash out at me. Also, no doctor could help us without us dealing with Tom’s infrequent cumming and I still don’t see how he’d let himself be helped with that. I’m still certain that he’d have conned and manipulated his way out of being helped, which, therefore, would’ve meant we could not be helped. Even if they fixed me, it would do us no good with our strange and part-time sex. So I’ll be OK with wondering all my life exactly what makes me sterile and I’ll most certainly be OK without a kid. I love life and my husband too much for that even if I am an abnormal, fat, unique, freaky thing with her share of trouble and a few bad days here and there.

Later…

What the fuck? How fucking weird! That car just came in. There were two not-too-loud door-slams and this is just sooooo baffling. I have no clue as to what the hell’s going on anymore. Are these people moving her little by little? Would that explain all the trips in and out? But at this hour? Sounds like drug runs to me, cuz wouldn’t I sense it for sure if the bitch was moving? I know I didn’t sense that bald fuck splitting, but wouldn’t I sense it if she were splitting? And wouldn’t there be some kind of sale or rent sign up? Maybe not, cuz I’d guess the city would want to come in and fix the place up before putting up any signs to sell it if they sold it and didn’t rent it to another pack of poor blacks or Hispanics.

Later…

I got Weight Watchers magazine in the mail today. It was boring and I pretty much just skimmed through it. It was one of the 3 magazines I ordered on account of Becky’s being a brownie.

I wouldn’t be surprised if that red car didn’t move till the early afternoon. All these freeloaders have always seemed to be night people for the most part, and I’m sure that after coming in at 4:00 in the morning, they’re gonna want to sleep in. These could be friends of the bitch’s. Maybe she decided that without Baldy in the picture, she didn’t feel comfortable being here alone cuz of me, so she asked her friends to move in. I don’t know where the hell they’d sleep, though, if she’s in one room, the freeloader’s in another, and teeny bop’s in the other. Perhaps the living room?

FRIDAY, JUNE 26, 1998 Our little freeloader just slammed in. I heard two car doors really loud like it wanted to get someone’s attention. Someone meaning me, of course. Some people just don’t give up! It’s parked up front, so hopefully that means it’ll leave. I couldn’t see for sure if it was his car, but who else would it be at this hour? I just hope it doesn’t plan on staying the weekend, but we’ll see.

Later…

Fuck! The freeloader’s still here. I know what this means, too. It means it’s negotiating with her about coming back. This is a definite sign saying it’s on its way back. As it got closer to moving back in last year, its visits got more frequent and its overnight stays increased, too, then it was back to stay.

Later…

In just a couple of hours, daylight will be here and I’ll be able to see this vehicle more clearly that’s parked out front. It looks a little tall to be the freeloader’s gray car and the shape seems a bit off. You never know what a car dealer’s gonna be driving, though. Or car thief. Whichever it truly is. I just hope it’s not back in a Jeep again. something about jeeps makes him tend to blare the music more, but let him. Cuz if he does, he’s out of here and so is the bitch. So far, though, there’s been no music and it’s great not hearing a million door slams a day. For now, anyway.

I’ll also call Lisa to see what’s going on. I’ll call her at 6 AM our time which will be 9 AM her time and when Tammy will be gone to work.

Later…

How the fuck can that cat still be alive?! White Paws came in to eat, then I decided to torment the little bitch with a broom handle since I still don’t like this cat like I like Blackie. White Paws sort of takes after her bitch of a mother. After a few minutes of jamming the broom tip into her head with all my strength, she bolted for the door. I caught her in the door by her neck and pressed with all my strength. She wailed, but since I didn’t feel like pressing this door into her forever, I let her go and she ran to the side of the house where the cinder blocks are where she was born. Blackie followed her.

Blackie just came back in to eat some more, but White Paws won’t. She’ll be stupid enough to come back tomorrow, though. If she doesn’t die today, then yes, God really wants me dealing with this cat while we’re still here. In fact, she’s already getting braver. She’s now out back, rather than at the side of the house (I just went out to give Measles mice food since it has the same seeds/grains birds eat). What is it with cats and abuse? Do they like it? Or are they just too stupid to remember it and avoid it from happening again?

Later…

Boy, are we getting weirder by the minute! I just can’t keep up with all these cars and people at the freeloaders. That car was not the gray car. It was a red car. Again, it was fairly new and fairly nice.

At 7:45 I saw the bitch walking up her driveway. Maybe she went out to pick up newspapers. A few minutes later that silver Caddy pulled up and it waited 15 minutes for the bitch. I think it was that same car, but this time, the driver was female. If I heard right, the bitch put the kid in this car, but she didn’t leave in it. She and the driver were talking as loud as can be, as rude as can be, as if they were the only ones on the street and as if everyone is on their schedule and gets up when they do. I could only make out a few scattered words. None of which I can remember.

Then a female I may or may not have seen before (black, tall, fat) came and got in the passenger side of the red car. Same thing - talking deliberately loud and making sure to really slam doors hard. A male got into the driver’s side, which would explain why I heard two door slams at just after midnight last night. One for her, one for him, but I couldn’t tell who “him” is. It could be Mike, it could be the kid. The kid’s about the same height and old enough to drive, I think.

So, at just after 7:00 they left and 45 minutes later they returned. How fucking weird! Who the fuck would leave early on a weekday morning for just 45 minutes? I wonder when they’ll leave again and if I’ll hear music. Guess it’ll all depend on just how much they want to stay here. What? Are there 4 people living there now, or what? Is this car gonna be slamming in and out daily now?

Well, I’m gonna go read and try to stay awake as long as I can to get to see Melanie on Monday. She’ll be calling in about an hour!

Later…

I forgot to say that Tom’s mom got hearing aids and they make quite a difference, so that’s good.

Also, I called and spoke to Lisa. Tammy leaves at 6:30 in the morning and doesn’t return till 4:00. I guess the sick fuck (Bill) stops by daily.

Die, you bastard, die!

If he did die, though, then that’d scrap the child support payments. Fortunately, Lisa didn’t cut herself and I told her how relieved I was to hear that and that I was very proud of her, too. She said she was just pissed cuz Tammy came in after she had cleaned all day and yelled, “What have you been doing all day?” Guess Becky and Sarah made messes that made it look like Lisa hadn’t done anything, I don’t know.

Lisa, Becky and Sarah are home alone all day. I asked Lisa (after speaking to Sarah and Becky. Becky says she’s gonna send me a letter) what Becky and Sarah do all day. She says they watch TV and eat all day. She says Becky’s a bit heavy. I knew it. I could tell from the pictures I’ve seen of her over the last 5 years or so, so I knew she’d be heavy sooner or later. Out of the three of them, I think she’ll be the one to look a lot like Tammy. In her latest picture, I saw Tammy in her unlike I’d ever seen in any of Sarah’s or Lisa’s pictures. She is quite homely. Sarah’s cute, but too young to really tell how she’ll look when she gets older. Lisa’s looking good, but it’s so hard to really see them from just pictures and videos.

Three little girls all alone in the woods like that is a bit scary. What if a crazed gunman decided to break into that secluded little house thinking it was empty? What if when he saw three girls in there (although Lisa and Becky aren’t so little) he decided to rape, sodomize, beat, and even kill them? Well, hopefully God will protect them from any such tragedy and nightmare.

The only fear I have about moving is break-ins. It’s so secluded where we’re going. There’d be no witnesses. I can’t believe that in the 12 years Tammy’s lived in that house, and in the 8 years the fuck lived in there alone prior to meeting Tammy, there’s never been a break-in. The only problem they’ve had is kids breaking into their car once.

Later…

Just had a wonderful little chat with Melanie. I said, “Hi Melanie” when I picked up the phone and she asked how I knew it was her. I told her we had caller ID and that not many other people would be calling at this time.

I told her the tooth has come down some more and she said that this time she’s gonna see if she can get a bracket on it. I hope so and that it stays.

Then I said I thought one of my mice got loose, to start some small talk. She said, “Oh, you got mice?” I said yes, and told her about all the animals here. She said she thought she was bad and told me she’s got two dogs, two cats, a bird and a hamster. Then she told me to have a good weekend and that was pretty much it. Can’t wait to see her!

The red car’s still here.

THURSDAY, JUNE 25, 1998 Again, how do I get used to cigarettes again and how did I get used to them in the first place? Yeah, I had Tom get me cigarettes again. He got them nearly an hour after I asked him to, though. I know he wanted to eat and wake up, but I think he was stalling with the hopes that I’d change my mind.

Accepting the new fat me just isn’t as easy as I hoped it’d be. What if it takes me as many years to accept it as it took me to accept never having a kid, among other things?

If I can rehook myself to cigarettes, I’m gonna quit again either way. I’ll either lose weight and will stop eating when I stop smoking again. Or I won’t lose weight but will quit again and go to a doctor to find out why I can’t lose weight. If the doctor tells me there’s really nothing I can do about it, and that that’s just the way some people are, especially older non-smokers whose heart rates and metabolisms differ from those who are younger or who smoke, only then can I accept my fate as a fat person. Like I said, I know I’ll be fat either for a long time or for the rest of my life, but I just can’t seem to accept it. Here’s a scary thought, though. What if I can’t quit the second time around? I thought that because I lost a lot of weight once, I could do it again. Obviously, I was wrong, so what if I can’t quit smoking again if I return to it? I never thought I’d have such mixed emotions as far as my finally being able to get off the cigarettes and my no longer wanting a child goes. I’m happy I quit smoking and improved my lungs (some of the time), but that only made me fat. I’m glad I finally stopped wanting the child I could never deal with or have, but still, I feel like I’ve swapped one problem for another. I feel controlled and as if all rights to choose have been stripped from me. If I miraculously could be thin again with or without cigarettes, I’d have some new problem thrown at me. If I decided I wanted a kid again, could magically fight God and Tom to get that kid, my new problems would be the fact that I could not handle a kid cuz of my schedule and cuz of the way I am. I know I’d only be another Dureen and Tammy and that I’d abuse it. I can see now just how easy it’d be to succumb to beating it and throwing it away to foster homes or funny farms. Tom says that’s the first step to doing something about it, but it’s not that easy. Just cuz you know you shouldn’t do something, doesn’t mean that you’ll be able to do what’s right.

Or am I just telling myself this shit to make it easier to deal with what I’ll never have???

So, the point is, I feel trapped and hopeless either way. Most of my problems, like my schedule, inability to sleep with my own husband, and infertility, aren’t your common everyday problems that can be fixed, they’re rare, unique, freakish problems that I could never fix. I feel like I’ll be trapped, overwhelmed and miserable no matter what. I either smoke and make my lungs worse, I either don’t smoke and be fat, I either don’t have a kid and wonder from time to time just what I could be missing or if I was right about how I feel it would have been like, or I have a kid and suffer the consequences of that. Meaning, the giving up of my life and the not being able to handle it. The bottom line is that there is nothing I can do about these things. It’s out of my hands. I have no say in these matters whether I tried to have some say in it or not. I can’t fight God and I can’t fight my husband. So, all I can do is try to remember that God made me and my life as it is for a reason and that if I didn’t have the problems I do, there’d only be other problems that I’d have. Also, I believe that if Tom really wanted a kid as bad as he says he does, he’d push me a little harder to see what could be done about that.

Maybe I could do something about my fat and my inability to reach out for help in fixing my female parts due to my fears about being a parent if Tom suggested every day that I should do whatever I could do to fix these problems and go to a doctor, but I can’t make Tom suggest things he doesn’t want to suggest. And a repetitious daily suggestion is what it’d take too. I’m that scared and weak. I wish I could conquer my fears, but I can’t, and I can’t make my husband say something that isn’t in his heart or that isn’t important to him. My husband will still be fine and will still love me if I stay fat and he’ll be OK and still love me if I can’t get up the nerve to speak out about my sterility to a doctor and try to fix it, then try to handle motherhood if they could make that happen. Even if a doctor could make my parts work OK at the snap of their fingers, we don’t have the proper sex for making babies. We couldn’t get me pregnant cuz my screwy schedule and his busyness prevent us from having sex more than once a week and that, combined with his age, pains, tiredness, and him being just the way he is, prevents us from cumming regularly. The way to impregnate a woman is to cum at least 5 days in a row, but that is not Tom S any more than it’s Tom S to sit and make prank phone calls. He is how he is, and I am how I am (not always so great in bed) and no doctor can fix/help us. So even if a million people cheered me on about these issues every day, what good would it do? I’m beyond help. My fate’s been sealed a long time ago as far as these issues go. I said that years ago and I’m still right about it and will always be. Nothing will change about that, but I still have such a hard time accepting my fatness. I know I will someday, and I know that when I do finally accept it, I’ll have a new problem that’s hopeless and that I cannot fix and that I’ll have to accept.

Later…

I have a lot to fill you in on now that my moods have stabilized back out to what they usually are, thank God.

First of all, Lisa tried calling again today. In the morning I’ll see if I can see what’s up. I hope to hell she didn’t cut herself again. I told Tom I didn’t feel I was competent enough to help her and he said I was doing all I could do and was doing an excellent job. Then why is she still cutting herself? God kept kids away from me for a reason and that’s cuz he knows I couldn’t deal with them. Thank God, though, and why oh why I ever thought I’d not only want to throw my life away on a kid, but have a Lisa living under our roof, beats the shit out of me. Tom says that in time, my words will sink into Lisa and that she’ll get better. I hope so!

Anyway, it’s one thing to know that something wanted me to quit smoking and that something does not want me to return to cigarettes, but then there’s really knowing! Yes, it was really drilled into this thick skull of mine the hard way. The other few times I tried smoking again, I just got a slight headache and a bit of nausea. Not this time! This time I got the headache and nausea, but I was also very dizzy too. So I ran into the bedroom and turned on the fan and blew it on myself to help clear my head. Then I went back out and smoked again, suddenly more determined to rebel against God and do all the things he’s forbidden me to do. What quickly changed my mind, though, was that the next time I had decided I could use some wind, he had broken my fan. Yup, the only loud fan we’ve got. He couldn’t just wait one more lousy year! Like what happened next wasn’t enough of a punishment and enough to drill it into my head that I must not smoke for reasons I don’t know if I’ll ever know?!

Anyway, I woke up at 120½. Not cuz this low fat/cal diet decided it’d work for once. Not cuz God decided to help me help myself lose weight. But because I ended up puking what I’d eaten early on in my day and was too queasy feeling for the rest of the day to have anything more than a few grapes, a few bites of spaghetti, and liquids. I know better, though. By the end of the day, I’ll be right back up to 124 and will stay that way for quite a while. I still have a virtually non-existent metabolism and while it’s a shame, it’s true that I either gotta get sick, or stop eating, in order to lose weight. I wish I could make myself bulimic, but I can’t. I can’t live on liquids either.

I know that something not only wants me not to smoke, but it wants me heavy, too. It’s important. It’s necessary for some reason I haven’t discovered yet, but I absolutely must never smoke again or lose weight, according to something up there. There is a reason why I was destined to quit smoking when I did, then get fat. I just hope this extra fat and nutrition it brings isn’t to help me survive a bad accident or illness, but there is a reason for it. I wish I knew what that reason was, though, and I guess I’ll be finding out one of these days.

To make matters worse, I had puked in the sink, figuring I could wash down the puke as it came out of my mouth so I wouldn’t have to see it and prolong my puking any more than necessary, but this asshole just clogged up the drain.

Tom came home for a while and later, he fixed the sink and bought a new fan. Unfortunately, they don’t make fans as loud as the older ones. I have two fairly quiet fans in the bedroom now and I’ll be sleeping with the music on in the daytime. I had stopped the music cuz Caddy kid thankfully dropped out of the picture, but according to Tom, he’s back and I didn’t hear him. He says he went by and went to check and saw it was him. Well, he must’ve just begun his cruising by 3 times a day again or wasn’t playing his music as loud as he usually does, cuz I don’t see how I could’ve not heard it over those two quiet fans and with the music, which I don’t play that loud. Only loud enough to hear its beat, but I guess it does do a good enough job of blending in with the beat of our city animal’s stereos. That was the idea after all.

Tom says that due to the fact that cigarettes are poison, it does make people puke, and that fan was very old. I’ve never heard of anyone puking from cigarettes. Why didn’t I puke when I first started smoking? And yes, that was an old fan, but it’s quite ironic that it breaks down when I do something that’s a no-no in God’s eyes. Cigarettes don’t make fans break or make people puke, something that doesn’t want a person smoking makes that fan break (something it knows is important to me) and makes that person puke. I never would’ve believed it and I’ll bet most others wouldn’t, too, if they heard that someone that quit smoking, can’t return to it no matter how hard they try. That’s not the way it works. Almost all smokers who quit for at least 2-4 weeks end up going back to smoking and they don’t puke. It’s me. It’s me again. Something doesn’t want me smoking and to top it off, it wants me fat, too, but why??? At first I thought about God doing this to me cuz he wants me to go to a doctor, and that I am fixable, and that he wants me fixed, and he wants me to have a kid now. (being a non-smoker would help ensure a healthier baby) And the reason why he wants me to go to a doctor and couldn’t have had one on my own all along is simply cuz he knew I was gonna be too stupid to do the right thing and prevent myself from conceiving back when I was a young, dumb, naïve 21-year-old. But he’d be forgetting something if this were the case. What about my inability to keep a schedule? What about the fact that I couldn’t handle a kid? Besides, that’s not what I want anymore. My idea of a good time is being with my husband, taking care of the animals, doing my hobbies, etc. Not playing Barbies with some smelly little kid or having a Lisa under our roof cutting herself.

Well, I know that his reasons have nothing to do with a kid, but what do they really have to do with? Why must I not smoke and stay fat? His decision to have me remain smoke-free isn’t the problem, it’s the fat that’s the problem. It’s got to be for more reasons than just mere compensation that’s got me so fat. Well, all I can do is just hope that his reasons are for the better and that it’s not cuz of something bad to come.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 24, 1998 I typed a letter to Larry and told him to tell Sandy that if some rude pervert asks to get in her pants, to tell him, “No thanks. There’s already one asshole in there.” This is based on one of the jokes I received from Kim.

Tom did email my folks and that was nice of him. My mom has this thing about signing off her messages as “the mother.” So Tom signed his name, then typed, “Or am I supposed to sign off as ‘the son-in-law’?” I got a kick out of that and I’m sure my folks did, too.

I got to thinking and wondering about something. No God, I’m not gonna go against you and ask for more trouble, but could this weight be lost in notches? By the way, first of all, my water has filled right back out on me like I knew it would and I’m sure I’m closer to 124 pounds now. Anyway, as I was saying, when I starved all those years ago for about 3 days, I began losing weight, then I kept on losing it, even though I had returned to eating whatever I wanted to whenever I wanted to. After going about 4 days on just a few bites a day a little while back, I went from constantly weighing 124-126 to constantly weighing 122-124. What if I did this again for 4 days? Would it put me to 120-122? Could I do this in stages? I’m sure I couldn’t, but it’s an interesting thought. Meanwhile, I’m fat to stay and I know it.

My dear best friend really is losing it. He’s jobless, he ain’t got Quinn’s dick to turn to, so he is really, really losing it. TV, music, phones and pot. That’s all he knows. Get this - he calls me up saying that on a one-hour show about violence against gays, I had a part in the show. He says one of my tapes was played. An old tape of us making prank calls and our edits from back in Springfield in 1989. I don’t think so! What? Did the pigs seize my tapes, send them to Hollywood and tell them to help themselves? And we didn’t call and bash gays, so maybe he’s talking about how when they’d hear a gay voice (his) they’d bash gays and that’s the tapes he’s talking about. But still, there’s no way in his delusional, doped-up mind, that any tapes of us making prank calls, or the edits, were used in a movie.

Later…

Yesterday I called Lisa to find out what was up. Well, she told me alright. She told me she cut herself. All I could say about it was the usual. She said she called Larry at work and told him. She said he said the ball was in her court and she should do what she needed to do. Sounds like he’s giving up on her, but I don’t know.

TUESDAY, JUNE 23, 1998 Tom’s gift surprised me. I really thought my folks would send him something along the lines of clothing and flags, but instead, he got a clock radio with a weather alert system.

My folks say they wish they could hear from him more often and he says he’s gonna email them tomorrow, but I don’t know. I think that’ll be just one more thing he says he’s gonna do but doesn’t. I told him that they’d love to hear from him about once a month or so, but we’ll see. It’s up to him.

And I’m still smaller. Amazing, huh? I haven’t broken down and weighed myself yet, though. I’m trying to stick to doing that once a week only. I’m sure I’m still between 122-124 anyway.

Sex was the usual problem it is. Once again, I got him rock hard with my hand, then when he went to go in there, he went soft. He now claims it’s due to back pain. Why doesn’t he just come out and tell me he’s not interested? Why say he wants more sex and why say he’s in the mood when he’s not?

Later…

Andy and I spoke and sure enough, he flirted it out at the job he just lost. He said all the customers, co-workers, and managers, were flirtatious too. I don’t doubt that knowing how human beings are, but once again, God is not an equal opportunity doer or sayer. Meaning that just cuz the general pop can do or say this or that doesn’t mean he can. Remember? Some of us are different. He’s got to stop doing this! When’s he gonna learn? No wonder he bitches that he can’t get ahead in life. He’s too stubborn. He’s too bent on doing the opposite of what people ask of him or of what he knows he should be doing. Maybe he likes this and maybe he wanted to get fired, I don’t know. It does no good telling Andy not to flirt at work or not to associate with druggies and losers if he can’t attract someone nice right now, and not to settle. The more you tell him this, the more he’ll go against your advice and he will flirt and he will settle on the Lauras of this world as pals and roommates and on the Quinns of this world too.

It’s sad to see him in such a rut and in the same boat all these years. Nothing’s really changed with him since I’ve known him. He is more tolerant of those needing to talk and doesn’t kick a person down further that is already down, he’s much more sensitive, but he’s still the same old as far as his life goes. I know what it’s like to be stuck in a rut, but he won’t even try to get ahead. I’m not saying that God’s not against him in some ways. Yes, I think he’s had a major play in keeping Andy held back, but Andy can change some things. Maybe he can’t get Mr. Right, but he can avoid the next Mr. Wrong (Quinn) and he can shut up at work. Let everyone else say whatever they’re gonna say, but shut up!

Andy, if you ever read these journals for some reason I can’t foresee, especially the stuff I’ve written over the last couple of years or so, you’re gonna hate me! Well, try not to. I still love you. It’s just that I’ve come to be a bit different over the years, as you yourself have said. I outgrew the phone and a lot of our old ways, although I’ll always have my crazy laugh and lots of funny memories to cherish! Leaving Nerve hanging on the line at the bitch was fun and the calls we made were fun while we made them. I don’t regret the past, buddy!

Tom picked up a new shower massager and aerator for the kitchen sink. They’re the best ones yet.

Unfortunately, I was not up when Lisa tried calling twice today. I called Tammy to ask if she called. When she said no, I said that I must’ve read the caller ID box wrong so that she wouldn’t go asking Lisa questions. I’ll try to call Lisa in the morning and hope that Tammy’s at work when I do, to see if I can find out what’s up. Tammy didn’t say anything, though.

My ma says she’s shipped some bedding out to us. I asked her why I never see her on my buddy list on AOL and if she had a block on it and she said she doesn’t know how to use it and maybe I could teach her. I told her I thought I could show her how, but to tell her how would be a different story, so I forwarded her message to Tom so that maybe he could help them.

Now here’s something that could be good news concerning El Cocko. El Cocko still hasn’t been around. I only saw its car once last Saturday. There’s been no music trouble, either. Once again, if they could stay the way they have been, then I’d love for them to remain my neighbors till we move.

El Cocko returned in a U-Haul, so why not go out in one? I thought about it and realized that this fuck must’ve moved out and it must’ve known it was gonna be gone for a while, or else why pack enough shit for a U-Haul? And also, if it were helping someone else move, wouldn’t it be back by now? And why was the driver that left with him driving a blue car and not the freeloader’s gray car?

How did I miss vibing it, though? Could the September vibe mean that’s when it’ll return? Well, if it does, I hope it’s after Labor Day, cuz if it is out of the picture for Labor Day, maybe there won’t be hell to listen to from over there that day. Just about all the outbursts that have taken place have taken place when he’s been there. The dog, the music, the ball games, the parties, have all been in his presence, so hopefully it’ll be gone for a long long time. I know it’ll come back at some point. That’s bound to be. The question is, though, will it be back in 1 month, 3 months, 6 months, or a year?

I also don’t think it went very far. It’ll probably pop in every 2-4 weekends to see the bitch.

After carefully monitoring my fat and calorie intake, and what with how I felt when I got up, I really thought that this was it; I had busted into the one teens for sure and was maybe 119½ at the very least, but nope. Again, how insulting! No God does not help those who help themselves, any more than he wants everyone to “be fruitful and multiply” as I hear the bible says.

I’m telling you - it’s either bend to God’s will or drive myself crazy! See, I know I’ll be 122-124 pounds indefinitely, it’s just that I’m having a hard time accepting it. I’ve been down this road before, though, and have had to accept plenty of other things, so I’ll accept this too, in time.

The thing of it is, though, is that if I ever got thin again, he’d do something else. There’d just be a new problem to deal with for quite a while, so maybe I’m better off fat. Especially if the replacement would be worse. When it comes to my life, compensation is what it’s all about. He won’t give me anything without taking something from me. He gave me the strength to not smoke. Therefore, he took my thinness away.

I think that it was a psychological delusion. Due to how I’ve been eating, I tricked myself into thinking that maybe things had changed for once, but I’m still the same big-bellied, fat-faced thing I’ve been for months now. My legs are the size my waist should be and my waist is what my hips should be.

MONDAY, JUNE 22, 1998 Been up since 3 PM and the Caddy just slammed in. Just one not-too-loud slam. I still don’t know if El Cocko’s returned. I’m waiting to hear from Tom when he gets up. I think I know who is driving the Caddy, though. I think it’s her brother who’s about 19 years old and I think he’s a major drug runner too.

A package for Tom just came. It’s mom and dad’s birthday present to him.

Later…

Caddy’s gone. I didn’t know it till I just checked. It seems to go quieter than it comes.

I called Tammy’s to see how the state investigation was going and Lisa answered. Tammy was at her therapist’s, but Lisa told me what I knew would be the case - case closed.

She’s bummed that she’s not gonna be living with Larry but understands it’s just not gonna happen. It depresses her that she can’t talk to him or my folks, and she asked if I’d pass a message along to them. So in my email to Mom and Dad, I told them that Lisa sends her love, but they didn’t hear that from me. They heard it from a little birdie, a psychic palm reader, but not from me. I’ll tell Larry the same thing when I do a letter to him.

Anyway, I told her that she’s 15 and not 5, so in just a few measly years, she can talk to whomever she wants to.

Andy’s been fired yet again. Good, God! And I had a vibe about it, too, when I saw that he was calling when he was supposed to be at work. He said the day manager had told him he was doing a great job, but then the night manager said, “Nope. You’re outa here.” And he had been making good money, too, finally. Unless Andy went on with the flirtatious attitude again, he really is cursed with jobs and sex. For me, it’s sex and doing what I want to do in life, but lately, life’s been good for me.

Is God trying to tell Andy something? Something like maybe it's time to get out of the restaurant business for a change? Go back east? We haven’t had a chance to discuss it yet cuz Michelle had popped over, but I’ll write about it after I talk to him.

Andy may not have a life, but I do and my life consists of more than phones so hopefully it won’t be an all-night thing and he won’t keep me tied up too long. I had chewed him out for the last time about the non-emergency weekend calls (which would’ve done me no good), but due to the fact that he’s jobless again and gonna need support, I told him to call anytime any day. But since Andy’s naturally one to sway against what others want, maybe he won’t call so much on weekends now that I said that.

Still eating a low-calorie, low-fat diet. I even swapped in the regular sugar that I use in my coffee, for Sweet-n-Low. Still smaller today, too, but I refuse to think it means anything cuz I’m sure it doesn’t. I’m sure I’ll fill out again. As long as I stay under 125. That’s what’s most important to me now. When I’m at 125 or higher, rocking becomes very uncomfortable.

SUNDAY, JUNE 21, 1998 At dusk, I was out swimming. The pool and weather were gorgeous. I love the temp at 82º in the shade. I was surprised the guard dogs didn’t spoil the peace. And no more ball games since the 4 came to play two evenings ago. It sure did sound like a distant kennel and daycare out there, though. I could hear lots of barking dogs a few blocks away and lots of screaming kids. Fortunately, it’s not next door! If it were, it’d be nothing but bark, bark, bark right now. The July dog vibe has eased up a bit, so that’s good.

Now, is the freeloader boy back? I’m just not sure. There hasn’t been enough door slamming to say that he is, but Tom will let me know if he sees its car when he comes in early in the morning. I’m still surprised I didn’t sense it leave and that it’s not back yet if it’s not back yet for sure. I did hear something earlier, but couldn’t quite tell where it was coming from. The freeloader isn’t always as obvious as he usually is when it comes to door slams.

I called Dad to wish him a happy Father’s Day. We didn’t talk long. Ma was out playing bingo.

Andy’s his usual selfish self who can’t even respect a friend’s wishes. Had to leave a message this weekend.

Kim sent me more jokes I’m gonna go check out.

It’s “small-time” again for me. Yeah, for a whole 5 hours. Then I’ll be all bloated and watery again till my next period. Yeah, I finally managed to pull off a good enough flow. I knew I would, though, eventually. I’ll just enjoy the fact that I’m the smallest I’ve been in a while it lasts, cuz it’s only a matter of time before this fat-faced, big-bellied woman goes right back to how she has been for how many months now? Has it been 5 months now since I’ve been weighing between 122-124?

My oh, so horny husband never touched me all weekend. Fine. I don’t want the problems it entails, and I can take of myself. I’m a big girl. He’s talking about tomorrow, though. I don’t think so. I love my husband, but not sexually. I hate him in bed. Unless he just goes down on me forever, I hate the bed charades.

Other than that, we swam together and got some things done around the house.

I could write more now, but I’d rather go check out my library book some more, but I’ll leave the computer fired up in case I do return to write more later.

SATURDAY, JUNE 20, 1998 Today we dismantled the old bunny hutch. It didn’t take long by using a pry bar and an electric screwdriver to pull the screws and nails out, but it would’ve taken quite a while had we not used these tools.

In Ma’s email, she recommended some authors to me, so I’ll check them out the next time we go to the library.

No freeloader shit today and since I haven’t heard any car doors, which would be highly unusual if the cock were there, I’d say the cock isn’t there. It’s too quiet for it to be there.

Those 4 kids only played for 20 minutes yesterday so that was OK.

Later…

And here it is! I knew it’d be back and I knew that when it did come back, it’d return on a weekend. Yeah, I saw its car out front for sure. It took off, though, and I’m listening for when it returns. I’m sure I couldn’t miss those door slams even if I wanted to, though. There’s been no music yet, and no ball games today, but I can kiss the peace from the door slamming goodbye. I’d like to say that yes, it moved out with the U-Haul, whether or not it was because it was caught being here when it’s not supposed to be here, and it just popped in to either see the bitch or to get something it forgot, but nope. I’m sure it’s here full-time again and that it just went out for an hour or two and will be back any sec.

FRIDAY, JUNE 19, 1998 Here we go again with the wacky periods. Had a few spots on the 17th (period was due on the 16th) but since then - nothing.

The latest scenario at Tammy’s - they’ve been there investigating (the state) and will be back Monday. Why do they even bother to have these state people when they do nothing but look around and talk? They don’t take kids out of households they shouldn’t be in. Hell, if Tammy smacked all the kids in front of the state, they still wouldn’t take the kids away. Even Tammy admits she’s not worried.

It’s really weird with Tom cuz at first he was against Larry and meeting with him a few years ago, but now he defends him. He brought up a good question, though - how does Tammy know that it was Larry who called the state? I asked her this just now and she said that he called Bill at work and asked him to sign over custody of Lisa to him. Bill, naturally, told him to get lost. Not cuz he loves Lisa, cuz you don’t love someone you beat, as far as I’m concerned, but cuz he doesn’t like Larry any more than Larry likes him.

This is the second time I called Larry at work since he told me he’d get back to me and his secretary told me he’s tied up. I get the feeling he’s avoiding me which is fine but I told her to tell him that if I can discreetly help in any way, let me know. I know what he’s doing. I’m on his side, etc.

Saw Gloria live on TV and she didn’t look huge, but she really is aging. You could really see it in her cheeks what with the way they’re starting to droop.

Later…

Just printed out January to June’s shit for the freeloaders. I know June’s not over, but close enough.

I thought I heard music a while ago, but I couldn’t tell for sure what it was or where it was coming from. Tom says he still hasn’t seen the freeloader and its car since it left in the U-Haul. Amazing, huh?!

Got the Nicolette Larson CD a couple of days ago and The Dream Academy CD today, so I’m gonna go listen to that till the sun’s just about set and it’s time for my last swim of the day.

Later…

It’s still not quite dark enough for my swim yet. Thank God it’s 7:30 and not 5:30 cuz there are 4 kids at the basketball hoop now. The Lopez girl and 3 white boys. I’ve seen these boys before too and am pretty sure they’re part of the Lopez clan too. Or that some of them are.

Larry did call me and he said he didn’t want to get into the situation with Lisa and Tammy which is understandable, but otherwise, he sounded good. He even joked saying that it was 40º and that they were expecting snow so I could give him my laugh. He’s been really busy but hasn’t forgotten about me.

Kim sent me some more jokes that I didn’t think were very funny. It’s still nice to have the jokes sent to me.

Marla emailed me for the first time in a while (this time I didn’t delete it) and she basically said the same thing I said. Andy says he understands our point of view, though, and that she and I share the same feelings.

Andy never acknowledged it was our anniversary. Never called to wish us a happy anniversary or to ask us what we did that day. Deep down, I figured it was cuz he was jealous, but I asked him if he was upset with me to see what he’d say. He said he wasn’t upset with me. Just that he’d been in his own little world recently. True. It’s gonna be a while before he’s over Quinn.

We went to the library yesterday. I got 3 Dean Koontz books and one by some guy that I’ve never heard of before.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 17, 1998 My period’s finally starting. I should have a full flow tomorrow, but I don’t know if I will. My next period will be due on Linda Ronstadt’s birthday.

Last night my sister called me high on painkillers and it was hilarious. She went back and forth between laughing and telling me the details of her sex life with Mark, to being pissed about Mom and Dad. She says she has to have knee surgery, has a bum ankle, and something else, too. Yeah, that’s Tammy for ya!

Then she went on to say that Boo and Max visit twice a year and call periodically. How nice of them to visit her twice a year, but when I lived just 10 minutes away, they never visited me. Meanwhile, she’s over an hour away. They never call me, either, but I know what it all boils down to. That crazy daughter of Dureen’s. They’d give me money if I went to their home or asked for it and for that I’m very grateful, but they don’t come to me on their own by visiting or by phone calls. Well, I certainly wouldn’t want them to do anything they didn’t feel comfortable doing and I told my folks this.

In Dad’s email reply to me, he said he thought I was acting "out of line" by what I had to say about them, saying they have given to me, and they always ask about me. Oh, I know that. I was just simply making an observation. Then he said that they went to see the kids while they went to Foxwood Casino which was right next door to Tammy’s. They went to see the kids? Now why would they do that? What’s in visiting the kids for them? Of course, I wasn’t stupid when he tried to tell me it was the kids they really went to see. Like they would’ve come to visit my kids if I had had any back there if it was next door to someplace they went, yeah right! I could be married with kids back in my old apartment on Woodside Terrace and they could be coming to see somebody on the floor below me, but that doesn’t mean they’d ever stop up one more flight to see me or my kids.

I accidentally deleted the email I got yesterday from Marla. I could’ve kicked myself for it and I hope she emails me again.

The freeloader isn’t back yet.

I’m utterly amazed at how quiet it’s been lately as far as stereos go. For a time, you’d hear several of them cruise by a day, but lately, I haven’t heard any. I shouldn’t say that, though, cuz now I will!

Oh also, my parents didn’t call Becky on her birthday. They did send her something, cuz Becky called to thank them. Then Tammy said something about how Becky was gonna hand the phone to her, but Mom said she didn’t want to talk to her, so Dad took the phone. Tammy had taken the phone by then and told Dad she didn’t want to talk to either one of them.

Last night Tammy tried to use me to get Mom and Dad’s sympathy (doesn’t she realize it won’t work)?! By asking me to call them to tell them I’m concerned about her having to have knee surgery. No, I wasn’t mad or anything. I’m used to her ways and it was harmless. Tammy will always be Tammy, I guess.

Tom picked up a bunch of shit that’s been lying around the back room for ages. I know it won’t be neat for long, so I’ll enjoy it while I can. Anyway, he did it so I could vacuum. I want to continue not having allergies and lung trouble.

In case I didn’t already mention it, we got Blackie some stuff for worms. It’s these capsules you break open and sprinkle in their food.

Later…

Well, my brother called the state on my sister today. Yes, Tammy called me to tell me that Lisa called Larry all upset that she can’t work at the convenience store, then Larry called the state. Lisa didn’t know Larry was gonna do what he did and according to Tammy, Lisa’s feeling guilty about it.

Later…

I got caught up doing other stuff, so I didn’t finish what I was saying about Larry, Tammy, and Lisa.

First, though, I haven’t heard a peep coming from next door. Not even car doors of the bitch’s rides in the last two days.

Anyway, Tammy called me wanting advice. I was surprised she’d ask for my advice seeing that I don’t have kids and can’t relate to what she’s going through. Also, I thought she was wary of trusting anyone. Well, she needed to talk to someone, so I listened to her. Her two biggest gripes are Lisa’s rebelliousness and mom, dad, and Larry’s having the nerve to judge her parenting and all that.

I wish the state could place the kids somewhere else. Somewhere where they’d be with someone who could handle them better but calling the state doesn’t do shit. All they do is come out and talk with the parent or parents, but that’s it. It’s nearly impossible to get a kid taken away from its mother. Murderers get custody of them all the time.

Later…

Well, someone is next door. I could see the sprinkler on over there.

Something just hit me - Tammy said Larry had a guy from the state call her where she works. Then she met the guy at her house. How did Larry know where she works? She works with Mark, and I guess Lisa gave Larry the address. Or maybe the guy called the house and Lisa answered and she was the one who had the guy call her at work.

Still getting regular emails from my folks. Ma’s better, but still needs to get her strength back. Dad says they’re proud of me for quitting smoking and happy, happy, happy anniversary!

TUESDAY, JUNE 16, 1998 Yesterday was a fun day, but let me get our city moochers out of the way first. They’re getting their lawn mowed now by those people in the blue pickup. If the bitch is paying for this herself, no wonder her rent’s late. Not to mention the fact that most of the money she gets, no doubt, is going up her nose. This truck doesn’t have any city emblem on it and my guess is that yes, the bitch, cock, or someone associated with them, is paying for this. I’m sure the city would say, “Hey, we give you a house for practically free so you maintain its lawn.”

Tom said that they have skipped weeks of putting out their recycle bin, so it’s nothing new.

Yesterday evening, that dark blue car was there for a while. The one that left with the cock in the U-Haul. If the cock’s back yet, I don’t know, but I guess seeing that car was a sign saying it’s well on its way back if it isn’t back yet.

They’re done now. At least they work fast and park on the street.

Later…

Damn! I shit 3 times today, so you know what that means - no shitting for a day or two now. I thought walking was supposed to up your metabolism; not stop it. Something’s stopped it again, cuz I went to bed at 123 pounds, got up at 123 pounds, shit 3 times, and still weighed 123 pounds. What’s keeping all this weight on me and where’s my period that’s due?! God, you really want me to pay for better lungs, huh?

Anyway, yesterday we went out to a paper store where we spent nearly $100. I got 4 single sheets of stationery. One was a light purple that darkened down towards the other end of the sheet which Tammy got. Since I owed Becky and Sarah letters, Becky got a purple flower design and Sarah got a pink and yellow flower design. Larry got a wooden wall with rope on a nail and cowboy boots on the ground.

We picked up some wire binding combs and 5 different colors of paper. Got two different shades of pink, two different shades of purple, and bright lime green. The green and purples are thicker sheets of paper than the pinks.

I printed out my first journal using the grape paper. I used black text and a plain font, and purple text for the cover. I put the wrong zip code on the address, though. We have black and white wires. I used the white for this cuz the blacks we have are too big for the binder.

Then we went to Red Lobster and it was closed. So we drove out to where Melanie works and found one in that area. The lobster, which seemed smaller than the last one I had, was good. It was the company nearby that wasn’t. We were seated in between tables with kids. One had a boy and a girl of about 8 years of age. The other had a boy of about 3, its mother, and what was probably its grandmother, too. The 8-year-olds weren’t bad and they left shortly after we were seated, but the little boy, on the other hand, was what your average child is all about today. No manners, no discipline, no respect, no nothing. It threw a piece of food on the table. My back was facing them, so I didn’t see it, but Tom did and said, “Hey, that’s not nice.” Then Granny apologized for the kid. Then I muttered something about them watching and controlling their kid and teaching it to behave in public. Granny said it agreed with me, then Mommy went on and on about how we shouldn’t have said this and that, and something else I can’t remember. All I know was that I had had it and I stood up and yelled something. Mommy told me to sit down, in her southern drawl, or else she’d call the law on me. I told her to call them, saw how terrified she and the others looked, saw that she really didn’t want to fight and that she was someone I believed I could badly hurt (she was close to my height, but very motherly in weight and weighed 20-50 more pounds than me) so although I sat down, I was so fucking close to mauling her. I wanted soooooo bad to dog her. I was so pissed that my heart was thumping and I was shaking. Tom asked if I wanted to move to another table. I said loud enough for Mommy to hear, “No, I want to break its neck.” So after a few more gripes and “No one tells me to hush” from mommy, and with granny telling her to drop it, I did too, since she didn’t threaten me (or else I’d have dogged her without caring about the consequences or that the boy saw me do it). After the fact, though, it was pretty funny and I still joke about it to Tom and giggle to myself when I remember how terrified she was of me when I stood up. And maybe the boy’s learned a little lesson and mommy and granny will remember this and learn from it too.

That’s the closest I’ve been in years to a fight. Even closer than when that bitch came to this door. That bitch would be dead if it came to the door again, and I think it knew it and left while it was ahead and didn’t want to push its luck. Like I said, my days of kissing up to or turning my cheek the other way from the Rosemaries, Scotts, Mary Ds, Staceys, project assholes, neighbors, etc., are long gone. If you swing at me or if you threaten me bodily harm - you’re dead. Period. And if you don’t want to be, you better be a better fighter than me and knock me on my ass, cuz if you don’t knock me off my feet and keep me off my feet, you’re history! I won’t hesitate to severely maim or kill the next butch, bitch, Barbara, Bonnie, or anyone, male or female, that fucks with me.

I don’t know how I know this, but I do. I just know that no matter what my size/weight, if I ever get into another fight again, and I guess it’s bound to be sooner or later, I’m gonna do some serious damage. I’m going to cripple that person or kill them without even being able to help myself. After all those people I decided to get out of fighting with, and that I let cower me down from, that’s a lot of lost fighting to make up for.

Later…

White Paws was in the house today and fortunately, mama bitch hasn’t been around hardly at all. White Paws is still not as brave and as friendly as Blackie, but if I keep being nice, I’m sure she will be too. It’s nice to be able to feed them inside the house (not that we could keep Blackie from darting in and out when we open the door, anyway) so that ants don’t get the food and so mama bitch doesn’t come back.

That’s the second hang-up I just got that says unavailable on our Caller ID box. For the thousandth time, it’s someone we know. I just know it is. I’d say that Fran wouldn’t have the brains to be this consistent and that he’d have spoken up a long time ago, so my guess is that it’s Wendy or Jenny C. Probably Jenny. Hell, it could be Larry for all I know, making up for all the times I bugged Jenny. Maybe he’s calling from his business and knows that no info will show up on a Caller ID box.

Anyway, we went swimming yesterday and the water was too warm, so we didn’t recover the pool yesterday. Today it’s cooled down to a pleasant and refreshing temp. I wonder - can we for once and for all leave our pool uncovered till September?

Buying that colored paper got me in a creative mood yesterday, so I scanned several different sheets of colored paper that overlapped each other, to make colored striped paper. I also scanned in a journal cover and printed that out, too. I folded it in half to make it card-like.

Got a couple of phone messages from Andy reading me those favorite notes, and then a couple of happy anniversary emails from Kim.

I called Lisa to see what was up with her, and she is one stressed-out, depressed, frustrated, angry girl! I feel so bad for her. Tammy’s being typical Tammy. The way she’d be towards me when Mom and Dad weren’t around. Yelling, screaming, and using me as a slave and personal housekeeper. Now Tammy’s using her as a built-in housekeeper and babysitter, all the while screaming at Lisa and making her feel like nothing she does is ever good enough. If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear Tammy’s name was really Bill or Dureen. She spends most of her time with Mark.

Lisa says she doesn’t mind helping out, she wants her mother to be happy and be with Mark, but she doesn’t want all the housework and babysitting dumped on her. She wants her mother around more. She wants to be a teenager and get out and do things. Not be a slave to a house and kids. It’s not her time yet for that. When and if she has kids, then she can be tied down. She should be living now.

Lisa wanted to get a job at a convenience store to show she can be responsible, but Tammy won’t let her work there cuz she needs Lisa at the house to work for her.

She knows not to tell her therapist that I said this or that, cuz that could get back to Tammy, but I suggested she tell her therapist and Tammy together, exactly what’s going on and exactly how she feels, cuz she has the legal right to file a complaint of neglect on Tammy. It may not do her any good, but she should at least do everything she can to speak out.

She then thanked me wholeheartedly for being there for her and said she was gonna call her therapist.

Later…

I was just sitting here realizing I’m late for my period, haven’t one symptom of PMS, my tits are only slightly sore, then it hit me. It’s time. It’s time for something wacky to occur with my plumbing. Remember two summers ago? That’s when I had that two-week spotting attack, and when that happened, I had the feeling that another screwy event would occur two years later. I wish I could say that it’s now in the cards for me to have a hysterectomy and that’s what this is leading up to, but I don’t know.

I spoke to Jen earlier. God, she and Lisa sound so different! Jen sounded like this perky, happy-go-lucky kid, while Lisa sounded so miserable. Jen’s now 5’ 6” at 105 pounds. God! Now it’s the other way around. I’m shorter, she’s skinnier. She’s working at a restaurant and babysitting. Sandy and Larry were at work. Larry’s been busy, she says, with out-of-state businesspeople. Maybe that’s why he hasn’t called. I left a message with his secretary for him to call when he can, nothing important, just wanted to say hi. From here on out, he either calls or he doesn’t.

Jen says she and a friend of hers who lives on her street, is going to Florida to stay at my folk’s place. Are my folks physically and mentally up to having two teenagers stay with them? Can they handle it?

Later…

I went for a quick dip in the pool, then I was gonna do some walking till I said, fuck it. I’m 32, I don’t smoke, fat is me and me is fat. I’m not gonna spend my life fighting for a body that can never be again, regardless of whether it’s a curse from God, or something’s wrong, or just cuz I am middle-aged and not taking any drugs that up the heart rate. I will watch what I eat, but I’m not gonna live hopelessly doing this or that to achieve something I could never achieve.

Later…

Oh, that fucking husband of mine! You know, I really hate it when he insults me with the sex games and denies what really is the case here. The last time we screwed, he wasn’t in the mood. Yet he’s trying to pin the blame on me by saying I got impatient and sidetracked and all this bullshit that never happened. Why is it always my fault he can’t perform sexually? No wonder I desire him sexually less and less and just prefer to take care of myself more and more. I love him in every other way, but I’ve had close to half a decade of this sex shit and I’m sick of it so if God insists I be cursed sexually, it won’t work, cuz I’m not gonna give in like I used to. I don’t deserve this shit.

MONDAY, JUNE 15, 1998 And today we've been married 4 wonderful years! I'll be getting Tom up at noon, then an hour later we'll have lunch at Red Lobster. We'll be going when the lunch crowd should die down.

I tried making CDs the new way that Tom set up and it's pretty much the same old hit or miss, but mostly miss. I got one CD and killed two.

No one put out the recycle bin. I've never known them to miss a week of not putting it out.

There was an APS truck over there earlier and Tom said there was no car next door when he left for work yesterday evening and none when he got off at 6 AM, either. Really?! Then I wonder what that was I heard yesterday. Must've been a Lopez car engine and something else shutting (that I thought was a car door).

SUNDAY, JUNE 14, 1998 I totally, totally give up on telling Andy not to call me on weekends. It just doesn’t work, and I could kick myself for asking him to come over sober. I’m really in for it now! He’s gonna be so plastered when he comes over from now on. It makes me question our friendship. If he were a true friend, wouldn’t he respect my wishes?

Later…

Tom and I went swimming. Got several things done this weekend, too. He mowed and picked up some stuff we needed. I did laundry and some cooking.

Now that we have the “bee whackers” not many bees come around.

I began feeding White Paws again. I kind of felt sorry for her.

I made an anniversary card for Tom and did up his birthday card, too.

Tomorrow, we’ll be going to Red Lobster.

We got a card from his mom too, with a $25 check.

I called and spoke to Tammy today. New England’s been getting lots of rain. Boston declared a state of emergency over it. They were supposed to get something like 30”!

I guess she’s still in touch with Mark, cuz she’s in business with him. She’s been working with him at his sharpening business since January.

I know it has to be up to me to decide whether or not I want to give Jenny Craig a shot, but I asked for her opinion on it, anyway. She thinks it’s a waste of money and that you can do what she does at home by yourself. I tried that and got pretty much nowhere. So maybe I either need the help of Jenny Craig, something is wrong, or God just doesn’t want me to be thin again. I think I know which one it is. I’ve known it for 8 months now. Why am I so stubborn? Why don’t I just give up?! I’ve got to accept things as they are and live life. Enjoy what I do have and how things are.

Tom says Tammy has a point. You can do it at home, but if you’ve tried that and had no luck, it wouldn’t hurt to try Jenny Craig. We’ll see.

And as far as what I am or am not gonna say to any doctor about my sterility - we’ll see. Rather than decide whether I will or won’t say certain things, we’ll see. I’ll see what I feel like saying when the time comes.

Later…

Tom told me that some people put their journals on the web. I’m gonna check that out some time, but no, I don’t want to put my journals out. I can’t see who’d want to read them, but I’d rather a stranger read them than someone I know, cuz then I’d be embarrassed if someone I knew read them. Anyway, I just think it’d be interesting to see what I could find.

Tom showed me how to back up my stuff on a CD. I still have my journals, drawings, and things like that backed up on floppy disks, cuz it’s always good to have more than one backup copy. It’s amazing how much stuff a CD can store! All my journals, plus everything else that’s on the computer.

Tom’s getting ready to watch the basketball finals and thank fucking God that cock isn’t in the picture. Thank God for me. Thank God for them. If that cock were there, which I’m amazed hasn’t come back yet, it’d be rocking over there from one PM till at least 10 PM like it was June of 96. They’d barbecue, play ball, scream and shout, and of course, bass in and out like hell. God spared me from June of 97, too, cuz the cock didn’t come back into the picture till late June last year and the finals are in late May to early June.

Thank you, God, cuz I don’t know how I’d ever have been able to deal with it without going over there and beating the snot out of them!

I just can’t believe it’s not back yet! It’ll be back though, sooner or later.

Boy, were we bad yesterday. Our illiterate mailman gave us 3 pieces of mail that were the bitch’s. Later, he tried to get it back out of the mail slot when he realized he fucked up, but we’d already gotten it by then. (if he put a note on the bitch’s door explaining how he screwed up and how we got some of her mail, she’d be like - well, there’s no getting it back now! Ha, ha!

There was something from AT&T and Sprint long-distance phone companies. I got her number again too, cuz I like to have information. Although, this bitch doesn’t accept blocked calls.

In the third envelope was a 14-day notice to pay up on late rent from the city. This bitch’s rent is $181. It gets to pay just $181 for a remodeled, 3-bedroom, 1½-bath house, that little fuck! Well, little fuck ain’t got no pool, though.

Anyway, I stored her number, her account number that was with the late rent notice, and the address listed as the return address for this letter, on the computer. I don’t know if I’ll ever use this information or not (that’s up to them), but it’s nice to have.

Later…

It’s back. I heard a few bangs, which were amazingly not too loud, went out back, heard the car engine, then a door shut again. Yeah, I knew you would be back, you piece of shit. I was just a day or two off with my prediction. It was only for a few days. No wonder I didn’t sense it. It’s gonna fucking be slamming doors all fucking day and night as it unloads its stuff. Fuck!

SATURDAY, JUNE 13, 1998 Well, it’s that time again, folks. The weekend. Will our little freeloaders be good? Is a certain little punk with a gray car back yet? Time will tell.

Once again, if I were smart, I’d keep my mouth shut about any testing when I went to the doctor. It won’t get me anywhere. It’ll just cause more trouble and Tom won’t cooperate and do his part. I know he won’t. I know he’s full of shit about wanting a kid, too, or else knowing I was sterile, he’d have done something about it a long time ago. He’d want us to go to a doctor, he’d want me to get tested to see what could be done, he’d want to get tested himself, he’d want to mention how he doesn’t cum much. But he doesn’t do any of these things. Why? Cuz he doesn’t really want to deal with testing and personal issues, and he doesn’t want a kid. Well, I guess that makes two of us cuz I don’t see how I’ll have the guts to bring it up. It’d just be asking for trouble from God and from Tom and they’d manipulate me out of getting the answers I seek. Tom suggested that instead of lying and saying we use rubbers, when they ask if I take birth control, to just say it’s OK whether or not I get pregnant and say no to testing for now. Yeah, I know Tom likes to put off and put off. Especially when it comes to the things he doesn’t really want or want to deal with, but that would be lying too. No, it’s not OK if I get pregnant. I no longer want a child. People change. People move on. The point is the sex and kid issue has never gotten me anywhere but frustrated and even downright pissed. The only way to deal with it is to turn my cheek against it.

Neither of us could’ve complied with what they’d have requested of us to do as far as the tests go. He’d be ordered to squirt in a cup for them. He wouldn’t. They’d want me to take my temperature and to have sex several days in a row at certain times. Now what good would that have done me with a husband who’s too busy and too tired for sex and who wouldn’t have cum if we could get together more often and at scheduled times? He says sex has to be spontaneous for him. It can’t be made into a job or chore for him. Well, spontaneous sex never set his Willie straight before, so scheduled sex sure wouldn’t do it.

My condition also is not fixable. So why should I fight to get answers to problems I couldn’t solve and wouldn’t want to solve anyway? I’m not that curious about it.

Same for my weight. That was really sweet of Tom to offer me a shot at going through the Jenny Craig program, but for what? So I can be labeled a control freak? So I can keep on not accepting myself and liking myself as I am? So I can go against God, and win or lose, be made to pay for it. He’d just go and do something else to me if I ever got thin again. So why eat bland food with no fats or sugars for the rest of my life?

I need to like and accept myself as I am and live for the things that are realistic. You can live putting your energy into things that can’t be, or you can live for reality and do things that are meant to be and that are possible. Things we can handle and that are within our control.

When I was last talking with Andy, who’s no doubt waiting for the weekend to fully set in before calling me to let me know which of the notes were the funniest, I told him it’d be nice if he’d visit me sober when he’s more alert and receptive. What a stupid thing to do. Andy’s an opposite-doer. He rebels and now he’s gonna really make it a point to come over baked out of his mind. He’ll be a giggling ditz who won’t get or remember one thing I say.

Got an anniversary card from my folks yesterday with $50 bucks of cash enclosed.

Tom, who ordered me 3 CDs so far for our wedding, brought up an interesting possibility. What if Michelle is Andy’s true soul mate and neither of them knows it? Maybe they’re destined for each other, not him for a guy and her for a gal. Tom says he’s heard of couples where a gay guy has a female roommate (maybe she’s gay too and maybe not) and after 10-15 years of neither of them finding anyone, they end up married. Or at least they end up together in some shape or form. I wonder if that’ll happen with Andy and Michelle, but who knows if they’ll ever be roommates again?

It’s just 5:00 in the morning now and here goes Tweety! Wonder if the trailer people who are here enjoy listening to him?

Later…

Well, another one of those goofy sex sessions, but I wouldn’t give in as he might’ve hoped and expected. I mean, give in by getting all mad or frustrated. I expect him to shrivel up here and there. It was another one of those cases where he was rock hard, then when he went in there, he went soft. He tried to say he didn’t even get in there, but he did. He was just in there for a few seconds, though, before deflating. I then tried to pump him up again, but couldn’t get him in the mood and hard enough to reenter, so I suggested he just go down on me, and we’ll try to screw again later (although I’m sure he’ll forget it and I hope so too!) As usual, he was never happier to oblige, and he even cracked some jokes along the way down there. He tried to joke and say that I should tell him if I’m not in the mood to screw. Uh-huh.

I better hope and pray that I’m wrong about that freeloader returning yesterday or today, cuz if it’s there tomorrow afternoon, it’s gonna make a total ass of itself for me over the fucking basketball finals. There’s a big game Tuesday night, too, Tom says. The freeloaders better hope and pray that for their sakes, they don’t act up, cuz if they act up, so do I.

Got a letter from Lisa.

FRIDAY, JUNE 12, 1998 Oh, this fucking cat! I mean, I love him, yet I hate him. After he eats, all he does is whine if I don’t pat him. I can’t spend much time patting him cuz of my allergies, which are back to being a nightmare. But then when I shoo him out, he doesn’t want to go and I have to scream and chase him out.

I swear my whole upper respiratory system, as well as my lungs, are forever cursed. I haven’t had asthma attack #4 yet, but these constant sneezing fits are driving me nuts! Today, I’m gonna wear nose clips all day. Yesterday I was so sick, that I had to take a couple of Benadryl, which knocked me out. Therefore, I couldn’t be up when Tom got home so we could order CDs together. I slept so long and was so out of it that I didn’t even see him before work. I woke up 15 minutes after he left. He said he ordered 3 CDs, though, and they’ll be here in 4-5 days.

I just have to tell myself that this is how it must be as long as I don’t smoke. If I’m not gonna have as much lung trouble, it’s got to be made up for in the nose. God’s just not gonna leave me alone. Just like I have to tell myself every day that I’ll never be thin again. I’ll never lose this weight no matter what my diet or exercise routine consists of. All I can do is try not to gain anymore and hope I don’t.

Just talked to Andy. He loved all the notes and says he’ll leave me a message later about the notes he thought were the funniest. He’s still his usual self. He’s working still, but he spends all his time stoned and on the phone. Where would this guy be without phones and pot?!

Later…

A cream-colored medium size car just came and got the bitch. Who are all these people giving rides to this bitch? God! Wish I could’ve gotten so many people to cart me around before I was with Tom.

Later…

I left Kim a message asking her to email Alex and have him email her about why he’s shut me out, then forward his response to me. However, she can’t email him, either. Like I do, he has blocks on to keep junk mail out, so her message got returned to her.

People fall in and out of our lives and by the time most of us are my age, you’re more than used to it, but I was a little curious to know if he’d give me an explanation. Like most people, he didn’t have the guts to tell me why he shut me out, but it’s got to do with something he read in those journal excerpts I sent him. But what? I know I said a lot of weird, stupid, and naïve things, but what could upset him that much? I don’t remember writing anything mean about him.

How weird. I just checked both the Woodside file and the Elm file and there’s not one mention of meeting Alex. Well, I was a vague and shitty writer back then after all. Especially since I never even mentioned how Maliheh kissed me when I left the bar that night back in Northampton 7 years ago. I never would leave that detail out in this day and age if I were meeting that sick twist now.

I prayed one last time to God as far as my weight goes, although I’m sure all my pleading won’t get me anywhere. I know deep down that this is how I’m meant to be. I’m fat, have been for a while now, and always will be. I just know it deep in my gut and heart. No, God does not help those who help themselves. And once I see that this walking won’t help any more than the exercising did, I’ll hang it up and accept my bigness. I’m through fighting for things I’m not meant to have.

This questioning why I’m sterile at the doctor’s next month has me a bit nervous. I know God. I know how he operates with me. If I go meddling in areas that are a no-no per his orders, and that isn’t meant to be, he could hurt me, he could hurt Tom or both of us. But would he for just a little information? I can see him retaliating and punishing me for trying to change myself, but what about just getting a little info as to why I am the way I am? Don’t I have a right to at least know about my body? Or is that a sin, too?

I called and talked to my mom who could barely talk. Through fits of coughing, she managed to tell me she has a bronchial infection and that her computer mouse died. I teased her by letting her know she could have a live, furry one.

Dad wasn’t home, so we didn’t talk.

THURSDAY, JUNE 11, 1998 Just thought I’d update while I was sneezing, as usual.

A blue pickup was parked on the street in front of the freeloaders yesterday. There was no writing on the truck, so I don’t know if it was a city truck or what. Then, a couple of white guys got out. One looked like he had a lawnmower in tow, the other an edger. However, I never heard any mowing from over there, and they weren’t here long.

I asked Tom earlier where the cock’s car was if he was helping someone move out of state. His answer made perfect sense. Since the bitch has subsidized housing and since loverboy’s not supposed to be there, he parked his car elsewhere for now so it wouldn’t be there all the time. It was there all the time for days during the Christmas holidays, but they weren’t likely to check and see its car there during that time. So, it’ll definitely be back, as my vibes say. Again, if anyone’s going anywhere for good or for a while, it’s not gonna happen till September. And that’s if. I think it’ll be back on Friday or Saturday.

Blackie’s acting pretty weird tonight. He came in and ate. He ate a good amount, too. More than the usual two bites. Now he’s sitting under the kitchen table where he’s been now for a while.

I figured something was up with my folks for them to not be sending as much in the way of email. Dad said Ma has some kind of flu or virus and he’s gonna take her to a doctor. Hopefully, she’ll be OK, I told him, sorry I couldn’t help, keep us posted.

For our anniversary, Tom’s gonna get me the 7 CDs we couldn’t find in stores, by ordering them on the computer.

For our anniversary and his birthday, he wants a car racing game for his computer and cordless headphones.

We went to the library yesterday. I got a couple of Dean Koontz books. So far, the one I’ve begun is great. I’ll go read some more of it now while I begin my day’s walking.

Later…

Aren’t we off to an early start this morning! The Caddy (which may not really be a Caddy, but something that looks like one) pulled in a few minutes ago. The little bitch was doing something in the backseat, then the car left. I don’t think I saw anyone in the passenger seat and I thought I only heard one door shut, so maybe she just popped the kid in it, but not herself.

Walking goes much much faster with a book in hand. Reading and walking is it. Not music and walking. That’s for damn sure! I walked 30 minutes so far today but only went 1.5 miles so far. That’s OK. The time I spend walking is more important than how far I walk.

I Raided some food for White Paws. Amazingly, this desperately hungry thing ate it. I know God won’t allow it to die, though. Maybe it’ll get sick, but even that’s doubtful. Wish I could get a hold of some really potent, tasteless, scentless poison for her, but I know I’m stuck with this cat till we split.

Later…

Wow! I don’t believe it. I just went out back, fully expecting to see White Paws sitting out there, but nope. She wasn’t anywhere in sight. I’m sure she’s not off dying somewhere, but I almost wish! Maybe she’s off puking somewhere, but she’ll be back. Haven’t seen the bitch of a mother in a couple of days. She’s mostly off tending to her kittens that’ll be ours to deal with once they grow some more.

Later…

Sure enough, White Paws is A-OK. Out there sitting in the shade. I just sprayed her away for a while again.

Later…

Well, there was a city car parked on the street in front of the freeloaders’. I’d like to say that they found out Loverboy was living there, he split, and an inspector just came to ensure that he’s all moved out, but nope. I’m not stupid. Even if they were onto him and even if this is the case going on here, it’ll be back in a month or two.

I expected to get up yesterday after sleeping 4 hours, but nope. I slept right through. I woke up a few times, but I was able to fall back asleep in seconds.

I walked for just over 40 minutes and just over two miles.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 10, 1998 My brother was supposed to call me back several days ago. I don’t know if he’s giving me the silent treatment or what, but if he is, I hope he’ll have the guts to come out and say so this time around. If not why, then at least I hope he has the guts to tell me he doesn’t want to talk to me. I told him up front back in ‘93 that it was his choice to associate with me and that I’d respect whatever he chose. He just wasn’t gonna keep coming back into my life. He’s either gonna be in my life or always out of it.

I woke up just 4 hours after going to bed, as usual. Finally, it hit me and I said to myself, if you’re waking up after just 4 hours of sleep, then that’s all you need. Especially when you’re waking up just because, and not due to some rude, sick fuck’s noise. So, instead of living on Benadryl every day, which I don’t want to do, I’m gonna just let my body sleep as long as it chooses.

Later…

The sun’s up so that means Tweety’s chirping away. The weather will be fine for him through the weekend. Of course, I don’t even know how hot or how cold parakeets can stand. Will we ever hit 110º? Even 105º? In Florida, it’s the other way around. They’re unusually hot.

Anyway, I hope that the weekend will be wonderful and not noisy. I’ll be up during the day.

So freeloader boy, are you over there? It’s gotta be back by now, but if it’s not, it’ll be back by the weekend, no doubt. I still think it helped someone move, but we’ll see. At 7:15 yesterday was when the silver Caddy came to get the bitch, so we’ll see if I hear Mr. Fuck slam out at 7:30, which was its usual departure time.

I’ve been having fun Raiding White Paws this morning. That fucking cat’s never gonna get it, is it? It obviously hangs around just to piss me off. Maybe there aren’t many dogless yards here, but what about an alley or something?

Later on, at about noon - 1:00, we’ll be going out and doing some shopping. I want to order the CDs I couldn’t find in stores on the computer for my anniversary present. Meanwhile, I thought we’d go to Walmart to see if he could find something for him. We may also stop for a bite to eat, and to pick up some books at the library. I don’t know yet if I’ll get fiction stories or true crime stories.

Later…

I never heard anyone leave from next door. Not even the bitch.

I walked 1.9 miles so far today at a pace of approximately 4 MPH and it all took 29 minutes.

Later…

Just did some singing for the second time today.

I did hear some sounds that may have been from next door, but if they were, I didn’t see anything in the way of any vehicles.

TUESDAY, JUNE 9, 1998 Well, well, what do you know? According to Tom, Freeloader Boy’s car hasn’t been here tonight and last night. That’s weird, too, cuz I could’ve sworn I heard him slamming around at 9:30 a couple of nights ago, and he didn’t warn me a change or absence was to come by blasting off, and my vibes never sensed anything. Well, wherever it is, it’ll be back in a few days or so.

Later…

It’s only 4:23 in the morning and yet the sun’s coming up.

Andy was over last night. He did what he usually does when he visits. He went on the web to read up on Stevie. Unfortunately, he was stoned, so that means he was a flaky ditz who was half out of it. I wish he’d come over sober when he’s more alert and receptive to what’s going on around him and to what’s being said.

I wonder if Blackie has worms. He was bleeding from the ass and he’s really skinny, so maybe we’ll pick up some stuff for it. It’s just something you put in their food.

As I said, I’m walking 30-40 minutes a day, but am doing very limited exercises. Just enough to keep my back feeling good. I’m still huge, but again, it’s mostly all in the gut and face. My goals have changed too. Obviously, I cannot lose weight for whatever reason, and I’m just not in the mood to live on water, so my new goal is to maintain the 125 pounds I’m now at. If I can’t lose, fine, but I don’t want to go above 125. So, that’s what I’ll work on and will walk to ensure I stay right where I am. Once again, I feel really insulted to have worked so hard to lose a few pounds only and to have quit smoking just to keep on having attacks. Yup, yesterday was my 3rd vicious attack. There really is never an end to this and it’s so scary and frustrating. I not only felt angry and humiliated, too, to have quit for nothing but a few saved bucks, but I almost had Tom get cigarettes. I almost said, fuck it! I’m gonna make myself smoke no matter what. If I’m gonna have lung trouble, it’s gonna be for a reason.

I wonder, though, could this be meant to be for a reason? I ask this, cuz it’s led to Tom and I taking action now as far as going to a doctor goes. Did God have this happen knowing it’d lead to us seeing doctors now cuz he feels it’s time for me to learn something I should know? Well, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with my lungs or thyroid. If he were gonna do something to me, I’d think it’d be my female parts that he’d go after. But is it time? Is it time for me to see if I can find out what makes me sterile?

I showed Tom what I wrote about my being sterile and my wanting to know why and my suspicions about him. He said I’m all wrong about him. I said, “OK, then there’ll be no problems when I go to a doctor in January. I love you, I’d do most anything for you, but I need answers here and I can’t worry about you or care what you think of what I’m doing.”

His response was thrilling. He said he doesn’t want me to care what he thinks as far as this goes. Well, then I don’t have to feel guilty. I can do what I gotta do to see if I can find out why I’m sterile, then get on with my life.

Anyway, I have an appointment with a Dr. Linda Brown out near Melanie in Glendale on July 13. This is when I’ll mention the asthma, see about making sure my thyroid is OK, see about getting my ear cleaned, then see about a female exam. When I have the female exam, I’ll mention the DES exposure and how I can’t conceive, then hopefully the ball will roll from there. It may take me time to find out any answers if I can, but it’s worth a shot. I just don’t know how much Tom may or may not get in the way or try to con or manipulate things, even if it’s on a subconscious level, but we’ll see. If he doesn’t cooperate, I’m still gonna see to it that they do what I need them to do for me. I still won’t tell them, though, that I want answers and not a child. Tom still swears he’s gonna make an appointment for himself, too, when I go for mine, but this I’ll believe if I see it.

Later…

Tweety’s in for a change, although I don’t know if it’s gonna get all that hot out. He’s actually doing this chirping that’s pretty and not as obnoxious as when he squawks.

Later…

I was peering outside when I saw 3 kids at the Lopez’s fooling around with a basketball. I said to myself Oh no! They’re gonna come right over here and play basketball. They didn’t, though.

Jesus! It’s only gonna be in the low 90s for the next few days. It’s supposed to be 110º now!

Lisa called me collect. As usual, I refused it and called her right back. She says that instead of cutting herself, she’s drinking. Great. Just great. Well, once again I went through my speech about how things do get better and to try to do something more constructive when things aren’t going well.

I wish I could speed up time for her and get her out of that house. Not that adults on their own don’t have their share of problems, but I just wish things could get better for her like yesterday. My heart goes out to her, knowing what she’s going through. She’s in my old shoes, I swear. The only difference is, is that she’s not in a funny farm or a foster home. I’d rather her stay home than be in some psyche ward or foster home (especially if the foster parents aren’t like Anna and Harry were), but I still think Tammy’s a shitty mother. Maybe she’s not like our mother was, but she’s bad enough.

Lisa says Larry secretly went down to meet her at school where she was doing something with cooking. That was really nice of Larry. I didn’t think he’d ever care about Tammy’s kids.

She says Larry wants her to live with him.

Right now, Lisa’s going through a lot of mixed feelings. She doesn’t want her parents arrested, but she doesn’t want to take the shit they dish out, understandably. She’d love to live with Larry, but she doesn’t want to leave home.

Then she tells me I’m young and cool and that’s why she likes me so much, on top of my knowing what she’s going through and her being able to trust me. That’s sweet of her, but I still think she’d be disappointed and shocked if she saw me. She’s seen recent pictures of me, but I don’t know if she realizes just how fat I’ve gotten. I’m about 25 pounds heavier than when she last saw me.

She says Tammy and Mark got in a fight. Yeah, I believe that. Lisa said something about him pushing people away and throwing things. That sister of mine knows how to pick them, huh?

It really pisses me off to hear that now Tammy’s slapping her around, so this is what I did: I typed a letter to her, and in it, I commented on how anyone that hits kids (referring to Bill) is sick, etc. Maybe she’ll look in the mirror after reading this.

Lisa goes in a van that picks her up to a place where she’s an out-patient. She goes for 4 hours 3 days a week.

Later…

Tom and I just went for a swim. The water was only pleasant due to the pool cover, or else we’d never have been able to get into that water.

He put up the volleyball net, so we played a little volleyball and badminton, but no bee bashing. There was only one bee that came along and he missed it.

I scanned some desert scenery pictures, as well as a few of me from when I first got here, for Paula.

Why oh why does Kim insist on sending me Bob’s letters? I tell her she doesn’t need to bother, but she just doesn’t listen. She wasted a stamp just to send me his boring letter, filled with the same old shit. Fortunately, he doesn’t write to her very often. Lately, he only writes when she does and she just sent a letter for the first time in 3 months. Bob’s letters are so fucking boring, that when I read (when I was proofreading) how much I used to love getting letters from him from 1992-1995, I was kind of embarrassed for myself. How could I dig getting letters from him?

Wonder what Miss Bitch was doing here on a weekday at 1:00. That silver Caddy pulled in, she and the kid got out for a few minutes, then she returned and took off, but I don’t know if the kid was in tow. It could’ve been left here with someone, but I doubt that.

MONDAY, JUNE 8, 1998 The weekend went by fast, seeing that my schedule’s on nights. All I heard was some door slams a few hours ago to remind me they’re still there.

Andy’s coming over at 12:30. So if he really does come over, he’ll really be here at 2:30.

Tom got an air cleaner and a small portable evaporative cooler.

Kim sent an email with some jokes.

I just had some chicken. It feels so good to not worry about eating too much. I quit weighing myself regularly, too, cuz I know the scale will always say 122-128.

I don’t know from where, but Blackie’s bleeding. There was a drop of blood in the living room and a few on the kitchen floor, so I put him outside. Maybe he was in a catfight.

SUNDAY, JUNE 7, 1998 Yesterday turned out good, but today’s a day that I could do without.

Here’s where I’m glad my husband’s easy and not your average guy. I was too horny to wait for him to get up and take the time to eat, digest, and do the many things he has to do before he can have sex, so I woke him up. We began screwing, but he went soft. He said he had to pee, but I think he really wasn’t all that into it. That was fine, though, cuz I just had him go down on me, which is really what I wanted all along, cuz I needed some relief fast! And naturally and thankfully, he didn’t mind being left out. So I can be selfish and not feel guilty about it.

From here on out, I could easily live the rest of my life with the vibrator half the time, and with his tongue the other half of the time. I could totally live without screwing at this point, although the variety’s still nice.

I feel so insulted and kind of embarrassed, too, to have lost just one or two measly pounds after the two weeks or so I’ve gone on just a few bites a day, and after the exercises I’ve been doing for over a month now. It’s hopeless. Totally hopeless. This is how I’m meant to be. I’ll never be any smaller than I am again. I lose a lousy inch in the hips, but meanwhile, those exercises never really did me a damn bit of good. I knew they wouldn’t too, cuz I’m too fat. The crunches just can’t cut through all that fat. I just don’t have the willpower to live on just water and that’s what it’d take. Meanwhile, I’m gonna fuck the exercises and fuck watching what I eat. I’ll eat what I want, when I want, but will continue the 30-45 minutes a day of walking. Once again, I’m gonna prove to Tom and myself, but mostly to myself, that there is something up there that’ll never let me get any smaller. I made a bet with him that if I walk down to at least 115, I have to cook for him 5 nights in a row. If I don’t, he owes me Red Lobster.

Another thing I find insulting and frustrating, even scary and sad, is how I still have wheezing bouts and how I still need inhalers every day. Yes, I know it could be worse, I could still be in the ER and having bad attacks regularly and on more medication, but God? I don’t smoke anymore, so why must I still have wheezing fits? It’s like - thanks, God. Thanks for rewarding me for all my hard work in fat and wheezing. Adults aren’t supposed to have asthma. At least that’s what the latest reports say. You can have allergies, though. I swear, if it’s not the norm, it’s me.

Tom got this bright idea that if he brought up the CD-maker differently, it’d work all the time unless we got a defective CD. Well, he made me an audio CD and him a data CD for the computer OK, but when it came time for me to do a CD, of course it had to fuck up. It won’t work for me. Something doesn’t want me making CDs. I’ve been so stubborn, though. I just don’t know when to give the fuck up, but this is it as far as the CDs go. I tried, I got a few that I like, now that’s it. Time to move on. There is something really cool that I did do as far as CDs go. I made labels. There’s this CD labeler that lets you line up a label to put directly onto the CD. I used all different pretty graphics. They’re not photos of any kind, but they’re colorful. They have ocean waves, swirls, and designs like that that I used.

Again, why would I have the suspicions I have about Tom if they weren’t true? I know he doesn’t want a kid (thank God), but this means he’s gonna do what he can to block me from going to a doctor and finding out what’s wrong with me. He does not want to deal with it. I know finding out what’s wrong with me won’t fix whatever’s wrong with me and I wouldn’t want to, but I’d still like to know and understand. Not just have theories and guesses. I can’t let another year go by with this eating at me. I want to know why I’m sterile if I can be told why, so I can close that chapter and move on. I tried to talk to him earlier and although he said we could talk if I needed to, he just did not want to deal with this. I can tell. Every time I bring it up, he just does not want to hear it. Well, that’s fine, cuz I’ve got to do this for me. I’ll leave him out of it. He doesn’t have to go to a doctor himself. He doesn’t want to deal with it, he doesn’t want to go to a doctor - fine, but I’ve got to do this for me. I don’t see how they could legally refuse to help me just cuz he wouldn’t be a part of this, too. He won’t come out and say he refuses to support me or go along with me or go to a doctor, but his actions will tell that. He won’t make an appointment to go to a doctor for himself, and I know he won’t be supportive of me, either.

He tells me he wants me to be happy, he tells me I should do something about this rather than talk about it, he supports me through my ear, through my teeth, but not with this. I just know he’s gonna try to put a guilt trip on me, but like I told him in the message I left him, I’ve got to do this for me like I should’ve since we got married. I should’ve trusted my gut instinct, I knew something was wrong with me, so I should’ve dealt with it then and not let it eat at me year after year. I can’t keep putting this off and making excuses. That gets too easy. It may never be important to him, cuz if we did it his way, we’d never go to a doctor and if I never brought up testing/kids again, he wouldn’t either. No, I’m not going now, and not when I’m 34 or 35, but in January. I thought that’d be a good time. After the Florida trip, but before we move, so that’ll be one less thing we’ll have to take long trips into town for, cuz I’m sure it’ll take me a few months to find the answers I seek if they can find them for me.

I don’t want a child for various reasons that I’m sure are obvious, and I can do a million other things for Tom, but this I need to do for me. I need to start thinking of and doing for my sanity sometimes. I don’t think what I’m doing is wrong, any more than it was wrong of me to deal with my ear and teeth. If one has a problem, they should try to fix it. Like I said, I could go to my grave asking why I’m sterile, but I don’t want to. I know God sterilized me and why, but how did he let it happen? That’s what I want to know.

This isn’t to say that if I had been OK and gotten pregnant, he would’ve been your typical dad. I think he’d have stuck around and would’ve been very supportive and a good father.

He says he loves me, and I believe him. If he didn’t, he would never have dealt with me with my ear, teeth, and other things. I’m sure he’ll see how much this means to me and will take me to the doctor even if he came out and told me he didn’t want any part of it. I’ve lived with this enough years, he knows it, and I don’t need to add another year or 2 or 5 or 10. I believe him when he says he doesn’t like to see me hurt, angry, confused, frustrated, etc. Well, the not knowing sure is frustrating and it’s well past time to do whatever I can to deal with it and seek closure to it.

Later…

I just had a huge potato and oh, it felt so good! See, I never get used to not eating much. Instead, it catches up to me and my stomach wants to make up for lost food. Of course, now that I’m eating when I’m hungry and eating more than a bite a day, I’m right back to what I originally weighed. So all my hard work was wasted. I did what I did for nothing, and I don’t know why I even bothered in the first place. I should trust my instinct and vibes when they tell me I’ll never again be below 120 pounds. I don’t see myself going into the 130s, but I’ll be right where I am in the mid-20s indefinitely. Why do I even bother to walk? All it’ll do for me is raise my heartbeat and make me thirsty. I just want freedom from food and weight worries and I’m taking that freedom back. I’ve been on the weight and food trip for too damn long now. For 8 months I drove myself crazy just to lose a few pounds, then end up right where I started. Wow! I should be proud of myself, huh?

Later…

Yesterday I spoke to my folks. Boo and Max, who found a place down there, are gonna be leaving MA altogether, I guess. They took Mom out for steak for her birthday.

Tom did a lot around here. He cut the pool cover to fit the pool, set up the reel we got for it, and the volleyball net, too. He trimmed the little palm trees and did several other things.

SATURDAY, JUNE 6, 1998 Sent my mom a “Happy Birthday” message on AOL and typed Tammy a letter.

It really bothers me that they’ve got Lisa drugged up, but it fucking figures. They’ve got her on a couple of different medications I’ve never heard of. I just can’t understand using drugs to solve problems. Drugs don’t solve problems. People solve problems. And sometimes people have problems that no other people can solve, but this doesn’t mean that they should resort to drugs on account of it. How can you learn to deal with your problems naturally, if you’re drugged up?

Is Tom ever gonna get up? I’ve been horny all night, so if he doesn’t get up soon, I’m gonna just take care of myself. Maybe I should do that anyway, cuz even if he got up now, first he has to eat, then take an hour to digest, then take forever to get started, etc. He’s just got so many conditions. Can’t we ever have unconditional sex? He has to have an empty stomach. The temperature has to be just right. The time has to be just right. Everything has to be just right. He can’t just have fun and not worry about everything having to be perfect.

And the tooth comes down some more. I can really feel it trying to force its way out. I’m not in any pain, but I can feel pressure in the area at times, and sometimes my jaw pops.

Ziggy has a strange way of wheeling. It’s like she rocks back and forth while she wheels. She doesn’t continuously flow around the wheel.

God, I’m so bored now! Should I do a fourth walking session, or what?

FRIDAY, JUNE 5, 1998 It’s that time. The weekend’s here. I don’t know what to expect, as usual. When I got up at 3 PM, Tom told me there was a U-Haul over there. He said it was parked at a funny angle. Its back was right against the corner of their house, suggesting it was loaded with something they were holding for someone else. If someone had been moving in shit here, why leave it in the U-Haul? And also, if someone was moving out, why keep it in the U-Haul here? So, Tom’s theory was that it was being held for someone else and it was at that angle so no one could take any of the stuff inside. In other words, if there was a couch in there, you couldn’t move it out cuz the house would be in the way.

An hour or two later, a dark blue car I’d never seen before was sitting on the street in front of their house. Then the bald-headed cock jumped in the U-Haul. The blue car took off, and Baldy followed.

So Tom was right. No one’s coming or going. The person in the blue car was who El Cocko was helping/holding shit for. Besides, my vibes tell me they’re it. They’re our last neighbors while we’re here. My vibes aren’t always accurate as far as when and if they’ll act up at certain times, but I would pretty much bet these journals that they’re it.

Tom said that maybe this person he was helping was moving into a house and maybe they’d go there for sports parties. Not a chance. First off, they want to at least have occasional outbursts to piss me off and be noticed by me. Secondly, if this person was going into a house, why not park the U-Haul there? Obviously, this person’s going into an apartment. And probably coming from one, too.

Later…

Just thought I’d write some more in between laundry, cooking, and dishes.

Andy’s going to Quinn’s funeral tomorrow. He was cremated a few days ago.

Andy and I haven’t gotten together yet, but we will. When we do see each other, he’s gonna be thrilled and amazed to see how many notes he’ll be getting. Yeah, it’s time to make him a new batch of “funny notes.” I used a handwritten font and oh, how easy it is to print these little notes out! I could never do this on the old printer. I had a tall square pad of 10 different colors. I took the reds and greens that I don’t like, so he’ll end up with tons of notes.

Yesterday I began walking on the treadmill. I never thought I’d enjoy walking so much. I’m starting with 3 10-minute walks a day. Every other day I’ll do my shaping/toning exercises.

Colorful Images really wants my business. That’s the label company. They sent me 10 very boring address labels that had Bob’s name all over them. So, I’ll be sending him some old journal drafts after I’ve proofread them and I’ll use the labels on him. They also sent book labels, CD labels, video labels, and a few other labels too.

The weather’s still unbelievably mild. It’s supposed to be 110º at this time of year, but we were in the low 90s today.

THURSDAY, JUNE 4, 1998 The freeloaders are still behaving. All I heard was a few annoying door slams.

I changed the mice’s cages today and did a new setup for the first time in a while. I had had the same setup for too long. They needed a change and they like it a lot, too. Especially Star, who’s always been afraid to climb. Another reason I changed things around is so that instead of just being able to roam around in 2 of the 4 cages, as she has been, she can roam around in the maze, too. I thought it might help her to get around more and teach her to climb and so far, it looks like that’s what’s happening.

Neither of us was in the mood for sex tonight cuz we were in the mood to just lay around and chat instead. It was nice.

Here I was the other day saying I hoped Quinn killed himself - well - he did. According to Andy, he had been afraid Quinn would kill himself, too, cuz of how depressed he’d been and cuz of how he’d been talking about it. I feel so bad for ending up falsely reassuring Andy like I did. Usually, and I can say this from experience from when I jumped is that if someone’s serious about suicide, whether or not they succeed, they don’t talk about it or warn anyone, they just do it. Guess he did both, seeing that he hung himself after threatening to do so.

I feel bad for Andy, who was still in shock when I last talked to him, and I wouldn’t say this out of respect for him, but I can’t say I’m sad over Quinn’s killing himself. It’s sad to see one be so miserable all their lives, but that’s just it - he was miserable and he brought others down with him and I haven’t forgotten those times he was a sick fuck. I know it was just a matter of time before Quinn became verbally and emotionally abusive to Andy again, and who knows what else? He was a druggie and a waste product so, in a sense, his life was over long before he hung himself. It’s like he never even had a purpose in life from what Andy told me.

The good I see in this is that it might help Andy to move on. I don’t see him running to Connecticut to be with David or him getting some other wonderful guy out here, but I still think Quinn was a bad influence in his life and when he wasn’t, all he did was hold Andy back.

At least now I won’t have to worry about Quinn hurting Andy and me having to hurt Quinn. Just because I’m perfectly willing to beat the snot out of anyone that may hurt someone I love and care for, doesn’t mean I want to.

As for why Quinn did this, I guess he just couldn’t deal with the real world, and as Andy said, he could never fully accept his gayness. It was probably that and a combination of things. I think he knew his life never meant anything and that it was going nowhere.

At least Andy’s dealing with this well. He says it only makes him want to live all the more.

Later…

Andy left me a message this morning saying he was sorry he didn’t call back yesterday. I had called him, but he had company. He said that after the company left, he just wanted to be alone. No problem. I understand. He also said he was going to go over to play with Quinn’s cat. Also, Marla called, so the family will know about it now. They’ll probably feel as I do - sorry one was so miserable that they had to end it all, but perhaps they’ll breathe a sigh of relief knowing that this potentially dangerous waste product, which’s a negative influence, is out of the way for good now.

Tom and I were discussing Andy and Quinn last night. I had left him a message about it when I found out about it, cuz I was gonna be in bed when he got in. He said he was sorry about it, which was nice of him.

I see the little animal kid was out playing with the Lopez’s kid. They were very quiet this time. I wouldn’t have known they were out if I didn’t look out and see. Guess they mostly stay on the Lopez’s property.

Later…

Evie went to a doctor about her weight and you’d think they’d tell her some complex thing to do, but nope. The doctor just said, “Don’t eat bread and walk 45 minutes a day.” I guess bread affects the body’s insulin and sugar levels. I don’t know about the walking, but I know that one must stop eating in order to lose weight. I’ve been at 121-123 for too long now so I’ve got to muster up the willpower to eat even less. It’s either food and fat or no food and thinness for me. A few bites a day will keep me where I am, but it won’t let me drop further down. I’ll be doing some walking myself, though, so we’ll see if it helps or not. Tom brought the walker back from Ma’s that we had let her use before she got so weak.

I left Andy a message letting him know that he could come over tonight if he wanted to. It goes without saying that I want him to call me anytime he needs to talk about something, but I hope he doesn’t use this Quinn thing, as selfish as I may sound, to play phone with me a lot.

I also called to wish Becky a happy birthday. Actually, her birthday was on the 3rd, but I forgot to call then. She’s 11 now. She also sounded like she was crying, but when I asked her if she was, she said she wasn’t. Maybe she really was, or maybe she was just tired or had allergies. Who knows?

TUESDAY, JUNE 2, 1998 Just thought I’d jot down a few things while I was waiting for the potatoes to go soft. I’m boiling up some potatoes to mash.

Last night I was like, oh my God, it’s all over! I threw away days of all this hard work. Yeah, I ate too much yesterday, but still, what I ate was a fraction of what the average person eats, and if my metabolism weren’t so slow, it wouldn’t have affected me. I woke up yesterday at 119½ and went to bed at 125! Major setback. My metabolism’s not at a complete standstill, or else I wouldn’t wake up a few pounds lighter, but it’s still really damn slow. No one should gain that much in one day. When I woke up, though, I was lucky to find that it wasn’t such a setback after all, cuz I was 122. I thought I’d wake up at 124. Still, things are going a little too slow. I should be in the high one-teens now regularly, so I hope to move things along quicker, cuz I’m gonna eat even less. Another reason I could’ve woken up that low was cuz of the attack I had last night for an hour. That really takes a lot out of you. If I didn’t know any better last night, I’d swear I still smoked. Even Lisa asked if I was smoking when we talked earlier.

It was about 3 AM and I had just gotten into bed. Next thing I know I was coughing up a storm and wheezing my ass off. It wasn’t till 6:30 when I fell asleep. So when I got up at 2:00, I felt drained and dehydrated. I even let myself have some canned peaches on top of water and coffee.

Tom and I peeled back the pool cover when I got up, and then he went to bed. After taking a quick dip and sitting out in the sun for a little while, then after waking up some more, listening to music, and exercising, I can say I felt much better. More alive and more energized.

The proofreading’s coming right along. From here on out, I should have fairly short journals and no more really long ones.

We talked some more about ways to get rid of our two unwanted cats. Scaring or hurting them won’t work. They’d either have to be killed or physically removed. And remember, this is all White Paws has ever known. Blackie will be getting fixed one of these days soon.

I called Tammy’s and got Lisa. Tammy was still out working. Lisa said she’d been thinking a lot of me lately. I’ve been thinking a lot about her, too. And worrying.

She says she’s suspended again for 10 days for swearing at her teacher and has outpatient therapy at Natchaug for 4 hours 3 days a week. They got her drugged up, too. She’s on a couple of medications I never heard of. I think they’re already out of school here, but there, they don’t get out till June 19th, says Lisa. Gotta make up all those snow days!

After telling me how much she loves me, misses me, wants to see me, and thinks I dress cool, she told me something that has me fuming even more! Guess Tammy’s taking Bill’s place with the hitting. Lisa says she understands she did wrong by cussing her teacher out, she loves her mother but says that for the first time, Tammy let her have it. She gave her a bloody lip and scratched her neck as she went to reach for her and says she’ll do it again, too.

Wonderful. Thanks, God, for allowing these things to happen. And I don’t believe it was the first time, either. I’ve seen her smack Lisa. Hell, she even hit me a lot and gave me a bloody lip when I was little. Before I was in my teens, mainly between the ages of 8-12. I asked her how old she was when Bill started smacking her around. She said about 9 or 10. So it was when I came out here.

She also says Tammy’s threatening her with foster care, so I reminded Lisa she should do better in school and find more productive ways to deal with her emotions, and why she does not want to end up in foster care.

Thank you, God, for blessing me with sterility! How could I have seen it as a curse and not the gift that it truly is? Never shall I make the same mistakes my mother and sister made or risk God murdering that child.

Later…

The freeloader just left. It had its music low, but I know its patterns. It’ll get louder and louder till I have to either contact the city or put its music out for good myself. The heat’s gonna stir this thing up. We’ll see how this thing returns at 9:30 or so, but it seems that after 3 months, our city letters expire. If that was even it. It had its quiet spells long before we ever launched a complaint to the city, so who knows why it is that he’s really quiet at times? Could be cuz they just don’t want to deal with me bitching about it or take the chance of me doing something to them or the car.

It is just gorgeous out! I love it at 82º in the shade.

Later…

Didn’t type much last time cuz it was just too beautiful to stay inside. So, I’ll type now while waiting to hear how El Cocko arrives. Unless it came back while I was under the headphones, or super quiet without even a door slam, it ain’t in yet.

I swam for quite a while at sundown. I wish the sun went down slower. I just didn’t want to get out of the pool. It’s not that I can’t stay in when the sun’s down, but dusk is my favorite time to swim. That way, the bees are gone, but you still have enough light to see around you. No swimming into any dead bugs that may be floating around. The pool chemicals dry the skin out, though, so maybe I’ll take an oil bath later.

I think I’ll go type my nieces letters for now.

MONDAY, JUNE 1, 1998 Well, this is it. This is where I’ll do my journals. No more writing them. Can’t say for sure whether or not I’ll print anything I type here out. We’ll see. What’s most important is that I have them on the computer. I don’t know if I’ll have monthly files like june98 for example, or if I’ll have two months at a time filed like junjul98. I’m using an easy-to-read font and a deep purple color. For now, anyway. Meanwhile, it’ll take me time to get a format established.

Sunday was a freeloaderless day. In fact, I wonder if he’s been around since last night. He came in quietly yesterday, but last night at 8:30, I heard more packing sounds, and then he left without music. 8:30 is an unusual time for him to leave. All day today, I haven’t heard any car doors. The last few weeks or so have been really good as far as stereos in general go. For a while there, it got really bad. A day wouldn’t go by that you wouldn’t hear someone blast by 1-3 times a day.

I thought of something, too. The bitch and cock weren’t home when that aqua car banged around for a few minutes and I realized that that could possibly be the kid and the kid’s friend. Maybe the kid let the friend bang in cuz the bitch and cock were out. Kids don’t take city complaints and eviction possibilities as seriously as adults do. So all in all, that cock and bitch may not know about this aqua car and they may have nothing to do with it. They may even worry that I’ll launch another complaint if they find out about it. Well, for their sake, it better stay at an occasional outburst with the bass, cuz as soon as they go basing out on me daily, is as soon as they’re dead meat. They’re either out of here, or they’re dead. I’m not gonna tolerate no shit from them or from anyone else. They got the wrong idea if they think they can harass me again and get away with it. I’ll lay their fucking asses across the pavement.

Looking forward to seeing you tomorrow, Melanie! If Tom, who sees me every day, notices the weight I’ve lost, then she really ought to notice! It’s great when someone notices I look different (if it’s for the better), but it’s mainly important to me and that I feel comfortable. I’m happy to say I am finally trimming down and toning up, but I’ve still got a way to go.

In case I haven’t mentioned this yet, I’m inserting bullshit into the freeloader’s excerpts every few pages to keep it interesting. That way, if they get sick of reading how much I hate them and just what I’d like to do to them, they can read some interesting stories of shit they didn’t do and that may make them really read the whole thing through. It should keep their curiosity going so that they read on to see if there’s any more BS to either laugh at or get mad at. I’ve got stuff like how she chased him with a weed-whacker, she puked in the driveway, they asked me personal questions, etc. I already printed out and made into a booklet the excerpts on them from 1996-1997.

Later…

Oh, am I having a shitty time of it now! I can’t even do a simple thing like print out more journals to be proofread! I hate technology! You just can’t depend on it. The papers got all jammed up in the printer, and the CD-making thing was a bust. I got so sick of most of the CDs not coming out right that I finally said fuck it! I have a few good CDs I made, I did condense my CDs immensely, and I do have one edit CD, so I’ll live with that. I knew having everything I wanted on CD was just a dream, anyway. Just too good to be true.

I spoke with Andy, who refuses to quit calling me on weekends, and we might be getting together within the next few days. I have that stuff to give to him and Laura and I haven’t seen him in a while.

As usual, Andy’s life is as it’s been since I’ve known him. He, Michelle, and Quinn are all having a tough time. Andy says he’s afraid Quinn’s gonna kill himself cuz he’s been depressed and is not answering his phone or door. I hope he does kill himself because I believe he’s dangerous. Andy’s still loveless and lonely, and Michelle’s still a virgin and it ain’t by choice. She’s 23 and she’s never made it with anyone, male or female. She has the same problem I had. She’s attracted to very feminine women and as I can tell you firsthand, feminine gay women are one in millions and if you do find one, she’ll almost definitely want a butch. Fems don’t usually dig other fems.

He also fears that Laura and her sick pals may have drugged him. I don’t know if it’s just pot paranoia on his part, or if they did, but how can you live with someone that you fear may even think of doing that to you?! Doesn’t he have any self-respect?

I wish God would give them a break, though! God, just let them have love and great sex. Just let them have it! Is that too much for them to ask for?

Later…

Just took a moment out to get off with my vibrator. Oh, it feels sooo good! I thought of Melanie. I’d have gotten off with my husband, but that’s usually not possible as I well know.

The pool cover works great, and I’m looking forward to us getting a reel for it. The water at the top, about two inches deep, was actually hot. The rest was pleasant.

Yesterday we had a ball with the badminton/volleyball game he got for the pool. We didn’t set up the net yet for volleyball, but we played badminton. It came with 4 rackets and 4 birdies. Pink, green, blue, and yellow birdies. I actually had more fun bashing bees, than birdies. Together, we killed about 8 bees. There were so many!

It’s finally gotten hot, although not as hot as it usually is at this time. It’s usually 110º at this time, but we’ve been around 100º.

My allergies have let up. I don’t know if it’s cuz of the nasal spray I’ve been using, or for some other reason, but I don’t miss them.

Got to see Melanie today. Again, she didn’t look as hot as she did the first 4 times I saw her, but she looked plenty good enough. If I were single and she asked to get between my legs, I’d spread them without hesitation.

That nice black lady, which her kind needs many more of, came to get me. Usually, Melanie does, so I don’t know why she did. At first I was bummed, thinking Melanie wasn’t there, but then in she came!

She said she got that straightening iron we talked about the last time I was there and that it works well. She had her hair curly, though.

Hello, freeloader (it’s out slamming doors now). Yeah, I know you’re still there. How the fuck could I forget? Like you’d let me forget your sorry existence?

Anyway, I asked Melanie, “Since you’re quite the adventurer, have you gone bungee jumping yet?” She said she did last year, and it was scary.

That’s basically all we talked about. She said that yes, the tooth’s come down some more, and hopefully it can be bracketed next time I see her in just 28 days!

I got pink whatever-you-call-its instead of blue, too. She laughed when I said it clashed with my lipstick.

Amazingly, I finally woke up tipping the one-teens! Woke up at 119½.

After seeing Melanie, we went to Zia’s Records where all I could find was a Judd’s CD, but that’s fine, there are songs on it I love to sing. One of them I forgot all about till I played it.

Our last stop was to get him something to eat at Arby’s and to get me KFC. It was the most I’d eaten in days, and even after that, I still weighed 121! I thought for sure that 4 wings and one biscuit would put me up to 123, but nope. I can bet you that now, after two side dishes of macaroni and cheese, I am back up to 123, but I hope this is a good sign. One saying I’ll go from bouncing between 121-123 to bouncing between 119-121. That’s how I lost weight the last time, and I’d stay at certain weights for a week or two.

[perpetual-fool]

I keep feeling like if I figure this one thing out, people might suddenly make sense. It's hard to wrap my head around the idea that that ain't gonna happen, really for the same reason it's hard to wrap my head around it in the first place. So like, sometimes it seems like suddenly people can't speak English. I brought up this incident with Cat, I'd asked my mom what exactly was appealing about this ghost-stories show she watched, and she only said something like "it's kind of just background noise", refusing to elaborate further. And that neither explains what the appeal is or why she chose this specific thing to be 'noise' in the first place. Cat said that that was a perfectly sensible answer, but when asked *her* what the appeal was then, she presented a few different possibilities. Meaning she *also* didn't have a real answer. And she said that my thinking is just overly specific, which has some serious consequences but is possible. Except, a couple days ago I got a real answer. My mom likes the little tidbits of history they throw in sometimes, that's the appealing thing spread so thin it becomes background noise.

So I was just directly lied to, so to speak. Though, really it's quite generous to call it lying. And it'd be generous to call it gaslighting. I don't have a word for it. When I asked my mom what she'd 'heard' instead of what I'd actually said, she told me she thought I was just calling it 'stupid'. I don't know what the significance of that would be even if I had been doing that. But, more often than not people are taking what I said to mean something entirely unrelated to what I said. And it's entirely indistinguishable from when they aren't doing that, and trying to clarify helps literally never. I mean, it's not even like people *sometimes* make sense and then suddenly don't, if they made sense in the first place I wouldn't have to be asking about things.

And I dunno how to parse this. From the very rare times people do make sense, it seems like people aren't just totally insane (aside from this issue), they're just not particularly clever. Except they're sufficiently un-clever that virtually everything they do seems to be working against their own interest. I guess at the least, it's more likely than not that they aren't going to be trying to hurt me on purpose. And as far as dealing with a doctor or something, the only real course of action I can take is to find a new one if the current one either doesn't explain things satisfactorily or seems incompetent. Similarly with a cashier or something, they're gonna go through their motions like a robot, and if I don't like what that entails then all I can do is not go back there (*cough*purpleheart*cough*). Like, context: there was an incident in high school when I was taking karate classes. We we told 'beginner students do X, advanced students to Y' and I was a beginner paired with an advanced student. I didn't know what Y was, so I asked "hey, what is Y?" And the guy just stood there. I asked two more times and he kept just standing there, saying literally nothing. And that's what people are like.

So, as long as I don't try to engage in any meaningful way, I should be fine? in the short term. That should let me feel safe enough to start going out at least.

Still, why? What's out there? Food, I guess. materials. I'm less enthused about products, and even less so about services.

I was going to try imagining something nice, right? That seems like a whole lot of work, honestly. It'd be much easier if I could just adapt something extant. Like, maybe I'll try booting up NV and reverse-pickpocketing decent armor on all the villagers before the 'defend the town' quest. I just can't build a world right now. And I don't think I'd have time if I did have the energy.

- Corned dog, why? Unsatisfactory. Must I corn my own dogs?

[soliloquyepistolary]

In the dream, I was with someone who looked like Aubrey Marcus and we were hanging out together and I only saw him as a friend and then all of sudden he touched me a few times and I started to get feelings. I said this to him as well, that I'm pretty sure that is really the only reason why I am getting feelings since I am not used to receiving physical affection. And not only that I was probably tuning into his feelings for me and probably getting confused from that since I am an empath. And he says you’re intellectualising it too much and I didn’t agree with that. This interaction felt nice though, I am not being made to feel any way on purpose, I know that he just genuinely likes me as a person. I am able to feel out my own emotions in my own time. He is a kind guy and all and we are having a nice time together even though I can sense he is interested in me.

Then we left in separate cars and and drove to a meditation/yoga class that was being held outside at a nature spot, a park or something. We parked our cars in a regular parking bay on concrete. It was a large class. We got into position with the rest of them. I was looking at the ground, a rectangle piece of dirt the top layer was scraped off to reveal a loose soil the colour of chocolate and it partially under a tree.

I woke up and I was late for work it was like 9:44 or something and I couldn’t even type properly to AL to let her know. I was in a rush to get ready so I was super stressed and all I could text her was gibberish. I couldn’t type out a full word or sentence but I kept trying, a string of nonsensical words and she replied back in an angry tone and she said we’re getting smashed.

I was at some kind of house party and allday and his gf were there and a whole bunch of other white people. They were nice to me and I could tell allday was attracted to me. It felt light and fluffy. I was having a nice time. I could tell these were cool and hip people but they were genuine. It felt like I’d just gotten an ‘in’ into this friendship group and that I was still feeling them out and maybe they knew that, but there was no pressure. I was having fun. I didn’t know these people well but I did like them, they were all around my age. Then I had to go to work because I remembered I was like. When I left the doorknob was broken and I was having trouble shutting the door, it kept opening back up again and then I think allday came to help me. Then a girl I had been talking to and taken a liking t ran out after and gave me a few gifts from her travels overseas or something. And then allday's gf ran out and tried to find that other girl. Then I couldn’t find my car, it wasn’t where I'd left it but I ended up walking to some kind of car repair centre . I clicked my car keys and a light flashed before me but there was no car , it was just flash happening in thin air. I kept clicking my car keys and seeing the flash, I was quite confused. Then I realised the people working here had moved my car from i's original parked position because they needed that spot for some reason. I felt a bit relieved. There was a white board. I knew I just had to ask someone and they would tell me where my car was.

Was I hanging out with them a third time? Allday and his friendship group were hanging out on park benches and I’d just arrived. The couple took a selfie together with a head of another chick in the frame. She had red hair and the gf had written caption like oh she’s really attractive and in the picture the gf was pulling a funny face like she was both confused and amused about how she was feeling. I think the gf was actually interested in her. Or maybe allday was interested in her and the gf was being casual and light about the situation. It felt real but honest and no one really cared, it was just something the couple would have to work out and it’d be fine.

I was late. I was leaving the party to go to work. It was past 10 now… I felt bad and anxious it kept taking me out of the moment. I was having fun in this life with this party and being with AM and figuring out my feelings for him but the fact that I had to go to work was in the back of my mind and it was taking me out of the experience. It was so 3D.

[hugintheraven]

Race and Fandom

So I decided to look at how fandom handles race(and to a lesser extent gender) by focusing on a very specific subset of the world, specifically looking at Sherlock Holmes adaptations and expys. Since most Holmes versions have roughly the same cast(there’s always a Holmes/Watson/Lestrade, with other chars mostly showing up), just swapping various elements about them, it felt like a good way to look at how fandom treats it’s various characters. 

I’m only going to hit a handful of these(I don’t have a year to review every Holmes thing), but if anyone wants to add something, feel free. I’ll be using AO3 tags for this, because they’re easy to check(if occasionally glitchy). And if I screw something up, it’s carelessness, not malice, and I’d appreciate y’all gently letting me know.

Also, this isn’t calling anyone out specifically, rather I just want fandom to examine what we default to thinking about.

First off, the OG books. No major PoC, and Irene Adler shows up exactly once, so TBF I can’t exactly blame fandom for this:

No PoC, Irene Adler isn’t even listed, and the only relationship with a woman in Watson/the wife whose name I didn’t remember before starting this. I mostly included this for completeness and to establish a baseline, there’s not much fandom could do here. This is also likely being contaminated by cross-tagging with other Holmes works, but there’s nothing I can really do about that. And yeah, Holmes/Watson dominates, a trend we will see continue.

House MD:

So this is one of the ones I expected to show issues. Because yes, Wilson(Watson) is white, and we know Watson is the most common choice to pair with House(Holmes). But look at Foreman. The guy was on the show more than almost any char, and yet he shows up significantly less in fanfic. In relationships it’s even worse, with him being a far distant third to either of the other two original trainee docs. Yes, you can come up with explanations for that, but let’s be honest. An adversarial mentor/student relationship is fandom candy and the two of them had a LOT more screentime than House/Chase or House/Cameron(sticking to non-canon couples out of fairness). The only real reason for fanfic to not care about him at all is because he’s black. Cuddy at least makes a good showing, but given how the show handles her that’s less than surprising.

Elementary. Female Watson of Color, an excellent Irene Adler, and while actual Lestrade is still white(and ignorable), Marcus Bell fills a lot of the Lestrade role and is black.

Sherlock/Joan dominates, of course, but everyone who’s non-Sherlock in the relationship tag is either female or a POC. This even has the only sapphic relationship on any of these lists. Marcus also makes a good showing over Gregson, which surprised me. 4 for you, Elementary fandom, you go Elementary fandom. 

Sherlock(BBC). Again, not much fandom could do here. This show hated women and forgot PoC existed.

But this surprised me in a good way. The female chars at least exist in fandom. No Irene Adler, but given Moffat that’s hardly surprising, and the other female chars get some attention. Not Elementary, but it’s something. 

Psych. This is the one that started me down this road:

Because looking at that, you’d assume Lassiter is Watson(Shawn is Holmes). But nope, Burton Guster is the black Watson. Childhood best friend to Shawn Spencer. And third in the relationship list AND character list. It’s a Holmes adaptation where Watson is forgotten by fans. There’s really no justification for that. 

So yeah, no hard statistics this time, but that’s a lot of fandoms and the only one where POC aren’t an afterthought is Elementary(which forced the issue by putting Lucy Liu front-and-center and lost fans due to that). That’s not good. Yes, the shows need to do better, but it’d be nice if when shows do include the occasional black dude, fans didn’t immediately ignore him in favor of literally every other character.