#the 20 made of wings is cool I’ll give them that

[winxwannabe]

I’m not saying half this fandom with bootleg photoshop could design a better 20th anniversary collection than what Winx official just put out…but I’m heavily implying it.

[venuspun]

[ josh o'connor, cis man, he/him ] — whoa! CHRISTOPHER "KIP" HACKETT just stole my cab! not cool, but maybe they needed it more. they have lived in the city for HIS WHOLE LIFE, working as a FUNERAL HOME OWNER. that can’t be easy, especially at only 31 YEARS OLD. some people say they can be a little bit SELF-SERVING and DUPLICITOUS , but I know them to be THEATRICAL and DEDICATED. whatever. I guess I’ll catch the next cab. hope they like the ride back to BROOKLYN! — (hazel, 21, pst, she/her, body horror + gore)

basics

full name. christopher reid hackett

nicknames. kip to most but he'll turn his head to chris

birthdate. december 5th, 1993

orientation. pansexual

occupation. proprietor and director of his recently deceased uncle's funeral home-- hackett mortuary

zodiac. sagittarius sun, aries moon, libra rising

character alignment. chaotic neutral

positive traits. theatrical, dedicated, crafty, intelligent, persuasive, funny

negative traits. self-serving, duplicitous, callous, immature, facetious

aesthetic(s). a silk shirt missing the top button, cheshire cat grin, cracked iphones, words written on a stall of a gross dive bar, restless picking at fingernails, a sudden inevitable but obnoxious sigh, a pencil’s lead cracking with too much pressure, 'you're welcome's and 'i told you so's, the pounding of your feet as you run along the footpath.

history

kip comes from olddddd new york money, politician family money. his dad was, of course, a politician- a city treasurer- and his mom was something of a humble social + philanthropist. kip grows up just being absolutely spoiled rotten by his mom but it's his dad who he idolizes, who he'd like to become exactly like

and that he does, or tries his best to, anyways. he attends the best private schools money can buy and is the top of his class every year, captain of the debate team, class president- the whole nine yards

his loyalty is really put to the test when his dad is caught embezzling millions of dollars and it becomes a scandal that tarnishes their good name forever, that rips kip from the very cushy lifestyle he's gotten very used to at the tender age of 20. by then, he's a junior at columbia. made something of a name for himself in their poli sci department but that all but crumbles too in the wake of his father's transgressions

still, kip is endlessly loyal to his father and is glued to his side after he's served his time. the details are fuzzy as he's a new muse but !!! essentially, kip's old man betrays him in a way he finds unforgivable. just absolute logan roy levels of conniving. so, about seven years into his own career as a campaign manager, kip chooses to leave politics altogether. he's got the perfect opportunity to, what with the untimely passing of his uncle, which somehow saw kip with the sole proprietary rights to his funeral home

kip does not know the first time about running a funeral home. he's got a few employees under his belt but other than that, he's truly winging it. but, with his background, he's found that he's ????? like kind of a showman. so he runs with it. invests in a silly little jingle and sappy, borderline tacky commercials and ads on benches and billboards just advertising the absolute fuck out of it. business is good, so he can't really complain. and he secretly likes it when people stop him on the street with an apprehensive 'hey! aren't you the guy from the thing???' anyways, it's been like, three years of that

personality + hcs

kip is a pretty likable guy!! he just knows how to be likable/personable/friendly, knows how to carry a conversation even if the other person is giving him absolutely nothing. sometimes it's a double-edged sword. while he has a lot of connections, none of them are really that deep. he's not really comfortable opening up to people; he'd much rather just throw a joke or a shamelessly flirtatious comment at a problem than address it head on. that earns him the label of 'immature' but he'd much rather be that than cheesy

but yeah he's like the guy who knows his neighbors, the employees at his favorite coffee shop/bodega/grocery store/literally anywhere he frequents by name. he'll also know their interpersonal dramas too, he's kind of a gossiper like that

he is a very dedicated person. once he's got his mind made up, he's relentless about accomplishing it. he's very crafty, very persuasive. raised to think outside the box and he does. again, it works against him sometimes because he doesn't see how a chronic overconfidence in himself is a bad thing

he's still pretty well-off. yes his mom still sends him money and what about it ... you wouldn't even know though. kip wears the same seven shirts and rotates between like three pairs of pants. he survives off of doordash and boxed mac and cheese (it's the only thing he can make)

he's a closet nerd. like i think he'd so be in a d&d group. but it'd be very much the same vibe as daniel from freaks and geeks playing d&d. kind of a fish outta water but he loves it. i think he'd also love star wars/lotr/yes even the select musical/etc. and anything he can win and proceed to brag about for week, like board games or pictionary or trivia nights

a bit of a hypochondriac. carries a little bath and body works hand sanitizer around with him everywhere. goes for a run every morning out of habit like it'll cancel out him eating an entire pizza the night before

wanted plots

friends!!! best friends even

ppl he knows from having grown up in new york?

his d&d group HELLO. and/or the usual victims of his relentless bullying when he wins against them

i wouldn't say he has enemies but tbh kip probably would so gimme that/people who just generally find him annoying JDJSK

shameless flirtationship that'll never turn into anything real but he keeps it up nonetheless

fwbs/hookups/one night stands u know the drill

drinking buddies? ppl he plays pool with regularly?

i imagine he runs in a running club sometimes so maybe people he knows from that? or from marathons he's done in the past?

i think bad tinder dates is always a funny one. could end up as friends or not

um um um literally anything and everything

[emyn-arnens]

OOH OOH OOH! lotro ask game!!! 2, 4, 9, 20, 35, 42? <3

Thanks for the ask!! <3

2. Do you have a favorite Epic quest?

I love, love, love the session play quests. My favorite tho has to be the ever-iconic Boromir POV session play during vol 3 book 7. I’m sure he does canonically know everyone’s names in the fellowship, but the names he gives them in the game are too hilarious.

4. Do you have a favorite side quest?

I really love the lore-based side quests in Lothlorien that talk about the tale of Amroth and Nimrodel, as well as the ones where you explore or reflect in different areas. The slower pace and encouragement to take in the scenery were a breath of fresh air after spending so much time hacking at things in Moria.

I also love the side quests in Rohan that mention how Eowyn has inspired other girls and women, and the relationships that she has with the various female thanes and reeves. LOTRO has always been pretty good about its depiction of women imo, but it seemed like around Rohan it really started stepping into portraying relationships between women, which I appreciated.

9. Do you have any favorite character(s)?

Corudan, my beloved. **spoilers if you haven’t reached Helm’s Deep** I still can’t believe I just waved goodbye to him and sent him on his way at Helm’s Deep without realizing I wouldn’t see him again. ;-; The devs better pick up his storyline again and let us know what happened to him—and he’d better be alive—or I’ll riot.

And since we’re fresh off the Harvest Festival, I love Ivy Redsmith. She’s such a good friend ;-;

20. Do you spend a lot of time on cosmetics- outfits, weapons, housing, pets? Do you have any favorites?

I’ve spent WAY too much time on cosmetic outfits. I spent most of my time collecting cosmetics/cool armor and creating outfits when I first started playing, and it’s the reason why I’m perpetually running out of inventory, vault, and housing space because I have too many beloved pieces I’m not willing to part with. (On the upside tho, my new alts never have to run around in their janky beginner armor for very long because I always have something from the stash that I can share with them lol.) Most of my screenshots of the outfits I made were on my old computer so I don’t have access to them (rip), but I modeled a lot of the ones I made after the outfits I saw on blogs like Cosmetic LOTRO, Starry Mantle, Material Middle-earth, and Wandering Around Arda.

As for favorite pieces, some of my favorites include the Tunic and Trousers of the Autumn Traveller (Harvest Festival), the bee wings (Harvest Festival), the Swan Cloak and Cloak of the Dove (store items), Gwir-palvais (Isengard instance), all of the Dunland quest reward armor (that was when I really did my inventory in lol), and the High Elf starter armor.

35. Are there any quotes you like?

Rodwen and her group of failing adventurers (in Parth Galen/the East Wall in East Rohan) have a lot of choice dialogue, with my favorite being, “We lost Cuilinn not long after leaving Cair Andros; he was a minstrel, and did not understand the need for silence at a crucial moment.”

And I love every sassy comment Corudan makes about third wheeling with Horn and Nona. :D

42. Are there any fun easter eggs you’ve found that you enjoy?

According to the devs it’s not an official easter egg (and wasn’t a connection on their radar at all), but I read on the forums that the Ivy Redsmith/Halson Cleary story line coincidentally mirrors Connie Willis’ short story, “A Letter from the Clearys.” I've never read the story, but I thought that was cool, even if it was unintentional.

My favorite official easter egg is the hidden deed for climbing to the highest point of the Hollin Ridge, which bestows the “Ridge-racer” title upon completion. My main bore the title proudly for a long time. :D

[lotro asks]

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 31, 1999 Bandit died. Now I’m down to four mice - Patch, Cocoa, Katie and Ashley. Lost four mice this month alone, and I can’t believe Cocoa’s still alive. I guess her tumor isn’t squishing against any vital organs.

I’m making some chicken wings now.

Supposedly, Andy’s coming over today at 1:00. I got up at 2:00, so I’ll be a little tired then, but still functional enough. I left him a message telling him to just come over at 1:00, but I know I have to get a zillion phone calls about it before then.

Later…

Finished another puzzle. Later, I’ll begin the one Tom picked out for me a few days ago.

Someone was playing car alarm a block or so away. You know, I’m really surprised the freeloaders haven’t harassed me with car alarms and car horns. You’d think that people who are desperate for attention, especially my attention, would do other things besides just music, dogs, screaming, and ball games.

I totally dread this Easter Sunday. Right now, although it’s awfully soon, I don’t have a bad vibe. The question is, if they do raise hell am I gonna be able to keep my promise to Tom and restrain from beating the shit out of them? Well, they’d have to be incredibly stupid to blast in and out like they did last Easter. I mean, they’d really have to not give a shit about losing the house. I’m sure there’ll at least be hours of yelling and ball games.

We have between 14-22 weekends left here. If we’re here till September 1st, then that’s 22 weekends left. If we get out as early as the beginning of July, that’s 14 weekends left. We’ll probably really have something like 17-19 more to go, provided things keep working out for us. But damn! That’s about a month’s worth of weekends left - yuck!

Later…

Just got call number one from Andy, but what made it cool is that he met Stevie Nicks. He told me, “I’m not gonna tell you any details till I come over at 1:00, but I met Stevie Nicks last night. And Cheryl Crow. I knew it. I told him I knew he’d meet Stevie someday. Somehow, I just knew it was inevitable. It was destined that they meet if only once, if only for a second.

I told him I’d tell him about the manufactured homes on Tuesday (my best phone day) since he’d no doubt be understandably excited and not let me get a word in edgewise, but he said his story would only take about 20 minutes. Well, it takes however long it takes. I’m happy for him and excited to hear about this.

Later…

Just thought I’d write while I wait for Andy. Of all the times I hated how Andy has shown up late in the past, I kind of hope he’s late today. If he has to leave in time for his 2:30 appointment, then the later he is, the less time he’s here. I can’t believe he hasn’t called me a second time, but he will. He’ll probably call right before or right after 1:00 to needlessly say he’s on his way. Wouldn’t be surprised if he brought food over, too. Since I’ve pointed out his overeating, that’s all the more he’ll mention food.

Tom said they’re doing something to replace pap smears, but he’s not sure what. It has something to do with grapefruit. Sounds lovely.

Anyway, Tom came in, ate, unwound in front of the TV, took a dump, and now he’s in bed.

I had a vision that our land would be prepped and that it was in Maricopa. I saw an old, small, white wooden house off in the distance and another one I couldn’t see, but that’s it. I could only see two sides of the house. The other two sides are blurred. I saw us in the house we like best so far (the one we saw the last time we looked), but these visions, sadly, are subject to change. Anything could come up to trip things up. So far, though, God’s paving the way for us just nicely. The biggest factor in what we can get lies within how much of a loan we can get, as well as the stocks. We certainly can’t count on selfish Marjorie, even though we’ve helped her. That bitch is too wrapped up in herself. Well, I just hope we won’t have to settle, although nothing we could move into could be a settlement compared to this house and this area. Even if it was the same exact house we live in now; just to be more secluded, would be way better. To not have a pack of sick freeloaders three feet away. To not have a basketball hoop three feet away. To not have a street full of bass bangers fifteen feet away. To not have to listen to this dog somewhere in front that I hear barking non-stop right now. Still, even if we do have to settle for a smaller house within the $50,000 range, it’ll still be bigger and nicer than this house and it’ll have at least three bedrooms and two baths.

About 90% of the time, the front is quiet dog-wise. It fucking figures that a dog has to act up non-stop when I’m expecting company.

TUESDAY, MARCH 30, 1999 I called and rescheduled my appointments with Mel and the Doctor for April 7th. I know it’s hit or miss, though, as far as if I’ll be able to go to this appointment, but things turned out for the better. It would’ve been hard on me to go to them today at 11:00 and spend an hour and a half there since I got up at 8:00 the night before.

Minnie’s still trying desperately to get me.

There was a message to call Dr. Wells to get a message left for me. Can you believe they’re telling me now, that the IVP test that I took last December came out OK? I know, though, that this is cuz I quit on them and never rescheduled to resume the baby quest. Once again, though, not only is there no baby to be had with the way God’s dead-set in his decision about that, and with Tom’s fears/stubbornness/resistance, but each day that passes, I feel more and more sure I don’t want a kid. I tell Tom I’ll probably have in vitro a couple of years after we move just to please him, cuz I know how much he likes it when I leave doors open, but I know better. Not only do I not want to put myself through any more physical shit that’s not medically necessary, I just don’t want the burdens and responsibilities of a kid, even if I thought I could handle them. I want my freedom and my life with my husband. And when my husband’s not around, I like my space so I can do the things I enjoy doing. No, I don’t fear conceiving naturally, regardless of the fact that Tom won’t cum. I trust that especially after not getting pregnant during the five years I’ve been with Tom, God wouldn’t do that to me and let that happen. Since it’s never happened yet, I know he’s looking out for me and that he’d never give me more than I could handle. He’s obviously taken serious measures to see that I have a life filled with freedom, security, and happiness, so I don’t see why he’d suddenly take that away from me. Not after all the shit I’ve already been through. Compensation’s well due to me after all the years I didn’t have freedom or happiness.

The pest is supposed to come over this morning when he gets up, but we’ll see. I’m sure that if he does, we’ll have to play phone 3-4 times leading up to this grand visit.

You know, I wonder if we’ll even be local calls to each other when we move? Maybe it’ll be a long-distance call for him, but I don’t know. I still think it’d be best for both of us if I just made a clean break. I can’t offer him the kind of things he wants in a friend, and to me, he’s nothing but a pest most of the time.

We went looking at this other manufactured home dealer, and sometime within the next two weeks, we’ve got one more place to look (there are three makers in AZ - Shultz, Cavco, and ?). The first place we went to had the Shultz homes and this place had Cavco. The next place we go to will have all three brands, so then we can really compare the differences.

At this place, we were shown around, rather than told to just go look at the models ourselves, but the woman did leave us alone for a while before we met with her again and talked with her in her office. Unlike the other place, she gave us a listing of land available in different areas surrounding the city. This should be really helpful to us too, cuz I know Tom was having trouble finding this online.

Later…

Gosh, our weather’s been on a New England roller coaster lately. It’s gonna be near 90º today, but by Thursday, it’ll be down to the mid-60s.

Anyway, for $14,000 less, we found a home we like better than that beautiful $79,000 one we saw. The only thing that’s not as nice is its kitchen, but that’s OK. You don’t live in the kitchen. However, it did have that nice light wood color I like that’s almost like a crème color. The cabinet doors were also nicer, too. Its glass doors had gorgeous stained glass-like flowers in them. It’s a double-wide and not a triple-wide, yet the rooms are larger. I also liked how the return air grills are in the bottoms of the doors, rather than above the doors. That ought to cut down on light. I like to sleep in total darkness if I can.

I like this $65,000 model better cuz of the way it’s laid out and the way the rooms are proportioned. Again, the master bedroom is at one end of the house, and the other bedrooms are at the other end of the house. This house is 76’ long and 27’ wide at 2026 square feet. The other more expensive one was the same in width, but only 64’ long. In this house, the living room and family room are a little smaller, but not by much. The extra room is made up in the bedrooms, and that’s where space really counts for our needs and what we want to do with the rooms. We really want four bedrooms. That way we can have a master bedroom, a guest bedroom, and a room for each of our computers and other things.

I just paused to call Andy to see if he was up. He wasn’t, so I let him know he can just call right before he’s on his way out the door to come over. He doesn’t need to call to tell me he just woke up, then a half-hour later to say he’s getting ready, then an hour later to say he’s on his way. However, I know him and how he loves to play phone, so I’m sure there’ll be at least two calls before he gets here. Of course, I told him to call and let me know if he needs to cancel as well.

We looked at a five-bedroom/three-bath and weren’t the least bit impressed. The rooms were much smaller. One of the bathrooms had a vent right smack in the middle of its doorway just inside it. Imagine the toes waiting to get stubbed on this thing. Still, the smallest house they got blows this one away in size and with its modern stylishness. This Cavco brand may allow us to rig an evaporative cooler to it, too.

The first place we went to had nothing but models. You don’t buy the ones you see. You order them from their factory. This place, though, does both. If you see a model you like and you like it as is, you can buy it as a cookie-cutter. They’ll even throw in the pictures they used to decorate it with if you want. I like how you can get appliances as options, too. That way, instead of buying a house that’s already built and sitting wherever it’s at, then having to haul in new appliances, you can just get everything all at once. Tom even says he’s gonna set up a couple of sheds for his junk upon moving, too. That’d be great! His junk alone would fill up all three bedrooms at the end of the house. He’s only gonna keep the things he needs and uses regularly inside the house.

This kitchen had a see-through skylight, and I believe you can get skylights in the bathroom, too, although I don’t see why that’d be necessary. I like how there were ceiling fans in every room. You can get a see-through fireplace put in the wall that divides the family room and living room, but for Arizona, I don’t think that’d be necessary. I like the closets better in this one, too. It had a regular rod for hanging clothes and regular shelves. No wire shelves which you also use for hanging clothes. The master bedroom was so cool. Way better than the other one. It had what’s called a retreat. A large open area off of the main part of the room itself. I haven’t decided what I’ll do with this area yet, but I’ll probably put the animals in the dining area, use the family room as a living room with the couch, recliners, TV, and the living room for doll-making and whatever other projects we may want to do. Another good thing about this house is that it takes 6 weeks to set up, rather than 9, but we still have to prep and sell this house and probably still won’t be out of here till July or August. The woman we spoke to knows the area we live in and says our house ought to sell fast. That’s what Tom says, too. He wonders if we can get an investor to pay cash for it like they did for his ma’s house. That’d be nice.

Other options (this will be the fun part unless we get a cookie-cutter house) will be picking out drapes, carpet, the outside color of the house, and so much more. Tom said as long as we get the cabinets we like, carpet and paint colors don’t matter that much, cuz they’re easier and cheaper to change compared to cabinets. I like how these had Formica countertops without the tile accents. I’m sick of tile! It’s so hard to clean in between the fucking things.

Later…

It’s almost 9:30. I know the morning’s not over yet, but it figures I haven’t heard from Andy yet, and I’m sure his definition of a morning visit is really a noon visit or later.

Later…

See? It’s doing just what I knew it’d do. It called to say it just woke up, and I reminded it that it didn’t have to call till it was on its way out the door. And of course, our morning visit turned into an afternoon one. It won’t be here till between 11:30-noon, so it says. It mentioned wanting to water its yard, and food, as usual. Why has this guy turned into such a pig? I mean, all he does is eat and eat and eat. I think he’s trying to get fat so he can feel like he has more in common with Michelle since he sees her more than he sees me. One thing I’ve noticed about Andy is that he’s very big on finding common ground with those he’s close to. If I played any instrument other than the keyboards perfectly, he’d still insist I was best at the keyboards cuz that’s his favorite instrument.

Despite his selfish ways lately, he did ask about our trip to look at homes yesterday, which was thoughtful of him. I’m surprised he remembered. He also said that for a quarter, he picked up a People magazine with Gloria on the cover at a yard sale the other day. That was nice of him, too.

Later…

I knew it. I just knew it. I’ll bet he did too, all along. Andy called wanting to know if it’d be OK if he could come over tomorrow at 1:00 instead, then go to a 2:30 dentist appointment in this area, since he doesn’t want to take his car out more than necessary. Also, he could come over, but would rather hang out at his place. Sure, no problem, I told him. He asked if I was upset. No, but I am sick of having to make a big production out of getting together. I told him I’d call to let him know if I was sure I could have him over at 1:00 tomorrow, and that if I was, he didn’t have to call. He could just come over at 1:00. Knowing him, though, we’ll have to play phone over it all fucking morning long and make such a big deal of it.

MONDAY, MARCH 29, 1999 No freeloaders this weekend, as far as any shit from them goes.

About an hour ago, I was coming out of the shower when someone based by really fucking loud. The first thing I thought to myself was, if that car goes next door, I will sink my fist so deep into the driver’s face, but it didn’t. It could’ve been caddie kid, although he hasn’t been a regular attention-getter around here lately. I didn’t get to the window in time to see who it was, but I checked the whole length of the freeloader’s driveway and carport to be sure there was no car over there.

I did as I said I’d do, and not only did I refuse to give Andy the satisfaction of acknowledging his chewing message, but I cried foul machine this weekend. I told him people have said they’ve left messages that we haven’t gotten for the last few days. He didn’t mention Saturday’s message in his reply to me. Just that he called Sunday morning, but I obviously didn’t get the message. You could hear the oh-too-bad in his voice, too. He’s totally bummed that I didn’t get the message, and I thought for a minute there that he was actually gonna come out and say, “Oh, bummer. I really wanted you to hear me chewing in your ear just so I could piss you off and gross you out.”

The next chewing message, I’m gonna tell the truth - that as soon as I heard one chew, I erased the message. Better yet, I’ll just keep my mouth shut for the next four or five months and let him read that I erased his chewing messages if he reads anything I send him after we move. Any mail that gets forwarded to the new house from him or from family in the east will be marked “return to sender.”

Anyway, the little twerp’s message this morning, which was left a few hours before I crashed, was about him wanting to come over and maybe go to yard sales, too. He just doesn’t get it. The fucking idiot just doesn’t listen to a damn thing I say, nor does the little shit care. It’s like, hello! Hello, you stupid fuck! It’s like he can’t accept the fact that I don’t do weekend company and phone chats. He refuses to accept it.

Anyway, he mentioned Tuesday morning, which so far as it looks, should be a good time for us to visit. Of course, I know we’ve got to play phone leading up to it and make such a big deal out of a simple little visit. There’s always gotta be a big production. Can’t just make up his mind to do something, and just do it. Not all of it’s his fault, though. He can’t help it if our schedules clash. I told him, though, that if he can’t get over here for whatever reason in the next week or two, we’ll drop the comforter off at his place since we’ll be in that area checking out manufactured homes.

If he wants to feel insulted by my dumping him this summer - fine. I feel just as insulted by him and his selfishness. Maybe this will teach him a valuable lesson as far as just how selfish he is. He just won’t budge an ounce for someone he calls his friend. He doesn’t need me, anyway, any more than I need him. I mean, we have nothing to offer each other. What can I offer him? A place to surf the web periodically? A place to get his buttons sewn on once or twice a year? What else? That’s it. I can’t and or won’t get high with him, spend hours a day on the phone with him, pig out with him, go to Stevie concerts with him, etc. Getting stoned, stuffing his face, and yacking forever on phones is his thing, not mine. I’m just fed up with him trying to force his ways on me while he couldn't care less about my wants. Everything’s only what he wants. Call me selfish, spoiled, childish - I’m done with Andy come what July or August! I’m not gonna be any truer of a friend than he’s been.

Later…

I took my wind chimes down from outdoors and put one of them in the rat’s cage. They seem to enjoy playing with it.

This morning I’ve got to call and play appointment games with the fucking dentist, but did Mel cancel our appointment today at 11:00, too? Or just the doctor? Well, I’m gonna try to reschedule both of them for later this week, cuz this morning, we plan on looking at manufactured houses in this neighborhood.

A hilarious idea came to mind earlier that had me laughing to myself. I just might do it, too. I plan on not telling Bob our new address and number anyway, so the idea is to tell him (he’s a sucker for believing anything), that we’re gonna be living in a house back there that belongs to a cousin of mine (Larry’s) who’ll be vacationing in some other country from when we move till about six months later. So I’ll tell him from July until the New Year. At the turn of the century, we’ll return to Phoenix. Meanwhile, from July to the new year, I’ll tell him he can send any letters to me to the address I give him, which will be Larry’s. Larry ought to get a kick out of that. That’ll keep him guessing and wondering, alright. I’ll let Kim know what I plan on doing, and I’ll get started with planting the idea into Bob’s head now with a letter to him today. That way, I can hear what he has to say about it before I disappear, and of course, I’ll promise to visit him, too.

Later…

In case I haven’t already mentioned it - I straightened Rapunzel’s hair. Before, it was really wavy and fell to her ankles, but now it’s a few inches past her feet. However, I’m not overly impressed with it, so now I’m gonna crimp it.

Tom got in about an hour ago and is now napping till 9:00 when we go to look at homes.

I called the dentist to hear what hours their machine says they open. They open at 8:30 today and as early as 7:15 on other days.

I realized that the day I was woken up by the gold car’s stereo two weeks ago, was the first and last time I ever saw that car. How much you want to bet on what happened? Bet it goes like this - the people in the gold car recently met either the bitch or the cock and a “friendship,” if you can call it that, was just starting up, when the bitch, not wanting to but needing to for the sake of keeping the house, asked them not to blast in like that. What did she get? A reaction that didn’t fit the request. They reacted as if she asked them to do something far out, totally unreasonable, and insane. They reacted like she asked them to kill their family. Therefore, they no doubt said, fuck it. We’ll never come back here again if that’s the way you want it. You’d never know they were asked a simple, reasonable, legitimate request.

I’m gonna wait till after the cock comes to get the mistake, then I’m gonna go out and snap a picture of Bill’s car. Unfortunately, I may only be able to get the tail end of the car, cuz it looks like he’s parked a little deeper than usual in the carport today. That’ll be my final contribution to the freeloaders picture-wise.

Later…

The cock came early today, at 7:35, so I went out a few minutes later to shoot the picture. It wasn’t a great shot, but it was good enough. You can tell what it is. I got at least half the car. The recycle bin was in front of it, too.

SUNDAY, MARCH 28, 1999 Last night was the final straw with Andy. I mean, I have absolutely fucking had it with you, Andy! You selfish, spoiled rotten pest! You are like a bad cold that just won’t quit. A bad zit that just won’t fucking go away. Some friend you are Andy. Some true friend.

Let me start from the beginning before I get into what I’ve decided to do about Andy and why I’ve decided to do what I’m gonna do, although that ought to be obvious enough.

I told Andy I’d call him Sunday evening about doing his buttons then and told him for the zillionth time that weekends aren’t good for me. He says, “Well, you never know,” and I’m thinking to myself, yes, I do know, but of course, there’s no getting that through his thick skull. Of course, he can’t come over just to see me. He can only come over if he wants something.

Red Lobster called today asking why he didn’t show up for work. Way to go Andy. Way to go. Now you’re gonna lose this job too?

Anyway, I’ve had it with his selfishness and with his obvious desire to deliberately, knowingly, and intentionally do things that he knows damn well annoy the fuck out of me! He left a message chewing in my ear. As soon as I heard this, though, I erased the message. Wouldn’t even listen to another word of it. I won’t give Andy the satisfaction of acknowledging I got this chomping message of his, either. I’ll let the little pig know I didn’t hear from him all weekend, which I found to be odd since I know he loves to call when I’d rather him not.

Like I said, it’s way more than obvious that he wants me to bitch at him for doing simple little things I ask him politely not to do. He wants to irk me. Well, I’m sorry, but this is not a true friend as far as I’m concerned, and from here on out till we move, I’m just gonna have as little to do with him as possible, then I’m gone. He’s finally succeeding in pushing me away. This time around, I’m not even gonna bother to ask him for the zillionth time to please not gross me out on the phone and chew in my ear like that. He won’t give a shit. It won’t do me any good. So, instead of trying to change him, I’m just gonna leave him as he is just like I did with Doe and company, let him be myself, then I’m gone and then I can associate with others that are true to me. I try to compromise with him by letting him call any day, but he can’t even not eat on the phone with me? He can’t get me even that much? Well, fuck him then! Fuck him! I asked him a reasonable, simple little thing, and if a friend can’t do a little thing like that, they’re not a friend at all. This self-absorbed, stuck-up little snot just isn’t my type anymore. Except for his pot and his negativity, he was once the perfect friend for me. We had lots in common. But now, I can’t stand his constant calls, his selfishness, and all the other shit I’ve been putting up with. Makes me wonder - has he been trying to get me to dump him all along? Andy may have shit for memory, but he’s not stupid. He has to know what he’s been doing deep down what with his selfishness, etc. He won’t come see me unless he wants something, he won’t feed my animals if we go on a trip, he won’t pull in any packages that may come while we’re on a trip, he won’t give me the fucking weekend off from the phone, he won’t quit chewing in my ear, he won’t stop calling me constantly, and he won’t stop rambling and listen to a fucking word I have to say when we do talk. I’m sorry, but I don’t think the things I’ve asked of him were too much or too difficult to do. I didn’t ask for a zillion hard tasks. I just asked for a few simple ones, but everything’s Andy, Andy, Andy. Even he’s told me he’s basically gonna do what he wants and not give a shit about what others want. No wonder he’s alone. How could he ever be in a successful relationship? He won’t do shit for others, and if he does, it’s only if he can get something out of it. How much you want to bet that if Andy was offered money to not chew in my ear - no problem.

This probably won’t do me any good, since he never gave a damn about reading the journal I wrote him for a previous birthday of his, but I’ve done for him what I’ve done for the freeloaders and I’ve assembled together journal excerpts that go back to around the fall of ‘97 that I’ll mail him upon moving (along with his tape of calls left to him on his voice mail). This way, if he has any questions about why I’ve walked away from him, he can read all about it, not that I haven’t gone over this same old shit with him for how long now?

I don’t hate Andy. I will always love him and carry him within my thoughts for the rest of my life. However, I don’t like him, and while he may have no self-respect, I do. I think I deserve friends who are sober and who have a fair balance of give-and-take within them. I will miss him when I’m gone and I will always wish/hope for the best for him in work, love, health, home, friends, happiness, etc., but I also need to move on here. He has a right to be himself and so do I. I have to do what I have to do and cut people like this out of my life. If he wants to be a selfish loser, let him be. Like he can’t call Michelle every day? Isn’t she enough? He said they talk every day, so why does he have to call me every day? Michelle’s perfect for him. More perfect than I ever was cuz she’s a pothead along with him and she eats like a pig too.

Anyway, I’m just too good for him in my mind, and that’s being a selfish, conceited bitch myself, then that’s exactly what I am, and I, like Andy, have no regrets about how I am. He shouldn’t really miss me, when I think about it, anyway. Why should he? We have nothing in common anymore.

When it does come time to move and check him out of my life, I’ll block Marla from emailing me, cuz although I know she understands my feelings/frustrations with Andy, I don’t want her constantly emailing me telling me to get back with him. I respect her and Andy, but like I said, I have to do what I have to do. Come this summer - it’s my time to be selfish. The last thing I want is for my life in my new home to be marred by his constant calls and annoyances. I’m not gonna have as much time then to play phone with him, cuz I really believe deep down that I will be a doll maker. At least, there’s no reason that I can see as to why I couldn’t be. It’s a pretty cut-and-dry thing. I feel God’s on my side with that one, but if it turns out he’s not, I’ll still want to live my life in my new home, which will be busier with lots of things, without him pestering me and making me feel like he doesn’t give a shit about me.

In dumping Andy, I won’t have to worry about him giving our new address or number to Tammy, cuz she will try to find me. At least, I think she will, cuz Tammy doesn’t give up or let go of people too easily. Andy, being the wonderful, true friend that he is, wouldn’t respect my wishes and not give her any info. He’d do what he thought should be done. Of course, if they do find me, that doesn’t mean I have to acknowledge them, either. I can still ignore them and go my own way. Perhaps a lot of people would say that what I intend to do by walking away from Andy is wrong and cruel, but sorry, I feel like I’ve been pushed away. Totally driven away. But I don’t want to play blame and fault here. Like I said, Andy’s who he is whether or not I like it and he has a right to live his life without people asking him to change things, even if they are few and simple little changes, and I have a right to live my life as I see fit.

Enough of Andy for now, cuz I swear, if I think of him anymore, I’ll scream! I am sick to death of him!

Later…

I got new cartridges for the air fresheners. The old ones were dry and cracked, which would explain why we haven’t been able to smell them very well. Walgreens, where Tom went earlier, didn’t have any scents I haven’t tried yet, so he got scents I already have and three free plug-ins. Now I have six plug-ins. I have strawberry in the music room and living room, country garden in the bedroom, and tropical mist in the bathroom and back room.

Tom looked online and discovered that there are stores in Phoenix that sell realistic-looking body parts like what was used to make Bailey. That’s a good sign. He found all kinds of parts and kits.

Speaking of signs, Tom didn’t want to tell me till he found out for sure, but we now have the money to do the prep jobs we need to do in this house cuz he got approved for a new credit card. He said we’d have come up with the money anyway, but if an emergency expense had come up, it could’ve fucked us out of getting out of here in July or August.

SATURDAY, MARCH 27, 1999 Tom's online now looking up different things.

We just got done screwing. It was predictable, but not disastrous. At first he didn't seem into it. His movements were sluggish. Then he was panting away and moving in a way that suggested he'd cum, but he didn't.

FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1999 My vibe says we will be out of here in July or August. Tom said he’s 95% sure we will be out of here in July or August. My logic says no way. He went to his ma’s today and tried to discuss our moving, but as usual, she was too preoccupied with her own damn self, but no matter how much money was available to us, I still don’t see how the hell we’re gonna get this placed prepped by late May to put it up for sale at that time. I hope to hell my vibes are right and my logic’s wrong. Still, I’m gonna try to write off moving this summer from my mind. Logically speaking, October or November should be when we’ll move, although I strongly don’t sense that at all. I hope I can trust Tom to know what he’s talking about, but like I said, he’s notorious for overestimating himself and for biting off more than he can chew, and even he himself admitted this a long time ago.

It still really pisses me off to know there’s no counting on Marge to help us get out of here on time, after all the help we’ve given her. Just when is this woman going to die? Not soon enough! By God, not soon enough!

Later…

Andy wants buttons sewn on his pants, and the dentist wants to reschedule me. I don’t know when a good time to do Andy’s pants will be, due to how my schedule is now. I left him a message to get back to me about it. As for the dentist, I’m sorry Doc Smith had to have eye surgery, but I’m tired of these people having to reschedule me. My schedule was perfect for this Monday, but now I have to play appointment games with them all over again. Will I ever again be able to see these people when scheduled?

Tom picked me up an appetite suppressant, but it’s too soon to say how helpful if at all, it is.

I straightened Rapunzel’s hair the other day. It was very wavy and fell to her ankles. After I straightened it, it was a few inches past her feet.

I sent Nickolena more doll pictures, as well as doll pictures for Paula, who says she’s gonna get into collecting, too.

Paula claims she got a doll that’s “as long as your arm falls” for just $7. No fucking way, although I asked that she send me one and I’ll send her money for it. I won’t count on it, though! She also says that she’s been busy, but hasn’t forgotten about the pictures she says she’s sending me.

Andy’s filing job ended. What’s he gonna do now?

THURSDAY, MARCH 25, 1999 He keeps saying everything will work out alright as far as getting out of here in July or August, but how? How can we get the time and money to do all the prep work we need to do? Tom says he makes a thousand dollars every two weeks, but still, how’s he gonna get the time? He says to trust him and that he intends to “plant seeds” in his mother’s mind about giving us money, but I don’t know. I still think she won’t give us any money till after we move, whenever we move. Or after she dies. Marjorie, you fucking bitch! We spend time and money moving you, but do you care to help us? No, of course not, you selfish user!

Even Mary’s tried talking to her about how it’s nice that she gives money when people need it (sometimes), but what about giving money out of the blue? Does there always have to be a reason? But Marge just doesn’t give a shit.

Thank God Tom got up when I went to make iron-on T-shirts, cuz without his help, the shirts would’ve been a total bust. I did most of the work myself, but he had to help with a few pictures. He really saved the shirts! I did two animal shirts for myself of past and present animals. There’s Piggy, Velvet, Measles, Spunky, Patch, Cocoa, Katie, Ashley, Ratsy, Butterscotch, Porky, Mickey, Bunny, and Shiny. Then I did a T-shirt for Mary with a family picture that Tom printed out for her months ago.

Later…

What? First my lungs are tight and now my voice is tight? It felt like someone was choking me when I was singing a little while ago. I swear, there’s always a problem when I sing! Can’t God just give me an ability and let me use it with no restrictions?

Guess the renters aren’t gonna hang out front and play car tonight.

I made another animal T-shirt and I like the way it came out.

Minnie tried twice more to reach me. She left a message too, saying to call her and she left her number. No thanks. I’ve got nothing to say and phones bore me. No offense, Minnie, but I just don’t have the patience to sit on the phone anymore. It was even hard for me back when I was into phones. Andy would want to stay on for 3-4 hours, but after an hour or two at the most, I’d be bored silly and want to go do something else.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 24, 1999 Here’s a classic example of just how unfair life is: Tom and I lose money and time from each other and our lives to help his mother move and see that she’s taken care of for the remainder of her time, but who’ll be there for us when we get too old to fend for ourselves? No one. Absolutely no one.

I rearranged my little drawers last night. I have a set of parts drawers that I store my beads in for the most part, but I also added my sewing stuff to it, too.

The palm tree plant I got from Marge is in such a boring plant holder of brown wicker, so I decorated it with colorful beads.

I’m reading the other Ruby Jean Jensen book now called Night Thunder.

Andy shocked the shit out of me by actually going back to work. Good for him! I didn’t think he would. He said he hates the job for the most part, but he knows he has no choice. He’s alone now in that house and he has to work in order to live.

I totally understood something else he told me. So far, for this job, he’s keeping his mouth shut. Meanwhile, people are taking it the wrong way and considering him stuck up. See? People are just never fucking satisfied with the ways of others. They hate you if you talk, they hate you if you’re quiet. You talk too much, you’re obnoxious. You talk too little, you’re a snob. You talk an average amount, you could be anything! No one’s ever happy. I gave him the same advice, though, about not mixing business with pleasure, keeping quiet, etc., but I also reminded him that he’s not there to please others by talking less or more. He doesn’t owe anyone shit.

Paula left a message yesterday morning saying she just got home after being in jail for three days after being picked up on warrants. What warrants? I’m sure they had to do with fighting, but where’s Justin? Did they take him away? That’s a stupid question, though. You don’t take a kid away from its mother. Not in this country, anyway, no matter what they’ve done. I still can’t believe they took Robert from her, although they definitely did right by doing so. She shouldn’t have Justin either, and if you ask me, if a mother’s not fit to raise one of her kids, she’s not fit to raise the others. I tried calling her back but haven’t reached her yet.

Minnie’s tried calling five times. What is it that she’s so anxious to tell me all of a sudden after so long? Well, it can’t be that important, cuz she hasn’t left a message since the first message she left when she called the first time.

Later…

Guess who came today? Giselle. And of course, she was just about right on time too, since I’ve already got her. A part of me wishes I didn’t have Tom call to try to stop this one from coming, cuz although her side hairs are shorter than her back hairs, I could’ve evened them out for variety. It would’ve still been long. I also could’ve redressed her at some point.

Got only one call from Minnie today.

I finally heard from Kim. She sent me a brief but newsy email saying she was on a cruise for 11 days. If I could only take one more trip in my whole life, I’d want it to be a cruise, but not for that long. Just 2-3 days would be good enough for me. She said she plans on calling me soon. I just tried to reach her but got her machine. I’m looking forward to hearing all about this cruise. I guess she went with her grandmother, but I’m not sure. I don’t know why Walt didn’t go. Guess he had to work, being a dentist and all that.

I decided that instead of keeping a daily weight chart in my miscellaneous file, I’ll record my weight every five days.

I guess I’ve gotten used to the air fresheners since I’m home a lot. Tom says he smells them when he first comes into the house, then he gets used to them. I smell them, but not as much as I did at first.

Once again it’s gonna cool down to the low 70s and it won’t be back to the 80s till Monday. Since we’re gonna be moving this summer, I hope it’s a mild summer, but even a mild summer in Arizona is hot!

Later…

It’s been three hours and I’m still groggy as all hell from the Benadryl I had to take shortly after I got up.

The renters are being their usual strange selves. They’ve had the hood of the red car open for hours now. What work do these seemingly new and good cars need so often? Maybe they’re as hexed with cars as Tom is.

Another week and April will be here. I still worry that there won’t be enough time for Tom to prep this house. Imagine if we really could move in July or August or sooner, but couldn’t cuz he just didn’t have the time to prep the house in order to sell it? That’d really piss me off! A part of it wouldn’t be his fault, either. It’d be the fault of his boss mainly and probably his mother’s, too. My worst fear is that she ends up in the hospital right as we’re about to buy the land and sell this house. Or when we go to prep it. We’ve got about 40 hours’ worth of work to do, maybe more. Tom says it’s no problem, but I fear that for the zillionth time, he’s just overestimating himself. He says he’s gonna get going on the patio roof this weekend. I hope so!

I think Parker and Nickolena’s birthdays are coming up. I forget Parker’s birthday, but I remember Nickolena’s. She’s gonna be five yet it doesn’t seem she’s been around that long. I’m sure it must feel like ten years to Evie, though.

Once again, I find myself wondering why I wanted a kid like I did for a while there. Why would anyone want to put up with so much just to gain so little? Well, it’s better than that awful depression I went through. Crying day after day cuz I knew a child was 100% impossible.

Tom’s trying to tell me that the neighbors around where we’re moving to won’t be like these city animals and that they’ll be the same neighbors in 20 years. Maybe this is so for most people living out where we’re going. I know this is true, but I also know just what the Gods have ordered for me. How much do you want to bet that our nearest neighbor will be one of those few loud, selfish, rude, inconsiderate assholes that belong in cities? And if they are any good, they won’t be our neighbors for 20 years. They’ll move right out as soon as we get there and in will come a pack of bass-thumping freeloaders or a herd of screaming Mormons. Whether they’re white or black, there’ll be some kind of problem, but the idea is to get the bass far enough away from our house so that even if it’s turned up really loud, it can’t wake me up. Not till the stereos that can be heard from state to state get here. I’m not stupid. I know it’s just a matter of time - it may take ten years - before the noise catches up to our house.

We did it his way in this house with these neighbors, but I’m gonna tell you something right now. I promise this to myself, to him, to anybody that’d listen, we’re doing it my way with the next neighbors. As soon as they get close enough and loud enough to be a problem, I’m going after them myself in my own way. I’m not gonna ask the city or anyone else to take care of the problem for me. I don’t like to operate that way and have others fight my battles for me. So in other words, I’ll want to beat the living shit out of them and make sure that the first time they harass me is the last time.

Later…

Good, God! The renters are still working on their cars (the maroon one came to join the red one). They’ve been gunning the engine on one of them for several minutes now. They’ve been working on these cars now for six hours. Maybe they’ll wrap it up soon and go inside.

TUESDAY, MARCH 23, 1999 I never got a message from Andy today, but I doubt he went back to work. As Marla said, who used to be a pothead herself, pot kills all ambition.

I got an unexpected call from Minnie, but she’s not worth calling or talking to. Besides the fact that I’m not a phone person anymore, I hardly know her, and she’s not quite my type. She’s a naïve kid, if you ask me, but it’s sweet of her to call every now and then and I appreciate her sending me that article on Bob like she did. She won’t be able to call after August, hopefully.

I’m not looking forward to Easter, which is getting closer and closer, but you never know with these sick freeloaders, cuz any day could be a holiday over there.

Not that I give a damn, but the bitch made it a point to talk real loud again in the driveway. Besides the cock pulling in and out and Bill being over there as is usually the case on weekdays, a black car that I’ve seen before, but not too often, visited for a while around 6 PM. The bitch, holding the bald baby, and the 4-year-old mistake, all had to see this visitor off. Whose is this baby? Maybe it’s one of the twins that the cock’s supposed to have made when he cheated on the bitch - ha, ha, ha! Get it? I’m referring to the letter I sent the bitch a couple of years ago, claiming I was his mistress, pregnant with twins, with the hopes that the letter would get him kicked out. Yeah, right! I should’ve known better, too.

We screwed earlier since we didn’t get the chance to on Saturday or Sunday. It turned out to be a disaster, but this time, it was all my fault. Totally. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and I don’t know how many more years it’s gonna take me to learn to just shut up and keep my curiosities to myself. He does not like to discuss sex. If you even dare try, it really gets him going and he’ll turn it around on you and insist you’re making a big deal of it. People do that with subjects that are really touchy to them and with subjects they haven’t been particularly honest about.

The sex itself was fine. There was no irritation, he went on top without excuses, and all was fine. Afterward, I commented on how nice the sex was and he said, “We’re almost to where we were before.” I asked where that was, but he basically brushed me off. After I washed up, I told him, “I’m sorry, but the curiosity’s killing me. What do you mean by we’re almost where we were before? He said, “Well, I didn’t cum.” I was thinking to myself - Gee Tom, that’s your choice, isn’t it? Then he got all hot and bothered when I told him it didn’t matter to me if he came or not, and why did it suddenly matter to him? He also insisted I asked the same questions over and over and made a big deal of it. I did? I thought I was just asking a few questions once out of natural curiosity. The point is, is that I should’ve known how he’d react, and I should’ve kept my questions to myself. He’s very old-fashioned sexually. You don’t discuss it if you don’t want him to get uncomfortable or defensive.

Once again, mixing sex and relationships is a bad thing. I don’t know if it’d be this complicated if he had been normal sexually all along, but remember, he’s gonna have a guilty conscience no matter how much I’ve come to expect him not to cum, no matter how much it’s OK with me if he doesn’t, and no matter how much he doesn’t want to cum and risk impregnating me. He’s still gonna feel guilty about what he’s doing, which has been basically lying to me in this department from day one. The only one that’s been keeping him from cumming regularly is himself and he’s been deliberately, knowingly, and intentionally doing so. So despite how I now feel about it, it’s natural for someone that’s guilty of being deceiving, to get defensive and turn things around on the other person.

And by the way, where were we? Cumming three times a year? There’s not much difference between cumming three times a year and cumming no times a year if you ask me, so why does he feel the need to cum three times a year? If he’s that nervous about cumming, he shouldn’t cum at all. Period.

Later…

What, Joebitch? No coming out to yack at the top of your lungs to the black car tonight? Well, that car doesn’t come around too much. Instead, the cock’s here now. The trunk of the car’s open.

I still worry about this cock moving back in. I’d like to hope, once again, that neither of these people is that stupid, but I recognize a pattern when I see one. He’s visiting too much and I don’t like the unloading shit from trunks lately. Especially from deep in the carport. We’ll just have to see what goes on this weekend. If he were on his way back in, I’d think he’d complete the comeback over this coming weekend.

The more I think about it, although I hope to hell I’m wrong, the more I disagree with Tom’s belief that they won’t bass the shit out me upon seeing the for-sale sign go up. Yes, they will. They’ll figure, what the hell? She’s moving, so why not make her last few weeks here hell? They’ll pay dearly for it if they even think of harassing me again. What did I do to these people? God, what did I ever do to these people?

Jesus Christ! I just heard a male yelling, making some hooting sounds. Right away I thought it was coming from the freeloaders, but he’s gone and they’re in the house for the night. It’s the renters. They are so fucking weird! They’re hanging out front with their front door wide open. Are they gonna leave their door open constantly when it gets over 100º? Don’t they have a ton of bugs in their place? The sound this guy made was a definite, definite I-want-attention call. This worries me, too. Does this mean those stereos that are all bass are on their way in to be played daily for more than a few minutes at a time? Is society really that desperate and lonely? Do people really need attention that badly? Especially from people they don’t even know? They want just anybody to notice and acknowledge them. Sick!

Later…

I haven’t heard anything else since that little attention call, but the renters do have company tonight. There are four vehicles over there and the door’s still open.

I forgot to mention that yesterday, for about five minutes, I could hear bass thumping shortly after I got up at 2 PM. In the middle of a weekday? That’s not a good sign. Anyway, I couldn’t tell where the hell it was coming from. There was no one next door but Bill and no one was visible in any vehicles that I could see in driveways across the street. It must not have been soft and close, then. It was probably loud and far away. Unless it was coming from inside someone’s house since no one on this street seems to work. I swear each house has at least someone that’s always home. Most of the driveways I can see have two cars and there’s always at least one car in the driveway.

Am I hearing things, or did my computer speakers just talk? It sounded like a scanner or a CB type of voice. I only heard it for a second. Every now and then, when I’m leaving messages to people on the regular phone, I can hear someone’s outgoing message on their answering machine. Well, we won’t be here much longer, and it hasn’t interfered with any of our phone calls, so I won’t worry about it. Especially since I’m not a phoneaholic.

MONDAY, MARCH 22, 1999 Wow. Andy actually said, in response to my message to him about the new car, that he was happy for us, the car sounded nice, and he can't wait to see it.

He wasn't negative. I thought he'd say something about how much he hates those types of cars or something to that effect.

Now for some more bad news. I would've thought that the next mouse to die would be Big Cocoa, but instead, I found Little Cocoa dead. She was sort of in view, cuz she was partway out of a burrow. Then I noticed that Shy didn't come out for her share of cheese. I couldn't find her at first. She was buried inside one of the boxes that have that colored crinkled paper. I felt through the box and when I felt cold hard fur, I knew I'd found her. I'm surprised to lose two of them at once, but these mice were at the end of their lifespan. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if we move with just Katie and Ashley unless they've got some contagious disease that'll kill them all. So, since I've only got five mice, and know that three of them are old and will die soon, I'm just using two of the Play City cages. No aquariums. If I'm right about just having Katie and Ashley when we move, I'll just get one male mouse to impregnate these two.

SUNDAY, MARCH 21, 1999 We got a much better car than we expected. For just $5,000 we got a 1991 Ford Taurus. I can’t believe how nice it is for being that old and at that price. It’s fully loaded, except it doesn’t have dual airbags. It has a 90-day warranty and 123,000 miles on it. We’d have preferred a light blue color, but it’s white. A good color for the desert, though. It rides really well and it’s such a comfy car to sit in. We’re already talking about taking it somewhere for a weekend. Maybe Vegas, Laughlin, California…wherever. We’ll probably have this car for about 5 years. We don’t like to travel much, we don’t often haul a lot of big stuff, so like I said, it suits us well. It also has tinted windows, ideal for AZ, and coin and cup holders that you pull out from where the radio is. We also have roadside assistance that really does exist, too! I couldn’t believe how shiny and new-looking this thing was. I expected it to be filthy for being a used car, but it wasn’t. It looks a lot like what the bitch’s cronies drive.

Later…

I began to panic when I saw it was around 6:00 and Tom still wasn’t back. I called Dave to ask if he’d heard from Mary and he said he had just been contemplating calling me to ask if I’d heard from her, but not to worry about it at this point. Shortly after that, Tom came in just as the sun was setting and we went to Jack-n-the-Box.

As we pulled in (we parked in the front driveway) I saw the bitch’s porch light was on and commented on how someone was coming. Sure enough, the white car pulled in and they had to have seen us. I said to myself, you being seen is gonna stir this bitch up. That bitch always makes a scene of some kind after someone connected with her sees me or hears anything going on over here, and I knew I could bet my life on the fact that the visitor ran and told her immediately that it saw me. I’m sure that was the first thing out of its mouth. Sure enough, the bitch came out and made it a point to talk real loud for a few minutes before the white car left.

The original plan was to push the old car out of the garage and around to the back driveway, so the new car could take its place in the garage. Of course, if Tom hadn’t been such a slob, we could’ve pushed it to the other side of the garage. Anyway, I told him he wouldn’t get the thing to start and that’s exactly what appeared to be the case at first. It sounded like a horse whinnying when he tried to start it. Amazingly, though, it did start up, although it screeched badly, and he got it to the back driveway.

Our weird renters came out to hang out in their cars, as usual. They’re always watering their yard, washing their cars, and working within the hoods of their cars. They were watering the yard today, washing the maroon car, and working within the hood of the red car.

That cock had me really worried earlier that he was moving back in, even though I didn’t sense it coming.

When I got up at around 2 PM, I looked out and saw three tires sitting in the driveway by the basketball hoop. Meanwhile, the cock was parked deep in the carport. I mean really deep. And this had me a little worried. I caught a glimpse of him in a white undershirt and before too long, the car and tires were gone.

At around 5:00, it was back deep in the carport again and at its trunk doing God only knew what. I couldn’t see. This had me really worried for a minute there, cuz this is exactly the pattern leading up to when he moved back in in June of ‘97 (it lived here 3/1996-11/1996 & 6/1997-7/1998). It began spending more and more time here, parked deep in the carport, and it unloaded stuff from its trunk. Tom checked the dumpster, but there were no boxes like when he moved in the last time. If it were moving back in, it’d change the long-dead obnoxious security light bulb in the carport for when it’d be out bopping around the carport and slamming doors on me till mid to late evening every fucking night.

Tom was telling me not to worry and that he’d leave and was probably just unloading something for the kid. Oh, I heard that kid, alright. And the bitch. They weren’t interested in getting away from me today. They were interested in trying to badger me with their nosiness. I’m sure they’re rather furious over the last complaint. Anyway, I know these people are naturally noisy no matter who’s around them, but still, I’m sure a lot of the screaming that could be heard easily enough in the rooms on their side, was hyped up regarding me. The bitch, kid(s), and cock hung out in the yard yelling and screaming for about 20 minutes. I knew right away they didn’t get a dog, cuz I never heard barking. I don’t know what they were doing, but he did leave, fortunately for all of us.

Tom says he doubts the cock knows about how sound gets amplified by block walls that are just a few feet away from a house, and you know, I thought about it and I’d say he’s right. This cock would never have the brains to know something like that. I thank God for their lack of mentality, cuz if they really wanted to, they could have him move back in, but not let it show. They could hide it from any inspectors to make it look like he’s not living there. Hell, that bitch could put his razor and shaving cream in her box of tampons, not that this fuck has any hair to shave, but still, it could be hidden. They could make sure he kept most of his clothes in his car and that he only took the bare necessities into the house. Most of which could be hidden under a mattress. The inspectors don’t check that thoroughly. Let’s just hope these sick fucks stay stupid sick fucks. They’re so lucky we don’t intend to stay here. If we’d had it in mind to stick around, this bitch wouldn’t be living there. I’d have had her tossed out years ago.

The white car came and went today, and that’s it.

OK, time to check for email, do some singing, do some reading, and exercise.

Later…

So God’s gonna win after all. I took a water pill yesterday and the day before and managed to wake up at 105 pounds today. But now? I’m all the way back up to 109½. Bet you if I hadn’t taken the water pill, I wouldn’t have gained a whole 4½ pounds. OK, God, I won’t cheat. I’ll lose weight the natural way; by practically starving myself.

SATURDAY, MARCH 20, 1999 The bald freeloader’s car is out front now. Mr. Cock was fumbling around the backseat, then the front. I see the car seat in back. Then it shut the doors and went into the house. Looks like it’s taking its bitch and mistake somewhere. I can’t believe they’ve been a couple for as long as they have. These are the last types of people you see in a long-term relationship. Like I said, I think she’s got him wrapped around her finger really well. He’s probably too afraid to leave her for fear of her temper doing something like destroying his car, spreading gossip, etc.

The baby and the 4-year-old are in the backseat now from what I just saw. Whose baby is this? Did he have this kid with some other woman who’s dead or in jail or who doesn’t want the thing? Is it the bitch’s nephew? I think it’s her nephew or a friend’s kid. Its mother is probably in jail. Either that or it’s just too doped up to care for it.

Finally, after a few more door slams, they left. Always gotta make a big production out of coming/going. Hopefully, they’ll be gone all day. As I said, there’s a chance she may not want to be around here as much on weekends cuz of me, which I hope is the case. I think she’ll want to go somewhere where she and her associates can be the assholes they are.

Later…

I just stepped up to the window in time to see the black-trimmed white car pull out. Probably came to see if the bitch was home, but of course, it’s not. Why not call and find out if she’s home? I heard music at a very soft volume, which was probably turned on the moment they saw she wasn’t home. That way they wouldn’t have to worry about her bitching at them to turn it off, so she doesn’t get evicted. Like I said, her friends are just as rude and as selfish as she and her cock is. Her “friends” have no respect for her whatsoever.

Wish Tom would hurry back with the new car. Not literally a new car, but one that’s 10 years old instead of 20. Mary took him car hunting at around 11:30.

Can God just ever allow me to be associated with a car that runs and functions well enough? Except for my parents, every single person I’ve ever been friends with or involved with had pieces of shit for cars if they even had cars in the first place. At this point, I’ll take anything as long as it runs and is trustworthy enough. It’d be nice if all the doors opened too, and if it didn’t have such a thunderous idle to it. It’d also be nice if windows and panels within the dashboard didn’t rattle obnoxiously. Another thing I hated about our now-dead 1984 Ford Tempo is that the seatbelt was so high, and on a short person such as myself, it was really uncomfortable cuz the fucking thing would go across my neck. Not my chest.

Tom says if he can fix the Tempo for little time and money, he may haul it to the back driveway with a $400 for sale sign on it. My vibe is that it can’t be fixed.

Tom said he promises to never trash this car. That’d be nice. He also says that although I’m number one, he’s also gonna consider a car his mom can get in and out of easily enough. I told him that’d be OK as long as he doesn’t sacrifice our needs, which he wouldn’t do. We come first, then his mother. Like I said, we already have a child. We’ve had one ever since.

Believe it or not, we screwed on a weekday. It was Wednesday evening if I remember right. At first, he was looking at the calendar like always, then he mentioned if it’d still be OK to screw since I mentioned being mid-cycle when noticing that the UT pains would come right before that. I reminded him that I couldn’t conceive, but that if he felt uncomfortable cumming - don’t cum. This was no problem. He wouldn’t even dare go on top. Instead, he said we were still “easing our way back into sex” which I’ve already done, as far as my crotch is concerned. He just can’t come out and admit that he doesn’t want a kid any more than I do. Instead, he says he wants one and that now would be a good time, when asked. Yeah, and I want a $10,000 phone bill!

I may have been slightly wrong about the footage here in this house when I said it was about 1400 square feet. That’s counting the garage. Not counting the garage this place is about 1200. About the same size as the apartment I had in S. Deerfield. The model we looked at that I fell in love with, was about twice the size of this house, twice the size of the S. Deerfield apartment.

Later…

It’s just after 4:00, but Tom’s still not back yet. I hope this isn’t a bad sign. I mean, I know just how much the evil forces above live for giving us a hard time with things like this. Right now, although I don’t sense it, my biggest worry is that it takes longer than August to get out of here. I feel like August is a year away. The more anxious you are to do something, the longer the wait seems. I feel sometimes like these walls are closing in on me and like the closer we get to moving, invisible hands will jump out of these walls and try to hold us back. I want this to be my final escape, so to speak, after waiting and trying to get out of so many places before - my parents’ house, hospitals, schools, apartments, and this house.

The renters are being their usual odd selves, with several different cars coming and going. Some of the cars are cars I’ve never seen before. Reminds me of the freeloader. They’ve been working on cars, or loading or unpacking cars, and hanging out front all day. There are several different people. I heard one of the car’s stereos, but once again, it’s not those kinds that are all bass like the freeloaders have. It was really soft, and only for a minute. I just don’t get this driveway bullshit of theirs. Instead of sitting in the privacy of their backyard on lawn furniture, they sit in front in their cars. First they sat in a jeep of some kind with the doors open. Some people were out of the car, some were in the car. And now they’re sitting in a maroon car that I see there a lot. They’re too fucking strange man, I tell ya!

I’m totally amazed that these people haven’t been a problem as far as noise goes. I only occasionally hear the faint beat of their drums within their car stereo for a few minutes. This is a moving sign. At least I think it is and I hope it is. Noise is usually more of a problem when I’m not planning an immediate move, although I did move out during quite a riot from the NHA and Bell Rd. The butch at the Vista wasn’t too quiet, but she did quiet down a bit in the end when she saw that if I heard her, that was one more night’s sleep she was to lose on account of it. Meanwhile, I got Robert to shut up before I moved out of there and up to be next to the butch and behind Andy. Bonnie and Steve weren’t a noise problem, but they’d have become one if I hadn’t moved right before Steve got his daughter from Georgia who was about a year old. The M’s shut up right before they moved. So, I do see a slight pattern here. It goes under Murphy’s Law. Just like people are more likely to be able to lend you money when you don’t need it, people seem to shut up when you know you’re on your way out and therefore, aren’t as worried about them.

Later…

Now that was weird. I happened to take a casual glance out the window just now and saw the cock pulling out. You mean he dropped off his bitch and those two kids that quietly? Wow!

See what I mean, though? That bitch is gonna want to spend the bulk of the daytime away from here on weekends. Fine with me.

Later…

Looks like our weirdo renters packed up their driveway/car party and have headed indoors.

Where the fuck is Tom? This could only mean bad news that he’s still gone, right? For it to take all day to find a car?

FRIDAY, MARCH 19, 1999 OK, Marjorie. This is the final straw and damn you to hell, woman! May you hurry up and die NOW!!! Oh, how I’d love to smother that woman with a pillow in her sleep! I wish somebody would, since she just won’t go belly up fast enough. The piece of shit car that the user insisted we have, and that’s caused us so much time and trouble, just broke down. Tom called and asked that I give him a number of a towing company. She better buy us a new car and pay these fucking towing costs, so help me God! Oh, how I’ve come to hate that woman and you can bet your ass I’ll be sick the day of her funeral.

He told this bitch, by the way, about the manufactured homes. He said she asked if it came with a little house attached to it for her. Fat chance, Marge!

I’m so fucking sick and tired of this woman, directly and indirectly, coming between us. Instead of being able to prep the house this weekend, we have to play car. The whole weekend’s gonna be shot to having to fix this fucking car.

Poor Tom’s stuck at a Circle K for about an hour having to wait for the fucking tow truck. Every single fucking time we try to get on with our lives, she has to interfere in some way shape or form. I wonder if Tom will have the time to move even with just the overtime they stick him with at work, let alone his having to constantly repair that fucking car and deal with his mother.

I wonder what our young, weird renters are up to, who never seem to work. They’ve been making trips unloading and loading things up in a red van.

Boy, am I a damn good detective! Got some goodies for those freeloaders.

I’m pleased to say that Bill’s back, which I noticed upon waking up at 11:00. I also noticed a white city van, too. There were two city guys. One was black, but I’m not sure about the other. He may’ve been black. Anyway, they were apparently doing something with the evaporative cooler. I got pictures of them on the roof and of the city van parked in the driveway. The guys had their backs to me, but what makes this camera cool, is that you don’t have to aim its lens right at them. You can hold the thing down by your waist and no one would know you were taking a picture of them, since the lens swivels. You can take a picture of someone above you while holding the camera downwards. After they left, the cock appeared in the street. Then a white city car pulled into the driveway and a black lady with short straight hair got out and went into the house. No doubt making sure the bitch didn’t have anyone living there that wasn’t supposed to be there, after my complaint. I got pictures of both cars.

The cock was its usual bald self with its gold glasses, and this time, it wore a white beaded necklace of some kind.

When the lady came and got back in her car, the cock came up to her door with a neon pink piece of paper. I don’t know what that was all about. There was an air about that cock, though, that said, See? I’m not guilty of doing anything wrong. It was like he was trying to butter her up and kiss her ass. Did he have a guilty conscience? Then the lady left and the cock got in his car. He was fumbling with a blue shade screen. He has two twin tree air fresheners dangling from his mirror. I took the binoculars and tried to read the license plate which was a little hard to see with our bird of paradise twigs in the way. I made out what I think is JYD, but then the little shit pulled away before I could read more. I guess this is an older car too, since it has those old maroon-colored plates.

You could say I’ve gone from being disappointed in Andy, to mildly worried about him. He just won’t work. He can’t keep living like he has been forever. He said he quit the filing job cuz he hated it so much. Then he told me that yesterday he began his first day at another temp job which was great. Then today, the phone rang at 1 PM. I got a feeling it was Andy calling, who shouldn’t be calling if he were at this job which is a day job. Sure enough, it was him leaving a message, and he said the same thing - he came home sick. He says it’s his stomach and he doesn’t know if it’s nerves, the flu, or what. He says he thinks it’s the cigarettes, he wishes he could quit, and wants any advice I could give him. As I told him, you just have to make up your mind to quit and stick to it. Everyone’s different as to how long their cravings last. It was 4 months for me, but I’ve known people who have told me their cravings only lasted a few weeks. I’ve also heard some say a year. I think another reason he could be having stomach problems could be due to how much he’s eating. Even he admits to eating like a pig. It seems he lives for food, pot, and phones, and nothing more. As he says, he’s just not interested in anything. It’s sad to see him go to waste like this. He’s too smart and too good of a person to go on like this, but once again, what can anyone do? No one can make him change but him.

In his reply message to me, he said he hasn’t eaten hardly at all this week, cuz he’s been puking up everything he eats. Therefore, he’s hungry but is afraid to even try to eat. Maybe all he needs is sleep, he says. Right. Sure he hasn’t eaten hardly anything all week. He’s lucky he’s only 160 pounds with all he eats.

Later…

Here’s the update - Tom said the car just stalled on the freeway, so he coasted to the shoulder of the road. Using the cell phone, he found out that our free roadside assistance was canceled due to low usage. Thanks for notifying us, huh? He said there was a broken rotor. As God would have it, the nearest parts store was 4 miles away. So he walked to a place to buy a new rotor (of course, there had to be another parts store right next to it). Then he took the bus back, getting off the bus earlier than he knew he needed to. He was afraid the car would be towed or that there’d be a ticket waiting for him when he returned, but God was at least willing to spare him that much. So he put the new rotor in, but it didn’t help shit. He did manage to get the car into a Circle K parking lot, but then that was it, the car was dead. This is when he called me to look for a towing company. Tom says it’s either due to a blown head gasket, a cracked block, or a cracked head. Yeah, I sure wouldn’t mind cracking some heads myself! Meanwhile, almost right on time, the car was towed back here and pushed into the garage where the dead piece of shit is sitting right now. Before Tom told me it could be permanently dead, I had a strong vibe saying it could never be fixed. It’s totally trashed.

I’ll write more about it later.

Later…

Tom and I walked to the Circle K that’s by our house shortly after he got home, and bought a few things to hold us over till he can do the regular grocery run. It was a bit warm, but still a pleasant walk. On our way up there, we walked up W. Weldon before turning onto 19th Ave. On our way back, we came down Whitten Ave., a block over from W. Weldon. A small to medium-sized dog began following us, but its owner called it back, thankfully, even if Tom said it was friendly. As Tom pointed out, every other house had a dog in its yard. It was sickening. This is one of the reasons why Tom decided not to put the doggie door in the back door. It’s not worth the time and money. We have enough other shit to do around here. Also, the next people, who’ll more than likely have a pet, will have a dog. And it won’t be allowed indoors.

Tomorrow, we’ll more than likely have a new car. Not a brand new one, but something that at least runs. Tom spoke to Mary and Marge. Although Marge will buy us the new car, there goes 4 or 5 thousand dollars towards moving. So, in order to get more money from her to help towards moving, he may have to bribe her, so to speak, since she’s selfish. If we told her we were moving to Nevada, all she’d do is think, He’s not gonna be able to take me to appointments anymore. So since there’d be nothing in it for her, she wouldn’t help us by giving us money. If we offer to let her stay with us some weekends, she may be willing to help a little more if she sees there’s something in it for her, too. Especially since she gets sick of dealing with Mary and Dave’s filthiness, their dog, and them eating nothing but fast food shit.

What if she were already dead and had given the money out? Then what would we do? As Tom said, we’ve got to start saving some money at some point so that we can bail our own asses out of trouble in the future.

I’m so tired of being the underdog, I swear! I know things could be worse for me, and perhaps this is selfish of me, but when I look at all these normal people around me who can keep schedules, sleep with their spouses and have normal sex, drive cars, work regular jobs, make decent money, have the houses they want, have the kids they want for free, it really bothers me. We’d have to pay thousands of dollars to have a kid that we no doubt still could never have if I decided to do the in vitro someday, we live in an old dumpy house, have a dead piece of shit for a car, and he makes so-so money working 50 or more hours a week. Forget about trying to fix and deal with the other things like the schedule, etc. He says he should be getting a raise in a week or two. Hopefully, that’ll help.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to get the house I want, in the perfect location, but I just hope Tom’s right when he says we should still get out of here in July or August.

THURSDAY, MARCH 18, 1999 Just took a picture of the basketball hoop from the living room window for our lovely freeloaders to have after we move.

Speaking of lovely freeloaders, the cock’s here. The last two days, Bill hasn’t been around. On Tom’s way in from work this morning, he said the Buick was parked deep in the carport. Deep in the carport? That’s not a good sign. Neither was the little outing nor visit yesterday, but as Tom advised, I’ll try not to jump the gun, cuz it could just be a case of Bill being sick. Maybe that’s why the cock’s here. Just taking over Bill’s job until he returns. Tom questioned that car being the cock’s, asking why he’d change car styles. I don’t know, but I saw the bald mother-fucker with my own eyes yesterday. This must also explain why I kept hearing door slams yesterday that I could’ve sworn was next door, yet I couldn’t see anything.

The fact that he didn’t stay overnight yesterday is a sign (hopefully) that he hasn’t moved back in, but why does he feel the need to park so deep in the carport? Just so he can amplify the sound of his car doors by funneling it through and off the block walls? He doesn’t usually nestle deep in the carport like that unless he’s living here. Is he just trying to hide and be less noticeable from the city? If the city wanted to check her house out, they’d check it good enough to see his car in there. Like I said, hopefully they wouldn’t be that dumb. Don’t they know his moving back in if that’s what we’re leading up to, would totally be risking eviction even if I weren’t in the picture to rat on him if he dares come back here. I’ll bounce the fucker right back out, I swear! But like Tom said, we’ll wait and see. If Bill isn’t back by April and if he’s still spending an awful lot of time here by then, then we’ll have to see about taking some action. I may not be in the back room where his car door slams really sound like someone slammed the side of the house, and we may be gone by Labor Day, but I will not be this fuck’s neighbor again.

Later…

I went and looked out the music room window and could see the top of the Buick. But it’s not deep in the carport. It’s at the start of it. Well, while I was in the bathroom right before checking, I heard a loud crash or bang of some kind. He probably went out on one of his ten trips out a day that he usually goes on, and he slammed the door really hard when he got in. That’s probably what I heard.

Two nights ago, while I was in the bathroom, Tom said he heard a loud crash. I didn’t hear anything, but he was probably hearing the cock. If that’s what it was he heard, though, then that’s not good. This was late at night. Why would the cock be there late at night if he weren’t staying there? And if he were staying overnight, he’d park real deep in the carport for sure and Tom wouldn’t necessarily see the car on his way to work unless he backed up further than normal and made a point of looking for it.

Well, you can bet your ass I’ll be looking for him tonight in that carport. It’s hard to see cars in there in the daytime, cuz as short as I am, it’s hard to see over the wall. I could just barely see the top of the Buick just now, and I’d have easily missed it if I weren’t looking for it. At night, it’s easier to see, cuz the streetlight causes any vehicles to cast shadows on the opposite wall of the carport which is the wall of their house.

Later…

I printed a picture of just the driveway/hoop for the freeloaders, and one with my niece Sarah standing by the hoop. Hopefully, the cock will park in the driveway not too close to the carport after he picks up his bitch. Then I can snap a picture of the car too, for their little collection.

I’ve been having awful aches in my upper left molar. I prayed to God to help me with the pain, but of course, I was ignored as always. Once again I had to give myself the old pep talk and remind myself, He doesn’t exist. And if he does exist, he doesn’t exist for you. And if he does exist for you, it’s not usually in the right kind of way, so just forget it and go it alone. It’s all you can do. Meanwhile, I took some ibuprofen. It’s a lot more powerful than God.

Later…

The cock left at 4:40 and hasn’t been seen or heard of since. So much for getting a picture of him parked in the driveway today, since my light’s just about gone, but that’s OK, cuz I did them some other favor. I decided that if they were gonna get a couple of manila envelopes from me, they should get them in style. I popped off the clasps so they wouldn’t jam up in the printer. At first, I was gonna put pictures on them, but then I figured they wouldn’t look too cool with the envelopes being the tannish color they are. So I put her name and address on the fronts of both of them in eye-catching, decorative fonts. I numbered the envelopes 1 and 2 on the back flaps. Naturally, 1 will have the earlier stuff and 2 will have the later stuff. On the backs of both envelopes, I put partially mixed-up journal excerpts from the late 80s. I did the same on the front of one of the envelops, and on the front of the other one, I put the “highlights” of the table of contents - how she and her cronies vandalize our house, have sex in the yard, gets in fights, gets arrested, that kind of BS.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 17, 1999 I don’t think my favorite bitch worked today. I got up around noon, looked out, and didn’t see Bill’s car. The white car came in shortly after, though, for a little while. Why would the bitch have St. Patrick’s Day off? Even the mail came today, so maybe something else was going on. Maybe the bitch was sick.

I don’t have much to write about today. The weather was damp and drizzling in the early afternoon. Then when it cleared up, I shot some more doll pictures, so now I have them all on the computer. I printed out my favorites - Angel, Patrice, Rapunzel, Maria, Bailey, Giselle, and Summer Dream to mail to Evie to see. Just got Evie email, too. It was the usual - bitching about how motherhood is so tiring and how you get sick a lot. With Tom’s childlike immune system, he’ll be sick any day now, and then I have to get sick, too.

From what Tom told me last night after looking for land online, our tentative plan is to buy land ASAP and put the house up for sale that same day if we can. I guess this will be happening around May. If it takes 4 weeks for the house to sell, then we’ll have about 5 weeks to wait till we can get the house if we don’t get one already built, so I guess we may stay in an apartment or motel as a layover. Tom doesn’t think it’ll come down to that, but whatever we do, we do. We’re gonna do our best to get out soon enough and get the house we want without waiting forever or settling.

Tom says he’s stressing over his job he hates so much but is hesitant to look for a day job since I worry that he won’t have business hours free. Here we go again. The guy has a hard time with the idea of change, so he uses me as an excuse. When’s he gonna just worry about himself? I understand he values my input and I appreciate that, but he’s the breadwinner, so he has to get what he wants. I can adapt to and accept whatever he gets and we’ll make time for appointments and shopping and shit like that, just like the rest of the world does. We just may have to do things when it’s more crowded, that’s all.

I reported to the doctor’s office to let her know I was feeling better. Yes, I’m better today, too.

Later…

The Buick Century is here now. I still have yet to see who the driver of this thing is, but I know it’s something black.

I asked Tom if he thought they’d bass the fuck out of me once they see the house up for sale and he said no. For their sake, he better be right. I still won’t hesitate to pop them good on my way out of here if I have to. If that gold car had banged in with me awake…

Later…

OK, I just saw 5 people leave in the Buick and it looks like it’s the cock’s new choice of car. The cock, the bitch, the mistake, a one-year-old, and someone else that may’ve been a boy of about 10 years of age, just left. No music. Just yelling and screaming. The voice that sounded like a young boy’s (I never saw this boy, if it really did exist) yelled ow! Then it yelled out about something that just got its face. I had my ear pressed to the door, but all I could hear for the most part were yells and squeals. Wonder where they’re all going on a weeknight? See, I still doubt the bitch worked today. Well, they should all come slamming in (which is better than basing in) before 8:30-9:00, cuz at 9:00 on weeknights, the bitch goes beddy-bye and off to dreamland.

Later…

Damn! Thank God the renters aren’t next to me with their constant coming and going. They just came in and slammed their door so loud, I thought it was next door.

Cock and company are back. Its bitch and its mistake and the cock himself, all went in the house. They came in quietly, too. I was stunned. I don’t like this lingering visit on a weekday. I don’t “sense” he’s moving back in, but if he did, that’d be about the dumbest thing he could do with 3 complaints lodged against his bitch, and me to deal with. Well, whoever said these people had brains, anyway?

Later, the bastard left.

TUESDAY, MARCH 16, 1999 I’ve got soooo much to write about!

The kids that get off the school bus weren’t as rude today. Yesterday, they ran around our yard and driveway for a while before going home.

Yesterday, Tom got his new hard drive (a replacement for the one that went corrupt on us) and Giselle came! We were surprised she came on a Monday, too. She’s beautiful and kind of tall. I was right about her face and waist being smaller than Maria’s and Bailey’s, but she’s not as skinny as Summer Dream. The women dolls tend to be thinner, cuz they don’t have the baby fat that the little girls have.

I was gonna keep the second one we ordered, but then I decided I didn’t want twins, so Tom called to stop her from being sent, but she’s already on her way. We’ll send her back. Then Tom’s gonna ask that they reimburse us for the postage, sure that we’ll get a discount from them on our next purchase. There are three doll shows on Thursday that I’m gonna watch.

I can’t believe I’ve gotten ten dolls in just five and a half months! This isn’t counting the Barbies, of course.

Anyway, her dress is beautiful. It’s blue satin with pearls and pearl sequins that shimmer across the bodice and waist. She has a layer of white lace over the skirt, and the feathers in her hair, which would be very hard to get out, look nice after all. I’ve kept her hair up. She has long curls at the sides, and then she has a pile of curls on her head in a ponytail. I’ve kept it up cuz it looks better this way. Besides, the hair that’s up isn’t as long as the side pieces that are down, so it’d look funny down. I have enough dolls with long flowing hair anyway, and the way her hair is suits her best, just as with Summer Dream who also has curls gathered up on her head. She came with a pearl bracelet and necklace.

I took her outside so I wouldn’t have to use the flash, and I took a full-bodied picture of her, as well as a face shot. I’ll send a copy to show Tammy and the girls and keep it on the computer. I did something really cool which I want to do with all my dolls. I want to put a face shot and a full shot on a screen-size page within Windraw and put a watermark background with their names. I did this for Bailey and Giselle and it’s really cool. You can pick the spacing, the font, the size, the color of the text, the background color, etc. I probably won’t do this for Anne and Edie, though. They look so good side by side, that I’ll just take one picture of them together.

It’s getting harder to decide who’s got the best dress. I’d have to say the best dress is still on Summer Dream. I bought her primarily for her dress. Giselle has an OK face and OK hair, so I’d say I mostly got her for her pose and dress. She does have nice vivid blue eyes, even if they’re not very realistic looking. The detail on this doll and her dress is amazing for just $50. She has detailed separated fingers. Not Maria. And she was $60. Maybe that’s cuz you weren’t meant to see Maria’s hands like you are with Giselle.

Our weather, which had gotten a bit summery, has cooled down once again and it even drizzled today. Typical early week weather.

Yesterday, the UT pain crept back up on me, although faintly. I got some more cranberry juice and today - I’m pain-free. Once again, though, I just swapped. I swapped back from having better lungs and UT pain, to not having UT pain and tighter lungs. Yeah, my lungs were slightly tight today. That could very well be due to the weather, so I’m not gonna worry about it at this point, but I’ll still call and report tomorrow to the doctor.

Later…

Got a weird message from Evie saying she lost her voice. She says it’s on its way back and asked if I’ve had that happen to me and that if I have any advice for her, she’ll take it. It was kind of funny. I mean, I’m sorry she had to go through this, but what was funny was how she asked if I’d lost my voice. That’ll be the day! Not with how loud and strong my voice is. And do I have any advice for her on how to get her voice back? Nope. Just how to strengthen and shape it up (singing).

Marla left me a message asking for Eric’s girlfriend’s name and number, which I asked Andy for and he gave it to me right away.

Tom said she’s right about manufactured homes going down in value. However, we don’t intend to sell it, so it doesn’t matter.

I nearly burst out laughing when Marla asked if Andy really was sick or if he just hated the job. I just talked to him a while ago. Today’s the day he said he’d go back, but sure enough, and as I guessed, he was home when I called him. He said he was sick from nerves which he couldn’t help, and I thought to myself, No you’re not. You just hate your job and don’t want to work. Then, sure enough, he said he hated his job. I knew it. I just knew it. I spared him the lectures though, about getting out and working so he can live, cuz it’s his life. I can’t tell him what to do. I wonder, though, just how long he’s gonna keep this up. He’s alone now and has to pay the bills himself. His part-time dealing may give him free pot and cigarettes, but how’s he gonna pay his rent and bills working just a few hours a week? How can he expect to sit at home and eat all day, watch TV and talk on the phone, and still be able to survive?

As usual, he had to stuff his face while we were on the phone, which is so gross and distracting to me. It makes it so hard to keep up with him cuz then he talks intermittently in broken sentences and it’s so boring. He claims that that’s the first thing he ate all day. Oh, yeah, right! And it just had to be when he was talking to me. How convenient that he happened to feel such a need for his first bite of food when he got on the phone with me. Some people are so selfish! That was not the first thing he ate all day. I guarantee it.

Trying to talk to tell him my exciting news wasn’t easy. He can’t sit and listen. He has to ramble on and on and believe me when I say it’s hard to butt in! As usual, he had to be negative and bring up all kinds of what-ifs. He can never just be happy for someone and not question it.

Yesterday we checked out these huge, gorgeous, modern manufactured homes! The original idea was to get a simple house, then build our dream house, but what I saw was our dream house. Nothing’s sure yet, we didn’t actually pick one out and put the 5% down on it, but we got some info., some figures, and we are gonna shoot for this one that’s 79 G’s, 2,153 square feet, w/ 4 bedrooms. You can’t get one with just two bedrooms or just one bath! We could use bedroom 2 as a guest room, bedroom 3 for his computer and a little TV for him, and bedroom 4 for my computer, my stereo, and my exercise equipment. Then there’s a huge kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and a family room. The family room can be a project room (doll making, etc.).

The bathrooms were pretty nice. The master bath had a big oval tub at one end of it, and a shower stall at the other. The other bathroom didn’t have just a sink and toilet. It had a tub too, but just a tub, so we’ll have to tell them to put a shower in it. Tom can mostly use this bathroom and I can mostly use the master bathroom unless I have to pee and am in the living room or near that bathroom. Tom will pretty much use the two bedrooms at the end of the house, and I’ll use the one closest to the living room and I’ll use the family room, too. I don’t know what the difference between the family room and the living room is. The living room’s slightly larger, but they’re just rooms. An option is to make the family room a fifth bedroom and wall off that room in a way that’ll add a hallway leading to that room, the master bedroom, and the utility area, but I’m not sure we’d want to do that.

Our plan was to be out of here in June but the catch is that we may not be able to get out till July or August. It figures, huh? Everything always takes longer than expected, but I’d rather wait and do it right if I have to. I just hope that if we don’t get out by June, it’s only an 8-or-so-week delay and not an 18-week delay. The reason we’re thinking July or August is that although it only takes 4 days to put the house together, we have to wait 9 weeks, cuz then we have to pick out the land, sell this house (we’re gonna ask 79 G’s so we’re not stuck here forever even though it’s worth more), then they have to get permits and line up a driver to drive it to the land we pick out (it’s a triple-wide that they move in pieces) and then they join the wall seams, put the carpet down, etc. We’re hoping to find land that’s already prepped with a phone, plumbing, and electricity which shouldn’t be a problem. Even the smallest one they’ve got is bigger than this house and blows your average house away with its ultramodern, unique layout. The one we want is like a maze and I got lost in it at first! I love the Spanish arcs in it (maybe Bailey would like nice sitting in one) and the frosted skylight in the kitchen. A cookie-cutter house would be cheaper and cost around 50 G’s, but then I wouldn’t be able to have the fun of choosing my own options. There are so many too, ($8,000 worth) and it can take hours just to do that and it’s all included. Appliances come with the place, then you get to pick out your color carpet, draperies, etc.

The further out you go from the city, the cheaper land is. However, we don’t want to go too far cuz he still has to work here.

Anyway, we’ll move this summer if all goes as planned, but we can’t move till we sell this house. We don’t want to be strapped with two mortgages. This house we saw really makes this one look sick. This house is 1400 square feet (maybe 1200 not counting the garage). Not a shoebox, but it’s still an old, dumpy-looking place (built in 1950) and it’s too small for our tastes cuz we both love space and we have a lot of stuff and so many hobbies that need the room.

After moving, we’ll put a wall around the house for more privacy, even though we’ll be pretty secluded compared to where we are now (the wall will also keep out coyotes and javelinas, I hope!) and then we’ll add a pool. The pool is a lower priority and if we have to wait a while on that, fine, cuz there are other ways to cool off. We can run through sprinklers and hold hoses over our heads, and as small as I am, I can fit in a kiddy pool. Tom, who loves basketball, will also want to put a hoop somewhere, and maybe we’ll put in a slab of concrete for me to skate on.

The different options are pretty neat. For example, you can have a closet fill up part of a bedroom wall and have a little sitting area next to it. Or you can replace the sitting area with additional closet space so that that whole wall is a closet. That’s what I’d do. I also don’t see a need for two sinks in the master bathroom. For us, it’s just a waste of time, money, and counter space, but I think that’s standard for the model we want. Hey, I’ll take it over leaky roofs! I wonder if they have water softeners as an option. I hope so. That’s a must. I hate the taste of the unfiltered water here and how it leaves water spots on things. It’d be nice to have a trash compactor, too.

The house has no AC, which is a bit of a con, but one we can live with. The windows here aren’t very openable for airing the place out when we bomb, use shitty-smelling chemicals, etc., cuz the few windows we have are either bolted shut or don’t open at all. But there are plenty of openable windows there, and since I don’t smoke, it’ll be OK. Just a bit costlier, so we’ll have to watch it. I’ll dress warmly in the winter and go practically naked in the summer. It doesn’t have an attic, so that’s why we couldn’t put a cooler in. We’d also have to string cable wires and shit like that outside the house. Tom can do that kind of thing, though.

Andy was saying that something about manufactured homes always bugged him and that he wondered why they were so low in cost, and that they were the first houses to blow away in storms. First of all, the house is made just like a regular house, and it’ll look just like a regular house that was built right where we put it once it’s set on the ground (the wheels and axles stay on it forever, Tom said, and technically, you could put it on top of a basement. You’d just have to dig the basement deeper than normal). They’re solid enough not to blow away in storms and the reason they don’t cost too much is that manufactured homes usually go outside of the city and outside of the city is cheaper. Most people want to live in the city, so that’s why city homes are more expensive. As Tom pointed out, though, it’s close in cost when you add the land in. This place doesn’t sell land, but we were given a Realtor’s name. Tom’s gonna look for land online when he gets up. He told me yesterday that a guy online got a 5-bedroom house for only 40 G’s. That’s cuz it was repossessed. Getting a repossessed house is cheaper, but then there goes the fun of picking out colors for carpet and stuff like that, and other options.

We discussed the different ways we could possibly go about moving soon enough without having to settle. I’m used to settling, giving up, and doing without. It’s no problem for me and it’d be OK (if living with Tom meant living in our car, I’d do it in a heartbeat, before I lived anywhere without him), but we’re still gonna do what we can to have our cake and eat it too.

We could buy land right now, put this house up for sale, hope it sells in about a month, then store our stuff and move into a rented trailer till we can get the house put in. There are different things that could happen, but right now it looks like we’re gonna stay here till July or August, move into the model we want or one like it, and get all the furniture we want too, upon moving, which I’d prefer to getting in chunks. Tom says that after we move, Ma would give us money, cuz she’d want us to use it towards the new house. That’d be nice of her, and I think with that, we could get all the things we hoped to start off with, minus the car and pool. But we could the murals, the furniture, the doll-making stuff, more plug-ins, phones, laundry baskets, fake plants to add a bright, colorful cheerfulness to the place, etc.

I scanned a picture of the layout for Tammy of the model we want, not that we may not find a very similar model for a cheaper price at some other manufactured home dealer, and a list of the standard features with the exterior, interior, kitchen, bedrooms, bathrooms, utilities, appliances, insulation, and construction.

The only negative about it is that it’ll be a bitch to clean, but it’ll be well worth it. Tom promises not to trash it and not to have sloppy piles of clutter to spoil its looks and make it harder for me to clean. It’d help a lot if he kept this promise, cuz then it’d be easier to keep up on it, and it’ll be healthier for both of us. I don’t think I’d clean the whole thing at once. I’d do a few rooms one day, a few more the next, etc.

I feel really blessed and boy is I psyched up! To think that I, of all people, am gonna live in such a big, beautiful house! Each day I have to spend in these tiny old rooms is all the more I know I’m gonna appreciate the beauty I’m to live in. It’s gonna be so open, bright, spacious, colorful, and new. Here, it’s old, dark, dull, and small. Not to mention a bit stressful and claustrophobic. You just never know what the people of this warped city are gonna do. Don’t get me wrong. I still think Phoenix is wonderful compared to Springfield, Boston, Hartford, and Norwich, but cities are cities and I’ve had enough of them. I don’t want to be in the heart of a city anymore.

MONDAY, MARCH 15, 1999 If Andy were smart, he’d change his security code now and not wait till April 1st. I left a message yesterday asking him for Eric’s address which Marla wanted so she could send him a birthday card. I haven’t heard back from him. The only reason I can think of as to why that is is that Laura erased it to spite him or something like that. So I just left him a message asking if he got the message I left about Marla’s wanting Eric’s address, and about the freeloaders. I just deactivated the anonymous call reject, cuz I’m anxious to see if I hear from them today.

I mentioned our going out today to check out manufactured homes and find out what package deals are out there. Such as what land is included, where, and how much land is prepped by them for electric/plumbing. Of course, I can bet you anything I won’t hear a word about it from him. Not on his own, I mean. He won’t ask about it on our machine or wish us luck with our hunting or anything like that. He’s too self-absorbed.

Andy needs more friends like Michelle and I. OK, so I’m not perfect, and Michelle may be a flaky, immature, naïve, irresponsible, pothead, but she’s a sweetheart otherwise and I’ve never heard of her being anything like Laura. Laura’s way more self-destructive and potentially hazardous to others, so to speak.

In freeloader news, I was pretty much right - no music, no yelling, no ball games. Nothing more than a total of maybe six car doors all weekend. I’d usually get a hell of a lot more than that. Especially when he lived here. Then it was six slams six times a day.

I saw the silver car Tom was talking about. It visited for 3-4 hours yesterday. A Buick Century.

Later…

I’m to get Tom up at noon. Then we’re gonna go check out a fancy place that sells manufactured homes that’s about a half-hour away. We figured we’d start at the top of the line and work our way down before going to a nearby place that’s cheaper.

Tom says he’s gonna apply for a day job within the bank and that he hates his job. I’ll believe it when I see it, cuz I know Tom. If he does do something he says he’s gonna do, it isn’t when he says he’s gonna. I wish he could get a job with at least one weekday off. That way, if we wanted to go shopping, we’d have a day available.

I buffed my nails yesterday to make them shiny and smooth.

I think I may’ve killed this UT infection that was just beginning. I didn’t have a chance to kill the last one, cuz it came on so strong and sudden. This one was mild enough to kill before it could escalate, so hopefully that’s the end of it, but why do these things happen right before I’m mid-cycle when they do happen?

Shiny’s been acting really weird. Tom figured out why yesterday, but now he’s at it again.

He wouldn’t come in and eat. He’d only eat if I put the food outside. Then yesterday, Shiny followed Tom like a little puppy, as he was going to take the garbage out. That’s when Tom noticed the sparrow he killed by the pool pump. So I guess he just wouldn’t eat till one of us saw his kill that he was so proud of. I should go out there and see if he made another kill somewhere, cuz he’s not eating again.

I made some really cool changes within the rat’s cage yesterday. I had Tom cut a piece of wire mesh to make a shelf for them that’d be cleaner. I secured the shelf with bag ties. No more solid shelves for these things! They’re just too gross with all their shit and piss. Meanwhile, what was really cool was how I chained tubes all over different areas of the cage for different little nesting spots. I’d like to forget about getting more shelves and get more tubes instead.

I should go exercise now. I may be able to firm up some spots a little bit, but the sad part is that the craters won’t go away. Once you get them, they don’t go away. You can lessen them, but that’s about it. I can change how I feel, a lot easier than I can change how I look. I have craters on the fronts of my thighs. When I began doing those squatting exercises, the muscles there were undoubtedly firmer after about a month, but my thighs looked just like they did before I started these squats.

Later…

Andy left a message saying he’s gotten all my messages, so don’t worry about Laura erasing anything. Also, he swears it wasn’t him who made that sighing sound on Saturday. I believe him. He said he’s been super busy so that’s why he didn’t get back to me sooner. He gave me Eric’s address which I emailed to Marla.

I believe today was Andy’s first day on a two-week filing job. I know he told me about the job last week, but I think he started today. Anyway, he said he had to go home to puke, so I know what this means. In other words, this is it. He’s done with these people if they didn’t already fire him and he’s not going back, even though he says he will tomorrow.

Tom said he might be coming down with a cold. Yeah, I’m sure he is. He’s due for one with his nothing immune system. I knew changing his eating habits wouldn’t help him. He’s just destined for a cold every 2-3 months. It’s fucking ridiculous, though. There’s no excuse or reason for this, other than that it’s a department he’s hexed in. Of course, his hex is my hex cuz now I have to get sick, too. I just may be able to go years without getting sick if it weren’t for him and the damn colds he gets all the time.

SUNDAY, MARCH 14, 1999 Went to bed at around 6 PM yesterday, so if there was any shit from next door in the evening, I don’t know about it. Tom, though, who was asleep when I got up a couple of hours ago, would’ve left a message if anything major had gone on.

I think the phone call and the extreme quietness yesterday, with not so much as a car door slam, tells me that the city got on their ass for me, thank God, and that there shouldn’t be a problem for the remainder of our time here. At least, not the kind of problem I dealt with last weekend. This is what I vibe and what my logic tells me, along with the telltale sign that phone call brought. Easter could still be somewhat of a problem, but every now and then the freeloaders surprise me, so I can’t know for sure. I mean, Easter of ‘96 and ‘97 was quiet, but Easter of ‘98 certainly was not, so we’ll see whether or not they even the score this year. I’ll be evening something of my own if they do!

Another thing that’d be nice to have, but it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world if we didn’t, would be a linen closet in the bathroom. One big enough for at least towels. I hardly use washcloths, cuz I don’t wear makeup regularly anymore (lazy me) and cuz I have my pink puff, but every now and then after I step out of the shower, I wish I had a washcloth, and I have to freeze my ass off going out in the hall to get one and opening the bathroom door much sooner than I’d like to.

I’d also like to get 2-3 more little baskets since it’d be nice to have one in each room and since we’ll probably have more rooms when we move.

Later…

Tom got up a little while ago and said that all he heard from next door was a car that came in without music just after sundown. It was a silver car like Bill’s, but a different make. He didn’t know if she was being dropped off or picked up. I have a feeling that another reason it could’ve been so quiet over there yesterday without any door slams is cuz she could’ve been out all day. I’ll bet it dropped her off and that it wasn’t just a visitor coming to see her. Usually, if she’s there all day, a slew of cars come and go all day. Or at least a couple of times.

There’s a chance, which I’m hoping will be the case, that she may not want to spend much time around here on weekends. Spending too much time just a few feet away from me may be too much for her to take, and she may want to go somewhere where she and her sick friends can be their loud, rude, obnoxious, inconsiderate, selfish selves.

I deleted the journal cover pictures I had put in, cuz they just took up too damn much space on floppy disk backups.

Later…

The so-called religious bitch next door ought to be all dressed up and ready to go within the next half hour or so.

Later…

All’s been quiet so far next door. Guess the bitch didn’t even go to church.

Tom’s napping now and he told me to get him up at 4:30.

Here’s how well I know this man and how I know he’s full of shit when he always used to tell me that he’s horny all the time. I told him it was up to him whether or not we had sex today. Of course, I’d prefer not to, and I’ll bet you anything he’ll make excuses to get out of it. Or he’ll offer just to go down on me. Or maybe he will start to have sex but will get some bogus pain before he can go on top or some kind of problem. Whatever we do, he certainly won’t go up top and even more certainly, he won’t cum. No, this isn’t a complaint. Merely an observation and the writer in me. What he does is fine. It’s when he says one thing and does another that bothers me.

Later…

Here’s the white car. The one with the thick black trim. Good. It seems that the one with the trunk rack brings more trouble than this one ever did. And brings the ballplayers, too. It doesn’t look like this peaceful Sunday is gonna be ruined by thumping balls, though, cuz this car is parked way too close to the hoop for that. All I heard was one car door and that’s all I’ve seen/heard so far. Apparently, there was just one person who came over and they went directly into the house. I’ll bet they’re trying to call me right now, but of course, they wouldn’t have the guts to call and let their number show up, and they certainly wouldn’t have the guts at this point to come to my door. That’d be a very very stupid thing to do. One of the biggest mistakes they could ever make. I kind of wish they would, though. Just give me a reason, you freeloaders! I’m surprised they haven’t come out of the house to talk - or yell, I should say - out in front for a while.

Later…

The white car just left with two adults in it. Again, I only heard one car door, and the person in the passenger seat didn’t look like the bitch, so maybe two people came over, but only one shut their door loud enough to be heard.

You know, a part of me regrets activating the anonymous call reject. Maybe it would’ve been fun talking to them. Then again, are they worth it? Nah. Let them be frustrated with unsuccessfully trying to get through to me.

Later…

Unfuckingbelievable! I think I’m feeling the faint beginnings of another UT infection. Is this my compensation for the fact that my lungs are better?

I started to pray to God to take it away, then caught myself and told myself, don’t bother. You’ve asked him for help with this before and all he’s done is ignore you, so forget it. You’re on your own. In fact, I’ve really had it with God and I’m just about done with him. And I mention how Andy constantly talks about God! On so many pages of my journals, there are references to God. Well, I don’t want to sound like one of those religious fanatics, and I’m tired of trying to justify his actions in my mind to try to ease my fears about God and his true intentions which aren’t good for most people. Most people are just too blind to see it, though. They don’t want to believe that God is mostly bad and not good. And if he is mostly good, then there’s a devil out there that’s more powerful than he is. You can call it a God, you can call it a devil, the point’s the same - there’s something up there and it’s a negative force. Yes, something up there blessed me with Tom and with all kinds of things, but I can still never forgive God, or whatever, for not allowing me the right to say yes or no to having a child. It’s my life and my body and I’ll always resent not having much say in what I do with it. Even if I understand that God did right by not allowing me a child, and even if I don’t want that anymore, it was still cruel and wrong of him, or whatever, to take away my choice as a woman. As a human being. He took away my right as a person. Perhaps this is why I feel driven to lose weight. Not just because of how Dureen taunted me about it as a kid, and not just because I feel I’d look better, but because it’s a form of body control I do have. I can be the one to decide whether or not I’m thin or fat. Perhaps I really take advantage of what little free will he gives me. I tried to myself, God’s blessed you with so many other things, even if he did take away your full bag of rights as a woman, so you’re being selfish by having any ill feelings towards him for that and for your childhood.

Well, sorry God. No matter how much you’ve blessed me, the pain and punishment you’ve inflicted upon me for reasons I can only guess, are bad enough. That’s just like when people would say I should still love and respect my mother even though she’s shit on me left and right. I don’t think so! A line has to be drawn somewhere. I mean, should a woman continue to love and respect her husband if he starts beating on her? Well, I appreciate the good God’s done me in the past, but he’s mostly done me wrong and bad, and for that, I can’t just accept that with the good and simply be OK with God.

Lastly, what kind of good God inflicts so much pain and suffering in this world? That keeps people from having love? That allows murder and other violence?

Later…

Paula read my mind. I just told her in the letter I typed her that I’ll be calling her within a few days (when the kid is in school). But she just called and beat me to it. We talked about the usual till her cordless phone started going on a static fit and she threatened to knock the shit out of Justin for playing with the phone and acting stupid when given orders. She said she’d call back.

You know, she’s breeding the classic serial killer. This is the classic way to come up with one of those - the father that doesn’t give a shit, the abusive mother. I can guarantee you anything that if this kid doesn’t grow up to kill, he’ll at least rape and beat. Along with being a drunk, a druggie, a thief, etc. He’s gonna hate women. I don’t see how this kid wouldn’t hate them with a passion with the way Paula treats him. What if this thing ends up stronger and tougher than her? Maybe she’ll be in danger and not just other young ladies he may date or pick up wherever.

When you constantly threaten and slap a kid around as they’re growing up, and when you constantly play with their heads and verbally and emotionally abuse them, you’re gonna almost always end up with an aggressive person on your hands. I should know.

SATURDAY, MARCH 13, 1999 I got up at 3 AM and Tom was already up. By 5:00 I was all showered and commented on how I wouldn’t stink when we got together. Then he said it’d be a while. Yeah, I’m sure you’re in no hurry for it, Tom, and that you’re gonna wait till the end of your day when your energy’s dwindling. He’s still such a scaredy-cat subconsciously! I’m not in the mood for it, as usual, since it’s nothing new and exciting, but at least it shouldn’t hurt. I’ve been using a cream for the irritation and I should be all broken into by now. Of course, something will come up within the next few weeks to keep us from having sex once a week, and then I’ll be faced with the decision of having to start all over again and go through all that pain again. Each time I have to start over, the harder it gets. I mean, the more reluctant I am to do so. If I could, I’d have sex once every 2-4 weeks. That’d give it time to build up for me since having it once a week or more can be too much and take the fun out of it, but my crotch just can’t take that.

Tom’s back to thinking I’m OK. I asked him how he could go from agreeing that something could be wrong with me, to the same old he’s been telling for years; I’m fine. He said those two statements aren’t necessarily contradictory. He said something could’ve been wrong for a while. Oh, so my body magically fixed itself? I don’t think so! Thank God that’s not how it works.

Later…

I’m doing the usual weekend stuff now - laundry.

Now this car that Marjorie threw at us has yet another new problem. Tom said there was water all over the floor of the passenger seat that he thinks is leaking from the AC. That’s nice.

I asked Tom what was going on with the $10,000 his ma was supposed to give us so we could avoid taxes. He said nothing was going on. That there was the final straw and I was just about as fed up as could be with his user of a mother.

”We help her move, but she won’t help us move?” I asked him.

He said he not only wants us to do things for ourselves, but he hasn’t told his ma we’re planning a move. I asked why, and he said it was because he doesn’t want to upset her and cause her to believe he’ll never see her again. Oh, poor, poor, Marge. That’s OK, though. We will move with or without her help, and yeah, we can do without her help. The only time that’s scary to think - what if she wasn’t around? - was when they turned our electricity off. Perhaps I’m being too harsh on her. We all have our flaws, after all, and compared to your average human being, she’s still pretty flawless.

When Tom told me yesterday there was a message from Andy, I asked myself what he could have to tell me about God this time, and sure enough, the message was all about how God’s such a miracle for him and how he’s oh so wonderful and all that shit. He said he was bawling his eyes out to God, begging him for the love he’ll never have since I know that if God’s ignored him this late in life, he always will. Then he said he awoke to find two roses on his car the next day from what he believes is a secret admirer. He said he doesn’t know who it is and that they left no note. As I told Andy in my reply message to him, that’s nice about the roses, but why doesn’t he meet a guy, fall in love with him, establish a relationship with him, then praise God and how wonderful he is to him? He’s thanking God a little too prematurely and giving him way too much credit. Until his life changes drastically for the better, and until he himself puts more effort into changing for the better, he shouldn’t be praising anyone. Now I’m not saying Andy’s a terrible person with the most non-productive life in the world. I’ve seen lazy, hopeless losers who make Andy seem like a model employee with a model life, but you know what I mean.

Marla sent me a joke that wasn’t too funny, but it was nice of her to do so anyway. I just sent her a few jokes right before I got hers, so I guess she felt she had to return the favor.

I saw Dr. Brown yesterday. Her nurse, who saw me first, used the peak flow monitor on me and said it was within normal range. The doctor, though, apparently didn’t like what she heard when she listened to my lungs. She said she could hear the tightness in my voice, too. How you sound/feel is more important than what a peak flow monitor says. She gave me a 5-day, low dosage of Prednisone, an anti-inflammatory. This stuff in the past would make me all sore and watery, so hopefully it won’t bother me now. She said to come back in next week if I’m not better. She agreed with my upping the Vanceril dosage which does seem to be helping.

There were a few more people in the waiting room this time around, including a couple of semi-obnoxious kids. One could easily be heard yelling from inside where the exam rooms were. Aside from the obvious reasons I don’t want a kid…they’re too costly, time-consuming, nothing I could handle, and too damn loud. There’s nothing more obnoxious and fraying on the nerves than the loud, shrilly sound of a child’s voice.

Before seeing the doctor, Tom called about Giselle. They said I should’ve gotten her by now (no shit!), they’re shipping another one, and to call if she doesn’t come by the 27th (Tom thinks she’ll get here on the 24th or 25th), but if this one doesn’t come, I’m either gonna quit doing business with them altogether, or find an alternative way to receive packages. Tom thinks the package was damaged and is on its way back to them, but I think the mailman gave it to someone else. It’s also possible that it came last Saturday before the freeloaders woke me up and that someone from over there ran over and swiped it. There had to have been a dozen or so people over there and I can easily see them egging each other on to who would swipe the box first. My number one guess, though, is that the mailman gave it to someone else. Once we move we’ll have a PO box or we’ll use UPS. These are more reliable, although UPS has a way of roughing up packages. They broke several pieces of my stuff when Dureen and Art shipped my shit out to me when I moved out here. It’d be pretty funny if we ended up getting this doll after all, and the one we ordered yesterday, and ended up with two Giselle’s. That’s not gonna happen, though. I think there’s a chance we’ll probably get just the doll we ordered yesterday.

Yesterday, we stopped at a different used bookstore that was twice as big as the one I had been going to. It had a lot of the kinds of books I like and I was surprised to find that they only had two Ruby Jean Jensen books. The good part of that, though, was that they had two books of hers I never read, so I was pleased to find them. I began reading The Lake.

I got 10 books for $20. I didn’t bring in my last batch of books that I got at the other place, but I will. They too, do credit. It’s half off the cover price of any book, normally, and then you get half off books you bought and bring back for credit. So if you pay $2 for a book, then bring it back, that’s a buck’s worth of credit you get towards your next purchase. Some of the books I got are by authors I’ve read other books by, and some are people I’ve never heard of.

We went to Walgreens after the doctor’s and browsed the store until my prescriptions were filled. I got another plug-in for the music room. I got a new scent too, of strawberries and crème, but it’s way too subtle. I don’t think I’ll get the raspberry scent then, and not the potpourri either, since that’s too perfume-like, but I would like to try the vanilla, the natural springs, and the tender breeze some time. We got a vanilla air freshener for the car. You dangle it from the mirror. I also put one in the bathroom.

Got a couple of puzzles, and was surprised to find this store had two tiny porcelain dolls. They must’ve been 8”. They were in a sitting position and they each had the same face and boring short hair. One had an ugly dress, one had an OK dress. They were only $8, too, a pretty good deal. Talk about phony-looking hands, though!

I was just looking out the side window to see if I could see anything next door when I saw something blue in their living room window. Then I realized it was the reflection of their recycle bin.

There are no bad vibes in the air, but if I get a bass treatment again like I got last weekend, those mother-fuckers are dead. Case closed. Of course, it’s still early for them. They don’t come alive till after noon, usually. Also, I don’t know if they heard from the city regarding my complaint yet. I would think so, though. I hope so.

Later…

Damn! How many people live across the street? How many kids? Do all these people live there, or is it just 2-3 people with lots of visitors? Tom thinks there’s a couple living over there in their late 20s with one small kid that’s too young to be let out (that would explain why it’s so quiet), and that they have other kids come to visit on weekends. We’ve seen a 3-year-old, a 5-year-old, and a teenager. Of course, these are approximate age guesses. Tom thinks the guy might actually be in his 30s and that these other kids that come to visit on weekends may be from a previous marriage. I, on the other hand, think differently. I think the couple is between 16-20 and that the kids that come to visit are nieces or kids of friends that they babysit. The 5-year-old could be the guy’s.

They’re so weird, though. They water their front yard constantly, yet they never mow it. It’s like they’re obsessed with growing weeds. Tom says it’s probably the first house they ever had. Obviously.

Tom sanded the bedroom door so it closes without much trouble.

Andy, who’s been a pest by leaving messages every day, left two, possibly three messages today. However, I think it was the freeloaders responding to the city complaint. That’s the feeling I got, but I asked Andy about it, and if it was him playing a joke on me, hopefully he’ll admit it. Meanwhile, I told him that just in case it was the freeloaders, I activated the anonymous call reject. The call came right before Andy left two long messages. All they did was sigh for a second, then hang up.

Andy’s messages were all about how wonderful God is, as usual. He said he’s just so thankful for any little thing that God sends his way that’s good. I can understand that. Most of us always appreciated good things. I know I don’t take them for granted myself. Then he asked me about my chat online with Marla, which he said I didn’t leave him a clear message about. Yes, I did. But thanks to his wonderful friends like Laura, I’m sure she erased it. He said she’s allowed access to the voicemail till April. Then he’ll be changing his code. The message I left was about Marla’s not agreeing (along with myself) with his type of friends, including Laura, so that’s one she’d certainly see fit to erase.

Later…

Tom’s out making the opening of Velvet’s wooden burrow bigger since he’s such a huge pig.

Meanwhile, guess which mouse died? Not Cocoa with the tumor, but Star. We noticed yesterday when I was changing their cages that she didn’t look well. She sure went fast for a rodent. Thank God, though.

Ashley was acting pretty weird just a minute ago. It looked like she was having a nightmare or a minor epileptic fit. Then she started cleaning herself furiously. She seems fine now, though.

Later…

Our lovely black bitch is doing just what I figured she’d do so far and that’s that she’s keeping it really low-key. Haven’t heard/seen a thing. She knows she’s been bad. She’s probably doing everything she can to make up for last weekend’s shit. She must really feel she’s walking on eggshells around me now and worry that one more complaint will get her out of here. I hope so, and if this really is the case, I should really be covered till we move. She may not even want to risk having company at all this weekend, no matter how quiet they are. I got the immediate feeling that that was the freeloaders calling and not Andy. Andy wouldn’t bother leaving a message, and if he did, it’d be more original than a sigh-type sound. I also told him he didn’t have to call me back unless it was him and I haven’t heard from him. So in other words, I’m almost positive the call was freeloader-related. I’m glad I got this call too, cuz it confirms my gut feeling about them hearing about my complaint. I think they heard about it at the end of last week. Just when they think they can get away with pulling their shit on me, I complain. Well, like I said, now that she’s been scolded a third time, she should be afraid to even breathe around here and I sure do hope so!

Red Lobster called asking if Andy, who’s scheduled to come in at 6:00, could come in an hour earlier. Does Andy know they think he lives at this number? I’ve told him that they’ve called here before on days he was either late or didn’t show up, but I guess his pot brain cells just spit the information right out of his head. I think the ditz accidentally wrote our number down on his application as his home phone number as well as a reference number.

The Lake is too descriptive and a little predictable, but it’s good anyhow.

We screwed earlier, and he did just what I figured he’d do, too. I had no irritation at all. That’s all gone. However, I was kind of dry. I guess I’m a normal woman in that area since that’s common at this age. We dry up with age. Anyway, he wouldn’t go on top, even though I told him he could if he wanted to. He conveniently complained that his knee just suddenly started hurting so he had to stop before going on top. Coincidental timing, huh? Now, why couldn’t he just say he didn’t feel like going any further? It would’ve been fine with me. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Maybe the fact that I forgot the KY nerved him up. KY sort of acts as a contraceptive cuz sperm can’t swim through it well.

Later…

In a half-hour, it’ll be exactly one week since the fuckers woke me up. I’m awake, I’m dressed, I’m ready for you motherfuckers if you want to fuck with me this weekend! You just dare fuck with me now, you sick, scummy, pieces of trash!

FRIDAY, MARCH 12, 1999 Something up there not only didn't want me with women way back when and did everything to keep me from them, but something up there doesn’t even want me to have pictures of women, haha. I told Tom about those thumbnails I couldn’t get the full-size pictures of and he left a new website address for me to try before he left for work, but every time I was about to enter this photo gallery, I’d crash. OK, God, I won’t even look at women!

Why must everything be such a big fucking deal for me? Giselle never came, I can’t get a few lousy pictures, and everything has to be such a struggle to obtain. Why? Can’t I just enjoy some of life’s pleasant things without the big deal or the waiting time attached? Why do I always have to fight for stuff? Of course, if Dureen had just sent me my pictures instead of throwing them away, maybe I wouldn’t need to go looking for these pictures. Even my own mother stole from me and kept shit from me, the little thief! When I look back at the things I’ve wanted/want, I see a depressing pattern. I couldn’t have a kid, I couldn’t have a normal sex life, I can’t get dolls I order on time, I can’t get pictures on the web, etc. Must I always pay and be compensated for Tom and for the things I do have?

Anyway, speaking of that so-called abnormal sex life that I’ve come to not only accept but to appreciate its good points, one of them being its cleanliness, I’ve dropped hints to Tom that I’m anti-kid and that if I thought I could conceive, I wouldn’t let him near me during mid-cycle. The point is that Tom will use this as the perfect excuse to quit cumming altogether which is fine with me. I want him to be happy. So if we can both benefit from it, let him do us both a favor and not cum. No, it’s not that I fear that one in a million chance that I’d conceive (I probably don’t even have that much), it’s just that I know he prefers not to cum and I want him to be happy. It also keeps the sheets cleaner. So, if he can be doing me a favor while not doing anything to make his own self uncomfortable - why not?

Later…

Well, I did manage to find a couple of pictures I wanted and so did Tom, from what I discovered when I went to save them in my wallpaper folders. So I got about 5 of the 10 I wanted. I still can’t get into the first site I wanted to check out without crashing. I’ll discuss it with Tom when he gets in.

He’s gonna call about Giselle. Maybe we can get a discount on her. This is the second time dolls have been late and besides, I can’t know for sure that she hasn’t been misdelivered. Tom doubts she’s been misdelivered and with a box that big, I’d hope not! Not unless a certain mailman really was hell-bent on fucking things up.

Andy left me a message yesterday saying how excited he was that he got this temp job for two weeks and how he’ll be such a happy camper for two weeks. Sorry, Andy. I can’t be happy for you. You’ll only throw this job away. In fact, you probably won’t bother to show up for it, will you? Also, what do you mean you’ll be a happy camper for two weeks? I thought you wanted to work only part-time and supplement your income selling pot. If you don’t, then why don’t you just get a fucking full-time job?! And of course, it was on and on about how wonderful God’s been to him, too.

Later…

I am so sick of AOL and all its problems! I tried to go to other sites but kept crashing. When’s AOL gonna get their act together after so long? First we could never get online, now they crash on us left and right.

I managed to get even more pictures, although still not all I want. It’s a screwy system and it was hard for me to figure out how to get into this thing, but anyway, I got some more that are nice. They’re of Gloria.

Giselle ain’t coming today. If she hasn’t come by now, she won’t be coming at all, cuz as Tom pointed out, they usually like to get their packages out of the way first. Especially larger ones, so that there’s room for stuff they pick up. He’s more likely to deliver a small package right before he delivers the regular mail than he is to deliver a large package right before the regular mail.

THURSDAY, MARCH 11, 1999 I couldn’t get into The Stalking of Kristen. Once again, too damn descriptive. I wanted to hear about what happened to her, not her whole life’s story. It’s like, who cares how she liked to decorate her bedroom? How about telling me about her shooting and what led up to it and all that? That’s why the damn book was written in the first place, wasn’t it?

So now I’m reading Gone in the Night. Another true story, but this one’s about a little girl who was abducted and murdered.

So far I’ve been right in saying Giselle wouldn’t arrive before today, and every day since we placed the order, I’ve strongly sensed she wouldn’t be coming. Till today. Today I don’t have a strong feeling she won’t come, but I don’t have a strong feeling she will come, either. What this means, remains to be seen. I still think the 10 days they claim it takes for people to get their orders is really 15 days. That’s how long it took not only for Maria but for the Ashton Drake dolls as well. Then again, didn’t Summer Dream take 21 days to get here? Anyway, if she doesn’t come today, then he’ll call them tomorrow. The day we ordered her, I did sense that this would be the day she’d come so hopefully she will. It’s just part of my shit doll luck, I guess, but at least I know she should be in OK condition. If she’d come really fast, maybe there’d have been a glitch within her.

I finally decided to see the doctor about the tightness I’ve been having. Of course, if there’s something she can do, I’ll just be swapping in one problem for another, but I get tired of struggling to breathe. Once again, if I’d known that things wouldn’t get all that much better if I quit smoking, I’d never have bothered, although it has helped tremendously with the wheezing. I’m virtually wheeze-free nowadays, but my nose and tightness haven’t changed a damn bit. I’m less congested too, but I still have to clear my throat at times when I sing. Anyway, I see the doctor tomorrow afternoon. After Tom gets off work and does the grocery shopping, we’ll go to a different used bookstore, then to the doctor.

If it wasn’t for the city, the fact that we’re moving, and the fact that my vibes tell me not to worry, I’d be totally stressing out over the weekend that’s right around the corner. Although my vibes are correct most of the time when it comes to them, I’d never have thought that they’d wake me up again. Well, I’ll think that and be 100% right on that one if they even think of waking me up again! Fucking blacks! Oh, how I’ve come to hate them! When we move, if I never see another black again, it’ll be too soon. I’m tired of the problems caused by them and Mexicans and of the shit they’ve caused me personally! From a rational standpoint, I’d be like, how can someone say skin color makes a person any better/worse? But after my personal experiences, I can tell you that skin color does make a difference when it comes to behavior. How many Hispanics have the class that Gloria’s got? How many blacks are like Steve (my neighbor on Woodside Terrace in Springfield)? One in tens of thousands is like them.

Tom told me when I got up at 12:30, shortly before he was to leave for work, that the living room plug-in wasn’t smelling as much. I had noticed this too, and that the back room one was weak, too. Maybe they shift in strength cuz now I can smell them just fine. What’s weird is that the living room one can be smelled best in the kitchen.

Now for some really cool news. For the longest time, I wished I could display a little picture of the written versions of the journals I wrote at the top of their typed versions. This word processor I use isn’t supposed to be able to show more than 16 colors. Every time we’ve tried inserting pictures in here, it always looked like shit. Totally unrecognizable. That all changed yesterday. Neither of us knows why. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I inserted a picture and it looked fine. So I went and scanned in all the journals and put pictures of them in their typed versions. I’ll put a picture of Gloria, Norah, a family picture, a pet picture, or something, at the start of each month of the journals that are done only on the computer. I went back to June of 98, which was when I started doing them only on computer, and inserted pictures up till this month.

Later…

Just made a lot of changes to the computer. I deleted stuff and added new stuff. Took some pictures of Katie, too.

Feelings of Giselle arriving today are now getting stronger. Hope I’m right!

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 10, 1999 The braces went on one year ago today. The top ones did, anyway.

Still enjoying my Glade plug-ins which I recommended to Andy (he left a message wanting to chat at 1:00, but I didn’t get up till 3:00 and wasn’t ready to chat till 4:00, but when I called him back, I got no answer). They haven’t made me sneeze, thank God, and they haven’t made me anymore tighter than usual in the lungs. I may break down and just go ahead and make an appointment with the doctor to see if there’s anything she can do for the tightness I’ve had. Maybe just upping my Vanceril and moving out of the city will be enough, though. We’ll see. I can’t believe I can be so tight and short of breath a whole year and a half after quitting smoking. That’s just my luck, huh?

It was really nice to wake up to such a nice-smelling bedroom. Another cool thing is that when you walk from the back room to the living room and to the bedroom, it’s cool how the scents change. I was afraid they’d all merge as one and be one big confusing scent, but they didn’t.

Tom’s gonna get me boxes from work every Sunday. I guess on that day they have suitable boxes that aren’t too big and that will be easy enough to handle for moving. They also have lids.

I wonder if the city will talk to that bitch today about her rude, selfish company? I would think they’d talk to her before the weekend hits, although this weekend would probably have been pretty quiet anyway cuz of last weekend’s shit. I know their pattern. Like I said, I’ve dealt with their shit for three years and I refuse to take any more of it during my 15-20 or so weekends left here. So, if that letter spares me just one more outburst, it’s well worth it.

God, I pity the new owners. Like I said, Tom feels they’ll want to start off on the right foot this time around. Fat chance! If anything, they’ll be glad to have fresh victims to harass, with the hopes that the odds will be in their favor and that the new victims won’t complain or take any kind of action against them. The new owners may not come to figure out that that house is subsidized and that the bitch rents and doesn’t own. And she told me that September day in ‘97 not to go in her yard? Ha! I’ll go in your yard anytime I feel like it, bitch! Your house is owned by the city. That makes it public property. Not that I’d ever feel like it as long as I don’t get woken up again. You bet your ass I’d feel like going over there if I suddenly knew I couldn’t get out of here for years. I’d go over there to do two things. To sabotage that basketball hoop and to set that bitch straight about any cars that come into that driveway for once and for all and permanently like I wish to hell I did from the get-go. Maybe I even would beat that little bitch into submission without giving a fuck about how small she is. All the while I was doing this, I’d push for eviction and hope the new people wouldn’t be just as bad, or as bad in different ways, like with two collies of their own barking non-stop just a few feet away from me.

In reality, though, we are moving. Therefore, I hope this third and final complaint doesn’t result in the bitch’s eviction. I highly doubt it, cuz it’s not that easy to evict someone. The bitch and her sick associates may not be able to burn our house down since it’s hard to torch a brick house, but I still wouldn’t put it past her cronies to shoot at our windows and shit like that if they left first. So far, God’s answered my prayers of letting us go first. Now all I have to do is hope and pray that he allows them to read my writings. Like I said, I would guess that they would. They read my “hate letter” after all, and I’d think that any human being would be curious. Especially with that enticing table of contents I stuck in, as well as other strange odds and ends. The key, pictures, etc.

Anyway, to wrap up the freeloader shit, let me cover some strange shit I saw over there yesterday. I’m more and more convinced, though, that the 4-year-old isn’t the only kid over there. There’s a baby over there too, that’s about one year old. This is why Bill’s over there even when the older kid isn’t. He’s been watching this baby.

As I said, the cock and his driver, along with someone in the backseat, came to get the mistake in the dark red car at approximately 8 AM. By the way, this car could also be considered to be cranberry-colored, crimson, fuchsia, burgundy, maroon, or cinnamon. Maybe not maroon or cinnamon, though, cuz there’s too much pink in it to be considered maroon and not enough red to be considered cinnamon. I’ll just stick with calling it dark red.

At close to noon, Bill left, then returned about 20 minutes later. What was weird was that he got out of the car, shuffled around to the passenger door, and took out one white plastic grocery bag. Why couldn’t he have just taken it out from the driver’s seat? He was dressed a little young for his age too, in a light brown leather jacket. It might’ve been suede, but I think it was imitation leather. I don’t remember the shirt, but he had on black denim pants. Either that or navy pants.

Just minutes after Bill returned, the cock came in alone in the dark red car. By the time I stepped up to the window, I saw him emerge into view from the passenger side of Bill’s car with this baby, then go into the house. About ten minutes later, he came out, got in the car, and quietly left. Cock wore a light brown shirt or tan you might say, with darker brown/tan pants.

TUESDAY, MARCH 9, 1999 Just typed a few lines of Spanish in the freeloader’s file. That ought to confuse them. They were bits and pieces of Spanish lyrics of Gloria’s and Linda’s.

It’ll be interesting to see how the cock comes in to pick up the animal in about a half-hour, and in what car. If he comes at the usual time, of course.

Later…

Well, well, well. The cock just may be innocent after all. The cock, who just came in quietly in the dark red car, and who’s thoroughly bald as usual, may not be the fuck in the passenger’s seat of that gold car that woke me up Saturday, cuz the gold car passenger had some hair if I saw correctly. Unless the cock began growing hair, then shaved it off between then and today. Tom even suggested it could be someone new that the bitch hadn’t yet filled in on the rules around here, but she obviously wasn’t in a hurry to do so, since she didn’t come running outside right away telling them to can the music so she wouldn’t get complained on and evicted. Still, I have no regrets about this third and final city letter I’ve sent. Just for waking me up alone, that letter should be sent, and I really believe it may help ensure our peace till we can get out of here. Especially on Easter. Without that complaint, Easter may very well be a nightmare. It could be even with the letter, but I don’t know about that.

Looks like Mistake and Bitch got perms at the same time. Anyway, the cock was being driven by the usual dude with the head shaped like Bart Simpson’s. There was also someone in the back seat too, behind Bart. The kid sat on the cock’s ass. Hope they don’t get in an accident, and that’s highly illegal too, you stupid fuck!

Later…

Just began the book The Stalking of Kristen. A true story about a typical male that shoots his girlfriend, and how as usual, the cops and courts don’t do shit to prevent it. At least the guy killed himself afterward. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t do much time in jail, if he did any at all.

Speaking of courts that don’t do shit, Tammy said she can’t sever Bill’s rights cuz Lisa won’t do anything. Damn, Bill must’ve really threatened the hell out of her. Cuz I don’t think Lisa won’t do anything on her own. I think she would do something if that sick fuck hadn’t threatened her. Even so, aren’t the courts supposed to do something? What about those who aren’t old enough to talk? They should have brains enough to see Bill for the asshole he really is, and they should do something themselves.

Lately, I’ve noticed my teeth are whiter. It took a whole year and a half after quitting smoking for them to whiten up? Strange.

Tom’s answer to my question of why he feels we go to heaven and not just die off and have there be nothing afterward, was this: He feels that we’re more than just bodies. Therefore, it’s hard to believe that when we die, that’s the end.

Makes sense to me.

Got a Bob letter yesterday. His former roommate beat him up, so now he has a new roommate that’s older like he is. He’s lucky they even switched his roommate. I thought they didn’t give a shit who beat up on who in prisons?

He also says he got a letter from Kim saying she had no time to email me cuz she was too busy, and that she left for a cruise while Walter stayed back and had surgery. I don’t think Kim would be cold enough to go on a cruise while her poor guy’s having surgery. Also, she obviously found time last night to email me, cuz there were five emails containing jokes. I sent Tammy, Paula, and Bob copies of these. She never said anything else, though. Never mentioned the pictures I sent, so I asked her about them and about the cruise and surgery, too.

Speaking of pictures, I’m wondering if Bob really is that stupid, or if he was just being sarcastic. He asked what kind of hat I had on in one of the pictures. I assume he was talking about the one of me holding my hair out to the side superimposed over one of me standing with it down in front. Then he asked about the snow Tom was lying in. You mean he didn’t know that I superimposed a picture of Tom floating in the pool and put it in a picture of Tammy’s snow-filled yard?

Anyway, Kim’s jokes were great. Better than Evie’s. I liked the church bulletin message bloomers and the “e-moon.” A picture of an ass made with symbols. Mostly with 0’s. I copied that ass for Joebitch. She should enjoy it. Of course, I added kiss my ass, Joebitch to it.

These Glade plug-ins Tom got are awesome and they work so well. They’re fragrant things you plug into the wall. I guess it heats the fragrance cartridge and steadily sends off the scent. You can get refills, too. I guess they last for three months. I got Botanical Garden in the back room, which has two cartridges for large rooms. I have Tropical Mist in the living room and Country Garden in the bedroom. I have the Country Garden in the bedroom, cuz it’s the weakest one. I wouldn’t want a strong scent in a closed room with me while I slept. They work so well that I can turn the air cleaner off at night. Here, I don’t just use the air cleaner to clean the stinky rodent smell, but I also use it to drown out the daytime noise. However, with these things, I can turn it off at night and enjoy the nighttime peace. When we move, maybe I can get away with having the air cleaner on a low, quiet setting, as long as I have these plug-ins to go with it. I’m going to try other scents, too.

I don’t know if I’ll get Tropical Mist again, cuz it’s too citrus-like. I’m not really big on fruit smells unless it’s strawberry. The Botanical Garden is a little too perfumy. The Country Garden is great, but only for a bedroom. Elsewhere, it’s too subtle.

Tom noticed that Velvet’s earring was missing. Must’ve scratched it off.

MONDAY, MARCH 8, 1999 I got to thinking about something…I wonder if the teddy bear I threw over their wall had anything to do with the 10-minute bass session I received the following day? (I wonder about the weight loss too, being connected) Did these freeloaders figure it was me who delivered the teddy bear and therefore, knowing it was from me, did that fuel them into this bass fit? Even though it wasn’t glass shattering upon concrete, I suppose the thought of knowing the bear was from me, would trigger a reaction. If this is the case, I’m amazed these otherwise stupid people had brains enough to figure it out.

After I wrote the truth about Saturday’s attack on me, I got into my bullshit, of course, which I always make sure I mix in for the freeloaders. I described a young couple that agreed to buy our house from us. A couple just as loud as they are with lots of parties and even a band that’s to practice here. That way the freeloaders can be looking for these people that don’t really exist. In time, though, even stupid fucks like they are will figure out who the hell’s really living here, though.

I wish to hell I had those childish notes they left in our mailbox slot a year ago. I’d copy them with the scanner for them. I wrote my own copy and followed the same handwriting and wording to the best of my memory, and then I scanned that. I also scanned my letter from Unsolved Mysteries, which doesn’t mention my name. It only says: Dear Viewer. Then on top of it, I scanned part of a certificate of authenticity for one of my dolls. Only the top part that says: certificate of authenticity. At the very bottom of this I typed: Copy of JRN’s letter to Unsolved Mysteries to try to find her.

The freeloader’s gonna be like, what the fuck?! It’s hard to duplicate the logo of Unsolved Mysteries, and I know they’d be too stupid to figure out what I did. Especially since poor old losers like this wouldn’t be used to exposure to high-tech, sophisticated shit.

Evie forwarded us a stupid message about someone who died drinking a can of soda because they didn’t wipe the top clean first, which was encrusted with dried rat urine that was obviously lethal. Ha, ha, ha! As an expert on rodents, I told her that rodent urine is not lethal.

There are two closets in the master bedroom, in case I never said so before. One of them leads to the attic. Tom’s had his ladder in there to check for leaks. By the way, it rained today. Can you believe it rained on a Sunday? That may’ve been why I got to sleep today too, since the weather may’ve been too damp for certain ball-playing, bass-thumping assholes. It also didn’t leak. I couldn’t fucking believe that! Anyway, I got tired of reaching over and through the ladder for shit, so I vacated that closet altogether. All that’s in there are a few things we never use. Tom’s gonna use the sander on this door, which doesn’t close very easily. Then he’ll use the sandblaster on the reddish stains out on the front of the house. I forgot what really caused these stains, but I call them bloodstains.

I also packed some non-breakable knickknacks in the big box Maria came in.

There are about 15 common exercises to work the basic muscle groups. Since I have such a problem with sticking to regular exercise, I decided to do 5 at the start of my day, 5 in the middle of my day, and 5 at the end of my day, but so far, this hasn’t helped me to be consistent with exercising. Perhaps nothing will!

I worry about Tom and all this overtime they’ve been throwing at him since getting a new boss. He’s the boss of his shift, but that doesn’t prevent him from having to deal with all this overtime. See? If it isn’t his mom needing constant attention like she did when she lived in her own house, it’s overtime. The extra money’s great, but I’m afraid it’s gonna kill him. He said there wasn’t anyone else available to do the work. I asked him if they could hire more help. Instead of answering me, he just shrugged. I take it that means that for whatever reason, they’re not gonna hire more help. They’re gonna stick the work on this one poor guy and run him ragged with constant 10-11 hour shifts.

Speaking of never-ending shit that has its way of taking its toll on a person, I’m so fucking sick of being tight! I wasn’t even tight this much when I smoked! When I smoked it was wheezing that was the problem for me. See? There’s always a price to pay for everything. I’m afraid to go to a doctor about it because I know that if she can help me, God will only inflict some new problem upon me. Besides, if Tom’s theory is right, I may as well just deal with it and suffer, since it doesn’t matter whether or not I suffer if we’re going to heaven after we die, only to have it a million times better than we do here.

Tom believes that although some people have worse lives than others, it doesn’t matter, cuz there’s no comparison to even the best life here and the afterlife. Well, I hope he’s right and that I don’t get sent to hell for whatever reason, be it the prank calls I’ve made, the women I’ve been with, the things my relatives/ancestors have done, etc. I wonder how Tom decided that this is a logical afterlife for us. He decided that reincarnation isn’t logical cuz of how the population fluctuates. I’ll have to ask him when he gets in, how he came to believe that we go to heaven and have it so fine and wonderful after we die.

Later…

I can’t believe I’ve been up for ten hours, yet all I’ve had to eat is a 290-calorie TV dinner and a 200-calorie bag of popcorn. I also can’t believe my weight’s down this low. I almost feel like my old self. However, as low as I’ve gotten my weight, I still have a full face, a double chin, thunder thighs, and a huge lower gut. It seems my lower gut just won’t go away. Yes, it’s gone down since being in the 120s, but it still sticks out much further than my upper gut. If my lower gut was the same size as my upper gut, my stomach would be practically flat. I wonder if I’ll go right back up to around 110 pounds since I crashed my way down to 105 with hardly eating and with water pills? In fact, I’m already back to 108. Of course, I ended up eating like a pig yesterday. Had around 2000 calories. Anyway, I think the reason I’ve eaten so little is due to all the singing and typing I’ve been doing on and off all night.

Our weather’s been screwy. As I said, it rained today and is much cooler. For a few days last week, we didn’t need the heat all day. Didn’t need it till around 4:00 in the morning and only till around 10:00. Now, we need it even in the middle of the afternoon during this cool spell.

We screwed today, which I always have mixed emotions about these days. I never want to screw with him again, yet at the same time, I want to screw once a week to keep from getting irritation. Today’s fuck wasn’t nearly as painful as the last one, but it wasn’t pain-free, either. It did subside a great deal after a few minutes. Again, he stayed on his side and didn’t go up top. It’s still not like with the vibrators, and I know that it’s just a matter of another 1-3 weeks where we won’t have sex for 2-4 weeks. That means I’ll have to start all over again and feel like a virgin, but each time I start over again, it gets harder and I lose interest and the determination to start over again and put myself through the same old pain and crap that I shouldn’t have to go through in the first place. Although I know he’ll only cum just 2-3 times a year, it’s OK if he cums during that so-called prime time that doesn’t exist for me (think of all the money we’ll save on birth control!) cuz I know I could never conceive.

That brings me to Marla and her lecturing me on how I shouldn’t give up and how I should try everything that modern technology has to offer, and that includes having Tom get tested. Then she told me more things about her and Linda. I guess the story goes like this: Linda, who spent about 15 years trying to get pregnant, was initially diagnosed with one clogged tube which I guess they unclogged (technically, all you need is one tube. You just cut your chances in half, though). Then, she was diagnosed as appearing to be OK, but she just couldn’t conceive. So after trying fertility drugs to no avail, Marla agreed to be a surrogate mother for Linda, but the embryo wouldn’t even stay in her and she’s never had problems conceiving. She even had three abortions before having her two boys. So, I guess Linda had to try over and over again till an implant would stay in her. They were suspecting that Linda’s body reacted to the embryo as if it were an unnatural invader. She had to have daily injections to keep her body from rejecting the fetus.

I wonder if my body treats embryos as invaders. That would be just the thing God would do to me too. There’s still a chance that there could be nothing wrong with either of us, or that there’s something wrong with him, but I think the chances are higher of there being something wrong with me due to how I didn’t get pregnant in the past when I was too stupid to use birth control, on top of my gut instinct. I think it’s more likely that there’s something wrong with my hormones, my body mucus, or something like that.

Marla asked me how bad do I want a kid? Obviously not that bad, but even if I did, I am not allowed to ever have a child. Not under any circumstances. Not even modern technology could help me. I just know it. And even if it could, God would only knock that fetus right out of me. I know Marla means well, but still, she just doesn’t get it and she doesn’t get psychics. I know some people would see me as a negative quitter, but I just know some things about my destiny and my body.

It’s really sweet of Tom to tell me that he’ll support whatever I want to do and I believe him, but again, something’s nagging at my gut instinct and it’s telling me that Tom would just rather not have to deal with me trying to conceive. It seems to be a touchy subject for him and I think more than anything, God would use Tom to stop me from conceiving if I tried to, by making sure he couldn’t give them a sperm sample. Maybe even Tom himself would make sure of it, cuz I still say that despite the times that he did cum during the right time, he’d rather not be a father. I just sense this deep down. The doctor may also refuse to just go ahead and do the invitro without fixing our so-called sex problem first. But you can’t help people who don’t want to be helped, aren’t meant to be helped, or both. Lastly, all this would take years. If we had gone to that consultation last February 15th, we’d still be nowhere near done. To go from the first part of the testing/consultation to either getting pregnant or not getting pregnant, takes years. Another way God could prevent me from conceiving (there are only a million ways for God to stop me and I don’t know which way he will) is by making sure we didn’t have enough money. Linda said it cost her 8 G’s per in vitro and it took so many times before it worked. Tom does know money and he insists there’ll always be the money for it, but what if that’s what it’d cost us, and what if it took three shots for me to conceive? We’d end up paying $24,000 just for me to have a miscarriage.

To say God works in mysterious ways is an understatement. Why is it that he’d only allow Linda kids by way of all this time, money, shit, and pain she had to go through? How can a supposedly good, loving God do this to a woman? Was it because of her sister’s abortions that the bible thumpers say God’s against? That wouldn’t make sense, though. If God was so against unborn children dying, then why did he create miscarriages? And why did he let people figure out how to perform abortions if he were so against it?

I still believe we can either struggle all our lives for stuff we’re not meant to have. Or we can go with the flow of what’s available to us and what is in our cards. At this point, although I promised myself, Tom, and Marla that I’d have a wait-and-see attitude, I’m sure I’ll follow my destiny and not waste my time trying to fight fate which no one can do. I also want to move and make dolls and I believe that God will let me make dolls cuz it’s material things. Maybe in a half-assed way, but he’ll let me, nonetheless. Still, it was nice of Tom to tell me that although it’d stall the move, I could have in vitro right now if I wanted to. Yeah, right! Like God would let me? Like Tom may even let me? Of course, it’s 50/50 in my opinion as to whether or not Tom will block me, intentionally or not, but the offer is still much appreciated.

SUNDAY, MARCH 7, 1999 I have a shitload of news to update on. First of all, I’m 105 pounds! Yeah, and it’s quite a coincidence that the day I hit a record low of 105 pounds, the freeloaders return to their old shit and worse. The cock and his sick pal in some goldish beige car I’ve never seen before woke me up after about five hours of sleep with the loudest, longest bass outburst since December 1997. It lasted about ten minutes and have you any idea how lucky these cocks are that I was too tired and felt like my heart was gonna explode that I couldn’t go out and beat the shit out of them?! Do they?! Once I was more awake and got my heart slowed down, I’d have gladly gone out and pummeled the shit out of them, but by then they took off. Today, though, is to be a different story. I promised myself that one more outburst and they were to get a double dose of treatment from me, and that’s exactly what they’re gonna get. Tomorrow they’ll be facing my fists as soon as he bangs in, and come Monday, out goes my final city letter. I’m not as stressed out or as furious with these sick fucks as I would be if we weren’t moving and if I didn’t know that I could write letters to the city, but still, these fuckaroos have pushed me to the max. I’m gonna show them just what happens to freeloaders that fuck with the wrong people.

I left Tom a message about their latest antics before taking Benadryl and going back to bed. He ended up crashing before I got up, and he left me a message saying that he’s sorry our inconsiderate neighbors woke me and that it’s amazing how much strength I have (that I didn’t beat the snot out of them). He said that if I had beaten her up, she’d have just had her friends come out and say that nothing was going on, and I wouldn’t stand a chance, knowing how courts are. I’m not gonna beat her ass, I’m gonna beat his ass, and yes, I do stand a chance because no man that size is gonna admit/report a woman my size kicked his ass. No judge would even believe him, even without my fine acting involved. All I’d have to worry about, if I beat his ass, would be either bunches of them coming after me or someone from over there shooting me, but I’m too mad to care. It’s more important that I do what I gotta do to get these sick fucks off my ass and not worry so much about what-ifs. These assholes are deliberately, knowingly, and intentionally harassing me. Tom’s right about me beating her, though. That would be a very stupid thing to do unless she threatened or struck at me first. If I denied beating her up, no judge would believe me, then I would be in trouble.

My initial reaction was that in my city letter, I’d push for eviction, but I’d still prefer for them to read all about just how fucked up they are, and there’s an innocent child involved here who needs a place to live, despite all its sick mom’s cronies that’d take them in if they were suddenly homeless. It’s also not easy to evict a city/state moocher. I should know. So I said the same thing in this letter as he and I did in our previous letters and that we were looking to move. I told them that I wasn’t asking for her to be evicted or lose her subsidy or that all the kids be stopped from coming to play here on weekends or that she be stopped from her slew of weekend company (I lied and stuck in “parties” even though they have indeed partied) but that all we ask is that the car stereos be eliminated. I said that asking them ourselves to can the music has gotten us nowhere and threatened (at least the nowhere part is the truth). This bitch is lucky we don’t plan to stay here indefinitely, cuz if we did, I’d do everything to get her out of here!

I told Tom I’d try not to use racial slurs and names he doesn’t like but that it’s my way of venting sometimes, within the privacy of my own home. I think I’ve done a good job of not calling him names, which is much more important than what I call these scumbags.

Anyway, I crashed around 11:00. At 4:30, during these assholes’ prime time, I woke right up to the bass. Not even the heartbeats on the sound spa saved me. I knew instantly it was next door. My heart felt like it was gonna jump right out of my chest. It was very similar to the NHA and the Vista. And these fucks didn’t come into the carport, either. They were at the end of the driveway. The white car was at the beginning of the carport. I don’t know how this 12-year-old boy could play ball, but he did. The cock sat in the passenger seat (there was someone in the backseat, too) while the driver was in the house. The cock would stick its arm out and catch the ball at times. At first, the music was insanely loud. Then it went from soft to moderate volumes till the driver got in and they quietly pulled out. I could see the cock looking at our house too, to check and maybe even hope for a reaction (yeah, you’ll get that next time, buddy!). After they left, the boy and the kid that lives there were seen for a second, then they and the white car disappeared.

I knew there’d be at least a white car and a basketball game this weekend, too. I sensed it. Especially since they’ve been quiet for a few weekends in a row. They always have to compensate me and make up for any quiet time they give me, those filthy fucks! I looked back, and since the time of the second city letter which went in around early May, these mother-fuckers have given me the bass treatment 5/30/1998, 8/15/1998, 10/25/1998, 1/23/1999, and 3/6/1999. I see the common denominator here and clearly, these MFs are testing me to see how much of their old shit I’ll take. I even thought they were moving for a minute there, due to how loud and long their scene went on, but they’re not. I’d have sensed that for sure. Just like I strongly sensed Giselle wouldn’t be here by yesterday, and I was right. I bet you anything that Easter would be a nightmare just like last year without this third city letter or my fists, but we’ll see.

I’m really at a tug of war here, cuz a part of me is like - just beat the shit out of them and get the problem permanently fixed. Get it done and over with after three years of this shit. Fight back. Take a stand for yourself or else the shit will keep coming. The other part is saying- there are only a few more months here to go, don’t risk doing anything to cause you to have to look over your shoulder for bullets, the city letter ought to be enough for a while, and this way they can do some serious reading. But what if I was wide awake and he came banging in like that? There’s no way I could restrain myself. No way! You fuck with me, I fuck with you. Period.

Later…

I fell asleep at around noon and got up at 6:00. Thanks to our friendly freeloaders, I didn’t sleep much and I kept waking up, too. So if they’re not waking me up with their music, they’re waking me up with the stress they’ve put me under. The fucking, mother-fuckers!

Naturally, Tom went through his spiel again of why violence is wrong and how it could come down to court, etc. Trust me, though. If I didn’t go to court with her last year, I sure as hell ain’t going this year! Or any other year. He agreed that the city letter was an appropriate thing to do, but he says it’s my call since I’m the one who got woke up. He feels that this is an isolated incident. It could be, but I can’t say for sure that this one was just one of those music setbacks we get every 2-3 months, because of how loud and long it was. That’s why I’m sending in the letter. I also have the feeling that if I don’t send in the letter, Easter will be a nightmare. It still may be anyway. Nonetheless, if this last letter will ensure our peace till we can get the fuck out of here, then fine. I’ll bet if we all lived here for ten years, they’d need 1-2 city letters a year sent in to keep them leashed down and controlled as far as the bass goes. And this is all bass and nothing but bass that these sick fucks listen to. There are no singers, no other instruments, just someone plucking a bass. So I’m gonna go with my gut feeling, trust what my instincts tell me, and send in this final letter. They should hear about it at the end of the week.

I should be getting my doll then too, if it hasn’t been misdelivered. These people are in Florida from what I can tell, and Tom thinks that that’s why the dolls get here late. He said if we were further east, they’d probably be more on time.

Tom and I were talking about the possibility of us getting a 1-acre lot with more considerate people around us, but I don’t know. Yes, the poorer you are, the more likely you are to be trash, and they wouldn’t have subsidized losers on 1-acre lots, but you know how I’m cursed as far as neighbors go. There’s always a problem. You could put me at the end of a row of 50 houses. Say all the houses contain nice considerate neighbors but one. Guess who that one rude, sick, selfish fuck would be next to? Me.

Anyway, all we heard/saw today from these would-be fried freeloaders if it weren’t for Tom, was her going to church at around 9:00. Bitch left in a white car wearing a jumpsuit of light/medium blues. Bitch left with a woman driver. There were 2-3 kids in the back. Bitch’s hair looks pitiful to the shoulders. Looks like she may’ve permed the lamb’s wool, too. It looked better to the middle of her back with it either down or braided. Anyway, because this was all that was seen and heard, I got the impression that the bitch was trying to make up for yesterday’s noise by being extra quiet today in the hopes that I wouldn’t rat on her to the city. Too late. Too late, bitch. If it weren’t for her being an unusually sound sleeper and her house being tightly sealed, I’d be out there waking her up now (bitch crashed at 9:00). Just the fact that she had that dog barking non-stop tells me how well she can sleep to noise. If she couldn’t, she wouldn’t have had that dog that long no matter how much she wanted to use it against me. Plus, her house has double-paned windows. Ours doesn’t.

How can this bitch go to church and consider herself religious? I thought being religious was about being caring, giving, considerate, etc. Like I said, she’s as religious as my left tit. She’s only going cuz of what she can get for free out of it.

Thank God the freeloaders don’t know we’re moving, cuz if they did, they’d probably figure, what the fuck? She’s on her way out, so what should she care if we make the end of her stay here miserable? I do! That’s who.

Tom said that the more he thought about it, the more he doubts the freeloaders will go back to their old shit when we move. He feels they’ll want to start things off on the right foot this time around. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,!!! Right foot my ass! Right isn’t in their repertoire. These people don’t know no right anything. All they know is the opposite of right and the opposite of right is usually wrong. If anything, they’ll be bummed at first to see me go, cuz then I won’t be here for a bimonthly harassment treatment from them. But once they get over me, they’ll be happy to start their shit over with a clean slate with new people. They’ll bet their odds on the new people not complaining on them too, but when they get no reaction from the new owners, and they probably won’t since most people don’t have the guts to complain, they’ll be bummed and missing me all over again, cuz then there’ll be no one to badger anymore and no challenges left.

Copy of city letter:

To whomever it may concern:

I’m writing this letter in regard to our next door neighbor. About a year ago, my husband and I sent in a letter complaining of their loud car stereo music, then another letter around last May. Since then, her loud boyfriend moved out, and her constant company’s car stereos have eased up tremendously on us, until recently. Recently, it has been a nightmare all over again as far as her boyfriend’s, relative’s, and friend’s car stereos go. Primarily during the weekends when she has a whole slew of company. It has been anything but peaceful for us. I’m not saying that I want Miss N to be evicted and lose her subsidy, or that all the kids can’t come over to play on weekends, or that she can’t have lots of company/parties on weekends, I’m just saying that we cannot tolerate the car stereo’s bass and the way it vibrates through our house so viciously. That’s all we ask, is that they eliminate the stereos. Meanwhile, we are thinking about moving, but it may take us several months before we can do so, so if there’s anything you can do to ease our anxiety and give us our peace back, it’d be very much appreciated. Talking to them ourselves has gotten us nowhere but yelled at and threatened.

Sincerely, Jodi Lin

FRIDAY, MARCH 5, 1999 And here we are at another weekend with assholes 3’ away from us and God only knows what else in this city. I’ll be on nights throughout the weekend, but I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the white car and a few ball games were part of the weekend next door. With my luck, God will hold off ballgames till right when I get up in the late afternoon.

What is it with people not only doing the opposite of what you ask but not doing things they say they’ll do? Just ask if you want a full-size picture of these thumbnails, yeah right!

Tom got me a cute puzzle at the grocery store today. Good, cuz I just finished one and I love to do puzzles. I put together a whole 500-piece last night.

My strong vibes saying Giselle would be late (as long as she wasn’t misdelivered) are proving to be right so far. If she doesn’t come by tomorrow, she’ll be late, and I don’t see her coming tomorrow. I really think she’ll be here toward the end of next week.

After only having two bags of popcorn and a TV dinner yesterday, I’m down to a record-breaking 106½. Naturally, the catch for it is that I’m stuck.

Later…

Miss Bitch was out in the white car somewhere tonight. They just got back. I wish I could say that the person in the white car was sick of the bitch and that she did not want to see her tomorrow and Sunday too, but I know the white car will be here this weekend. And so will its ball-playing animals.

Saw a doll show tonight. They had a 38” doll and a 42” doll with awesome dresses. They said the number one favorite color is blue. That explains why most dolls seem to be wearing blue.

Later…

Just gave a teddy bear to the mistake next door. I had a teddy bear for years that’s nice, but a bit dirty and boring looking if you ask me, so I threw it over the wall for the mistake. I threw it where our walls and the alley meet so it looks like it was thrown from the alley. So now the poor mistake can have a nice teddy bear to add to its toys, cuz it was just a serious dust collector that I don’t need taking up space in the new place. It wasn’t worth it cuz the thing just isn’t as cute and pretty as the one I have in the bedroom wearing the pansy dress.

THURSDAY, MARCH 4, 1999 A private call just came in and I figured it was Andy by the type of ring (long-distance rings are different) but if it was him, he left no message. He left a message earlier and said he’d call again later. Yeah, I’m sure he will! Anyway, in his message, he told me he nearly beat the shit out of Laura and that they agreed to part as friends since they each know they can fuck each other over. She can fuck with his property and he can fuck with her family by telling her family her dirty little secrets, so to speak. Why not just part on good terms? Why continue the friendship? Why can’t he let go of these kinds of immature, destructive people? Is this all he feels he deserves? Have some self-respect, Andy! And just like I knew he would, he mentions how God’s blessed him so much with getting through all his stress. Well Andy, if you’re so blessed by God, how come you’re in the same boat year after year? Don’t you think you’re giving God a little too much credit? Think maybe you’re fooling yourself about God?

Got a message from Paula today, too. I knew it’d be just a matter of a few days before I heard from her again. I wonder how school went for her. She never says much on my machine. She’s the opposite of Andy. Andy usually uses the full 3 minutes allotted, but Paula just says, “Hi. It’s me. Call me.” Then she said something about being up since 4 AM, cuz a big storm they had woke her up.

Later…

I’m kind of tired today. Guess I didn’t sleep as long as I usually do. Going hungry is gonna make me a bit tired too, but seeing that I woke up at 112 pounds, I need to really really back off of food. In fact, I’m just gonna go ahead and see if I can starve off the remaining 12 pounds I want to lose and get to 100 pounds. That way, all I’ll have to do is just maintain my weight, and although that’s hard for me now, it’s a hell of a lot easier than trying to lose weight. It’s so hard to believe that I once could hold onto the same weight effortlessly, without even trying, no matter how much I ate. But now, trying to hold onto the same weight is like trying to hold onto a bar with one hand. It’s a constant struggle. These few pounds I gained were cuz of three lousy days of eating just 1500 calories a day. Less than your average person consumes daily, which is 2000 daily. For the last ten years, I haven’t minded being short. Now I don’t know about that. If I were even just 2-3 inches taller, maybe I could have 1500 calories a day instead of 1000. Do you know how fast 1000 calories go?! It’s like trying to cut down from smoking 25 cigarettes a day to 5 a day. Food that’s filling and that has any real substance at all to it is loaded with calories. You have to live on air or stuff like scraps of lettuce in order to lose weight, but you’ll be starving! Since God only helps those he feels like helping, and since I’m not usually one of them, I have to put my all into helping my own self here.

Tom trimmed the palm tree by the back gate and it looks great! Before, it was a pain in the ass and in the way when coming and going through that gate, but now it’s out of the way.

Later…

What a weird society we live in! Not just rude and selfish, but weird. Really weird! Two Spanish women were standing at the end of our driveway an hour ago with six kids swarming around them. Half of them were in our driveway. One was teaching one of them to ride a bike which kind of crashed into our garage door. I know being on the corner makes it easier to hang out in our driveway, but what is it with these little trespassers doing their thing in other people’s driveways/yards? What’s wrong with their own? Anyway, I didn’t go out and ask them to leave because they didn’t hurt anything and were only there for a few minutes. I kept an eye on them till one woman and half the kids went up the street, and the other woman and the other half of the kids went down the street. So what do these mothers do nowadays? Sit and decide with their friends whose driveway they’ll hang out in? And whose driveway they’ll teach their kids to ride bikes in? They even had a toy gun in the driveway too. It fell, and then one of the little animals picked it up. I know the women saw me looking out the window at them, but they acted like they didn’t see me and that they weren’t on anyone’s property but their own.

Paula called and I answered this time. We had a good talk that didn’t last too long. As I knew would be the case, she didn’t make it to school. She says she’ll try again in May. Yeah, right! She says she didn’t make it to school cuz of her whore of a boyfriend. He was supposed to drive her to school, but he stood her up two days in a row. In one breath, she says she’s pissed off at this guy, but then in the next breath, she wants him to move in with her. Paula’s life, just like Andy’s, is still the same old, same old, that’s for sure! She’s getting it on with this guy who’s already got a girlfriend, while she’s also getting it on with this AIDS guy. She’s kind of just as slutty as the guys are. She said she sucked him off unprotected, but that they screwed with a rubber. Her sucking the guy off unprotected was a dumb thing to do. Meanwhile, these guys are typical of what Paula gets. They have no respect for her whatsoever. All these air-headed, immature, irresponsible, stupid things want, is sex, sex, sex.

I checked out the premiere of the new doll show last night and it was pretty good. Again, they spend way too much time showing the same doll and should show more than 15 dolls in two hours, but it was still interesting enough. They didn’t show as many dolls I’d already seen as I thought they would. They had some dolls between 33” - 38” for between $220-$250 with nice dresses, but boring faces. One’s hair was too short. One’s face was actually sort of nice. I’m hoping to get a 30-something-inch doll when we move.

They had a 12” doll for just $10! They also had a 10” doll for $20 that I’d actually take if it were as easy as handing them the $20 for the doll in a split second. That’s because it was a Rapunzel doll. There are different variations on her, I guess. The Rapunzel I have is 20” tall with wavy hair that falls to her ankles. The one on TV was half that height and had straight hair trailing on the floor. At first I decided I’d get her when I could, but then changed my mind and decided to get another vibrator instead and try making my own Rapunzel someday. Anyway, I had this vibrator before. It’s not as good quality-wise as the ones I’ve got are, but this one felt better.

Later…

Again a private call with no message. Guess it could be anyone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were Andy just leaving his “calling card,” so to speak to say, “I’m here. I’m gonna make you get up and check and see who’s calling. That way I know I got to you by making you have to notice me. I’m doing the opposite of what you asked too, by calling constantly.”

A little while ago I was in the music room doing a puzzle on the vanity when I heard a ton of door slamming. I told myself it wasn’t the right hour to be coming from next door, but then I realized that no one else around here would slam doors eight times in a row like that. So I upped and looked and sure enough, one of the white cars was there. At that hour on a weekday? Guess they must be making up for lost time since both white cars and their basketball-playing animals disappeared for a while, but the white car didn’t stay long tonight.

Porky hasn’t gone outside the cage lately. Guess he’s gotten too big to squeeze through the bars.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 3, 1999 I forgot who Tom said he heard it from, but whoever told him, was right when they said that putting soapy in the microwave before you went to clean it helps loosen shit up. I put a bowl of soapy water in for two minutes before I cleaned it and it did make it easier.

Paula or Andy is calling right now. At this hour, I’d say it’s Paula. Well, I’m not calling her back. She has to learn that I can’t play phone with her this much.

Last night at around this time I picked up on one of our regular sales calls and slowly, but firmly said stop calling. In response, the woman gave me a slow, firm no. I’m not even gonna bother picking up on them anymore, cuz that’ll just make them all the more determined.

Later…

I was wrong. It was Andy. He left an unusually short message. All he said was that he’s evicted Laura for good this time, he’s not gonna let her move back in ever again, their friendship is over, he’s changing his locks, he’ll struggle more, but he’ll be happier. I went to call him back, knowing how much he likes to bitch to people about his problems with other people, but as I figured, he was on the phone. He’s probably calling everyone he knows one by one till he gets someone he can bitch to like he’d bitch to Brenda, Bonnie, or whoever, about his fights with me.

Anyway, as long as Andy’s not willing to be a little less selfish, and is not willing to change his type of friends, or at least avoid his typical type of friends if he can’t change his type of friends, this is the shit he’s gonna get with people. All he wants is drugged-up losers, so how can he not expect to have problems with them? How can he expect people to not have problems with him? Andy’s changed a lot for the better, but still, think we could get along as well if I saw him as much as I used to or if we lived together? Think again! He’s not easy to spend a lot of time around.

Got my period today, but no Giselle. I really think that most things you order from these people come later than they tell you they will.

My allergies went off last night and Tom said I shouldn’t be out at night smelling the pretty orange blossoms. He said that’s bad for allergies.

Last night I found some pictures I like of Gloria on the web, but they were just thumbnails. The person who put the pictures out claims that they’ll give you the full size of these pictures if you email them. Well, I did email this person with the pictures I requested, but I’ll bet you anything that I won’t get a reply and if I do, there’ll be a catch. They’ll probably demand money for them.

Later…

I told Andy that I’d be watching a movie (it turned out I couldn’t get into it) so he could call me at 10:00 if he still wanted to talk. Just a few minutes ago, I saw a private call and I know it was him, even though he left no message. It’s just his way of saying, “You said call at 10:00, so I’m gonna do the opposite and call before 10:00.”

What makes some people so obsessed with rebelling?

TUESDAY, MARCH 2, 1999 I set up the VCR to record The Medical Detectives and The FBI Case Files that are on tonight. Tomorrow night, I’ll be taping The Doll Cottage, one of the new doll shows to premiere in March. I’m sure it’s just like the other two doll shows I’ve seen, with the same old dolls.

We haven’t had to run the heat in the last couple of days. Without any heat or cooling, it gets a little warm in the living room towards late afternoon, but it’s pleasant throughout the evening and night. The bedroom stays cool, though. That room is kind of cool in the winter and kind of warm in the summer.

The address label company sent me a catalog again, and this time, I’m gonna save it till we move. There are some cute sets I want to order when we move. I like the sets of cats, dogs, tropical scenes, flowers, and little girls playing.

Andy left me a cool message. It’s cool for him, anyway. Up till now, talking to Barbara Nicks was the closest he ever came to Stevie. Well, it turns out that Barbara gave Stevie a tape Andy made with Michelle’s artwork decorating the case, of demos no one’s heard before. Barbara gave it to Stevie and she liked it.

Despite the fact that it’s hard to imagine this house selling in about a month’s time, I have wonderful moving vibes for June or July. The closer I look into September, the less I see us here. I even thought I got a vision of potential buyers of our house. They’re non-aggressive, yuppie-type people, who are family and career-oriented. I think they both work and I see something related to sales, advertising, and accounting. Probably around 20 years old. Well, that’s what I first thought, since I saw that they just had or are about to have a kid, and ages 15-20 are the most common ages to have kids (besides the early 40s), but they seem a little too mature for being just 20. Maybe they’re closer to 30. The kid they just had or are about to have is an accident. They do want kids, but they wanted to wait. This is normal, though, since many kids are accidents. It’s when you plan them that they don’t come unless one’s just not in your destiny regardless of what you plan. They try to do the right thing, so to speak, and are the direct opposites of the rude, selfish assholes next door. They don’t smoke or do drugs. They rarely drink, but all they drink is wine.

The guy is about 5‘10” with thick dark brown wavy hair. He’s of average weight and he and his wife may be of Italian descent. The woman’s about 5’ 4” with short straight brown hair and is also of average weight. Maybe slightly plump. They both have brown eyes. Both are plain-looking.

At one point, I was sitting in the living room typing, when I turned around and saw a big Christmas tree in the living room. We don’t do Christmas trees so it isn’t us, and the party and people looked a little too modern to be apparitions of past residents. I really think this is a vision of a Christmas party that the new people will have - Christmas of 99. I saw the woman’s mother visit. She’s in her 50s. Her hair is dyed light brown and it’s in a bun. She’s religious. They have something large in the back room. A pool table? A ping pong table? Don’t know for sure. They have a small, tan, cocker spaniel puppy. They each have cars, but I can’t make out the make of the cars. Just that they’re fairly nice.

Later…

Katie and Ashley are definitely not having babies. In two days from now, they’d have to have reached the maximum time they could be pregnant since they were last possibly exposed to males, and they sure as hell aren’t gonna be dropping babies in two days. Oh well. Better luck next time. Tom thinks the other mouse they were in with was a female too and not a male.

Later…

Tom says I ought to try using less KY jelly. He said I may be using too much, and that may be why I get so much irritation; cuz he ends up flying in there instead of going in gently and slowly. Maybe if we could just find the time and desire to have sex once a week, that’d help too. As far as time goes, I thought about it, and to tell you the truth - his ma’s not hogging up that much of our time since she’s moved into Mary’s. Tom only spends about 2-3 hours a week over there visiting her. Before, he was spending more than that a day over at the house from the time Dad got sick to when she moved. I just wish God would take her to his kingdom and to be with Dad and let us move on. Ma can repay the money she’s taken from us, but she can never repay the time she’s stolen from us. All she can do is move on and let us have that time. It’d also help if his job wasn’t so demanding of overtime, but it’s not like I never see my husband. I guess I wouldn’t want to see him 24/7, even though he’s the only one I could do that with and not end up hating or going crazy, but having a little less time together than the average couple only makes our time together more special. Same with the sex. Personally, I’d like to have sex once a month. Thanks to my finicky crotch, though, that can’t be.

It smells beautiful out now. It’s that time of year when the orange blossoms smell pretty. They never smelled of orange, though, and they don’t this year either, but they do smell different. More like grape this year.

MONDAY, MARCH 1, 1999 It was pretty warm out there today! Bordering on hot. We just hit March and it’s summertime already. The yellow jackets are already out and it looks like it’s gonna be like last year. There are a ton of them. I hope moving outside of the city brings less of these fuckers! I’d think it would, cuz there are certainly not as many flowers and things for them to feed off of outside the city where most things are left in their natural state.

We got a complaint about our weeds in front. I knew it. I just knew we’d get a complaint on that eventually, although I think the city’s rules on weeds are wrong. If people don’t want to do their yards, they shouldn’t have to. The thing said that “they got a complaint,” but Tom thinks it was the water meter reader that did the complaining. He doesn’t think it’s the freeloaders cuz as he said, they don’t seem bright enough to know you can do that, they probably wouldn’t wait this long to complain if they did know you can do that, and they seem more of the yell-and-scream type than the take-action type. I think they’re both. The bitch yelled and screamed alright, but she also spent around $40 to try to have me served, so that’s a little action. I’ll bet she paid more than it’ll cost me for the paper and ink used for their wonderful reading material!

Anyway, whoever did the complaining, I’m not mad at them. It needed to be done and sometimes you have to really kick Tom in the ass to get him to do things like that. Like I said, he’s great with the things we absolutely need, but not with keeping up with the yard work. Tom says he’s more productive when he’s pressured into having to do something, rather than when it’s not urgent and demanded of him. Yeah, as long as it isn’t me doing it. Back when I’d urge, pressure, and demand that he cum regularly, look where that got me.

I washed the clothes and sneakers Tom wore while hacking the weeds which he vacuumed up, and now I’ve got the sneakers drying out in the sun and heat.

Last night I took a Benadryl at midnight and was fortunate enough to be off to sleep by 2:00. I slept well enough till Tom woke me with coffee at 10:30.

On our way out to the dentist, we poured a drain opener down the tub to unclog hairs. This is the shit that smells like rotten eggs. He also bleached some of the mildew we’ve got in there, and we aired the place out really well. By then it was 80º inside the house and I had to cool the place down after shutting off the evaporative cooler’s vent.

Had my teeth cleaned today and do I have any cavities? Of course! This time, I have two, and he showed them to me in a hurry to prove he wasn’t scamming me. They’re for real alright. I saw the holes in the teeth myself. No matter how hard I try to keep up on my teeth, I always have cavities, although having braces does make it tough. Maybe I’ll have better luck once they’re off and I can clean my teeth better and easier. They didn’t take X-rays this time since the holes were that obvious.

I thought I’d be in for some pain when Mel went to tighten me up, but nope. Just when she went to pop the bracket off the tooth that was impacted so she could move it. It’s hard to believe that tooth, which looks so normal now, was once just a little spec at the roof of my mouth! Anyway, they just pull the bracket right off that’s cemented on. Not that it won’t be worth it, but it’s not gonna tickle getting all these brackets off. Then every damn tooth will be sore. The tooth she rebracketed is now sore, but if she didn’t have to rebracket it, none of my teeth would be sore. Not till they get ready to move again. I wish that one on the bottom that was the farthest away from where it should be and the only one left to need to be positioned would hurry up and get sore. Then I’d know that it’d move some more within the next day or two. Anyway, when I told Tom how brackets are removed, he cringed just thinking about it. It hurts like hell for about 20 seconds. They just pull it and break it right off. It feels like they’re about to pull your tooth, and when that sucker pops, it sounds like your tooth was broken in two. Wait till they yank them all off! After the bracket’s pulled off, they do something to clean away the cement under it. Then they recement me and place the new bracket in place with tweezers. There are three parts to my braces. There are the brackets that are glued to the tooth, the plastic bands that connect to the brackets and the wire, and the wire. The bands are what they tighten and what do the pulling. These come in different colors. I got pink this time, my favorite color.

I got the wrong idea by thinking I would be done with the braces and with Melanie around July. I’ll be done with the braces around that time, but I do have to have a retainer for a while. I thought I’d be getting out of that, but nope. The braces move the teeth into place, but the retainer trains them to stay there. This makes sense cuz when Mel takes off the wire/bands that pull the teeth outward, the teeth automatically start pushing inward as soon as the pressure is released from them. It’s like they gotta hurry up and run the other way while they’re free!

Saw a Navajo Indian woman at Walgreens (where we went to pick up snacks and my inhaler) whose hair made mine look short. Hers was below her knees!

Tom did a great job of trimming the palm trees that are by the back gate.

I asked Tom when he went out to dump the weeds in the dumpster if they had taken the stuff he put out back yet. He said no, but someone took the three chairs we put out there. Who’d take beat-up chairs like that? The freeloaders? I wouldn’t doubt it.

It looks like Bill picked the bitch up today, then took it out somewhere for about an hour and yes, the bitch did cut her hair. Either that or she just made it appear to be up to her shoulders.

Later…

AOL’s on its busy spree again. I’m typing while it keeps trying to get online so I can get my Evie messages. She can be a real pain at times. I had four messages from her the other day. They were all jokes, which would be fine if most of them weren’t so stupid.

Later…

I got onto AOL, but the system was so sluggish. Then it crashed. So, I’ll go on some other time. It’s best to go on during the weekdays when most people are working, or late at night. Too many people are still up and online right now.

I called Paula at 7:45 my time. She answered and said she’d call back in half an hour, but I haven’t heard from her. That’s OK. We just talked recently, and as I told her, I don’t want to be calling long distance so much, and I don’t like phones much these days.

[absolutepokemontrash]

MC is Half Demon and Blah Blah Blah-

Time for the Group Retreat!

Part 1 Part 2 Lessons 1-5 Lessons 5-6 Lessons 10-12 Lessons 13-15 Part 3 Part 4

I’m quite hyped for this one, ladies, gents, and esteemed readers! For simplicity’s sake, since this is before M!MC and A!MC arrive, L!MC will go back to being referred to as just MC. Enjoy the Headcanons!

Since the previous Underground Tomb incident ended much less violently, Lucifer is now more worried than angry about MC’s rampant shennaniganery.

Like... his kid was poking holes in his totally foolproof “Your cow-uncle went to live on a farm in the human world” story. What if MC somehow got into the attic and got hurt?!

It didn’t help that they were still in this weird phase of their father/child relationship. On one hand, Lucifer obviously cares for his kid, and his kid likes him... but it’s also only been less than three months and we all know how emotionally constipated Lucifer is.

MC’s also getting REAL sus of all the secrets their dear old dad is keeping... doesn’t help that they STILL haven’t went up into the attic.

Anyhoo~ the announcement for the retreat was a barrel of laughs.

“I’m proposing, a group retreat!”

Everyone met Diavolo’s announcement with the exact same confused reaction. It’s like the entire assembly hall was doing the ‘Guy Blinking’ meme.

“A... group retreat?” Lucifer repeated slowly. “For what reason exactly, Lord Diavolo?”

The Crown Prince was giddy with excitement as he explained. “MC told me about their middle school overnight trip and it sounded like it would be quite fun!”

Simeon, Luke, MC, and Solomon were all seated next to each other in the ‘exchange student seats of less importance’. Luke leaned over and whispered a question to MC.

“Why are you so friendly with the crown prince?”

MC smirked and shrugged. “Lucifer had the Demon-Flu and couldn’t go meet with Lord Diavolo last week so I went for him. Lord Diavolo’s surprisingly bad at Connect Four but has really good luck in Snakes and Ladders.”

Luke’s jaw dropped in complete and utter shock and horror.

“We’re playing CandyLand and the Game of Life next time, want to come?” MC added.

“Play CandyLand... with him..?” Luke looked at Diavolo, who was still explaining his plan for the retreat, then looked back at MC. “I’ll only go to shield you from his corrupting influence.”

“Yeah... Corrupting...” MC had to hold back a laugh at the thought of Diavolo, who during MC’s visit lit up like a Christmas tree upon being called ‘Dia’ and believed that Mood Rings were the greatest human invention ever, being a corrupting influence.

“MC! Torture dungeon or no!?” MC was snapped out of their conversation by Mammon shouting at them from his seat.

“What?”

“Do ya think there’s a torture dungeon under the castle, or not?”

“I’m not sure,” MC turned to Diavolo. “Lord Diavolo, is there a torture dungeon under the Demon Lord’s Castle?”

There is in fact, no torture dungeon. Presumably...

Everyone packed up and headed out to the Demon Lord’s Castle!

The fabulous seven all broke several speed limits and traffic laws in order to be there early. Listen, they had to get there before Purgatory Hall, it was a matter of pride.

Besides, what’s the Royal guard going to do? Arrest six of the seven rulers of hell and a kid? Ha. No. Not when Diavolo controls their paychecks.

The rooming situation remained the same, Asmo, Simeon, and MC were roomed together, and MC got to watch Asmo get psychologically profiled by Simeon. It was truly a sight to behold.

MC was nice enough to assure Asmo that they really liked him and thought he was very sweet.

Asmo, not used to being complimented on his personality, almost started openly weeping.

So, the tour of the Demon Lord’s Castle began! Asmo got yelled at by his ex in the painting and the usual batch of idiots got sucked into the catacombs under the castle.

Lucifer wasn’t terribly sure how or if he should express his concern for MC being stuck in the labyrinth.

All these new fatherly feelings of worry are very very odd. He didn’t worry this much for Satan, mainly because Satan was usually the threat.

Even as a baby...

Lucifer found himself checking his DDD every few minutes to see if MC had texted or called from wherever the painting dragged them to, never mind that if they did text he’d hear the phone ding.

“Lucifer, don’t worry too much,” Diavolo patted Lucifer on the shoulder, a bright smile on his face. “Your brothers and MC will be perfectly fine! There’s nothing too dangerous in the catacombs that they wouldn’t be able to take care of.”

Resigning himself to the fact that MC was under the care of his last choices for babysitting, Lucifer put away his DDD. “I know they’ll be fine, but I’m not overly pleased with the situation.” He shot a glare at Helene in the portrait, who rolled her eyes and crossed her arms.

“Lucifer worrying about someone, I’m truly, genuinely shocked.” Hearing Satan’s attempt at goading him, Lucifer, flawless demon that he is, resisted the urge to throw his DDD at his brother.

“Quiet, Satan.”

————

“WHY THE FUCK IS A SNAKE DOWN HERE?!”

“ITS HENRY 1.0!”

“YEAH THAT REALLY CLEARS STUFF UP, LEVI!”

MC and Levi continued their screaming match as the group ran for dear life from a giant snake.

Yeah... nothing the brothers couldn’t handle... sure, Lord Diavolo...

They made it out of the scary catacombs... don’t worry.

Lucifer did that parent-thing where he cleaned the catacomb dust off MC’s face with a napkin.

Yay! Parenting!

Failed pillow fight attempt #1 happened that evening. Because Mammon was obsessed with being the fun-uncle and saw his brothers encroaching on his place as favourite uncle.

MC doesn’t know how to break it to him that he’ll probably always be the favourite uncle and he doesn’t have to be such a dumbass to keep his spot.

Scavenger hunt went on as canon dictates.

Asmo had his diva tantrum and stormed off, but MC also wanted to win so they didn’t go after him.

Clearly expecting someone to go beg him to come back, Asmo was very annoyed when no one went after him.

“Um, helloooo? Anyone going to comfort me~?”

“Nope.”

“Well I don’t want your comfort anyway, SOLOMON.”

It was very close, L!MC insisted their loss came from sabotage. No evidence was found but just LOOK at Satan’s face.

Time for the Formal Dance~

If you’re wondering why Luke didn’t say anything when MC was suddenly poofed into their demon form, you’re assuming that Mammon wasn’t in on the “let’s prank the chihuahua” plan.

“Mammon..? Is MC behind you?”

“Nope! Why?”

MC was able to get to the other side of the ballroom with Luke none the wiser! Hell yeah, nothing like screwing with your friend!

So it’s canon that Lucifer is like, a solid 20/10, therefore MC is ADORABLE. What I’m saying is, some of the younger demons asked them to dance.

Asmo was also being MC’s hype man, which was very nice of him. Mammon also tried to give advice on how to be cool and suave. Beel was there for moral support.

“Alright kiddo, you need to be aloof and mysterious! People love aloof and mysterious, that’s why I’m so popular.”

“Don’t listen to him, MC. He flew into a wall as a kid and it killed all his brain cells. Just be proper but not snooty, sweet but not saccharine, friendly but not annoying,”

“Ask them if they want to share some of the hors d’oeuvres.” 

“Okay, first, aloof and mysterious are the last words I would ever use to describe you, Mammon. Second, Asmo I have no clue what you’re asking me to do. Third... Beel that’s the best advice I’ve received in recent memory.”

None of that mattered anyway because MC got swarmed with dance offers.

“Well,” MC smirked and held out their hand at the demon that was bold enough to ask them to dance first. “I admire the confidence.”

The demon’s smile brightened, then dropped completely when their gaze drifted behind MC. “I uh... on second thought... I’m gonna...”

MC’s potential dance partners all quickly scattered to the snack table. The half demon growled and turned around to see their father acting like he didn’t just scare away MC’s groupies.

“Father! What was that for?!” MC huffed, Lucifer rolled his eyes and grabbed MC’s wrist and began to pull them away from the dance floor.

“You’re too young to dance.”

“That’s crazy! They looked like they were my age.” MC protested, their wings fluttering in annoyance.

“Even if they looked to be your age, MC, they’re hundreds of years older.” Lucifer said calmly.

“What about that equivalent age stuff you told me about? Like how Luke is hundreds of years old but by angel/human standards he’s technically younger than me?”

“That doesn’t matter right now.” Lucifer lightly pushed MC towards the hallway that led back to their room.

“But I want to dance with someone!” MC felt their wings involuntarily fluff up.

Lucifer turned and smiled at his dear little brat, crouching slightly to get to their level. “Not on my watch.”

MC’s face was literally this: >:0

Lucifer is out here being the dad in every comedy that involves someone bringing home their partner to meet their parents.

MC was banished to their room, they spent their time angrily reading the manga they had packed.

When Levi escaped the party slightly later MC grilled him for details of what went on after they left.

“Nothing too interesting... except... um...”

“Spit it out, Levi!”

“...lrddiavlondlucferdnced”

“I can’t understand you, stop mumbling.”

“Lord Diavolo and Lucifer danced together...”

“...”

“...”

“I MISSED THAT?!”

So yes, MC’s desire to get a picture of Lucifer sleeping stems from VENGEANCE!

How DARE their father send MC up to their room and make them miss their OTP dancing together!?

So they call up their troupe of idiots and get ready to go be menaces to society.

MC also invites along Asmo because he seemed like he could use the adventure.

And because MC couldn’t plan the prank without Asmo noticing so it was better to just implicate him as well...

“Grrr...”

MC brightened and clapped their hands. “I know that growl!”

“It’s not my stomach, I packed snacks.” MC couldn’t see this, considering the room was pitch black (it must’ve been some kind of magic because demons have excellent night vision), but Beel waved a bag of chips in the air and got to eating.

“No, I’m not talking about your stomach, Beel.” MC skipped towards the source of the growling despite Mammon and Levi’s pleas for them to stop.

Ah! There he was!

“Cerberus!” MC cooed, the three headed dog stopped growling and barked happily. “Whose a good boy? Is it you?”

Cerberus let lose a bark that would probably make anyone crap their pants, but MC giggled and kept petting him. “Yeah! You’re the good boy! You like cuddles! Yes you do! Yes you do!”

A flash of light from a camera caused MC to drop their baby talk voice and stare angrily in the direction where the light came from.

“Whoever took that picture better delete it or I’m going to feed you to the dog.”

Cerberus growled in agreement. What a good boy.

“Well, as nice as this is...” Asmo huffed. “We’ve clearly been duped because this is not Lucifer and Diavolo’s room.”

“Oh well!” MC chirped and continued to pet the three headed dog. “Look at the doggy!”

“MC, you’re crazy. Dontcha ever forget that.” Mammon whimpered as Cerberus growled at him.

So yeah, they couldn’t get out of the room, so they ended up opening up the other door and falling into the catacombs like a bunch of lemmings.

Asmo charmed Henry, and they got out of the labyrinth no problem.

Yay! No consequences! Oh no- hi Lucifer.

Lucifer gave them all the mother of all lectures. Satan showed up with the rest of the gang and brought popcorn.

Belphie wasn’t there, okay? Satan needed to be a little shit for him.

Ah yes, the pillow fight... Mammon’s crusade to be the best uncle culminated in a massive pillow fight that ended with MC, Lucifer, and Diavolo standing over everyone’s unconscious bodies.

So they uh... won the pillow fight.

MC couldn’t sleep. They legitimately couldn’t. As exhausting as the pillow fight victory had been, everyone was snoring, and MC was bleary eyed and awake at one in the morning.

They eventually sat up and looked around, Asmo was passed out in a very unflattering position, Solomon was chanting god knows what in his sleep, Levi was half hanging off Simeon’s bed, Simeon and Luke were sleeping like angels (hehehehe-), Beel was in the middle of eating his pillow in his sleep, Mammon appeared to be dreaming about winning the lottery, and Satan was... suspiciously absent.

He was there a minute ago... weird.

Deciding that this wasn’t worth it and they should just go sleep somewhere else, MC got out of bed and avoided stepping on anyone as they vacated the room.

The Demon Lord’s Castle at night could rival the House of Lamentation in terms of overall creepiness. MC had gotten used to the spirits and curses that littered their home, but they had only been to the Demon Lord’s Castle once before, so they were extra careful not to accidentally touch anything. Their stomach rumbled and they frowned.

Damn, they had the midnight munchies... they needed a snack.

MC made their way to the kitchen and on there way, noticed a peculiar room through a half open door. Taking a few steps back to peek into it, they noticed... doors. A lot of doors. And ivy covered steps. There seemed to be no rhyme or reason to any of the placements, and the room was... weirdly chilly.

“You can come in if you’d like, MC.”

Barbatos’ voice nearly caused MC to hit a high note that they hadn’t been able to hit since their voice began to change. They straightened out their wrinkled pyjamas and stepped inside.

The butler himself was walking down one of the flights of stairs.

“Um...” Quickly remembering their manners, MC straightened their posture and cleared their throat. “Good evening Barbatos.”

Barbatos smiled and inclined his head in turn. “Good evening to you as well, MC.”

“How did you know it was me outside? You were up there a second ago.” MC asked.

“It’s a part of my powers. I can see possible futures, and I foresaw you passing by my room and getting curious.” Barbatos explained.

“Oh,” MC said, half nodding and continuing to look around. A the sound of a door closing out of MC’s vision made them squeak and look around for the source of the noise. “What was that?!”

“It’s nothing to be worried about.” Barbatos raised his hands in a placating gesture. “These doors in my room are gateways to different timelines and some are gateways into the past of this particular timeline. That was another version of me passing by.”

“Does this... happen often?” MC knitted their eyebrows.

Barbatos hesitated before answering. “Not really. It’s quite rare. Lord Diavolo has expressly forbidden me from using my full powers freely.”

“Ah... makes sense...”

“Now, I believe you came down for snacks?”

MC blinked in surprise. “How did you- oh... the time magic...”

“Yes, the time magic. Now, would you prefer yogurt and fruit, or apples and peanut butter?”

“Yogurt and fruit please!”

I’m sure MC’s knowledge of how Barbie’s room works will totally not come into play later. I’m sure.

Solomon and MC graced the brunch table with their cooking. I think you can guess how it would have turned out if Barbatos hadn’t intervened.

Rest In Peace to Beel’s tastebuds.

Anyway, the rest of the retreat was all fun and good.

MC may or may not have slipped up and called Diavolo ‘Dia’ in front of Lucifer. It would’ve sparked a lecture if Dia’s puppy-like excitement wasn’t so damn adorable.

Lucifer’s got a heart... somewhere... it’s probably all shrivelled up and tiny, but I’m sure it’s there.

Everyone went back home, brought closer together through... pillow fights and surviving Solomon’s cooking I guess..?

Anyway, MC got home, unpacked their stuff, watched Kakegurui with Levi and Mammon, let Asmo paint their nails, made and ate dinner with Beel, continued their piano lessons with Lucifer, and received a 100% fake smile from Satan.

It was a nice day with their new family, MC curled up in their bed and prepared to go to sleep.

“Help me!”

MC lurched upwards in their bed, whipping their head from side to side, trying to find the source of the voice. Their room was completely empty, the perks of being half demon extended to being able to see in the dark. No new smells either, they were alone in the room.

Auditory hallucinations were common before falling asleep after being sleep deprived, creepy, but not too unusual.

“MC!”

Okay- that one couldn’t be ignored. It was common knowledge that the House of Lamentation was definitely haunted in some capacity, but the ghosts never really bothered the demons living inside, MC was partly convinced that some of the ghosts didn’t even notice that the demons were there. So it couldn’t have been a ghost calling their name.

“MC! I need help!”

The voice reverberated through their head, like it was trying to hit every part of their skull to make sure it was at least felt if MC couldn’t hear it. MC massaged their scalp and got out of bed.

The House of Lamentation at night truly lived up to its haunted reputation. Cold, clammy, dark, even by demon standards. No spooky old house was going to scare MC though, they walked down the hall with their head held high.

They walked closer to walls and furniture, knowing that the floor was less likely to creak in those areas. How did they know that? Mammon had told them it worked like a charm. Well, it’d work better for him if he stopped tripping over the furniture and alerting Lucifer.

MC was much more nimble and careful, stepping slowly and lightly around the hallways until they reached the door to the attic. They reached out to clasp their hand around the doorknob, then froze. It smelled like…

Oh no.

MC leapt away from the door like it was rigged to explode if they touched it and practically dove for cover into an alcove. The all too-recent smell of Lucifer’s fancy cologne and the increasing sound of someone coming down the stairs made them clamp their hand over their mouth and crouch down.

What was their father doing up there?

He had said the attic was full of old junk and there was no reason to go up there, so why exactly did he-

The door slammed open and Lucifer stomped down the hallway back towards his room, MC presumed. They were about to let out a sigh of relief when the footsteps paused. MC felt their heart drop right into their gut when they heard the footsteps coming back in their direction.

What were they going to say to him when he found them? ‘Sorry! This isn’t where the bathrooms are!’ The last thing MC wanted was to add to their father’s ever growing list of stresses. MC was totally responsible and grown-up, their father didn’t need to worry.

MC clamped their eyes shut and tried to slow their heart rate. Demons were beings of darkness and shadow, they could blend in quite easily. They took a deep breath, cleared their head, and felt the shadows of the hallway shift and cover them like a blanket.

Lucifer’s footsteps stopped, MC heard a tired sigh, then the footsteps started up again, this time in the direction of his room.

They allowed themselves a sigh of relief before relieving themselves of their hiding space and opening the door leading to the attic staircase.

If the rest of the House of Lamentation was considered clammy, cold, and foreboding, the attic staircase was that multiplied by a factor of twelve. MC felt themselves shudder involuntarily when they stepped closer to the staircase. Every primal part of their brain was telling them to turn around and walk away, but one tiny part was holding them back. They placed their foot on the first step, waiting for any kind of resistance, nothing other than the feeling of passing through invisible cobwebs.

“MC?”

Upon hearing their name, MC craned their neck to try and get a look at what could be waiting for them at the top of the stairs.

“Are you coming, or not?”

The cascade of warning sirens that began to blare in MC’s head went ignored as they continued to scale the staircase.

When they reached the final step, they were met with a long hallway, with a single door on the right side of the wall.

“H-hello?” MC tried to instill some force into their voice, but it still ended up quavering a little.

“Down here.” Someone knocked on the wall next to the door, almost causing MC to jump.

Oh. Oh no. MC stood straight in front of the door, and when they saw who was looking back at them they nearly passed out.

“Belphegor..?”

Belphegor’s eyes flashed as he gave MC a once over. His eyes narrowed when his gaze snapped to MC’s. The analytical expression melted into a lazy grin.

“That’s me,” he said softly. “Nice to finally meet you, MC.”

[phoebe-delia]

Has anyone asked for song #1 yet? I'm very curious which song you're listening to most.

I really enjoy your writing in combination with the song prompts! Thank you for sharing it with the world!

Hello darling! Thank you for this ask. As a matter of fact, no one has requested 1!

My number 1 song is the explicit version of "Potential Breakup Song" by Aly and AJ.

I know, I thought it would be a Taylor Swift song, too! I will say, this playlist was from Apple Music and I recently started using Spotify more so idk if this is still accurate for my current No. 1 song, but it's still a bop.

This is a bit of a challenge, but I figure if I can write a fic based on "Yeah!" by Usher, I can give this a try. This fic will be *mostly* funny and fluffy but there's some angst with a happy ending.

5 Times Draco Almost Broke Up With Harry

1.

"Tell me something," Draco said shyly, tracing patterns into Harry's bare arm. Sunlight streamed into the living room, dust motes dancing in the rays.

"What do you mean?"

"Something I don't already know about you."

"Like what?"

Draco's expression turned exasperated. "I don't know, Harry, that's rather the point."

"Right...er, okay, here's something you don't know about me. I don't like whipped cream."

Draco looked at him, startled. "You don't?"

"Er, no. I also don't like marshmallows or--"

"What?"

"Or avocado, or eggs."

Draco sputtered. "What is wrong with you?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "Merlin, here we go."

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Every time I tell people the foods I don't like, they get all indignant and huffy," Harry waved a hand. "It's so weird. Like I've offended them by disliking meringue."

"You don't like meringue?! That's it, I'm breaking up with you."

Harry groaned. "I regret this. I regret everything. Just--forget it."

Draco sighed. "No, no I'm sorry. In my exaggerated teasing, I see how I might've struck a nerve."

"It's fine--I'm just tired of people taking my food preferences as a personal insult."

"I take everything you do as a personal insult."

Harry just chuckled. "That you do, Draco, that you do."

2.

"POTTER!!"

"WHAT?"

"GET IN HERE!"

"WHERE'S 'HERE'?"

"TAKE A WILD GUESS, AUROR POTTER!"

....

"Ah, good to see that your tracking skills aren't too hopeless. Now, care to tell me what's wrong with this picture?"

"Er...you're angry?"

"Yes, I am angry--and the reason for that is obvious if you merely look around the room and see if you can identify what might be bothering me."

"You get really formal when you're upset."

"Potter--"

"And you call me Potter."

"If only you would use your powers of observation for discovering the cause and not the symptoms of my frustration, this conversation would be over."

...

"Is it my socks?"

"Your socks, your pants, your shirt, your trousers--all in a heap in the closet."

"So? I haven't done laundry in a while."

"Potter, you do realize there are laundry spells, don't you? So that dirty clothes don't stink up one's closet?"

"...No?"

Sigh. "Alright, I suppose I won't move out this time."

"Oh, what a relief."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Never. Especially not toward you, baby."

"I should hope not. Now, c'mere and let me teach you the spell."

3.

"I can't believe you'd betray me like this." Draco shook his head mournfully, bits of snow falling from the top of his warm hat. "I trusted you."

Harry scoffed. His breath fogged in the air. "I told you this was happening today. It's not my fault you weren't listening."

"Asking me post-coital if I'd like to attend the Weasley Family Brunch is Slytherin-level manipulation."

"Did I ever tell you the Sorting Hat almost put me in Slytherin?"

"What?" Draco stopped walking, turning to Harry in shock.

"Yeah. Told me I'd do well. But you'd been such an arse to Ron that I begged it to sort me anywhere else."

Draco rolled his eyes. "Of course. Honestly, I did you a favor. You were practically made for Gryffindor."

"Who knows? Maybe we'd have been friends back then."

Draco glared and Harry snickered.

"You know, Potter, between your little jokes and this stunt you pulled, I'm one insult away from Apparating on the spot and leaving you here."

Harry smiled fondly. Taking Draco's hand, he led them toward the Burrow, its warm light a welcome destination in the icy weather.

"Nah, you won't, you know why?"

"Why?"

Harry smirked. "Because then we won't get to be post-coital together."

Draco scowled. Harry laughed.

4.

"Don't say a word."

"Can I just--"

"Harry."

"But I--"

"Potter. Shut up.

...

"Draco I'm sorry--"

"Harry, what is the one thing I asked you to do when you became an Auror?"

"...Don't be stupid."

"Yes. I asked you not to do anything stupid. I asked you not to impulsively put yourself in harm's way."

"Draco it's my job to protect my partner, and--"

"You don't think I understand that? Of course I do! I can't fault you for being a loyal partner, Harry, but running into a hostage situation without calling for backup is the absolute dumbest thing you could've done! You nearly died!"

"But I didn't! And the case is over now."

"You were in St. Mungos for nearly a week! Do you know how agonizing it was to see you like that? Do you--" Draco's voice cracked and he cut himself off, turning away from Harry.

Harry's heart clenched. He walked up to Draco and wrapped strong arms around him from behind, expecting to be pushed away. Instead, Draco leaned into the touch.

"I know your job has its risks, Harry, but the least you can do is not create them for yourself. You said the Sorting Hat nearly put you in Slytherin; some self-preservation would be good for you."

Harry sighed, nuzzling Draco's neck. "Okay. I'll try."

Draco turned in his arms, looking at Harry with wet eyes. "Good. The last thing I want to do is break up with you, but I couldn't handle it if I lost you any other way, I--" The tears spilled at that. Draco's face flushed in embarrassment, in anguish.

Harry's chest constricted. He pulled Draco close to himself and stroked his hair, letting the other man cry his fears into his shirt.

"I won't let it happen, Draco. I promise."

Draco nodded, his cheek brushing Harry's shirt.

Harry smiled. They'd be okay.

5.

Draco was going to kill Harry.

He was going to break up with him, and then kill him, and then revive him just to break up with him once more.

He cast a Tempus. 8:20.

Over an hour. Over an hour he'd been waiting for Harry to return home. He was beginning to get hot in his tailored suit, despite the cooling charms.

He hadn't heard anything. No Owl, no Floo, no nothing. Either Harry had no respect for decorum or...

Nope. Draco couldn't go there, wouldn't. Harry promised and he always kept his promises.

Suddenly, the Floo roared to life, making Draco jump. Harry stumbled through with a panicked expression on his face, dusting the Floo powder from his formal robes.

"Draco! Merlin, I'm so sorry, I thought I had time and then everything got all screwed up and I got here as fast as I could."

Draco sighed. "It's fine, Harry, let's just order takeaway."

"Why?"

"Well, we missed our reservation. Cerise won't wait for more than thirty minutes."

Harry pursed his lips. "What if I had something else in mind?"

Draco narrowed his eyes. "What do you mean?"

With a smirk, Harry tossed him a hairbrush, which Draco caught with Seeker instinct.

"Harry wh--" His eyes widened as he felt the pull of a portkey, the sound of Harry's amused laughter echoing behind him.

He landed with a thud on a balcony. After a crack, Harry appeared next to him, gasping to catch his breath for a moment.

"Potter, what the fuck?"

Harry chuckled. "Surprise! Look around, Draco."

Draco's breath caught as he finally took in his surroundings. They were standing on a balcony in Paris, confirmed by the sight of La Tour Eiffel in the distance. The lights of the city twinkled like stars below them. On the balcony were two chairs and a small table with hot food under a stasis charm. A bottle of wine and two glasses sat ready for them. Draco checked the label and confirmed with a gasp that it was a 1989 Chateau Lafleur.

"Harry, I--" Draco turned around but was startled into silence at the sight of Harry on his knee, a hopeful smile on his face and a small black box in his hand.

Draco's eyes went wide. "What?" He breathed.

Harry bit his lip. "Draco, I'm sorry I don't like whipped cream. I'm sorry I forget to do laundry, and that I dragged you to Sunday dinner. I'm sorry that I worry you sometimes because my job is dangerous. I'm sorry I run late to our dates sometimes.

But I promise to give you the avocado from my sandwich. I promise to try to remember the spells you taught me, and to use my manipulative powers for good and not evil. I promise I'll use better judgment in the field. And I promise I'll try to be on time for our dates.

And I promise to do all of this for as long as I can, as long as you let me. And if you do--if you promise to love me for the rest of our lives--I promise to do the same. Draco Malfoy, will you marry me?"

Draco let out a delighted, euphoric laugh. "Yes, yes of course I'll marry you!"

Harry grinned and rose from his knee to pull Draco into a nearly bruising kiss. When they pulled apart, they pressed their foreheads together and looked as Harry slid the ring, a simple silver band with tiny emeralds, onto Draco's finger.

As they ate dinner, looking out over the city, Harry gave him a cheeky grin. "So, tell me, how'd I do?"

Draco raised his eyebrows. "With tonight? The proposal?"

"Yeah, what'd you think? I hope it made up for me being late. I'm sure you were about ten minutes from breaking up with me," Harry said with a chuckle.

Draco shook his head and smirked. "No, Harry," he raised the glass of wine to his lips. "I'd never do that."

Send me an ask about Harry Potter, broadway/musicals, The West Wing, and/or Taylor Swift! Or just about life in general :).

Also, I have a playlist of my 99 most listened-to songs of the year so far. Pick a number 1--99 and send me an ask and I'll write you a fic based on it!

[akingdomofswordsandstories]

Unrequited

azriel (acotar) x reader

Summary: takes place during acofas, you and Azriel are mates but he doesn’t know it yet, angst, fluff, and everything in between

*Also this is my first imagine ever so I'm sorry if it sucks lol! There will be a part 2 to this, but I am still working on it!!

word count: 3927

---------------------------------

The winter solstice was in a few days and you weren’t sure what to get some of the inner circle. You walked briskly down the streets of the Rainbow, chilled to the bone due to the wind. You had made the dumb mistake of rushing out of the townhouse - to avoid any questions of where you were going - without taking your scarf. Your current outfit, which was a chunky knit blue sweater with leggings and boots, wasn’t enough to keep the chill away. But the cold wasn’t the most important thing on your mind. You had already bought presents for Rhys, Feyre, Amren, and Elain, but that left Cassian, Mor, and Azriel. Mor and Cass would be pretty easy to buy for, but you put it off knowing they would look through your room trying to find their solstice gift. But Azriel, that would be much harder.

Every waking hour, the shadowsinger haunted your thoughts. Something you had come to conclude was unrequited.

You had realized the mating bond between you two before he did.

It had clicked a few months ago while on a diplomatic mission. The aftermath of Hybern had left things chaotic, and if you were being honest, it still was. Rhys decided to send Cassian, Mor, Azriel, and you to travel to some of the other courts to bring back reports on the recovery after the war. However, traveling did have some dangers. While you were on your way back to Velaris from the Winter Court, your group was ambushed by a group of Hybern soldiers who had been hiding out in the mountains. Had it not been for Azriel’s wings shielding you from the initial arrows, you would’ve surely been dead, and that’s when it clicked for you. But like an idiot, you didn’t say anything.

You had thought if the bond had clicked for you, it would've clicked for Azriel too. You realized your mistake when Azriel hadn’t acknowledged any change between you two. You hoped that he would figure it out in the coming weeks, but he didn’t. You knew the same sort of situation happened with feyre and rhys so you still held out some hope. But as the months went by, and you realized the bond still hadn’t clicked for Azriel and it felt too late to tell him.

At least that was the excuse you made up. Truly, you were also afraid of the rejection that could have followed. You weren’t a fool, you knew him and Elain had some sort of connection, and that shattered your dreams even more. The possibility that he wouldn’t accept the mating bond to be with the fair skinned, doe eyed fae. Everytime Azriel was in the same room as Elain, she was the only thing he would pay attention to. During gatherings, you would plaster on a smile and act as if you were happy, but Cassian and Mor, your best friends, could sense your discomfort. They tried to ask you about it, but seeing as you would shut down anything they said, they decided not to pry too much. Amren ended up figuring out the source of your discomfort had to do with Azriel, but kept your secret until you would be ready to share it.

You came to the conclusion that distancing yourself from him would be the best option, so that's what you did.

You walked down the street till you got to one of the finest seamstresses is Velaris. Since you were an artist like Feyre, you decided to draw out a dress and have it made for Mor. The color was blood red, her signature. It was a silk slip dress that would come down to her mid-lower calf and it would be embroidered with a brilliant gold thread. You drew out a pattern of the sun, stars, and moon, which you hoped she would like. To go along with Mor’s dress, you got a jeweler to make a custom necklace and bracelet set to go with it. You designed more dainty jewelry that had gold stars with diamonds, since she was a dreamer.

You decided to design Cassian’s gift as well, creating a beautiful silver and black dagger with a moonstone on the hilt. It was a beautiful dagger, but you also made sure it was usable, because you would hate for it to go to waste. To add onto the combat theme, you also decided to buy him new fighting leathers with touches of red embroidery to match his siphons. Lastly, you bought Cassian a bottle of fae wine, which definitely wouldn't last long.

The last thing you got for all three of you was a friendship necklace. Although that sounds corny, the two of them had become such a positive force in your life and you couldn’t imagine life without them. Keeping with the celestial theme for the friendship necklaces, you bought a sun, a moon, and a star. The sun for Cassian, the moon for Mor, and the star for you. Although they are opposites in some ways, all three need each other, just like the three of you needed each other.

Now that you had gotten Mor’s and Cassian’s solstice gifts figured out, it was onto Azriel’s gift. You honestly had no clue what to get him. Due to distancing yourself, you weren’t sure if there was something that he wanted. You were positively stumped. Lucky for you though, you ended up spotting Mor in another shop a few stores down from where you were, most likely getting the rest of her solstice gifts. You decided to sneak up on her as a friendly prank. Grabbing her shoulders, you yelled in her ear, making her jump.

“Oh mother above, it’s just you, y/n! You scared the life out of me” Mor said.

“Doing some last minute shopping?” you asked. “I could ask you the same thing”. Giving her a playful smack on the arm, the corners of your mouth curled upward, even the simplest remark from her could make you smile.

The two of you were currently standing in front of a jewelry shop, looking at the collections of necklaces and earrings through the window. “Wow” you breathed out “These are all so beautiful”

“Indeed they are, although they’re quite pricey”

“How pricey is pricey?”

She whispered the amount in your ear and you stopped breathing for a second, “Holy Mother wow, that is quite the price tag. At least we can admire it from a far”, you laughed out. Even though you got a very generous salary from Rhys, you still felt guilty spending so much money on materialistic things.

After a moment you said, “Actually, since you’re here, I do need help finding a solstice gift for Azriel”, softening your voice at the end, “Any ideas?” you asked, drawing out the syllables.

“Well, I always get Azriel some cool towels, clothing, or a dagger!” Mor said. A small scoff came out of my mouth as I shook my head and raised my eyebrows. “Fine!” she exclaimed, “I may have overheard him needing a new leather sheath for Truth Teller.” grumbling towards the end. “Oh that sounds great, thank you for the help! Now let’s go off to the closest leather goods store and find a sheath!”.

“y/n! I still have shopping to do” a scowl appearing on her face. “Fine, I guess I’ll just call Cassian, cause his judgement might be better than yours, when it comes to knife related things of course” you said, baiting her.

“Ugh, I hate you y/n”

“I hate you too Mor”

“Fine, let's get going before I change my mind” she grumbled. Then we took off down the streets of the Rainbow to find a sheath.

The task was easier said than done, for you at least. Being indecisive and a major over thinker, you had looked through close to 100 sheaths, but none of them seemed good enough to hold the blade that Azriel never let anyone else touch. Except Elain.

While you were lost in your thoughts, you laid your y/c eyes on the perfect sheath. It had a bright cobalt blue stitching to match Az’s siphons. Along the tip and lining the top of the leather was a thin coat of silver plating with little sapphires embedded in the metal. You quickly snatched it up and paid a hefty price for it, but it was perfect.

“Thank god you finally picked one, it felt like we were in that store for centuries”. Mor sighed, probably a sigh of relief for getting out of the store, “But y/n, it’s perfect, I know Azriel will love it”

“Do you really think so? I just want it to be the perfect gift and I’m scared he won’t like it because what if it’s too simplistic and what if-”

“Hey! It's perfect! Don’t stress too much y/n. And for the record, I think that you’re an amazing gift giver - the amount of thought you put into gifts make it all the better.”

You could feel a blush creeping up your cheeks and mumbled a small thank you.

“Anyway while we’re here do you need to get anything to go with your solstice outfit?”

“Oh Actually, I was so stressed about getting everyone’s solstice gift that I forgot to buy my dress” your voice falling off at the end. You felt yourself being yanked to a harsh stop and the saw Mor’s face staring at yours, mouth gaping and eyes wide.

“Are you crazy?? Solstice is in 3 days and you still don’t have anything??? Oh honey, our shopping isn’t done yet.” And with that statement you found yourself being pulled into the nearest dress shop. After trying on nearly 20 dresses you finally found the perfect one, which Mor approved. It was a light blue silk dress that was more fitted at the top but flared down at your waist. It had a cowl neckline, a slit going up the side to the mid upper thigh, and accentuates your curves beautifully and has a slight shimmer to it. You looked ethereal in it

---------------------------------

After your exhausting day of shopping, you couldn’t wait to get out of the cold. You swiftly walked back to the townhouse. Once inside you made your way to your room to set down the gifts, change your clothes, and grab your book. Then you quietly headed down to the kitchen to make yourself a cup of tea and sat on the couch to read. The house was quiet since all of the others decided to go to Rita’s tonight. You decided to stay home for some much needed relaxation. You opened your book and started reading. After a few hours, you felt your eyes drooping and eventually, sleep consumed you.

The loud noise of the front door caused you to stir and your eyes fluttered open. You were too exhausted to look so you just laid your head back down and tried to go to sleep. You could hear Mor whispering something and then felt yourself being lifted off the couch and being held close to a chest with your blanket still draped on you.

“Cass?” you whispered hoarsely along with a string of incoherent words

You heard a slight laugh “Not Cass but It’s ok, go back to sleep”. Then you felt yourself being gently placed on your bed and the sleep hit you before you could mutter a thank you.

---------------------------------

The sun was setting towards the sea as you sat in the sitting room of the town house. You were in your blue silk dress with a glass of wine in your hand. Rhys and Feyre were by the mantel, quietly talking while Mor and Amren were across the room. Near the window I saw Elain, and from the corner of my eye I could see Azriel making his way towards her. My face fell but I quickly plastered on a smile, not wanting to concern anyone. Especially since today was also Feyre’s birthday and we had planned a surprise for her. Feyre thought she could slip her birthday past us, but we hadn’t forgotten. After a few minutes, Cassian made his way from the kitchen with the enormous cake.

You floated towards Feyre and gave her arm a light squeeze. “Happy Birthday, make a wish before the candles melt!”

She blew out the candles and then we ate cake before opening up the presents.

---------------------------------

Rhys snapped his fingers and piles of brightly wrapped bags and boxes filled up the sitting room. Amren was the first to open her presents. Naturally, everyone got her something jewelry related. Amren opened mine and you saw a wide smile set across her face, she picked up the diamond necklace and nodded a ‘thank you’ your way. You returned the gesture back, a small smile forming on your face.

Next, Cassian handed Mor her present from him and she pulled out a-. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. He bought her red lingerie. Your face turned slightly red, but the Mor said “Don’t let him fool you: he couldn’t think of a damn thing to get me, so he gave up and asked me outright. I gave him precise orders. For once in his life, he obeyed them.”

Then, you heard one sharp knock at the door.

Nesta.

You saw Cassian tense up a bit. Nesta walked in, linking arms with Elain. She got a glass of wine before heading to sit in a chair in the back of the room. The silence was deafening. Finally Varian started talking and the present opening resumed.

From Amren, you received a new calligraphy set. It was so beautiful and you loved it. From Rhys, you got some books. It was perfect since you loved to read, and they were ones that you had been wanting to read for a long time. From Feyre, you received a painting as well as a new paint brush kit.

Cassian made his way to you and set a gift down in your lap. You opened the dark blue box that Cassian had placed in your lap. He had gotten you a sky blue hardbound journal with a gold embossed star on it. You desperately needed a new one, and this was perfect. You walked over and gave him a hug, whispered “Thank you, I love it.”.

Next you opened Mor’s present. You nearly choked when you saw what she got you and your whole face heated up. She got you a matching navy blue lingerie set like the one Cassian bought her.

“Yeah, I wasn’t too sure what to get you so I thought we could twin”. You looked around the room and saw the others holding in their laughs. You could’ve sworn you saw a tinge of red on Azriel’s ears. You just smiled and mouthed a silent “I’m going to kill you, but thank you” at her.

There wasn’t anything from Azriel. Your heart twinged. Had you not been important enough? It was just a present you reminded yourself, fixing your composure before handing Cassian his present.

He ripped it open like an animal, squealing when he saw it. A promising reaction given the amount of thought you put into it.

“Did you design these? They look amazing!”

“Yeah, I’m glad you like it. It took a long time to figure out what to get for your dumb ass”

“You mean my cute ass”, you smacked his arm and then got up to give Mor her present.

You closely watched her reaction as she opened her dress and jewelry, a large smile spreading across her face.

“You really buy the perfect presents y/n, I love it”.

“Oh Cass, Mor. One more thing.” You pulled out the small boxes with the friendship necklaces and bracelets handing it to them. “This was just a little something extra I thought of, I hope you like it”. You knew you would have started stuttering and crying if you had said the meaning to them, so you just handed them notes instead. They read over them, eyes glossing over, and pulled you into a hug.

“This is the only time I’ll wear jewelry” Cass stated, causing you to chuckle

Then Mor said, “I am never taking this off” causing you to laugh again.

Finally, Azriel opened up his presents. He had opened up all the others. All that was left was yours and Elain’s gift to him. He found his way to your present first, opening it.

“A new sheath for Truth Teller. I heard you needed a new one” you quietly said.

He held your gaze and smiled, “Thank you, it's great”. Suddenly feeling exposed, you quickly gave him a nod.

Then he went to open Elain’s gift. “It’s a powder to mix in with any drink.” she said.

Silence.

Elain bit her lip and then smiled sheepishly. “It’s for the headaches everyone always gives you. Since you rub your temples so often.”

Silence again.

Then Azriel tipped his head back and laughed.

You hadn’t heard him laugh before, and mother above it was gorgeous. You had never heard a sound so deep and joyous, a sound which made your heart clench. A part of you wished you were the reason he was laughing. You forced on a smile and spent the rest of the night drinking away the slight pain in your chest.

You were exhausted by the end of the night, sitting on the couch with Cassian and Mor, Azriel and Rhys seated on the opposite side of you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw movement towards the door, and craned your head to see what was going on. It was Nesta making her way to the door. You felt the couch lift next to you.

Cassian. He had swiftly pushed past Feyre and went after Nesta. This wouldn’t end well.

---------------------------------

Cassian had come back quiet and brooding, walking straight to the kitchen to pour himself a glass of liquor. You got up off the couch and followed him straight into the kitchen.

“Cass, let’s take a walk, yeah?”

“I just took a walk”

“It wasn’t a question”. You grabbed a white shawl and his hand and led him outside. “What happened?”

“What’s there to talk about? It was like all the other times. Why did I have to fall in love with someone who doesn't even love me back. Who looks at me like the Illyrian born bastard I am. Who hates the idea of being in the same room as me.”

You grabbed Cass’ hand, lightly squeezing it. “Don’t say that. Nesta, she,” your voice stopping for a second “She’s different. The way she handles pain and copes is different. Give her time. She just needs time. I know how much that may pain you, but you can’t rush healing”

You pulled him into a hug

“And for the record, I know the feeling more than you know” you quietly said “unrequited love”, head pointed at the ground.

Cassian tilted his head down to look at you, his face painted with confusion. You could tell he wanted to know more, but didn’t want to pry too much.

You hesitated before continuing, not sure if you wanted to reveal your closely guarded secret. “I-“ your voice faltering, “I found my mate”. The words seemed to have rushed out of your mouth and tears pricked your eyes as you said that. After months of hiding it, you had finally gotten it off your chest.

Cassian stood shocked, staring at you. “You found your mate? And you didn’t think to tell any of us? How long ago was this”

“I-, I found out who he was around the same time Rhys sent us on that diplomatic mission. And I didn’t tell anyone because he doesn’t even know yet.”

“That was almost 6 months ago, and you didn’t say anything?”.

The tears had started flowing at this point, “I thought he would figure it out. But by the time I realized he wasn’t going to figure it out, it was too late. He had already set his eyes on someone else. And I know I could never compete with Elain, even if I am his mate.” the last part slipped out without you realizing.

“Elain? What does she-“ his eyes widening “Does that mean Az is-“

You slowly nodded, tears welled up, threatening to spill out.

“Oh, mother…”, he pulled you into a tighter hug and that’s when the gates broke. You couldn’t hold back your tears as you sobbed into Cassian's chest, his hand stroking your back.

you must have been there for 15 minutes before you realized the other might start getting suspicious. Regaining your composure, you dried your tears and tried, to the best of your ability, to hide that you had been crying.

Looking back at Cassian, you gave him a slight smile before muttering, “Thank you. I’m sorry for dumping that on you, but please promise me you won’t tell anyone. Please.”

“Of course y/n, and don’t apologize, if it makes you feel better, it helped to take my mind off of Nesta and my own problems, which I desperately needed” he chuckled out.

With the smile still on your face, you linked arms with Cassian before saying, “Oh mother above it’s freezing, let’s get back inside before we turn into popsicles!”

He let out another laugh before the two of you made your way back into the house.

---------------------------------

You walked into the house and your sliver of happiness was crushed as you saw Az and Elain sitting at the table smiling and laughing quietly to themselves. Elain had her sketchbook out, showing Az her plans for the garden.

Your distraught had been clear to anyone who saw your face, and you were too tired to realize you weren’t able to hide it fast enough. Not being able to view the scene anymore, you quickly got up, muttered happy solstice, and grabbed your coat and purse before heading out the door to your apartment.

While walking home, you were consumed by your thoughts. You hated the pangs of jealousy that coursed through you. You often found yourself jealous of her soft spokenness and kindness. You also found yourself jealous of her effortless beauty. It was something that kept you up at night. She was so likeable and easily approachable, something you wished you were.

You were so drowned in your own thoughts that you hadn’t noticed a male following you till it was too late. One of his hands clamped on your mouth while the other grabbed your waist and pushed you into the nearest alleyway.

The male pulled out a knife and your tears started to fall. You were terrified about what he would do to you. This could be the last time you would have seen your family. You were struggling and kicking against him but it was no use. Your senses were groggy from the alcohol and drowsiness.

You had been so stupid to walk home alone at 2 in the morning. No matter how angry you were, you should’ve just stayed at the town house.

Before you could realize what was happening, you felt a sharp pain shoot through your side.

The sound of a clatter.

Receding footsteps.

A crimson stain blooming.

Your body crumpled to the ground and your vision started blacked out. This was it. Nobody could hear you and nobody could save you.

[milksbigbookosin]

Helpless (Philza x Reader)

Oh boy here we go, exposing my dilfza side!

Once again I hope you guys enjoy and feel free to send requests in my ask box!

Word Count: 1,673

You absolutely adored spending your time in the town’s library even since you were little along with Wilbur. Ever since you were younger you tended to be far too awkward when it came to starting friendships. Wilbur would come into the lounge for the teens, sitting around the computers with the other kids yelling and joking around. He had seen you being rather sheepish, oftentimes peering over your book to see whatever they were up to only to quickly avert your gaze when he caught you. If anyone asked him, he’d say he walked over to you to say hi just for you to start following him around like a puppy. In reality, he had started to pester you when he caught you looking. He was so stubborn to talk to you and wouldn’t let you be whenever he saw you from there on.

Regardless of how he claimed the two of you met, you were grateful that you did. He was one of your first friends growing up and you wouldn’t trade the world for him. That being said, he drove you nuts along with the kids that had started to follow him around like he was some big brother. Tommy was by far the worst of the two, constantly making little jokes towards you trying to “flirt”. You know, as much as a 12 year old could flirt with a 20-something year old when he was barely over his cootie phase. Thankfully though today it was just the two of you.

A sigh from Wilbur caught your attention, peering over your book to him. He was looking around from his seat, a bored look on his face. God you already knew he was about to be overdramatic...

“Doesn’t this ever get old to you,Y/N?” he asked,eyes looking desperately for something, anything to give him some sort of excitement but he was instead met with nothing but countless shelves of books and the occasional noises from who knows where.

You hummed to yourself, seemingly thinking it over before bluntly saying “Nope! We always go to the library on Saturday Wil, this isn't new.” He turned his gaze to you and pouted, eyebrows furrowed in annoyance as you went back to your book. “Come oooon,” he leaned across the table, pushing down your book so you were forced to look at him “You’re telling me that you don’t want to go out and do something for once? I’m sure Techno is probably doing something cool, probably going in the Nether or something else fucking bonkers.”

Was he serious right now?

The Nether, especially with Techno, was far from a fun idea to you. Techno wasn’t as impulsive as Wil or Tommy but that didn’t exactly mean it would be a calm trip. Techno was a little strange to you, always going on and on about chaos and little philosophical rants about politics and such. He was one of Wilbur’s friends from before he met you and if you were honest, he was weird back then too.

“Yeah, just so Tech can get us lost like he did last time in the woods when you guys wanted to find a dog?”

“Hey! We got home didn’t we?”

“Wil it took us till sunset to get home and you almost broke your leg on a log-”

He once again sighed, this time louder and more dramatic than before. It was kind of cute when he went on these little tangents, now going on about you having to learn to ‘live a little’. Yeah right, because living meant taking dumb risks for literally no reason. Part of you wished you had the guts he had, making friends with so many kinds of people and going on crazy adventures but you knew better than to get wrapped up in all of that. Something suddenly caught your eye, something dark poking out from one of the aisles behind Wilbur as he went on talking. There was someone standing in the aisle, the strange object seemingly fluttering when they moved. Your mind was wandering, curious of who lingered out of sight before finally walking out from behind the shelf.

Blonde locks rested on green clothed shoulders, bright eyes glancing over the spines of books. The dark objects you had seen now were much clearer, turning out to be a rather large pair of what seemed to be raven wings. You had seen some rather interesting people around L’Manburg but, wow, they were rather gorgeous.

‘The wings.

The wings were gorgeous’ you thought to yourself.

Goodness what was wrong with you?

“-I’m just saying, I don’t want you to be so damn sheltered that you cease to function if I ever had to leave or anything you know?” He said, looking up at you expecting to see you giving your usual pained smile you gave when it came to serious talks but, strangely enough, you weren’t even paying attention to him. He raised an eyebrow, tilting his head in confusion before following your gaze behind him. It was silent for a moment as Wil looked at who had your attention, feeling even more confused to see his friend Phil. Why were you looking at Phil like that? Granted, he never introduced you two but it wasn’t like you to just stare like that at people. He turned back to you, waving one of his hands over your eyes.

“You alright there, Y/N?”

You flinched, snapping out of your little trance and looking back to Wilbur. Oh goodness, how long was he done talking? You didn’t mean to space out on him so bad. “Yeah- I'm sorry about that..just got a little” you paused cheeks heating up, trying to think of how to word it without Wilbur possibly prying “spacey.”

Something seemed to click in Wil’s mind as he saw your cheeks darken, looking back to Phil then back to you as he worked it over in his head. Suddenly his lips curled into a mischievous smirk, watching you try to look back down at your book that now rested on the table. You had no idea just how guilty you looked, failing to catch that look on Wil’s face as he suddenly stood up from the table.

“Gimme a sec-”

Before you could question him he scooted his chair in, turning around and walking right up to the winged man. ‘Oh god,’ you thought as Wilbur started talking to him. You couldn’t hear anything they were saying so all you could do was watch helplessly as they chatted away. After what felt like an eternity Wil leaned in closer to him, turning to look at you while he seemed to whisper something to him ‘Oh god what is he doing?!’ You felt like your heart was going to burst when the stranger’s eyes looked right at you, shifting from Wilbur then back to you. You quickly looked down at the book again, unable to look either of them in the eye. You wanted to sink into the floor, why is it the moment you get the slightest bit of a crush you had to be with Wilbur? If only you didn’t stare, if only you just agreed to something different today..Maybe you could just leave honestly. Wilbur would probably tease you for a week over you being a chicken but at the very least you’d still have some breath left in you.

“Hey-”

Your eyes shot up at the new voice, shocked to see the blonde in front of you and even more shocking, Wilbur wasn’t behind him taunting you silently. Nope, instead it was just you and the raven winged stranger. You swallowed nervously, trying your best to give him a friendly little smile that came out making you look far too small and mousey.

“You mind if I sit with ya?” he asked, a knowing smile on his face that made you jittery. Not wanting to seem weird you simply shook your head, grateful as he didn’t pry for a verbal answer and instead took Wilbur’s seat across from you. Goodness that smile was going to be the death of you. He propped his elbow up on the table resting his chin on his palm as he watched you shift in your chair nervously. “So,” he finally said “Wil says apparently you were givin me the eyes”he teased, loving the way your cheeks darkened at that far too much.

“He’s such an ass” you muttered to yourself,nervously playing with the pages of your book as you tried to search for some sort of way to get yourself out of this “I’m sorry I wasn’t trying to be weird or anything.” This was so embarrassing, having to admit that you were being some weirdo and staring at him.

“Honestly I think it’s cute if it means anything” he admitted, once again catching you off guard. You haven’t felt so helpless before. You didn’t feel uncomfortable in a bad way or anything but to have a much taller and very handsome guy right across from you was really something for sure. You knew now that you’d never hear the end of this and in all honesty? Wilbur was going to probably die if she didn’t melt by the end of this. He extended his hand, giving you a patient smile “I’m Phil.”

You gave a slightly more comfortable smile to him, gently taking his hand and giving a shake “Y/N…”

“Well Y/N, I mostly came over here to introduce myself since Wil had to be a little tattletail” he joked, giving your hand a gentle squeeze before letting go and standing up“Hopefully i’ll actually get to see you around when you’re not all frazzled, yeah?”

You could only manage a nod again, melting as you heard him chuckle at you being so nervous. You think you heard him say bye as he walked off but you were much too focused on how you were going to kill Wilbur later.

[mistressemmedi]

Måneskin: "Different from whom?"

Greetings from Miley Cyrus - phenomenal numbers.

The streams of Zitti e Buoni are growing by the second, and ahead of Muse, on the top of the English charts, twelfth in the Spotify Global Chart. We almost tripled followers after Rotterdam (from 1.4 to 3.3 million, ed). Contagious and universal madness: T-shirts and merchandise sold out in 10 minutes. Like records, tickets for a tour that adds dates and expands on maps. They are even looking for us in festivals where the Rolling Stones have played. - Thomas

After the whole cocaine scandal that was started against us from France, which was later denied by my drug test, in Spain there people have been making murals with my face saying "No drugs". Some tweets made us laugh: «Congratulations, Italy! I have never been so sure that four people have fucked each other ". Miley Cyrus started following us. "You are great". “You are more” . - Damiano

From rags to riches - what a story

It was only 2016, and we were playing in restaurants, on the streets, in via del Corso (famous street in Rome). Damiano without a microphone, Thomas's guitar with broken strings, Ethan drummed on a cajón. At the occupations of the high schools in Rome (Kennedy, Virgilio, Mamiani) we had our first gigs and half an hour of fame, between those who criticized us and those who said "these guys are so cool". One of the rare times in which they offered to pay us to play - 50 euros each - we offered that money to those after us, in exchange for the chance to play during their time slow, as we knew there would have been a bigger crowd. We already understood then how it worked. That visibility was worth more than the money. We still think so ». - Victoria

The intimacy of rock - Choice of a genre

Music allows is this miracle which allows one to talk about very personal and private topics, even difficult and delicate ones. They are and remain deeply yours, but at the same time they become a confession that reaches a wider audience, and in this passage which is like a delivery, they also find their place in you, their elaboration. They are overcome, they are accepted. One moment it feels aggressive, one moment later a (soft) ballad. It's very cathartic. - Damiano

Against panic - The stage as therapy

I have suffered a lot from anxiety and panic attacks, it is a problem that I have worked on thanks to a course of psychotherapy, to my friends and family. Playing has helped me not to let myself be paralyzed by my fears, not to be limited in my private and professional life. I have learned to accept, to live with this side of me. I don't hide it. I no longer feel ashamed. - Victoria

This belief that only crazy people go to the psychologist is widespread ignorance. Nobody is born learned. And it is often difficult to understand why we are here, let alone the derivation and direction of our desires. It is a long and legitimate journey towards one's clarity. - Damiano

Essere fuori di testa – Ma diversi da loro (Be out of your mind - But different from them)

Already feeling a strong passion for something that is not a 'regular' profession but an artistic language, it puts you on a level where you're an anomaly, and while you're neither superior nor inferior to others, it places you in the condition of what breaks the mold but you're also being at a loss, leaving it to you to be bold and to take risks, hoping that they will pay off and land you somewhere. "What good is it if you don't stand out on your own?". You want to give it an aesthetic to your artistic dream, but to others it boils down to " You dress differently! You must be gay! ”, I'm 22 now and it makes me laugh, but at 17 it had an effect on me too. - Damiano

The beauty of being unique - Of believing in that and defending it

After all, we are all different not because we want to be alternative but because really no one is the same. Justice is being judged on what you do and not what you are. Justice is equality, respect, beauty. - Ethan

Fluid sexuality - Pride is freedom

We appreciate heels on men, we kiss each other, we have an open, extended mind, and we are proud of it. The horizons become vast, beyond the oppression of conservative families. With information on the web, knowledge is enriched and with it the possibility that minorities will be fewer and fewer, because majorities will be fewer and fewer. This will lower the volume to insults and bullying. If social networks can reach a village of 50 souls to reveal to someone, who is afraid of the darkness, that someone has felt that same fear.. There is no longer the need to give it a name, to define that "something" to fear, to brand it with labels that only limit you. Definitions have always had this effect on me. Gender should not even be considered in a person's judgment. Let alone orientation ". - Victoria

Sexism - A culture to be dismantled

Emma (Italian singer) dropped the bomb:" When I went to Eurovision, they insulted me over a pair of shorts. Damiano - half naked and in heels - was never criticized ". The judgment against women is constant, ferocious, and demeaning (if I have a lot of sex I'm cool but Vic a whore, where I show myself strong I'm a leader she is domineering and pain in the ass, who is successful because only because of her looks [and not the hard work she puts in]). As a male I am privileged, the harassment I suffer is not comparable to that experienced by a woman, the comments on my aesthetics are focused only on my aesthetics and do not insinuate anything about my professionalism and my competence, while women are victims of this kind of thinking in a systemic way. But I did find myself in a situation, out of nowhere, with someone who, pulling close to her for a selfie, started licking my face ... "What do you want, did you ask me?" Consent exists, and it is a must ». - Damiano

To grow as a person - The only rule to follow

For me, to conform is the total opposite of educating oneself, and the asphyxiation of one's expression (of freedom). Fortunately, I did not suffer heavy bullying, to the point where I felt I needed to change to adapt to how others saw me. But the matrix of who I am and the aggression that marks me is the same. If I'm a kid who dances and loves dolls, then allow me the freedom to do so. I used to be a kid who wanted long hair and played with Barbies. My friends, as a teenager, looked my long hair and teased me: "You have to find yourself a girl with a short hair to make up for it". My grandparents took the dolls away from me and said: “Stop it, they're not for you” ». - Ethan

“I was six and I already could not tolerate the distinctions between masculine and feminine. I've always had strong ideas about how I wanted to be. I refused things typically defined as feminine as a child, and they made fun of me for skating, for playing soccer, for not wearing skirts, for giving myself the chance to be as I wanted to be. I suffered a little, as I was bullied, but I had courage to stay true to myself, and today thanks to that courage I know that I could have been much more hurt, or I would have risked leaving the most important decision to others: the one about being just me". - Victoria

Love - music and girlfriends

I've been married to music for the past 20 years. I cannot wait to celebrate our golden wedding anniversary. - Ethan

Everyone goes through their own experiences, sometimes it's good, sometimes it's bad, but it's never other people's business." - Thomas

When, for the first time, I developed feelings and attraction for a girl it was a bit disorienting because I had never had the courage to go beyond the limitations I had imposed on myself. For society, being heterosexual is the norm and therefore often one automatically pegs himself in that way, giving up the freedom to experience many different shades and facets of love. Once I got over the initial insecurity of having to question one's own certainties, I lived my sexuality in a very natural and free way, as it should be for everyone. - Victoria

I had paparazzi under my house morning and night. So, after four years of relationship, I finally revealed her name. I still have the paparazzi under my house morning and night, but at least I don't have to hide anything anymore. - Damiano

The value of the group - Protecting each other

But the real relationship, the real family, is between us. Our band. We believed in it from the first day, even before calling ourselves Måneskin (moonlight in Danish), even before Ethan drew a giant moon, on the poster for our first concert. We share everything, even the pain of the tragedy of Seid Visin, who committed suicide at 20 because he was a victim of racism. Being a group is what we should all do together: stay united and not retreat in the slightest in the face of abuses generated by a distorted vision of someone "being different|. - Thomas

Non ho l’età – like Gigliola (It references Gigliola Cinquetti who won both Sanremo and Eurovision with her song "Non ho l’età" which translates to Not old enough)

Before us, the only one to win Sanremo and Eurovision together was Gigliola Cinquetti (in 1964). Is there is something for which I feel I am not yet old enough for? No, honestly no. Maybe for kids. I'll be honest, I'm not enough to be a dad. - Damiano

Reached the sky - What fears still remain

We are more than in the dream, we have conquered the dream. To fly high this high, there is the risk is to fall and get hurt, but we will try not to end up like Icarus, who burns his wings with the sun. Everything is in our hands. And this - somewhat presumptuously - reassures us rather than frighten us ". - Damiano

(ORIGINAL INTERVIEW IN ITALIAN)

[Please note that I have changed some words or structure sentence, trying to make it so that the interview made more sense lol - I skipped the first two paragraphs, which was basically the interviewer gushing over how pretty the band is lmao (relatable).

Any mistakes in the translation are sorely mine, nothing was proofread, so apologies in advance]

[rottingsparrow]

Part 2 (redo) of Reading Lore Olympus

I am doing a test to see if more people see this if I only review ten episodes at a time. It makes sense, I wouldn’t wanna read that much either. So here’s episodes 11-20, I’ll be posting 21-30 shortly after. Here’s part one again

Ep 11

Touch count total: 7 lmao

Cat. kitty cat

Artemis jumps to conclusions so fast

Did artemis’ bangs grow

Ope and its short again

It would be different it it wasnt noticeable but like the style changes too

Why does artemis not have scissors

How is her hair perfect after a slice

It looks like she is pulling her skin when she is taking her clothes off

Is she wearing a bra?? Bc if she isnt her boobs shouldnt be sitting like that

Oh she is now

“Demeter is such a helicopter mom” i mean yeah but also i dont think the mortal realm has.. Yknow internet

Eros is pink now idk if i preferred him as a light purple

Maybe like a mixture thats cool

Ep 12

Artemis like true form looks cool but so normal yknow

Inside!

“No wings i just vacuumed” quick rachel how do wings work

I do like the cut out in the back of the shirt for the wings

Artemis feels like the mom that is like “put on pants ur uncle is coming over” like huh?? Persephone is just not wearing pants

Youre just soooo pretty persephone omg

Eros and persephones colors accidentally get so close ugh

“I dont” look at her face its so. Yeah

Is yoga for sex or

Is he holding a necklace i thought he was pulling tears and i was so confused when i originally read this

Ep 13

Did aphrodite get darker

She definitely did esp in the panel where she says “psyche”

I know they are family of love but i do worry about the possible emotional incest that could occur honestly. I dont think it happens but it gets close

Ok so he passes the underworld so it goes olympus- underworld- mortal realm or am i dumb

The pig is so cute

How did she not realize her veil thingy fell off

Was her family abusive in the og story or was this just so eros would fall even more for her

When did he get the bow and quiver dont just say magic

Ep 14

The little switches in time got me confused the first time i read it

Oh boy he got an apartment

If i were psyche i would be scared deadass

“The ugliest creature youve ever seen” ok thats cool its fun

Ep 15

Listen. How the hell did she adapt to this bc if i went to a diff realm and all of a sudden there was like. Indoor plumbing i would panic the hell out of my mind

Like shes even wearing modern clothes

“I'm certainly not the pig” hehe i like the pig

Why does he not hang out with her when he isnt busy like

Hookup count is 2 now

Ok ok this may be stupid but what if he just made her go by a diff name

Also your mother needs therapy

I would want to leave too

“Do you trust me?” thats kinda guilt tripping ngl

“Maybe i could have visitors” no they literally are from a different time now

Like i get the “i cant tell her no” but just explain the modern vs ancient world but maybe she could go visit them idk

Ep 16

Why are they not confused i feel like they are ignoring this whole thing rachel created

No her sisters have a point why did he not give her a name not even his real one

Dont hold the blade there is a handle girl

“How could you not trust me?” i wouldnt either gotta be honest

Eros is so melodramatic istg

Artemis and persephone are not having it and like mood

Artemis is lighter now

Yknow if she kept a color palette with just base colors and then did lighting it would work better but maybe im a lil lost

“Hey i got a phone” put ur name queen

Q&A 1

I wasnt gonna put anything for this but “i focus on details and seek out references for anatomy” girlie do you wanna. Start doing that again

Ep 17

Why is he just crying he can leave

“Woe is me” shut up Persephone

No it would suck to be sworn to maidenhood without her permission but also i dont think she understands what unrequited love is

“No one will ever love me like that” they might yall just cant do things

“And thats ok” is it??

“Little tart” good nickname tbh

Her eyes went blue but that will never happen again

Dont throw her list away eros

Emergency contacts you just got a phone??

“Im paying for everything so i get to pick” stfu eros

We will never see her wear this again

Do we ever see her wear the same outfit i cant remember

“Was he just humoring me” i mean hes also prolly busy

I know everyone says it but i hate that apollo is purple

Ep 18

Stop thinking of persephone like that its so weird hades

“As if she would want me to have her number” its not a business card made for you man

How do kings get banned genuinely like this is so wild rachel please show me the societal norm and class systems here

Haha so funny zeus is harassing someone -_-

What job would he give her honestly

How does the economy work you cant say that resell on gems is shit and not explain

Hades wow forcing them to accept a check youre so cool

This is locker room talk and i quite literally hate it

Ep 19

If hades doesnt want to discuss his sex life he is valid i wouldnt want to especially not to family

“Ok i can be a little bossy” this is a surprise tool thatll help up later

They are being good brothers here tho

Ew not the locker room talk again

Like even if she was his age or whatever its literally so gross

Hera!!!

Ep 20

Lil kore is so cute

I like their interactions

She has a point its disgusting

However, i hate, like loathe, the miscommunication plot device. Answer hades Hera so i dont have to deal with this

Also zeus shut up you dont speak for hades

Hera should know that she is getting angry at Zeus and then misdirecting her anger its so annoying

“Im well aware im a fool” can you guys just talk please

[sleepwalkersqueen]

Hawks is a chicken. Let’s proove it mathematically!

So, the weight of an male hawk is around 2,2 kg with a wing span of 89 cm. (Male hawk are smaller than females.)

So let’s assume Keigo’s bodyweight is around 66 kg, which is the male average in japan.

Now that’s 30 times more than a hawk, so: 89 cm*30 = 26 meters. Keigo’s wing span had to be 26 meters (over 85 feet)! [13 meters (42,6 feet) per wing! That’s fucking huge, guys. He wouldn’t even have the strength to move them.]

So let’s say his bones are hollow, like these of a hawk. (Means we can remove around 15 percent of his bodyweight, which is 11 kg; so 66 – 11 = 55 kg.)   So now Keigo weights 55 kg, which is 23 times more-> 89cm*23 = 20 meters.

That means 10 meters (32 feet) per wing, which is still incorrect.

So he has to be lighter. But… how?

We’ve to think about his body. He isn’t weak and has lean muscles – but muscles are heavy. So in order to make him faster and lighter, let’s compensate his muscle mass and assume his inner body is build more bird-like.

Let’s go in risky and give him, like a hawk:

-> Extremely fast digestion and metabolism with light inner organs.

This reduces his weight immensely. But it increases his hunger and body heat. It fastens his heartbeat and weakens is immune system. No accumulated fat also makes him endangered for Osteoporosis & Overfeeding syndrome etc. He would feel immense consequences if he only skipped a few meals.

(A/N: Even though it sounds bloody cool, I’m personally not a big fan of the ‘Hawks eats raw meat’-headcanon. It’s cool, sure, but raw meat is fucking inefficient in supplying your brain with nutrients. You’d have to eat a time-wasting amount to get nearly the same energy. And I seriously doubt Hawks can afford this risk. It’s actually a question of life and death for him. (‘Keigo mainly eating raw meat’ pulls me out of a otherwise good story. But you do you, if you enjoy it, go with it dude.)

-> A really thin skullcap

When you’re a bird and you fly against a window, you’d probably die. When you’re a human and you run against the same window with the same impact force, you’d probably survive. But when you’re a bird with a heavy human-build skull, it’d be way harder for you to fly. If we make your skull thinner well…  that’s dangerous, but efficient.

(A/N: Oh shit, I remember Dabi keeping Hawks’ head under his shoe.  Jesus fucking christ- Imagine he knew that Hawks’ skull was a fucking weak spot? Maybe not, but I’ll worship this headcanon till I die)

So after looking at him like a Hawk, we can assume a weight of ~30 kg, (which is really fucking light for a grown up male.)

Since he’s still a human, we can now just look at the wingspan of a heavy airborne bird, and we’ve his wingspan.

For example the Albatross weights 13 kg with 3 meters of wingspan.

Keigo’s only two times that weight! So 3 m*2 = 6 meters!

Which means one of Hawks wings in full feathers measures around 3 meters! (~9 Feet per wing)

--------------------------------------------------------------

So here is my personal little list of headcanons for Hawks:

-          He is really fucking light. [Around those 30 kg]

-          Like a Hawk, He’s most active at dawn.

-          Like a Hawk, he can see ultra violet.

-          Like a Hawk, his eyes will become darker as he ages. [Most young hawks (like him) have light yellow eyes.They only become darker (orange/red) as they age. [Imagine 30 y/o Hawks with red eyes.]

-          Hawks’ speed:

(If you don’t care so much for the math, you can just skip to the conclusion)

Thank god we got this panel:

Here we see, the building hast at least 15 visible floors. The average height of skyscraper floors is between 2,0 m – 3,20 m, so let’s meet in the middle at 2,6 m.

(The buildings of the street have around 32 f on average (I counted the windows) so let’s add 17 “invisible” f.)

32 f*2,6 m = 83,2 m. The skyscraper Hawks chills on measures about 83,2 m. But the beeline between Endeavor and Hawks is actually even greater. (We have a x here but Hawks still had to be out of anyone’s radius of sight, so under the conditions at least 50 m.)

The shown movement of Endeavor on the mainstreet is (measured by the cars lengths at least) 40 m, plus the side street which measures around 25 m, - so let’s add 65 m.  

(Just imagine a triangle with a 90 degree angle, which is the building meeting the street. c=65 m & b=83,2 m - so a has to be 105,5 m)

The direct distance between Endeavors attackers and Hawks measures 105,5 m.  

So, now let’s get salty…

Hawks defeats Endeavors attackers after Deku jumps but before Deku lands. The panels lag is (measured by Dekus position in the air) 0,5 seconds.

v = s / t  so 105,5/0,5 = 211 km/h.

-> That means Hawks can move 211 km/h (131 mph) without problems.(probably faster)

[In free fall, a Hawk can kill a target with the speed of 400 km/h. (They use the blind spot from above to their advantage.) I dunno if our bird is capable of this, but I’d like to.]

(If you liked this post give me your heart, your soul and worship me in a comment, because I’m a power-hungry individual)

What do you think? Any other cool headcanons I don’t know yet? Did I fuck up in my math? (I can sense it, somewhere up there I made one. I’m searching for my mistake. If you find it, please give it back)

Anyways, have a save day!

[combat-wombatus]

Crimson Snow

Pairing: Hawks (Takami Keigo) x Fem!Reader

Genre: angst :’) (a lil bit of fluff thrown in here and there)

Warnings: mentions of blood, character death. 

WC: 7.8k. am i sorry? no.

Summary: Childhood friends doesn’t always equal lovers in the future. You wished that was the case, but ever since Keigo disappeared, you found it hard to believe in love again. 

(A/N): this was. i had to write this. it wasn’t up for debate. finishing this at 4am in the morning aldksjfhajshd. spent a grant total of 2 days brainstorming & writing this fic. not proofread at all. heavily inspired by the song 小幸运 by Hebe Tien. i strongly suggest you give it a try and listen to it as you read this :p (for all my chinese speakers out there...let’s see how you deal with this heartbreak :’) so yeah. i’m actually...really really proud of this fic. i tried a new format with this, and i think i kinda like it. also i left the ending up to interpretation if you don’t read the epilogue. enjoy! 

credit for this au goes to @wafflesandkruge​

here’s the link to the music :)

The one constant in your life.

The boy who’d always been there for you, through the dark days and the cold nights, holding your hand through it all.

The one who’d held you when you broke down.

The one who’d tucked you under his wings as the skies crackled with energy, rain pouring from the heavens, and told you that no matter where you went, he’d stay with you. He’d keep you nice and dry, snuggled close to his body as he shielded you from the storm.

The one constant in your life.

He’d left quietly in the night, not stopping by to say farewell.

In his place, he’d left a lonesome letter, tucked away beneath a boulder on your special hill.

“I’ll come back for you. Wait for me, okay?”

And from within that plain white envelope, a single red feather floated out, carried on the autumn winds, drifting aimlessly.

Almost as if it were lost.

And in that moment, you felt as if you’d lost a part of yourself, a little piece of your soul.

You weren’t sure you were ever going to get it back.

Years passed. You waited. There was no sign of him

Not in the skies, not on the land, and even though you’d sometimes see him in the reflection of the water, sitting next to you as you told him about your day, he wasn’t really there either.

I won’t give up on him.

I’ll stay strong.

He told me he’d come back for me.

Against the test of time, your resolve never withered. It only grew, strong as steel, taking over the crevices in your heart where he’d left his mark.

I’ll wait for you, Kei.

But please…come back to me.

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend called out enthusiastically from her position on the couch. “Come look!”

“What?” You stepped out of the kitchen, only to be greeted by a familiar face, smirking on the TV screen.

“Look at him! He’s this new hero, and he’s only 18! (Y/N)! He’s our age! Isn’t he hot?” She pointed at his flickering image. “His hero name is Hawks!” Squealing, she turned to you. “Isn’t that so cool?”

You stood in shock, the glass of water that you had been holding slipped from your fingers and shattered onto the floor. Liquid pooled around your feet, soaking your slippers, but you made no move to step aside.

“Woah! (Y/N), are you okay?” She jumped off the couch, rushing towards you. “Hey, (Y/N)? He’s cute and all but…this is a little bit much, isn’t it?” She looked at you with concern, eyebrows drawing tighter when you didn’t respond.

“(Y/N) …what’s wrong? You look like you just saw a ghost.”

Shaking yourself from your daze, you averted your eyes. “Ahh, I’m sorry. Uh…I just, I never thought I’d see him again.”

“Wait, you know him?” Your friend looked at you, surprised. “(Y/N) …did he do something to you?” She asked softly. “If he did, I don’t care how cute he is, I’m gonna kick his ass to high heaven if need be. Someone like that shouldn’t be a hero.”

You shook your head, chuckling a little. “No…no, there’s no need to do that. It’s just…it’s been a long time, and I just didn’t expect to see him.”

“Ahh. Well, step out of that puddle! Come on, let’s grab you some paper towels.”

Hey!

It’s me, (Y/N). I…I saw you on TV today. You look…different. In a good way, I suppose. You’ve bulked up a bit.

You never used to smile like that though. Not like…like you were smiling for others. Seeing you smile for the camera, well…it made me sad.

But I’m happy that you’re ok. I think it would probably be hard for you to find me, since obviously I’m not on the news. So I’ll come find you instead, yeah? What do you say we catch up sometime?

I miss you. I’m in college now. I’m doing pretty good. You’re an overachiever, aren’t you? 18 years old and you already have your own agency.

Not that I’m complaining. Thanks for making it so easy for me to find you :)

So…let’s meet up sometime, when you have time? Maybe for some coffee? I know a quaint little place. It’s not too far away from your agency, three blocks to the right, turn left, and walk to the next intersection. It’s the corner shop. You can’t miss it.

I’ll wait for you there this Saturday, okay? I’ll do my work there. You can walk in whenever you have the time.

Your chicken, (Y/N)

Saturday came faster than you could prepare yourself. You checked your reflection repeatedly in the mirror, double-guessing your outfit decisions.

What if he doesn’t like it?

Is this too formal for a coffee date?

“Hey, (Y/N)!” Your friend barged into the bathroom. “I saw all the clothes on your bed! Are you going on a date?”

“Uh…just a meeting with an old friend. To catch up,” you explained.

She looked at you suspiciously. “Old friend…is it that guy on TV? Hawks?”

You grew flustered. “Err…yeah. If he got my letter.”

She looked you up and down, then dragged you into her closet. “Good thing I just went on a shopping spree last weekend then!” She pumped a fist excitedly in the air. “I’m giving you a makeover!”

Two hours later, you stood in front of the bathroom mirror once more. Your friend had put you through every single possible combination of outfits using both your closet and hers, and you had to agree that she had impeccable taste.

“Come on, you’re going to be late!” She shoved you out of the bathroom.

“I didn’t set a time!” You protested, laughing.

“Well, get your ass out of here! My boyfriend’s coming over!”

“So that’s the real reason you want me gone, hmm?” You teased her.

“Shush! Get out!”

Hawks was on patrol. You had been on his mind the entire week. Ever since your letter had reached his desk, he couldn’t stop thinking about you.

Thinking about you brought back happier times, and he wasn’t masochistic enough to give himself false hope.

No, it would be better for you to forget about him, and vice versa.

Still, he couldn’t stop himself. His body flew of its own accord, ignoring the sensibilities of his mind that screamed at it to stop.

Go back! The reasonable voice inside his head yelled.

Fly back!

His body refused to listen.

He found himself gently landing on a rooftop, right across the little café you told him to meet you at.

He even debated going inside. Just for a second. Just for a cup of coffee, to warm myself up in the chilly late-afternoon breeze, he told himself.

Then, he scoffed. Who was he kidding? If he went inside, he wouldn’t have the resolve to step back out before he saw you.

Shaking his head, he flew away as quickly as he could.

If he’d stayed a moment longer, he would’ve seen you walk down the street, humming a little tune to yourself.

Maybe then his resolve would’ve cracked.

Too bad he’ll never know.

Sitting alone at a table for two was an unpleasant feeling. Especially when you’re on your third drink, the waitress keeps eyeing you with pity, and you couldn’t concentrate on your work.

“Miss?” The waitress stopped by your table again. “Sorry to bother you, but we’re closing in 15 minutes.”

You checked the time on your laptop. Crap. It was already 5:15.

“Oh yeah, uhh, sorry to bother you!” You chuckle awkwardly. You quickly packed your books and laptop, dropped a $20 bill on the table, and hurried out the door. Walking home in silence, you tried your best not to feel too disappointed.

Maybe he just didn’t have time?

It’s ok. You’ll just ask him again, another time.

Another time.

You sent him countless letters. For the first year, at least. When he ignores all of them, you visit his agency in person.

As you walk through the glass doors, there’s a man sitting behind the reception desk.

“Hello, miss. How can I help you today?” He asks in the customary polite tone.

“I’m looking for Keigo. Hawks,” you answer, trying to hide your nervousness.

He looks at you suspiciously. “How do you know his first name?”

“We…we were childhood friends,” you tried to explain. “I…well, I haven’t seen him in a while.”

He took a closer look at you. “Can I ask for your name, miss?”

“(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

He sighed. “I’m afraid that you’ll have to leave the premises, Miss (Y/L/N). You’re not allowed to be here.”

What?

He hadn’t kicked you out before you told him your name.

“Why-” you started, but he cut you off.

“Miss (Y/L/N). I’m afraid that I have to ask you to leave, and don’t come back. Should I call security to escort you out?”

Holding back tears, you clutched your purse close to your chest and hurried out the glass doors, wishing nothing more than to shatter them into pieces.

You didn’t send any more letters after that.

Years pass. Every year on your birthday, Keigo gave you a feather.

“So I’ll always be with you,” he joked.

His feathers are extra durable, but time can wear down even the strongest things.

The last feather you got from him was ten years ago.

It can barely be considered a feather at this point, and you keep it in a special glass case so it can’t get any more worn down.

Ten years.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow.

Ten years of waiting around for him turned into ten years of watching him date other women. Ten years of hiding your pain every time another picture of him kissing a new girl graced the covers of the tabloids.

The first time, you cried yourself to sleep.

It wasn’t the last time.

Again and again, he breaks your heart.

By the third year, you convinced yourself to stop looking at the tabloids and the gossip sites.

By the fifth year, you scold yourself. You vow to stop crying over a stupid childhood crush.

By the seventh, you told yourself that you needed to forget about him. Step back into the dating ring, make out with someone else, and remove his presence entirely from your mind.

That didn’t work out.

Ten years.

It killed you to finally harden your resolve, but you told yourself that you couldn’t spend your whole life waiting for someone who was never going to love you back.

You’re turning 25 tomorrow, and you’re going to go on a date.

He’s watching you. He always is.

It makes him feel like a creepy stalker, but he can’t help it.

He watches you as you step into the restaurant, decked out in formal wear that looked amazing on you.

Going on a date. With someone who wasn’t him.

He stays on the rooftop, watching you through a window as you ate and laughed.

He wishes that he was the one making you laugh, that he was the one helping you order food from the menu, that he was the one sharing a dessert with you.

He’s selfish like that. It never does him any good.

He’s scared, really. Scared of commitment, tarnished by his time spent in the work program.

He sees you as the one thing in life that they can’t take away from him. You have this innocence, this purity that you always carry around with you, because you’re a part of a time when his life wasn’t so complicated.

He doesn’t want to shatter that illusion.

He never reached out to you because he’s scared.

He’s scared that he’ll break you.

He stopped sending you feathers, heart splintering every time your birthday comes around, hoping you’ll eventually forget him.

You don’t.

It’s not that you didn’t try.

No one else really interested you.

That is, until Masaki came along. He was bright, happy, always upbeat. He could find the words to cheer you up, to make a bad day that much better. He was attentive, caring, sweet.

He was everything that most people would look for in a partner.

And slowly, you began to open up to him too.

You fell into his embrace easier. You got a little happier when he came over for dinner.

You felt just a little safer when you were wrapped in his arms, a luxury you never thought you’d have.

Two years later, during a picnic date, he proposed.

You always had a love for picnic dates. Maybe because your first date, with Keigo, was a messy picnic affair during the spring, on top of a little hill where wildflowers bloomed and birds pecked at your leftovers.

“Stop!” You giggled, whipped cream smeared all over your cheeks. “You’re going to get it on my clothes!”

Keigo laughed, then popped another strawberry in your mouth. “You can wash that off later, silly! Just have fun!”

“It’s not fun when my clothes are all sticky,” you whined. “You try it! It feels gross!”

He smirked. “Oh really?”

Taking a strawberry, he dipped it in the container of cream you had brought, then stuck it down his shirt.

“Ha! Take that!” He gloated.

You stared at him in shock. “Did you just–”

“Yes I did! And it’s not gross at all, see?” He plucked the strawberry back out and shoved it in his mouth.

“Eww! Kei, that’s disgusting!”

“No it’s not, it still tastes like a strawberry! Mphm!” He chewed, licking his fingers.

He regretted that decision later, when bees swarmed the front of his shirt.

“Eek!” He shrieked, hopping backwards.

“Kei, take off your shirt!”

“It’s so sticky!” He yelped, trying to peel the front of his shirt away from his chest.

“I told you!”

“Hey, now is NOT the time for the ‘I told you so’ speech, okay?” He finally ripped his shirt off.

You couldn’t help it. You cackled.

“What now?” He looked at the bees feasting on his ruined tee.

“I told you so,” you teased him.

Taking one look at the devious glint in his eyes, you scooped up the picnic supplies and raced down the hill.

He followed, wings beating, taking off into the air. He reached you within seconds, tacking you to the ground.

“Hey, that’s not fair!” You struggled against him. “You know you’re fast when you fly!”

He looked at you mischievously. “And what about it?”

“You can’t race me like that when I’m on foot!”

“Who said we were racing?” His eyes locked on your lips. “I was just trying to catch up to you.”

You blushed, suddenly realizing how close his face was to yours.

“Kei–” you started.

“Can I kiss you?” He interrupted you, then quickly blushed. “I mean, only if you want to-”

You wrapped your hands in his hair, interrupting him with a kiss.

He tasted like the remnants of strawberries and cream, sweet honey on a beautiful spring day.

And it was a beautiful spring day.

Perhaps the last beautiful spring day you’d ever have, for the next spring, he was gone.

Beautiful spring days were few and far between. You’d learned that the hard way.

But today…you were inclined to think that it might be another one of those days.

Your boyfriend of two years had proposed on a beautiful spring day reminiscent of one long ago.

You supposed that this marked a series of firsts.

First date. First kiss. And now…a proposal.

You accept his proposal, tears in your eyes. He thinks that they’re tears of happiness, and in part, they are.

You don’t tell him that this was the one thing that you never thought you’d do. You feel like you’re betraying Keigo.

You have to remind yourself that he betrayed you first.

Half a year later, you have a wedding. It’s a small wedding, with only your families and close friends. You considered reaching out to Hawks’s hero agency, but decided to spare yourself the pain.

He’d moved on. So would you.

Unbeknownst to you, when the ceremony rolled around, Keigo was standing on a nearby rooftop, the wind blowing away his tears.

He couldn’t believe how beautiful you were.

He knew that he couldn’t have you, but didn’t you know that he was a sucker for pain? Watching you repeat the vows was like getting punched full-force in the gut, but the wind never returned to his lungs.

He felt empty inside. Something essential was missing, and he knew what it was, but he also knew that he couldn’t ever have it. Not if he wanted you to stay alive.

As the ceremony finished, he flew away into the sunset, and you caught a glimpse of his crimson wings, purely on accident. You shook your head in disbelief.

“Now I’m hallucinating too,” you muttered to yourself.

But no matter how hard you tried to convince yourself you imagined the whole thing, that final view made it so much harder for you to forget him.

Another year passed, and the seasons changed as they did. Spring flowing into summer, summer fading into autumn, autumn slowly drifting into winter.

Gradually, your new life engulfed you, the comfort of it all slowly draining away your doubts. Your husband was a good man. A faithful man. A caring man.

He held doors open for you and snuggled you on the couch. He played with your hair and made you breakfast in bed. He made it difficult for you not to love him.

You weren’t entirely sure you wanted to resist, anyways.

One night, you woke up in your shared bed, screaming in pain. Your lower back burned, almost as if you were getting branded.

Your husband woke up to the commotion. The bedsheets were stained with blood. Fresh, crimson, blood, all of it coming from you.

Whimpering, you laid limp as Masaki set you on your belly, trying to figure out the source of the injury. Taking a clean paper towel, he gingerly wiped the blood off of your raw skin, showing a tattoo emblazoned in gold ink.

Written in elegant cursive were three simple words.

Three words, but they hurt to look at.

(Y/N) …I’m sorry.

Your husband stared in shock. This didn’t happen. This couldn’t happen, could it? The only way someone got a tattoo like this was if their soulmate died, and, well…he was still very much alive.

He wasn’t your soulmate.

In this world, quirks weren’t the only strange thing.

Soulmates existed. But most never found out until it was too late.

When your soulmate died, their last words would be tattooed permanently on their other half’s skin in a bloody and painful process.

Their last moments would flash before the other’s eyes.

Nothing you could do. Nothing you could be sure of, until it was too late.

Fires blazed everywhere.

Building after building, it ate away at the crumbling city, tearing down everything in its path.

“Help!” A voice choked out, raspy from smoke intake. “There’s a beam—ugh—on my leg. I can’t get it off!”

A winged figure crouched on a burning rooftop, out of breath and utterly exhausted.

Backup wasn’t coming.

The whole city was burning.

Standing shakily, he sent the last of his feathers off to help the trapped woman.

“That’s it for me then, I suppose,” his smile wobbled slightly. “My work here is done.”

He couldn’t risk jumping off of the roof. His wings were stubs on his back, and only a single feather remained.

“That’s not enough for me to fly off, now is it?” He chuckled mirthlessly. “Oh, if only you could see me right now, (Y/N). You’d be proud. Saved more than 500 people today, you know that?” He sighed, sitting down on the roof. “Lost count somewhere around there. You were always proud of me, weren’t you? The only one that believed in me when I told myself I couldn’t fly.

You’re the one that taught me to fly, remember, chicken? Those were the good times.

Look at me now. Talking to myself. Don’t even have the strength to fly down anymore.” He coughed into his hand, blood staining his palm. He grasped tightly onto a keychain around his neck, smearing the metal with crimson.

“I never did thank you. Guess it’s too late now.” He stared up at the sky, hues of orange and gold dancing across the horizon.

“Never did treat you right.” He plucked his last feather off of his back, twirling it around in his fingers.

“You were always too good for me. Too good for anyone, really.” He laid down on the roof, back no longer sensitive to the burning heat.

“I lost the right to love you a long time ago. I’ve got no business crying over you.” He chuckled bitterly. “But is that going to stop me?”

Letting go of the keychain and his feather, his hands went limp.

“(Y/N),” he sighed, closing his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

The roof collapsed, the hungry flames licking at the bottom finally swallowing him whole. His comms fell out of his ear, the plastic melting in the heat.

A single red feather floated down to the ground, charred and blackened.

The only remains of his body they’ll ever find.

You were sobbing uncontrollably. Keigo.

He was your soulmate.

The boy you loved.

The one who’d abandoned you.

The one who you tried to forget.

He was your soulmate.

Your soulmate, who was dead.

“Turn…turn on the TV,” you whispered weakly. “Turn it on. I need to see.”

Masaki reached for the remote, flipping it on to the news channel.

“Earlier tonight, a bomb was detonated in Nagoya prefecture. Top heroes were on the scene, including Endeavor and Hawks, but their quirks are ill-suited to fight the conflagration. Endeavor has resorted to using brute strength to rescue people from the rubble, while Hawks hasn’t been seen since the beginning of the night. We are now reporting his status as MIA, and will continue to look for the Winged Hero, along with updating our reports on the status of missing civilians–”

You shut the TV off. You’d heard all you needed to.

Throwing on a mishmash of clothing, you sprinted out the door. Hailing a taxi, you hopped in before it had even screeched to a full stop.

“Hawks Hero Agency.” You told the driver, not bothering to mince your words. You hadn’t bothered to wipe all the blood off of your back either, so it was gradually staining your coat a deep crimson, a mocking parody of the way that Keigo’s feathers used to lay against his back.

His feathers that were burnt, charred, turned to ashes, no longer able to bring you the comfort they once had when they wrapped you in a warm embrace.

The driver looked concerned. “Miss, do you know what happened today? Hawks isn’t–”

“Yes, I know. Drive.”

You pressed your forehead against the window, breath steaming up the glass. It reminded you of one winter, when the two of you had been building snowmen, and your mother called you in for dinner.

“Kei, I have to go,” you tugged at his hand.

“Aww, (Y/N),” he kicked at an unfortunate stone with the scuffed toe of his boot. “Why can’t you stay a little longer? We haven’t finished his head yet.” He pouted.

“I can’t, Kei,” you tried to make him release his iron grip on your hand. “Mama’s gonna get mad.”

“Then I’ll make you stay!” He boldly declared, wrapping his little arms around your frame, tackling you to the snow-covered ground.

The two of you giggled, engaged in a tickle war, your mom’s voice fading into the distance.

“(Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” Your mom yelled, marching over to where the two of you lay, tangled in a heap. “Do you want to get a cold?”

“No, Mama,” you said, slowly getting up and dusting the snow off of your parka. “I’m coming.” You turned around and poked your tongue out at your friend, letting your mom drag you back into your house.

Keigo sat in the snow for a while longer, not exactly excited to go back to his house.

Suddenly, an idea popped into his head.

He beat his little wings as fast as he could, half flying, half stumbling to your kitchen window.

Sneaking a peek inside, he saw you staring questioningly back at him. Not bothering to hide his mischievous grin, he puffed out a breath, steaming the window, took his little glove off, and started writing.

“D O  Y O U  W A N T  T O  F L Y  W I T H  M E ?” He painstakingly wrote out.

You shook your head, and his grin quickly dropped from his face. Looking down, he almost missed the words you mouthed out.

“I can’t read it!” You tried your best to sign. “It’s backwards!”

“Oh!” He tried his best to write the mirror image of what he had just written, making sure that you could read it from your point of view this time. You read his little message, a grin taking over your face.

“Y E S!” You mouthed. “YES, YES, YES!”

Quickly scarfing down your dinner, you waved a hasty goodbye to your mom, racing out the back door, only to get tackled into the snow.

“Come on, let’s go!” He took ahold of your hand. “Race you!”

“You can’t race me if you’re holding my hand!” You shrieked in delight. “Stop it!”

He paused, turning around. “Hmm. Well, maybe I don’t want to race you then,” he looked at you with a small smile on his face. “I wanna try something new!”

“Oh?” You asked, seeing the way his eyes lit up with delight. “What is it?”

“I wanna fly! With you!”

Giggling, he turned you around so that your back was facing him. He circled his arms below your armpits.

“Hang on!” He flapped his wings as fast as he could, kicking up a storm of snow around you. To his surprise, he actually managed to lift the two of you off the ground for around 3 feet or so. He wasn’t expecting it to work on his first try, but the two of you really were flying!

Sighing, you turned away from the window.

Happier times, you chuckled mirthlessly.

Isn’t it sad that I’m only remembering them now?

The car screeched to a stop at the front door to the Hawks Hero Agency.

You stepped into the lobby, the fluorescent lights blinding.

It’s the middle of the night, but they don’t seem to mind, you thought. Everyone was bustling around the place like it was normal.

The receptionist had changed since you’d last been here.

She spotted you and hurried over, most likely because of the blood staining your clothes.

“Miss, are you hurt?” She gave you a once-over. “Can I help you?”

You stared at her in shock for a moment. What were you here for again?

“Oh…uh,” you wrung your hands nervously. “I’m here for Hawks.”

Her expression of concern melted away into one of annoyance. “Another fangirl. This one appears to be married too,” she scoffed at the band adorning your left ring finger. “People these days…” she muttered underneath her breath, already hurrying back to her desk, where the phone rang incessantly.

“No. I’m not a fangirl.” You lifted your head. You might be in pain, but damned if you were going to let a stranger strip you of the remaining shreds of your dignity.

“I’m his soulmate.”

The way you said that phrase with such conviction made the lady pause.

“Soulmate?” She questioned. Girls had tried this trick on her before, but…when asked to prove themselves, they merely responded with “oh, it’s just a feeling,” or “I just know it.”

Never once had anyone said this phrase with such confidence.

“Yes.” You shut your eyes, defiantly holding back tears. “You have comms, right? What did he say before the comms died?”

The lady stared back at you, a pang of sorrow shooting its way into her heart. You weren’t joking around, were you?

“I…yes, yes we do. What’s your name, miss?”

You sucked in a deep breath. “(Y/N). (Y/N) (Y/L/N).”

She stared at you for another moment, then quietly pulled out her comms.

“He said…” she choked a little. “He said, ‘(Y/N) …I’m sorry.’ We weren’t sure who he was talking about. We assumed it was a civilian he wasn’t able to save,” she pressed the back of her hand to her mouth. “Oh God…”

Quietly, she choked out another question. “Was it…was he talking about…you?”

You didn’t want to reply. You’d heard enough.

The lady didn’t try to stop you as you ran to the elevator, your fingertip pressing the “up” button so hard it bruised.

Quickly looking at the directory, you found his office.

“420.” You choked out a pained laugh. “He always did like messing around with people.”

Collapsing against the corner of the elevator, you wrapped your arms around your knees and lowered your head. You felt so goddamn tired.

Why did it have to be you?

Why couldn’t he break someone else’s heart?

Someone who was stronger?

Someone who could take this in stride and move on?

Why did the universe choose you?

The elevator bell dinged, rousing you from your thoughts. You stood up slowly, a trail of blood staining the place where you once sat.

Crimson, like the trail of feathers he’d (perhaps intentionally) shed during that game of hide and seek.

You buried your face into your hands.

Goddamnit, Keigo! Why does everything have to remind me of you?

You made your way into his office, most likely the messiest of all the top pro-hero offices. Paperwork was scattered everywhere, jackets strewn across the floor. You even saw a shoelace string laying on the carpet next to his desk.

It’s almost as if he’d always expected to come back.

Stepping cautiously over the objects that littered the ground, you came face-to-face with a cabinet next to his desk.

Snowglobes. So many snowglobes.

Snowglobes occupied every shelf of the cabinet, and the glass doors made it easy to examine the contents.

You squinted closely at them. They were all…different angles of the same scene, you realized.

The snow park above your houses.

He’d had snowglobes made.

They immortalized the place where the two of you played all day in the snow.

The place where he first learned how to fly, gliding off the hills like a paraglider.

The place where he’d picked you up and learned how to fly with another person’s life in his hands, hugging you close to his chest, reveling in your warmth.

In the spring, it was the place where he took you on your first picnic date.

The place where the two of you shared your first kiss.

The place where he left you his goodbye note, tucked away under the grounding weight of a boulder you used to lay on, basking in the sun’s warmth.

He’d had 12 snowglobes made. Your lucky number.

12 different angles that showcased the same scenery.

Suddenly, your legs wouldn’t carry your weight anymore. You leaned back into his chair, still smelling faintly of his scent.

How can someone’s scent not change over 13 years?

You closed your eyes, and quickly opened them again when you saw a pile of letters on the corner of the desk.

You weren’t sure why they caught your eye. They weren’t anything special, really. Plain white envelopes addressed in plain black print.

You took a closer look.

That was your name on the envelopes.

You leaned closer, quickly shuffling through them all.

Each and every single one of them was addressed to you.

Each and every single one of them was dated a year apart.

Each and every single one of them was marked for your various addresses over the years, his handwriting steadily improving.

You couldn’t resist your curiosity. Taking a paper cutter, you tore through the seal of the earliest envelope.

A single red feather, beautifully preserved, floated out.

You stared in shock. He…he didn’t forget.

He never forgot.

He just chose not to send it.

Hurriedly opening the remaining envelopes, you acquired more feathers, each fresher than the last.

By the end, you had a pile of 13 crimson feathers, right next to 13 shredded envelopes.

You looked around, confused. Why hadn’t he left a note? Any note?

Did he…did he never write letters?

You knew that you had sent him letters.

Maybe they did throw them out as spam.

Your curiosity piqued, you pulled open drawer after drawer, but none of them held anything of personal importance.

Finally, you came upon the bottom right drawer.

It was locked, you realized.

You carefully place the feathers back in their respective envelopes. Sealing them up once again, you carry them in a stack, making your way downstairs.

The agency workers saw you with the letters in your arms, not sure if they should stop you or not. When you looked to the receptionist and murmured a quiet “thank you”, they stood their ground. If she was okay with you walking away like this, then there shouldn’t be a reason that they wouldn’t be.

The taxi driver who took you here was still waiting outside. Seeing you arrive, he stomped out his cigarette butt and opened the backseat door for you.

“Rough night, miss?” He looked at your back, pity obvious in his expression. “Do you want me to take you to a hospital with that?”

You shook your head. “They can’t fix that. Do you remember the way we came?”

“Aye, yes I do,” he stepped into his own seat. “I’ll take you there right quick, miss. Don’t you worry.”

As you rode back home in silence, you couldn’t stop thinking about the cabinet in Keigo’s office.

The feathers, folded away safely in the envelopes you were holding.

If he never forgot, why did he never reach out?

The car door slamming shook you from your daze. “Miss, you’re back home.”

You stared at the man, realizing that you didn’t have your wallet on you.

“Do you mind waiting a second? I’ll go get my wallet now–”

He shook his head. “I know where that blood came from. See here?” He rolled up his sleeve.

“Got mine when I was 22,” a melancholy smile framed his face. “Rare, right? I never did find out who she was.

But the hospital staff helped me that day. Looked for deaths around my age, and then when I tried to pay ‘em, they refused. Said ‘twas only the right thing to do. Now I finally get to repay the favor. Don’t you go tryna pay me now. Won’t ‘ccept it.”

He leaned back against the hood of his car. When you opened your mouth to object, he merely saluted you, hopped back into the driver’s seat, and drove off into the night.

You turned to your house. The lights were still on inside, meaning your husband was still up. He probably couldn’t sleep, not after what had just happened. You couldn’t blame him.

Stepping inside, you heard muffled sobs coming from the kitchen.

“Masaki?” You leaned on the doorframe. He looked up at your voice.

“(Y/N)?” He rose from the table. “You’re…you’re okay,” he wrapped you in a hug.

You cleared your throat. “…yeah. Yeah, I’m okay,” you hugged him back.

I’m okay, you tried to convince yourself.

“Where did you go?” He looked at you curiously. Finally seeing the envelopes in your arms, he paused.

“Babe?” He asked softly. “Did you…did you know him?”

You buried your face into his chest. “Yeah…yeah, I did.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He asked softly.

“Not really…not now…” you replied.

He patted your back lightly. “That’s ok. I understand.”

The rest of the night went by in a blur. The letters were scattered on your nightstand, your husband helping you into the shower. He’s changed the bloody sheets already, but the stains on the mattress were stubborn and refused to come out.

Crimson stains, in the shape of wings.

Days later, some people from the agency stopped by your house.

“Is there a (Y/N) (Y/L/N) at this address?” The receptionist from your earlier encounter knocked on the door.

“Uh, hi. Yeah, that’s me,” you answered, not bothering to change out of your bathrobe. Your complexion had grown waxen, face shallow. Your hair formed an unkempt nest, spiraling around your face.

She gave you a smile, pity etched in her face. It disgusted you, really.

All anyone ever gave you nowadays was pity. Pity cards from your coworkers, although you weren’t sure how the information leaked out. Pitiful glances from your husband, who insisted on doing all the chores around the house.

Pity, pity, pity.

“What is it?” You asked her.

“We have some…documents for you.” She waved over two guys, each lugging a large crate of…paper?

“Wait…all that? For me?” You were confused. There was no way that that bottom drawer, even if all it contained were letters, had that much paper in it.

“Yes, (Y/L/N)-san. It’s all for you.” The men dropped off their crates at your door.

“What’s going on?”

“These were stored in the records house. Hawks filed them. They were all addressed to you, so we felt that this was the proper treatment.”

“We’ll leave you to go through these in your own time.” She started down the steps. Then, as if remembering something suddenly, she paused.

“You know…he was a good man,” she smiled gently. “We all knew he had a secret someone. We just didn’t know who they were. I’m glad he found you. Hero work is dangerous, especially for top heroes like him.

I hope that you find joy in those letters.” She turned back and finished her journey down the steps.

You turned around and looked at the crates.

Found me?

You smiled bitterly, a brittle coldness taking over your heart.

He never really did find me, did he?

Sighing, you sorted through the crates, looking for the ones that were dated the earliest. You carried the oldest set of letters into the bedroom and tore open the first envelope.

Hey, (Y/N). It’s me, Kei.

I hope you haven’t forgotten about me. I mean, I’m not an easy person to forget, I suppose, but it has been a while. Three years, to be exact.

Three years can do a lot to a person.

I should know.

How are you doing? I hope you managed to keep Timothy alive. You were always prone to overwatering him.

I’m not sure how long cacti live, but…if you nurture something, anything can happen, right?

I’m a hero now. I’m sure you know. My debut was broadcasted all over national television. They just can’t resist making themselves look good, can they?

At least now I’m allowed to write. I hope you understand why I haven’t written to you in so long.

I didn’t forget about you. How could I? Even though we were only 15, how could I forget someone like you?

I missed you. I don’t think you understand how much. It felt so empty, living without you by my side. Like…like I wasn’t ever warm enough, even bundled in the tightest blankets. I was always missing you.

Sounds like a curse, eh?

But don’t worry. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I just wanted you to know that.

Yours, Kei.

Ripping open letter after letter, you realized that you held his entire life story in your hands.

Hey chicken. It’s Kei again.

Realized I’ve been treating these letters as a kind of diary. I guess it’s…therapeutic? Even though I know I’ll never send these. I don’t want to put you in danger, you know?

Do you remember when we were kids?

We had all the time in the world to do whatever we wanted.

I miss that time.

Not as much as I miss you though.

I check in on you every so often, but I make sure you never see.

False hope is a dangerous thing. It shatters your soul into pieces, and when you try and piece them back together, it cuts your heart so badly you wish you’d never started.

But, you see, you’re like a drug for me.

I can’t seem to stop myself. No matter how bad it hurts, I…I still come back.

You wouldn’t know, of course.

I suppose there’s a reason it hurts when you stare into the sun.

I’m already broken, yeah? I don’t want you to break with me.

The thing is, I know you’d want to. I know we promised we’d always come back for each other. We promised we’d always be here for each other.

But some promises were meant to be broken.

You can’t be here for me, birdie. You’ll get hurt.

That would hurt me more than anything else, (Y/N).

So for my own safety, and yours…

This is the last time I’ll write to you.

I have to move on, or else those pieces of my soul?

They’re already in splinters, but if I keep going like this, they’ll be nothing more than powder, and I don’t think I could go on like that, yeah?

I love you, forever and always.

Kei.

Ha. Guess what.

What I said in the last letter?

A fucking lie.

I physically. Can’t stop.

The thought of not writing to you breaks me more than the thought of never being with you, and that’s a milestone I never thought I’d be able to pass.

So here I am again.

You’ve already heard my entire life story.

I wish I could be there to hear yours.

I saw you tonight, standing on your balcony. You know, the stars were so bright tonight. Reminded me of your eyes the first time I flew with you around the whole field, yeah?

Sparkling. You never stop sparkling, do you?

You know…do you ever wonder who your soulmate is?

I know that the world is cruel. I know that we don’t know exactly who our soulmates are until one of us dies.

But…do you ever think about it?

Who’s out there, just waiting for you?

Because I do.

And sometimes, when I’m at rock bottom, I’ll imagine that we’re soulmates.

I’ll create scenarios in my head. We’d be happily married. I’d spoon-feed you ice cream.

We’d play tickle wars with my feathers, have pillow fights, binge TV shows.

We’d watch horror movies, and you’d hide your face in my chest the whole time.

But…those scenarios always make me feel worse after I wake up. Because they’re not real.

And I…I so desperately want them to be real.

But you can’t always get what you wish for, yeah?

Going on a big mission soon. Undercover. Cool, right?

You’d be proud of me, I think, if you saw me.

I have to go now. But I’ll come back safe for you, yeah?

I know you won’t wait for me. I want you to wait for me, but…I know it’s not in your best interests. Probably not in mine either.

Sometimes I try and convince myself that it’s okay to be selfish. I want what I want, and you only live once, right?

But then I realize that you’re the one I’d be putting in danger.

And that’s when I realize you can’t ever stay with me.

It’s okay. I’ll watch from afar.

I don’t think I’ll ever be able to stop loving you.

Yours,

Kei.

You put the letter down and rummaged through the second crate, desperately trying to find the last letter that he wrote.

Hey birdie. Long time no see. Ha.

13 years and I still can’t forget about you. Doesn’t seem normal, does it?

I’m convinced that we’re soulmates, but then again, I may have convinced myself. You know…I used to hate the idea of soulmates. Sharing your life with another person, seen as incomplete without them?

Sharing my soul?

Bunch of crap, right? I like making my own decisions. Wasn’t ever much of a rule-stickler. But…you know…I’m starting to warm up to that idea.

But only with you.

And that’s why I’m convinced that we are, in fact, soulmates.

You don’t know how my heart breaks every time I see you. Manual is a good guy. I know he’s treating you well.

That’s the only reason I’m letting you stay married to him, really. If it was anyone else, I would’ve busted their ass.

But…you deserve someone like him. Someone who can give you their all.

Someone who, if you date them…they won’t lead you into danger.

Soulmates are a finicky concept, yeah?

So…I guess we’ll never know ‘till one of us dies.

Yours,

Kei.

Epilogue

Rainy winter days were the saddest days of the year.

Especially today.

Strolling through the park, you held a black umbrella in one hand and clutched a glass case tightly in the other.

You stopped in front of a marble headstone.

“Hey there,” your voice cracked.

“Miss me?”

A whistling wind, scattering powdered snow and frozen rain across the landscape, was your only answer.

“Kei, I–” You collapsed onto your knees, uncaring of whether or not the cold would seep in. It couldn’t get colder than your soul now, anyways.

“I…I didn’t go to your funeral.” Tears rolled down your cheeks, leaving a silvery sheen in their wake. “There were too many people and I…I couldn’t handle it.”

“But…Kei…” You choked out an ugly sob. “Why didn’t you send me the fucking letters?”

“I don’t care how dangerous your work was. You can’t get anywhere without taking risks in life, Kei!” You screamed at the marble façade, willing it to crumble.

“You can’t–”

“You can’t make my decisions for me!”

“I should be the one who gets to choose who I love!”

Your screams attracted the attention of several bystanders, who quickly averted their eyes and walked away when they saw your distraught state.

“You shouldn’t have tried to choose for me!”

“And now–”

“You’re dead, Kei! What am I supposed to do now?” Your tears pooled on the frozen ground, marking little dents in the snow.

You slammed your fists into the ground, the glass case in your hand cracking.

Another ugly sob made its way out.

“Kei–” you whimpered.

The glass shattered, splintering into thousands of tiny pieces, each fragment glittering like diamonds.

Slivers found their way into your palm.

Crimson blood, the color of the worn-out feather freed from its enclosure, splattered the snow-white ground.

“Kei,” you whispered, carefully placing the feather on top of the chiseled marble.

“Wherever you are, I hope you’re happy.”

Masterlist

[steve0discusses]

Yugioh S5 Ep 20: Pharaoh’s Cool New Trick

Digging my way through quite a pile of commission work (funny how these things only come all at once or not at all), nearing the light at the end of the tunnel, was looking forward to some free time to catch up on my many little side projects when I was asked to take off for a weekend to do some cat-sitting to which I would NEVER say no to a cat, so like...Rip this blog I guess, we only update like once a week nowadays, but what do you do?

That’s right, play Puzzles and Dragons! The only phone game worth paying any attention to! Where they just released Pegasus on their Yugioh Collab and he looks pretty great!

So I’m just gonna take a second for some art appreciation, because the Puzzles and Dragons art team is just A++++ honestly, and yes, I did pull 13 times to get a Pegasus in my monster box, and yes, he is a completely insane team leader that is absolutely broken when paired with Yugi (the numbers are so satisfying) but...look at him. He looks so good!

(also I finally got Joey Wheeler, and so now my gatcha cravings are settled. And, don’t worry, I play this game so much that I was there during Christmas when they offered like a bajillion stones for free so I didn’t actually use real money on this.)

Now PAD also released a Weevil and Rex, and I don’t know why, and neither does the art team because they still look pretty good but in comparison to all the mains, they sure do looks like just some shorty guys in some casuals.

though I gotta admit, I want to learn how the hell this art team does swooshy effects, because man, that would make my art so much better to just have flames violently exploding out of all my art. Why am I not doing that more often? I have the technology.

anyway, I didn’t bother trying to pull them. Maybe I’ll accidentally pull them when they eventually release a Duke Devlin. (also, RIP to the fact that Roland will probably never be in Puzzles and Dragons but like...I can only send them so many polite letters covered in stickers pretending I’m some 10 year old child and writing in my broken Hiragana “Roland in PAD?”. Thems the breaks. (They also might not remember who Roland is.))

Shoutouts to the card that Weevil is holding that is censoring this nipple on the booby spider, PS.

So because this is not actually a Puzzles and Dragons blog, and it’s been ten eons since I regularly updated so I could remember episode to episode...where the hell were we?

That’s right, we’re on an island now. This show’s wonderful obsession with evil islands (and spoiler, this is one of the few Yugioh Islands that doesn’t explode at the end. Mostly because Kaiba isn’t here to do it or this place would be cinder)

(read more island stuff under the cut)

Anyway, after announcing “hey guys! Screw islands!” Yugi immediately collapses and without any warning.

Apparently the armor is a big ol parasite, which is something that Yugi is so used to at this point that he refuses to admit that this is a problem. Just normal Muto stuff, refusing to tell anyone that he has a serious illness going on underneath that giant mass of hair.

(the sailor moon vibes coming off this weird orb energy)

Sort of feels like a call back to S1 when Yugi was clearly possessed and everyone else was like “He acting weird to you?” except it’s S5 and everyone has learned to never trust Yugi when he says he’s fine and they are responding like he is about to die. Which is correct.

Outside of the cave falls this scroll that is...glowing, I guess. So they open it up and get a bunch of hieroglyphs that give them the “riddle of light” and like youknow...it’s riddle stuff.

They’re doing this riddle for “wings.” And it’s like...everyone’s monster here has a set of wings or an ability to fly. Every single monster except for I dunno, flaming swordsman? Hell, Yugi himself had two sets of wings when he fused with Dark Magician (which was weird, and I still don’t like to think about what technically was going on there.) But we have to go and get ourselves even more wings.

Weirdly, Joey turns to Tea and does something that in any other show would be completely normal. He was like “you want to stay here with Yugi, don’t you?” and it was the first time Joey has ever actually addressed the fact that Tea and Yugi are close. Uncharted territory. I was amazed at the amount of casual shipping that is happening here. It’s almost like a normal ass relationship.

So the boys decide to go off, and be boys and tackle this themselves. And they shouldn’t have, because Tea is smart for this group, and also has the only healing spell.

Like if you’re playing D+D you wouldn’t typically leave your only healer behind. Just saying.

Also like...Grandpa Muto went with them? I guess he’d have to since he’s the translator but also...kind of weird to leave your grandson dying in a cave, but maybe that’s just the Muto lifestyle.

Do not be fooled by my caps, no one has addressed the Bakura in the puzzle for 3 seasons. I’m starting to think this show will never address the Bakura in the puzzle. Which honestly, that would be hilarious if they made a big deal out of that plot point and then couldn’t use it in the end.

And speaking of plot points that kind of come out of nowhere and don’t make full sense with the continuity of the show--Joey has regressed back to the 4th grade.

Hey show? What?

So like if you love Joey, this is not the arc for you, because this arc he is reduced to a Himbo and nothing else. Straight up didn’t know what an echo is, but is very strong and pretty, I guess.

This inevitably happens with any TV show becuase different people make different parts, and I’ve brought up before that sometimes it feels like some teams only have loose post-it notes of what any character should be like at any given point (ESPECIALLY with Seto Kaiba’s timeline) but like...

...Personally I’m mot so fond of this interpretation of Joey, kind of ignores Joey’s best traits, and makes Tristan look way too smart in comparison (and like I always pinned Tristan to be the Himbo of the group, but maybe it’s because they give Tristan so little else to do?)

And like don’t get me wrong, Joey’s a dumbass a lot of the time and needs to get corrected by his pals...but...to the point he doesn’t know what an echo is? He’s a dumbass in a High School student sort of way, youknow?

Anyway, they get down to this big ravine, and they have to destroy this stone while the light passes over it. Kind of feels like a Breath of the Wild shrine quest, actually. In fact, I think Breath of the Wild recycled the shadow/sunlight pathing quest like 4 or 5 times. (I love Breath of the Wild to death but boy did they run out of ideas at the end there.)

They have to fight a glass monster and it’s kind of like...do you know the game Balls 3D? probably not, but it looked like a bunch of random shapes stuck together like a 90′s animation. They basically went to war with shapes.

Pure Himbo energy, has several pokemon, but punches for his pokemon instead of using them. A power move if I ever saw one.

Youknow that would make pokemon a lot more interesting if you could like throw out your pikachu, and then choose to just physically run up to your opponents Eevee and sock it in the jaw. Raise of hands--I know you all would love a version of pokemon like that. Let Ash Ketchum punch a Ratata.

Bro has informed me that Ash does do something like this in the anime. But I’m not talking about the anime, I’m talking about the video game. Give me the option to physically combat my rival. This is what I want, Pokemon.

They discover a way to break the monolith, and the show thinks we’re like actually 7 years old (because the show is Y7, although I forget because it deals with so many dark themes) so the show is going to hold on to this puzzle for a while...just to fill time. And it’s fine because we gotta switch over to Pharaoh anyway.

Yami has this dream again. He attempts to fuse with Dark magician to overcome the dream, but alas, he is still not strong enough.

Yugi wakes up in this murky cave while Tea is out washing out like...some rag? (he’s also still got a rag, so I guess multiple rags were required for how sweaty Yugi is.)

Yugi says “I feel like I’m a new man!” a lot in this episode, and every time he calls himself a man like he’s some sort of adult it’s very funny to me.

And then this plot lore dropped.

I mean I guess inevitably it had to happen...

But man, end of an era. It was freakin hilarious while it lasted: that Pharaoh refused to read ancient Egyptian because it’s like 2002 and he is a High Schooler living in Japan and he actually doesn’t WANT to resolve the mystery of the puzzle. Maybe the people who made this arc don’t know about how in S2 and S3, the fact Pharaoh couldn’t read Marik’s back tatt was like...a really big issue. He couldn’t read the God card, he couldn’t even read that massive tablet that read “HEY PHARAOH THIS IS LITERALLY YOU”. KAIBA had to tell him how to read the God card for him. Freakin Seto “Magic is a lie” Kaiba had to tell him how to use the God Card because Pharaoh couldn’t read it.

But like...Pharaoh finally gave in at some point after the world was devoured by the Leviathan, and before Kaiba finished building Kaibaland (which was already built in S1 but wtv)

The timelines on this show have always been a mishmash...but this one is just like...

...show are you trying to convince me that at any point in this show after season Zero, Pharaoh had any idea what he was doing? Did he sap that brain energy straight out of Joey Wheeler so he could do this?

Wow.

(secretly hoping he forgets how to read Egyptian after this arc is over and the show goes back to the other development team)

Pharaohs reasoning is that, if this is the riddle of the light.....

....then where is the riddle of darkness????????????

and when Tea was like “Pharaoh that is not even remotely logic. Omg it’s so bright outside, lets go back to gross cave.” and Pharaoh was like “Tea! You got it!” and she was like “What the hell are you talking about?”

Not gonna lie, I saw the Orichalcos green, and I got concerned.

Anyway, Yugi gets very frustrated and was like “ugh, lets go save em. They’re gonna die (again.)” and marches down there as if he didn’t pass out an hour ago.

And he fuses with Dark Magician again while everyone else (including his grandpa) was like “Yugi are you freakin kidding me? The suit freakin kills you omg! Tea you had one freakin job!”

And then we get the plot twist that...I mean it makes sense but it was choreographed in a confusing way.

And out of no where this guy shows up again:

So this mysterious man shows up and says “If you don’t succeed you have to live here forever” which...nice...that would probably save the world a lot of problems if Yami got locked away and took his OP puzzle with him. And then this man also says “if you do succeed you become VERY POWERFUL” and Yami was like. “...”

This whole episode had a theme to it, where Tristan and Joey were trying to prove that they could do things on their own and without Yugi’s help. And honestly...felt a little bit misplaced. Yami’s the same guy who murdered Yugi last season with the Orichalcos so like...

...I mean he is probably more reliable than Tristan who once died and turned into a robot monkey for 10ish episodes.

and then they flew into a glowing door.

Folks, this was wild to look at.

This is wild.

And at this point I closed Photoshop and thought I was done. But then I looked at my timeline on the video and was like...wait...there’s more?

and I’m really glad I kept watching because it went back to Alex, who...is apparently just still at those steps in this haunted ass Pyramid.

Now we’re watching Yugioh.

I forgot for a second when they turned Joey into a Himbo and made Pharaoh literate, but we’re back. I mean...

...look at the liner art on this adult man.

So...I posit the question...has Alex spent the last 2-3 episodes doing nothing but applying eyeliner to his face in the dark? Because he absolutely has. And honestly, the vibe of being in a spooky haunted pyramid with barely any light, just applying eyeliner down the edge of your face...that’s a Yugioh vibe, if I ever saw one.

This arc is wild. Anyway, next episode we do even more fetch quests and riddles? Just going to guess now that we probably will.

(and for those new here, this is a link so you can read them from the top. Which, since we’re in S5, means you got like...hours of Yugioh content to read through. Enjoy the rewards of my weird hobby.)

https://steve0discusses.tumblr.com/tagged/yugioh/chrono

[moonofthenight]

Skip a Beat

Part One

*

Credit for O’Knutzy goes to @lumosinlove

*

Thank you again, love @spookypotato

*

Same CW’s as before! Enjoy the little “date” ;)

Chapter Three Part Two

The not overthinking didn’t quite work out. He has been standing in front of his wardrobe for the last 10 minutes, thinking about what to wear. He thought about calling June, but that would be too embarrassing and his feet would fall off any minute so he just pulled out his favourite black mom-jeans, a white T-Shirt and threw it on. His hair looked good enough to go out, so he grabbed the gray jeans jacket and his white converse, as well as his keys, wallet and phone before he jogged down the stairs to get into his car.

Sid’s was a 15-minute drive away from his apartment and it looked like the typical Italian restaurant. It was warm inside and soft Italian songs could be heard over the chatter and laughter.

Leo and Logan were already waiting for Finn, sitting at their usual table in the back.  

“Harzy, over here!”

Finn turned at Logan’s voice when he stepped into the restaurant and he could see them waving him over.

“Harzy?”, he said when he was close enough to be heard and slid onto the bench next to Leo.

“We are professional hockey players, don’t expect us to not come up with 100 nicknames”, Leo said, bumping his shoulder playfully.

“You are what now?”

“Oh right, we didn’t tell you. Sometimes I forget there are people that don’t watch ice hockey. Yeah, we play for the Gryffindor Lions. I am a goalie and Logan’s a right wing.”

Finn looked very confused and Logan smiled.

“You have no idea what we are talking about do you?”

Finn shook his head.

“Come to a game with us. Then you will see”, Logan said with a genuine tone in his voice.

“Maybe.”

They ordered their food and drinks- or well, Logan and Leo ordered the food and drinks, both of them insisting to pick for him.

“How come you ended up in Gryff? Your accent sounds different.”

“You have time? It’s going to be a long story.”

Both boys looked at him expectingly. Finn didn’t know why he offered to tell them; he normally didn’t like to talk about it, but something about those two made him trust them.

“Well, I was born and raised in New York, lived there my whole life and it’s where I started dancing. I went to the All Star Studios as a child and eventually started studying Classical Ballet and Dance Performance as well as standard dances and I made my degree.”

“But- ugh, it’s still difficult to talk about it, but I was working too hard. I was at the top of my career and I pushed myself, didn’t listen to my body and as it was bound to happen, I injured myself. Badly. So badly that I needed to give up my career and well, I couldn’t stand to stay in New York, sooo I moved here. Sorry, that was probably not interesting for you.”

Finn’s eyes where everywhere but their faces, he felt a bit ashamed.

“Don’t be silly, we asked. I’m sorry about your injury”, Leo said with such a soft voice it made Finn want to cry.

He was about to respond, but was interrupted by the waiter.

“Alright boys, pizza tonno for all of you.”

Finn waited patiently for it to cool down, driving Leo and Logan mad. He eventually picked up a slice and instantly moaned when he took a bite, causing Logan to choke on his drink.

“Oh my god, this is delicious.”

When he opened his eyes again, both boys looked incredibly smug.

“Told you.”

They ate in silence for a while, enjoying the food. By the time Leo spoke again, the pizza was almost finished.

“You know Lo, we are actually getting better at dancing. I’m looking forward to the wedding.”

“Me too, it’s going to be amazing.”

Logan took Leo’s hand, starring at him lovingly. Finn felt his heart sinking. Wedding.

“Oh, I- congratulations”, Finn pressed out with a tight smile.

Leo’s head snapped towards him.

“What? Oh no, our friends are getting married! Two of the team, you’ll love them.”

And suddenly, Finn felt like he could breathe again. He shouldn’t care, but he did and it was not good.

“Okay who is up for some cocktails?”, Logan said, clapping his hands once.

“Let’s pick one for each other!”

“Oh no”, Finn shook his head rapidly.

“Yes, absolutely.”

Before Finn could protest, Logan waved the waitress over to them.

“I pick one for Finn, Finn you pick for Leo and Leo you can pick for me but make a good choice.”

It was almost adorable what a scene they made out of this. All of them pointed secretly at the drinks, smirking. The waitress gave them a small nod and moved behind the bar.

“Let’s play 20 questions while we wait”, Logan said, looking Finn in the eyes, waggling like a puppy, “We will ask you 10 and you can ask us 10, okay?”

How could Finn say no to that?

“Fine. But I’ll start. How long are you playing for the NHL?”

“I’m only one year in but Lo has been playing for two.”

“So, you two met through hockey?”

“Yes.” Leo grinned, pressing a kiss to Logan’s knuckles.

“Oh, I never asked. How old are you?”

“I’m 24 and Leo is 19, the little baby.”

“Wait. How can you be 19 but be like, twice of Logan’s height?”

If looks could kill, Finn would be dead now, but Leo laughed loudly, throwing his head back, tears making their way over his face.

“Finn, you are on thin ice right now”, he managed to say between his laughter.

It made Finn laugh too and he blew Logan a kiss, who only scoffed in response.

“It’s cute.”

Finn regretted saying it, the warmth creeping up his neck, but Logan just smiled at him.

“Ehm alright, I have three questions in one next. What is your go to work out song, why and what do you normally do while listening to it?”

“I normally just press shuffle on my playlist because I am horrible at making decisions” Leo grinned, answering fast.

Logan thought for a while before giving his answer.

“I would say Guns and Ships from Hamilton because it’s hella motivating. I warm up to it.”

Finn gasped, his eyes starting to shine.

“You like Broadway?”, he practically screamed, getting really excited.

Leo groaned next to him.

“No. Not you too!”

Both heads snapped towards him, looking rather offended by what the blonde had said.

“But it’s so good!” they said in unisono.

Then looked back at each other and high fived over the table.

“Alright, next questions. Do you have siblings and how many do you have?”

Leo was the first to answer again.

“I am an only child but not spoiled! Looking at you Lo.”

“Yeah, yeah, sure. Whatever helps you sleep at night. I have three sisters; I love them all.”

Finn nodded, “Okay a difficult one. If you could go anywhere in the world, where would it be?”

“Italy", both said at the same time.

“It’s a bit of a dream of ours.”

“Well, not so difficult as it seems. Last one! Favourite movie?”

“Tough. I’ll go with Aladdin”, Logan said.

“Aladdin?!”

“I grew up with three sisters, what did you expect?!”

Leo shook his head fondly.

“Mine is Pride and Prejudice.”

“Oohh, I love that one.”

Logan slammed his hand on the table.

“Our turn”, he said, grinning excitedly.

“What is your favourite colour?”

“Blue.”

“What did you want to be as a child”, Leo blurred out next.

“A dancer, actually. My grandma took me to the ballet every now and then.”

Leo looked at him, smiling.

“Dog or cat?”

“Dogs. Puppies.”

“You have one right in front of you.”

Leo and Finn laughed at that.

“Do you do anything else besides teaching to dance?”

“I’m studying English literature but just for funsies.”

“Left-handed or right-handed?”

“Right.”

“Do you have a sibling?”

“I do. Alex, he is my older brother. Jesus why are you going through those so fa-“

He was cut off by the waitress for the second time this night.

“Three cocktails for the three gentlemen.”

Finn eyed his one skeptically when it was placed in front of him.

“I’m scared”, he admitted.

“Just drink it!”, Logan grinned wickedly.

He held it up, sniffed it first before taking a sip, starting to cough immediately.

“Logan! For fucks sake. I am a dancer; I don’t drink alcohol! You need to warn me. Fuck, is this gasoline?”

“No, tequila”, Leo laughed.

Logan was unable to breathe, let alone talk. He was bend over, laughing so hard he was nearly wheezing, causing the other two to laugh even more.

-----

Finn went home happy that night, laying in his bed, thinking about Leo’s curls and eyes, and dimples - god those dimples.

But right as he was drifting off to sleep another name popped up in his mind – Logan’s name.

Oh no.

[stolen-pen-name23]

Can you do 15 with Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan? Thanks!

Hello Anon! Of course, I can! Thank you for the prompt // from these prompts. Prompts are open for now, but it will take me a while to get to all of them since I have about 20 sitting in my inbox at the moment oops.

Once again, I lack self-control. Here's 2.4k words on Ao3 or you can read the whole thing below the cut! Here ya go:

---

Please just shut up.

The stray thought was locked behind Obi-Wan’s shields, but he still felt bad for having it. It was not the senator’s fault that Obi-Wan’s head felt like it was being beaten rhythmically by a hammer.

Still, the senator droned on and on and his baritone voice reverberated through Obi-Wan’s head. He just wanted this mission to be over already.

He straightened and ignored the sideways glance Qui-Gon was aiming at him.

Obi-Wan tried to pay attention to the peace talks. He really did. But the fluorescent lights were blinding and even keeping his eyes open was a torturous experience.

Qui-Gon nudged against his shields — a question without the tangible form of words, but after the past few years of working with him, Obi-Wan knew exactly what he was asking.

He gave an imperceptible nod, assuring his Master that he’s alright. Or he will be. At least, he’ll be alright for now. He can complete the mission, which was all that really mattered anyway.

Obi-Wan told himself all of these things, though he was not finding himself all the convincing.

The words that were volleyed back and forth throughout the talks might as well have been in a different language for all Obi-Wan was able to glean from them. So lost was he, that he didn’t realize the senators were clearing out until Qui-Gon was gently squeezing his shoulder.

“What’s wrong, Obi-Wan?” he asked quietly.

“Are we done here?” Obi-Wan asked, trying not to sound too hopeful.

“No, not quite. The senators are taking a break before the final vote.”

“Oh.”

“Are you feeling alright?” Qui-Gon asked. Concern was evident in the furrow of his brow.

“I’m fine,” Obi-Wan said.

“You’re not. But if you’re not going to tell me what’s wrong, I’m not going to argue with you.”

Irritation cast itself from Qui-Gon’s side of their bond. Obi-Wan felt the pinpricks of shame color his cheeks. “I’m fine…” he murmured. “Just a little dizzy.”

The irritation vanished and was replaced with worry.

“I’ll fetch a healer.”

“No!” Obi-Wan said, his voice echoing loudly through the conference room. He tried to ignore the stares of the senators that lingered in the room. “No,” he whispered. “It’s not bad. It’s just a migraine. I can handle it.”

Qui-Gon hummed, his eyes scanning Obi-Wan’s body, looking for any indication that he was lying, or hiding parts of the truth. Seemingly finding nothing else amiss, he nodded. “Why don’t you go back to our room and rest? I’ll be there soon.”

“I can stay!” Obi-Wan insisted. “I can complete the mission.”

“The mission is already complete Padawan,” Qui-Gon said gently. “All we have left is the vote, which you do not have to be present for.”

“Oh,” Obi-Wan said again. He weighed his desire to be the dutiful Padawan against his desire to go lie down in a dark, silent room.

“Go,” Qui-Gon urged as if he could sense Obi-Wan weighing his options. “Get some rest, Obi-Wan.”

Decision made, Obi-Wan nodded. He regretted the motion as it sent his head spinning, but he steadied himself and made his way for the exit with his head held high and his shoulders straight.

As soon as he was in the empty hallway, he let the guise fall away. His shoulders slumped and his paces became uneven and unsure. He certainly hoped he was walking towards the guest rooms, but he could not be sure.

Ornate statues and billowing tapestries decorated every winding hallway he turned down. He would have liked to have stopped and admired the art were it not for the splitting headache and all-consuming dizziness. Every footstep he took seemed to reverberate through his whole body and pain echoed through every nerve ending.

He couldn’t think. He couldn’t see. His vision was tunneling and his stomach was turning and then he was falling, falling, falling down to the cold, marble floor.

The air fled his lungs at the shock of the impact and he gasped pathetically on the floor.

Get up.

His body did not obey his commands. Even if he did get up, Obi-Wan was forced to admit to himself that he was completely and thoroughly lost. He had no idea if he was going in the right direction or if he was even in the correct wing.

He did not know where he was.

It was quite embarrassing for a Jedi to be lost, Obi-Wan thought to himself. Normally, he would just follow his intuition, but his intuition was drowned underneath every wave of agony that crashed into him.

Get up.

Placing a palm on the cool tile, Obi-Wan tried to force himself to his feet, but everything was spinning. His shaky arms gave out and he fell hard back onto the floor.

He lay there, defeated. He couldn’t get up. He couldn’t do anything except feel everything.

A familiar voice, though it sounded more concerned than usual, was calling his name. The voice echoed from hallways away.

“Master,” Obi-Wan responded weakly. His voice did not carry like Qui-Gon’s, and the calling continued.

“Obi-Wan!” A pause, like he was awaiting a response. “Obi-Wan!”

“Master?” Obi-Wan called out again, his voice gaining a small amount of strength at the prospect of being found.

Footsteps thundered towards him and he curled up into a tight ball, covering his ears with his hands. The footsteps slowed and quieted.

“Obi-Wan,” Qui-Gon said breathlessly. Warm hands were pulling at his own, pulling them away from his face, and Obi-Wan blinked up at Qui-Gon.

“Master? Where are we?”

“We’re in the western wing. What are you doing out here anyway? I told you to go to the room.”

“Tried to go to the room,” Obi-Wan said. “Couldn’t find it.”

“Yes, it seems you took a wrong turn somewhere, Padawan.”

“Didn’t know what way.”

“Clearly,” Qui-Gon said. “When I went to the room and you weren’t there…. Well, I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Guilt only added to the nausea roiling in Obi-Wan’s stomach. “‘m sorry,” he said.

“It’s alright, I’ve found you.”

“Don’t feel good.”

This time, Qui-Gon was the one to look guilty. “Come on, Padawan. Let’s get you to bed.”

Before Obi-Wan could respond or even try to get up on his own again, he was being lifted into the air. He squeezed his eyes in a vain attempt to stop the spinning. “Don’t… don’t feel good,” he repeated, sounding like a youngling to his own ears, but no longer caring.

“I know, Padawan,” Qui-Gon soothed. “We’re almost there. You’ll be okay.”

“Hurts. My… my head...”

“I know. We’re almost there,” Qui-Gon repeated.

“Too old,” Obi-Wan mumbled.

“Are you actually calling me old right now?” Qui-Gon asked incredulously.

“No, no. Me. I’m too old. Fifteen. Too old to be carried around.”

“Hush. You are a padawan, my padawan, and you are ill. I will carry you as long as you need to be carried.”

“Still too old,” Obi-Wan muttered.

When they made it to their room, Qui-Gon gave him the dignity of standing on his own two feet while he unlocked the door.

Obi-Wan staggered into the room, Qui-Gon close to his side.

“What do you need, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked.

“I need…” Obi-Wan cut himself off as the nausea he’d been ignoring made itself known. He put a hand over his mouth and stumbled to the refresher. Collapsing to his knees, he leaned over the toilet and threw up the contents of his stomach.

Qui-Gon hovered over him like a shadow, unable to do anything except be there. Obi-Wan was grateful for that at least.

When he was done, Obi-Wan slumped over on the tile. He was getting quite sick of tile floors, though the cool temperature did feel nice on his forehead.

He felt Qui-Gon’s presence get farther away and he chanced a glance over to where he had been. “Master?”

Obi-Wan lay there, weakened and helpless, on the ground. Obi-Wan didn’t know how long he waited for but he closed his eyes and then opened them to see Qui-Gon crouched down by him, holding a change of clothes in hand.

“Here,” Qui-Gon said. “Get into something more comfortable and then you can get some sleep.”

“A’right,” Obi-Wan slurred, taking the soft sleep tunics in hand.

Qui-Gon left him alone again and Obi-Wan slowly, painfully eased his way into the fresh tunics. He shuffled out of the fresher, where Qui-Gon was waiting for him before he could fall over again.

He didn’t realize he had been picked up again until he was being set down in the plush bed.

“Thanks, Master,” Obi-Wan mumbled as his body finally let him get the healing rest it so badly needed.

****

Obi-Wan awoke to a dim room with a cool, wet rag on his forehead. He blinked tiredly and rubbed his eyes.

“You’re awake,” Qui-Gon observed plainly.

“How… how long was I asleep?”

“About 16 hours.”

“What?!” Obi-Wan exclaimed, sitting up quickly in bed. The wet rag dropped into his lap. His head spun at the quick movement, but after a moment, he realized the pain was not as intense as before.

“Easy, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said, gently pushing him back down. “You have not missed anything important.”

“We… we were supposed to go home,” Obi-Wan said.

“Yes, well, I didn’t want to put you through more travel, given the state you were in, and the government of this planet was kind enough to give us another two days in their senate guest quarters.”

“Oh, well I can go now. I’m feeling better. We don’t have to—”

“We can wait a little longer, Padawan. You may not feel as bad as you did, but you are still unwell. I can sense it.”

“I’m okay,” Obi-Wan said but there was no fight behind the words.

“I know. But there’s nothing wrong with taking a moment to rest when we need one.”

Obi-Wan’s cheeks flushed and he broke eye contact with Qui-Gon. They sat together in silence — Obi-Wan staring out into space and Qui-Gon messing with the sleeve of his robe.

“You’ve gotten taller,” Qui-Gon mused, looking back up at Obi-Wan.

“Have I?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Yes, you have. Heavier too. You’re much harder to carry around these days.”

“Sorry,” Obi-Wan said sheepishly. “I could have walked.”

“Oh really? Is that why I found you laying on the ground then?”

“I just needed a moment,” Obi-Wan said, feeling defensive.

“You needed more than that, Padawan.”

Obi-Wan looked down at his hands. He nervously ran his fingers along the seam of the blanket. It was blue and soft, and from the looks of it, expensive. Though it was made of a fine textile, it lacked the comfort and familiarity of his own bed with his own blankets, but it served its purpose well enough. Still, Obi-Wan wanted to go home more than he wanted almost anything else.

“This was a bad one wasn’t it?” Qui-Gon asked, breaking the silence between them.

Obi-Wan nodded slightly.

“They’ve been getting worse,” Qui-Gon observed.

It was true. Obi-Wan’s migraines had gone from random occurrences to routine events. They were always unpleasant, but this one was particularly debilitating.

“I… I think it’s because… well…” Obi-Wan trailed off.

“Because of what?”

Obi-Wan bit his lip. He didn’t want to say it. Saying it would make it real. Putting words to the images that plague his mind would lend validity to them — empower them. Obi-Wan just wanted to bury them.

“Tell me, Padawan,” Qui-Gon said.

“I’ve been having dreams… visions I think.”

Qui-Gon straightened. “Visions?”

“I… I don’t know. I think so.”

“Tell me about them,” Qui-Gon urged. “We can work through them together.”

Tears pricked Obi-Wan’s eyes but he blinked them away.

“Padawan,” Qui-Gon said. “Please, maybe I can help you.”

“Can you make them stop?” Obi-Wan asked. It was a childish ask, he knew, but he had to ask.

“No,” Qui-Gon said. “But I can help you try to understand them. I can help you meditate through them.”

This was not the answer Obi-Wan was looking for. He tried to rein his disappointment in behind his shields. He wanted them to just go away. But nothing was ever that simple for Obi-Wan.

“I see such terrible things,” Obi-Wan whispered, his voice cracking on the words. “Awful, terrible things.”

“Visions can be misleading, Padawan. Don’t put your faith in them.”

“What am I supposed to put my faith in?”

“The Force.”

“The Force is what gives me these visions,” Obi-Wan argued.

“And if your visions come to pass, you have to have faith that the Force will guide you through them.”

“I don’t want that. I don’t want to go through them at all.”

“And perhaps you won’t,” Qui-Gon said. “The future is in motion. You need to focus on what is around you — not that which is ahead.” He was so sure — so sure that the Force would help him chart his course, that his convictions began to ease Obi-Wan’s tired mind ever so slightly.

Even still, he clung to some of his doubts.

“It’s hard.” It was a lame response, Obi-Wan knew, but it was the only one he had.

“No one ever said the path of a Jedi was a simple one.” The familiar glint in Qui-Gon’s eye appeared — shining with the strength of his faith.

Obi-Wan tried to smile at that, but it came out as more of a grimace. “Guess not.”

“You don’t have to tell me what happens in your visions,” Qui-Gon said after a pause. “But if you ever want to, I promise I will do my best to help you through them. As a Jedi, you are never alone.”

“Of course, Master,” Obi-Wan said, swallowing thickly.

Obi-Wan didn’t like keeping things from his Master, but there was no way he was going to tell him about all the dark and terrible things he has been seeing flash behind his eyes. He was not going to tell him about the way he wakes up sweating and panting in the dead of night as though he had just been running for his life. He was not going to tell him the way he had mastered silent cries of despair so as not to pull Qui-Gon from his sleep. He was not going to tell him that in his visions, he is older, yes, but not old enough.

No. Much too young.

How could Obi-Wan tell him? How could he tell him about the visions that, if they were to come true, would mean that Qui-Gon would not have much longer to keep his promise?

He can’t tell him. He can’t.

If Obi-Wan kept his visions to himself, if he did not speak them into existence, then maybe, just maybe, his darkest dreams would remain just that: dreams.

[alwaysthrowsscissors]

Fic Writer Questions!

Thanks for the tag @venhedish dont mind if I do darlin'! Loved reading your answers too!

1) How many works do you have on AO3?

17 and I started May 2020

2) What's your total AO3 word count?

84,430! Sooooo close to that 100k milestone I just need to get off my writing hiatus since I have a beefy one shot WIP and a couple kink-meme prompt fills started that will get me to the finish line!

3) How many fandoms have you written for and what are they?

On Ao3/as an adult, just Supernatural.

4) What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Well Jung – This was my first and I’m still super surprised it took off so well considering all the head-hopping. I also hadn’t written fiction since high school so it’s pretty technically rough!

I Can’t Forget the Time and Place Where We Just Met – Who doesn’t love a good old-fashioned double amnesia fic! This was a SPN Masquerade fill and it was super fun to write!

Kiss the Cook – Another SPN Masquerade fill inspired by Dean in an apron in S15. Kitchen fucking is fun fucking!

Iodine and Stitches – 3/5 SPN Masquerade fills that I did fall 2020. Seriously such a fun event to participate in I cant recommend it enough. This is one my only fics with a serious tone throughout which is tough for this clown.

Double Jeopardy – Written for my buddy after finding out she has an intelligence kink! Cut to us giggling about Sam losing his damn mind when he plays Jeopardy with clever Dean!

5) Do you respond to comments, why or why not?

Listen…I can’t fully express how much comments give me LIFE! I want to know what you liked about my silly musings, I want to know your fav part, I want to know that I gave you a boner! I'll take a button smash, I'll take an emoticon. Anything, everything! I make a point to always respond back to show my appreciation for people taking time out of their day to make my day.

6) What's the fic you've written with the angstiest ending?

Without a shadow of a doubt Yesterday Don’t Matter if It’s Gone about what would happen if Sam and Dean hooked up during Mystery Spot and exacerbated Sam’s downward spiral during the months of Tuesdays. I write a lot of humour and this sucker is humourless PLUS has an unhappy ending! Weeee!

8) Do you write crossovers? If so what is the craziest one you've written?

Never have but not opposed to the idea.

9) Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Nope, I’ve been pretty fortunate but I also write pretty tame shit. So if I start dabbling more in the archive warnings it may change. I do have a fun multichap wincestiel non-con WIP in the works 😈

10) Do you write smut? If so what kind?

AHAHAHAHAHA I’d say a good 90-95% of my 84k wordcount is smut! All M/M all explicit! Fun times over at Casa Scissors 😏. I do have some upcoming stuff that’s more plot heavy though which I’m looking forward to.

11) Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I fucking hope not that would be a big bummer.

12) Have you ever had a fic translated?

Yes! And as a noob I had to pinch myself, it still fucking blows my mind! A lovely Ao3 user Yigelulu translated I Can’t Forget the Time and Place Where We Just Met into Chinese. It was so incredibly cool to see my words in another language and a great honour that they liked my fic enough to put in all that work!

13) Have you ever co-written a fic before? Yup! Turn Your Head and Cough with my budbud Wearingdeantoprom. Dean gets his prostate rubbed for the first time at the doctors office.

14) What's your all time favorite ship?

Wincest wincest all the wincest! My brain is infected and there is no cure! I am a pro-shipper though ship and let ship my dudes. I also dabble in wincestiel and LOVE any combination of winkline and may write it one day. I don’t really read much from other fandoms. I’ve read some George/Fred (I like brother fucking ok?) and I love me some Jess Mariano/Dean Forester over in the Gilmore Girls camp (the perfect enemies to lovers) but its unfortunately such a small ship. Any souls reading this who like those ships, please drop any recs into my box!

15) What's a WIP that you want to finish but don't think you ever will?

Anything I am passionate about I will finish. I’ve only killed one thing because I got bored with it but I posted my fav part for a fic challenge. I hate not having something to show for my spent time (I know it's a hobby but it's the principle damnit!) and I hate unfinished things. Those damn little ao3 red circles haunt me 🚫

16) What are your writing strengths?

Christ uhhh I’ll say I’m most consistently praised in comments for my dialogue and it’s what always flows the smoothest for me. I think my humour is also a strength, it comes very naturally when I write which is why I have a hard time keeping it out of my fics! Times are tough I just wanna make y’all giggle ok?

17) What are your writing weaknesses?

Frankly, my greatest weakness is that I don’t take it seriously enough to look at my past writing critically for improvement. I also write (non-fiction) for my job and had extensive training to do so, so when its for this hobby I honestly whip it out, edit a couple times, and slap it up ‘good enough’ styles and I don’t go back to re-read once posted. I think if I looked back, I could see lots of opportunities for improvement and could go from a fine writer to a good writer. I’d also say that I’ve written pretty fun fluffy cracky smutty stuff so I guess another weakness is a lack of depth of plot and subject matter. I do want to explore this stuff more though.

18) What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

My concern is if you don’t speak the language fluently, then native speakers reading your fic might feel a big disconnect if you get colloquialisms and euphemism etc. incorrect. It could take them out of your fic if its not authentic enough. I don’t speak any other language fluently so it would END BADLY. I can speak and read French VERY POORLY and that’s it so no, I will never write in another language unless its jibberish I invented myself!

19) What was the first fandom you wrote for?

The only fanfic I wrote before SPN last year was a handful of super cracky, gen Gundam Wing fanfiction in high school!! They are on a broken USB stick which kills me I want to read them so badly! All my other creative writing was original fiction mainly horror/thrillers. I stopped when I started my undergrad cause...that shit is a lot of work yo.

20) What's your favorite fic you've written?

My first love is my first baby Well Jung. I love the plot, I love the humour in it, I love the heart, and it’s still some of my fav sex I’ve written. And the title makes me giggle too who doesn’t love a bad pun? I'm so thrilled it was so successful but it would still be my favourite even if 3 people read it. It made me rediscover writing as a hobby and helped me explore this wonderful (yet insane) fandom. I love all my babies and I even think the writing is stronger in other fics, but he will always be #1 in my heart.

OK this was fun I love talking about fic writing! If any of you read my stuff and want to know more, hit me with an ask; I love making new frans! Tagging @oddsocksandstuff @samanddeaninpanties @raidens-realm I think my other writer mutuals have been tagged by Ven!