#the hopi message

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

June 2, 2024

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

JUN 03, 2024

Today is the one-hundredth anniversary of the Indian Citizenship Act, which declared that “all non-citizen Indians born within the territorial limits of the United States be, and they are hereby, declared to be citizens of the United States: Provided, That the granting of such citizenship shall not in any manner impair or otherwise affect the right of any Indian to tribal or other property.”

That declaration had been a long time coming. The Constitution, ratified in 1789, excluded “Indians not taxed” from the population on which officials would calculate representation in the House of Representatives. In the 1857 Dred Scott v. Sandford decision, the Supreme Court reiterated that Indigenous tribes were independent nations. It called Indigenous peoples equivalent to “the subjects of any other foreign Government.” They could be naturalized, thereby becoming citizens of a state and of the United States. And at that point, they “would be entitled to all the rights and privileges which would belong to an emigrant from any other foreign people.”

The Fourteenth Amendment, ratified in 1868, established that “all persons born or naturalized in the United States, and subject to the jurisdiction thereof, are citizens of the United States and of the State wherein they reside.” But it continued to exclude “Indians not taxed” from the population used to calculate representation in the House of Representatives.

In 1880, John Elk, a member of the Winnebago tribe, tried to register to vote, saying he had been living off the reservation and had renounced the tribal affiliation under which he was born. In 1884, in Elk v. Wilkins, the Supreme Court affirmed that the Fourteenth Amendment to the Constitution did not cover Indigenous Americans who were living under the jurisdiction of a tribe when they were born. In 1887 the Dawes Act provided that any Indigenous American who accepted an individual land grant could become a citizen, but those who did not remained noncitizens. 

As Interior Secretary Deb Haaland pointed out today in an article in Native News Online, Elk v. Wilkins meant that when Olympians Louis Tewanima and Jim Thorpe represented the United States in the 1912 Olympic games in Stockholm, Sweden, they were not legally American citizens. A member of the Hopi Tribe, Tewanima won the silver medal for the 10,000 meter run. 

Thorpe was a member of the Sac and Fox Nation, and in 1912 he won two Olympic gold medals, in Classic pentathlon—sprint hurdles, long jump, high jump, shot put, and middle distance run—and in decathlon, which added five more track and field events to the Classic pentathlon. The Associated Press later voted Thorpe “The Greatest Athlete of the First Half of the Century” as he played both professional football and professional baseball, but it was his wins at the 1912 Olympics that made him a legend. Congratulating him on his win, Sweden’s King Gustav V allegedly said, “Sir, you are the greatest athlete in the world.”  

Still, it was World War I that forced lawmakers to confront the contradiction of noncitizen Indigenous Americans. According to the Gilder Lehrman Institute for American History, more than 11,000 American Indians served in World War I: nearly 5,000 enlisted and about 6,500 were drafted, making up a total of about 25% of Indigenous men despite the fact that most Indigenous men were not citizens. 

It was during World War I that members of the Choctaw and Cherokee Nations began to transmit messages for the American forces in a code based in their own languages, the inspiration for the Code Talkers of World War II. In 1919, in recognition of “the American Indian as a soldier of our army, fighting on foreign fields for liberty and justice,” as General John Pershing put it, Congress passed a law to grant citizenship to Indigenous American veterans of World War I. 

That citizenship law raised the question of citizenship for those Indigenous Americans who had neither assimilated nor served in the military. The non-Native community was divided on the question; so was the Native community. Some thought citizenship would protect their rights, while others worried that it would strip them of the rights they held under treaties negotiated with them as separate and sovereign nations and was a way to force them to assimilate. 

On June 2, 1924, Congress passed the measure, its supporters largely hoping that Indigenous citizenship would help to clean up the corruption in the Department of Indian Affairs. The new law applied to about 125,000 people out of an Indigenous population of about 300,000.

But in that era, citizenship did not confer civil rights. In 1941, shortly after Elizabeth Peratrovich and her husband, Roy, both members of the Tlingit Nation, moved from Klawok, Alaska, to the city of Juneau, they found a sign on a nearby inn saying, “No Natives Allowed.” This, they felt, contrasted dramatically with the American uniforms Indigenous Americans were wearing overseas, and they said as much in a letter to Alaska’s governor, Ernest H. Gruening. The sign was “an outrage,” they wrote. “The proprietor of Douglas Inn does not seem to realize that our Native boys are just as willing as the white boys to lay down their lives to protect the freedom that he enjoys." 

With the support of the governor, Elizabeth started a campaign to get an antidiscrimination bill through the legislature. It failed in 1943, but passed the House in 1945 as a packed gallery looked on. The measure had the votes to pass in the Senate, but one opponent demanded: "Who are these people, barely out of savagery, who want to associate with us whites with 5,000 years of recorded civilization behind us?"

Elizabeth Peratrovich had been quietly knitting in the gallery, but during the public comment period, she said she would like to be heard. She crossed the chamber to stand by the Senate president. “I would not have expected,” she said, “that I, who am barely out of savagery, would have to remind gentlemen with five thousand years of recorded civilization behind them of our Bill of Rights.” She detailed the ways in which discrimination daily hampered the lives of herself, her husband, and her children. She finished to wild applause, and the Senate passed the nation’s first antidiscrimination act by a vote of 11 to 5. 

Indigenous veterans came home from World War II to discover they still could not vote. In Arizona, Maricopa county recorder Roger G. Laveen refused to register returning veterans of the Fort McDowell Yavapai Nation, including Frank Harrison, to vote. He cited an earlier court decision saying Indigenous Americans were “persons under guardianship.” They sued, and the Arizona Supreme Court agreed that the phrase only applied to judicial guardianship.  

In New Mexico, Miguel Trujillo, a schoolteacher from Isleta Pueblo who had served as a Marine in World War II, sued the county registrar who refused to enroll him as a voter. In 1948, in Trujillo v. Garley, a state court agreed that the clause in the New Mexico constitution prohibiting “Indians not taxed” from voting violated the Fourteenth and Fifteenth amendments by placing a unique requirement on Indigenous Americans. It was not until 1957 that Utah removed its restrictions on Indigenous voting, the last of the states to do so.

The 1965 Voting Rights Act protected Native American voting rights along with the voting rights of all Americans, and they, like all Americans, are affected by the Supreme Court’s hollowing out of the law and the wave of voter suppression laws state legislators who have bought into Trump’s Big Lie have passed since 2021. Voter ID laws that require street addresses cut out many people who live on reservations, and lack of access to polling places cuts out others. 

Katie Friel and Emil Mella Pablo of the Brennan Center noted in 2022 that, for example, people who live on Nevada’s Duckwater reservation have to travel 140 miles each way to get to the closest elections office. “As the first and original peoples of this land, we have had only a century of recognized citizenship, and we continue to face systematic barriers when exercising the fundamental and hard-fought-for right to vote,” Democratic National Committee Native Caucus chair Clara Pratte said in a press release from the Democratic Party.

As part of the commemoration of the Indian Citizenship Act, the Democratic National Committee is distributing voter engagement and protection information in Apache, Ho-Chunk, Hopi, Navajo, Paiute, Shoshone, and Zuni.

LETTERS FROM AN AMERICAN

HEATHER COX RICHARDSON

[awooghan]

24 to 25 ✧.* y.ji (part one)

❄ PAIRING: jeongin x fem!reader

❄ GENRE: fluff, angst, childhood friends to lovers, christmas

❄ WARNINGS: mild language, mentions of food, long as hell, i put the ‘slow’ in slowburn (in my defense this trope does not work without it), i’ve checked like 1922847473 times for inconsistencies but if there are any pls be nice it’s my first long fic ;w;

❄ WORD COUNT: 47.7k (part one: 25.9k; part two: 21.8k) i'm so sorry

❄ SUMMARY: “stay for christmas?” was a phrase jeongin first uttered to you when you were both ten years old, but you had no idea how much those three little words would mean to you as the years go by. (inspired by “24 to 25” by stray kids)

❄ NOTES: IT’S FINALLY UP!! i’m so sorry for the wait, i really really wanted to get this right and it took me wayyy longer than i thought it would. but i love how it turned out and i'm so proud of it. i hope y’all enjoy :’)

i’ll include more to the note when i'm not in such a rush to get this posted but tysm to everyone who helped me in writing it! @crispy-chan jas thank you for beta reading (i’m so sorry it was so long) your comments were really sweet and really reassured me that i was doing okay <3 thank u @pearleechai and @gloseoks for helping me out with that one part i got stuck on for like a week lmaooo. to parker specifically, ty for all ur help and encouragement in the couple chapters i asked for help on :D i’m sorry it meant u had some of the fic spoiled for u tho ;w; lastly, @svtbabies hopie u have been my lifesaver from start to finish w this fic. thank u so so much for planning w me and for the multiple times u saved me from a huge writer’s block. i wouldn’t have been able to complete this without you, so ty for everything <33 also ty for the banner lol

➳ IMPORTANT!!! this fic is so long that i have to split it into two parts. i'd use the legacy editor but i can't toggle btwn the two anymore 😭 i did not intend for it to be this lengthy but anything for childhood friends to lovers i guess

[part one] | part two

network tags: @straykidsland

9 years old. (prologue)

“Come on, Y/N, you can’t cling onto my shirt forever,” your mother urges you with a small chuckle.

You stiffen up in your spot at the edge of the picnic bench, and your eyes bounce between the several children on and around the playground equipment. Mixtures of squeals and cheerful laughter ring above the Christmas song playing from the outdoor speaker your new neighbors, the Choi family, set up. You forgot if it was the one with the son older than you or the son your age, though—you didn’t exactly bother to learn their names when your mother introduced you.

“Go on, Y/N.” Her voice fills your ears again as she gently pushes you off the bench. Speak of the devil. 

Shoving your hands in your pockets, you kick the dust with your feet and you keep your gaze cast down on the ground. You didn’t want to socialize—why would you want to make new friends when you had perfectly good ones back in your old neighborhood? Why couldn’t you just go back there? Or just snatch your mother’s dingy old flip phone for a couple minutes to send them a message?

Besides, most of the children here don’t seem like ones you’d be particularly… compatible with. You shouldn’t be one to judge, but the majority of the ones doing laps on the playground equipment couldn’t have been older than five or six. At your big age of nine years old, there’s not much you would have in common with a literal kindergartener. Plus, it seems like they had all formed a friend group of their own, and you’re more than content just watching them chase each other around, gleeful, high-pitched squeals bubbling from their sticky mouths.

Turning your head slightly, you find a group of teenagers sitting around another bench several feet away from all the adults, two of which had their bottoms perched on top of the table as they faced their friends. You would approach them, but just like how you wouldn’t exactly favor befriending the five-year-olds with crayons up their noses, the teenagers likely thought the same of you. Closing your eyes in despair, you groan to yourself and resort to dragging your feet across the dirt.

Why did you even have to move?

As you let out a sigh, you perk up at the fact you could see it in the cold air. It sparks an insurmountable amount of joy for some reason. Perhaps it’s because of the timing of the puff of air with the line, ’Jack Frost nipping at your nose’ that rings from the speakers at the other end of the small neighborhood park, but it causes a giggle to slip past your lips. It’s almost like a new light under the already-dimming sky, the soft pinks and oranges slowly dissipating as the sun begins to dip behind the mountains and give way to the overcast above. 

However, you quickly get distracted by the sight of a boy your age—or at least, you assumed—and you hesitantly step closer.

And there he was.

He was short, upside down on the monkey bars, and wearing the most obnoxious shade of purple you had ever laid eyes on. You aren’t sure what hurts more: the sun in your eyes or staring at his sweater. 

Looking away from the light gray clouds that hung above the park, you let your gaze fall to the boy. He watches you quietly as he continues to hang upside down, and you notice the small smile that paints his slowly reddening face.

Here goes nothing, you guess.

“Um… hi.”

He stays silent, staring at you with his beady eyes. 

Gulping, you continue. “I’m Y/N.” 

He mumbles something back, but you can barely make out what he says and you tilt your head slightly in confusion.

“Huh?”

“My name is Jeongin,” he repeats, only the slightest bit louder. 

A smile of your own quickly forms on your face. You raise a hand up for him to shake, and he just stares at it for a second before moving one of his outstretched arms to meet you, his hand grasping yours at an awkward angle. You both can’t help but giggle as you give your best attempt at a handshake.

“Nice to meet you, Jeongin,” you say, slowly pulling your hand away and letting his drop above, or rather, below his upside-down head. “I’m Y/N.”

“You said that already,” he says, and his bluntness makes you chuckle.

Slowly, Jeongin maneuvers himself so he’s sitting on top of the monkey bars instead of hanging upside down. Once he gets upright and steadies himself from the blood rushing down from his head, he stares back down at you. 

You stuff your hands into your pockets and heave out a sigh. “My mom says I need a friend,” you explain your current plight to Jeongin, and you find his soft gaze once again. It’s strange, really—you’ve only exchanged a few words with this boy, but you already feel comfortable enough to complain about your mother’s nagging to him.

You suppose that helps your next words spill out more easily.

“Want to be friends?” 

You watch Jeongin expectantly as he looks down, picking at a piece of lint on his hideous purple sweater. He ponders your question for a minute, and you feel a wave of relief wash over you when he finally nods in response. If your mom wanted you to have a friend so badly, there you go. You got one.

You stand there awkwardly, your eyes drifting back up to the sky for a moment. It occurs to you that you’ve never asked someone to be friends with you; it’s always just kind of happened.

And now you’re stuck, unsure what to do next.

You let out another huff of air, another smile tickling your lips as you watch the faint, white puff form in front of your eyes. Then you look back up at the boy in the obnoxious purple sweater, who seems just as amused by the cold air as you as he lets out his own breath, exhaling like a small dragon.

A chuckle escapes your parted lips as you watch him, kicking his legs lightly as he stares up at the sky. After another minute, you speak again.

“Can I sit up there with you too?”

Nodding his head, he mumbles a small “yeah” and the corners of your mouth twitch up as you hurriedly climb your way up onto the monkey bars. You dangle your legs through the same section as Jeongin’s, and you shift your position slightly as you steady yourself.

A gust of cold air causes you to shiver and as a response, you pull your puffy coat closer to you. This seems to make Jeongin chuckle fondly, and you feel his eyes linger on you for a second before he looks out at the horizon. Neither of you are tall enough to see much above the houses in front of you, but you figure you can use your imaginations to picture what lies beyond that. It’ll have to do.

You both remain silent for a while like this, allowing the chatter and Christmas music below to fill the air around you. It’s comfortable, it feels like a weighted blanket wrapped around your shoulders—which is funny to say because you’re sharing this moment with a kid you’ve barely known for ten minutes. You don’t mind, though. By the looks of it, and the friendly glances you exchange with each other, Jeongin doesn’t seem to, either.

Suddenly, a cold, wet spot falls onto your nose, causing you to gasp and look up.

“Is that…”

Jeongin tilts his head up as well, and he chuckles when another wet drop lands on his face. Meanwhile, you’re in awe. You let your mouth fall open, and your eyes swirl with pure wonderment as you watch the white crystals above you flutter down. It sends chills down your spine, but wraps you up in a cocoon of warmth at the same time. 

“Snow…” is all you manage to mumble. 

Jeongin turns to you, a small smile tugging at his lips. “Have you never seen snow before?”

You glance at him once, shake your head, and look back up at the sky. 

The boy’s jaw drops. It almost mirrors your dazed expression, except his features are twisted in surprise. But it’s true—snow was something you had only witnessed in movies. As far as you were concerned, the fluffy, white particles only ever graced the stop-motion characters on the old-timey Christmas cartoons you rewatched every year, or the main couple in whatever cheesy Hallmark movie your parents decided to indulge in.

That is, until now.

You didn’t know at that moment what type of future you had in store, but you know one thing: the snow is beautiful. And as you follow Jeongin down the monkey bars and to your first snowball fight, you have an inkling that you’ll be sticking with him for a while.

Maybe this move won’t be so bad after all.

10 years old.

You let out a huff of air, letting your chin bore into the palm of your hand. Unfortunately, though, the air inside a school classroom doesn’t allow you to watch it come to life. Sure, you had a heater and the bulky coat your mother gave you to thank for warmth, but at what cost?

No matter how hard you try to focus on the math test that was laid out in front of you, you just can’t. Not when the outside seemed to beckon you like a siren, begging you to come out and indulge in the ever-approaching Christmas atmosphere. 

It’s all tempting. So, so tempting. Everything else seemed to be falling into place—the air has started to get colder, Christmas music has been playing 24/7 in the stores since November, you’ve worn every ugly Christmas sweater you could get your hands on at least once in the last two weeks, and you’ve begged your mom for a cup of hot chocolate every chance you could get. 

Now you just need it to snow, and you need it badly. 

After you scribble a random answer for the question you’ve been stuck on for five minutes, you throw your pen onto the table and lean back in your hard, plastic chair in defeat. This was too much mental torture, espically when you could hear Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer faintly playing in another room. 

You can’t take it anymore. 

Hopelessly, you stare at Jeongin, who somehow sleeps peacefully next to you. You’re sure he’s been asleep since he sat down in his chair. His head lays on his arm, which is covered by his purple sleeve. You snicker at the sight and pray that one day he grows out of that abomination of a sweater. 

Your eyes drift back to your stupid math test, silently praying again that the torture won’t last for much longer. You were just one step away from greasy pizza and store-bought sugar cookies until your stomach hurt while The Polar Express filled the dim room. Well, one step away is technically two more questions, but it still feels so far.

You begrudgingly answer one of the questions then slump back into your seat, burying your head in your arms. You’re so close to freedom, but you still feel held captive by the test, like it’s shackled your arms and legs to your desk while Rudolph down the hall taunts you, dangling the coveted Christmas cheer over your head.

You don’t even care if you get the questions right anymore. You just scribble down some scratch work that seems somewhat coherent and circle whatever answer is closest then shove your test in your teacher’s hands, eager to get that nasty piece of paper away from you. Then you’re left to wait… and wait… and wait.

It’s unfair. You weren’t meant to be doing a math test the last day before winter break. You weren’t built to be suffering silently at your desk because some people didn’t know how to do long division. (Well, neither do you, but that’s besides the point.)

But nevertheless, you wait… and wait… and wait.

And then, finally, the last student turns in their paper.

The second the teacher plops the pile of tests on her desk, you practically spring up from your seat. You revel in the sweet, sweet freedom, but although your classmates seem just as relieved, they also seem painfully slow. That might also just be all the candy from your teacher’s goody bag pumping through your veins, but it made no difference to you.

Acting as self-appointed leader, you hastily motion for other kids in your class to move the tables to either side of the room, forming a sort of tetris with the desks, while others line trays of food across them. The pizzas are laid out next to different bowls of chips and festive little chocolates in the shapes of snowflakes and snowmen. Small Christmas-themed cups sit at the end of the table with giant bottles of bright, sugary drinks for you to choose from. Like, the ones that are bigger than your face. That’s how you know it’s good.

Hushed whispers of excitement make their way around the classroom as everyone settles down, wrapping themselves in the blankets they had brought to school for today. You take a seat next to Jeongin on the carpet right as the teacher switches the projector on, placing your paper plate filled to the brim with junk food in between you two as you get comfortable.

“How many cookies did you grab?!” Jeongin gawks, marveling at the sight. Whether it’s from amazement or concern is unclear.

You smile smugly at him. The light from the projector as your teacher sets up The Polar Express illuminates his baffled stare. “Not enough.”

He blinks once. “We’re not gonna split it?”

You giggle and push the plate closer to Jeongin, but not without swiping a Santa-shaped cookie from the pile. “I never said we weren’t.”

Jeongin just laughs at you and shakes his head, but the fact that he takes not one, not two, but three cookies from the plate tells you he’s just as excited as you. He attempts to remain nonchalant, though, as he wordlessly pushes a plate stacked with pizza towards you.

Grinning at him, you pick up a slice, the grease glinting in the low light. “Thanks,” you mumble as you take a bite. 

Rolling his eyes, he continues to laugh. “Don’t mention it.” 

There’s something about being next to Jeongin as you watch The Polar Express together, fluffy throw blankets draped around your outstretched legs that catch the crumbs from the snacks you two share, that brings you a sense of comfort. Excitement courses through your body, but somehow, you also feel oddly at peace.

It even seems to transport you to another world, and you forget you had even painstakingly suffered through a math test leading up to this in the first place. Eventually, your mind stops paying attention to the movie—it’s okay, though, because you practically know the story front to back. Instead, you find yourself daydreaming about being awoken in the middle of the night like the boy in the movie, and finding yourself on the fantastical train with Jeongin. A small smile decorates your face as you ponder, imagining all the chaos you could get yourselves into as you made the magical journey to the North Pole together.

However, when the other kids start to gasp and point towards the window, you’re brought back to the real world. Looking over to where they were pointing, you’re greeted with a powdery blanket covering the grass outside, and a grin instantly spreads across your face in delight. 

Finally. It’s snowing. 

You aren’t the only one to jump up from out of your seat in hopes of rushing outside to experience the first snowfall of winter. And you aren’t the first one out of the classroom door either. The calls from your teacher fade into the background like white noise as you scramble out from under your blanket and make a dash for the door as quickly as you can.

“Y/N,” Jeongin calls right before you can run outside, and you turn on your heel.

He speed-walks, then speeds up to an awkward half-jog to where you stand as he digs his hands through his pockets, and you can’t help but chuckle. It takes him until right after he stops in front of you to fish whatever this thing was out. Was it an early Christmas gift? The dreaded cheese touch? You are about to find out.

A crumpled piece of paper falls out of Jeongin’s coat, grazing his hand as he yanks it out of his pocket. He picks it up and unfolds it carefully, squinting at the note.

Leaning over, you peek over his shoulder and furrow your brows as you try to decipher the writing scrawled on. “’Ask Y/N about Christmas’?” You turn your head to the boy. “What about it?”

Jeongin eyes widen for a second as he tries to remember the context of the note. “My parents wanted me to ask if you wanted to…” 

You tilt your head. “Wanted to…?” You repeat.

“What was it that they said?” He mumbles to himself. He looks up, his eyebrows furrowed, and then something seems to click. “Was it… stay? Stay for Christmas?”

You blink, watching the boy with inquisitive eyes. “Stay for Christmas?” you question. 

“Yeah, stay for Christmas.” He hums, and his voice grows more confident as he continues. “Yeah, that’s what they said to ask!” He’s now grinning, and his movements become more animated. “Yeah! Stay with us for Christmas Eve! You have to come, Y/N, it’s a Christmas sleepover! It’ll be fun!”

You light up like a, well, Christmas tree at the idea. You could already picture the absolute blast you’re going to have. Chasing each other around in your pajamas as Christmas music rings in your ears? Eating the cookies his mom laid out for Santa until you're sick? Finding the jolly man himself? And imagine playing in the snow in the morning after ripping your presents open!

“That sounds so fun!” You squeal, beaming from ear to ear. “I'll have to ask my parents, but I'm sure they'll let me go!”

“Y/N, Jeongin,” your teacher interrupts your enthusiasm, her arm propping the door open. “You can’t stay inside by yourselves, come on!”

“Coming!” you two call back in unison, and then you glance at each other. You catch a mischievous glint in Jeongin’s eyes before he bolts for the door, outstretching his arm in front of you before you can react and outrun him.

“Race ya!”

“Hey!”

…

“Mommmm! Daddddd!” you drawl out, a frown stretched across your face as you bounce on the balls of your feet. Your finger impatiently hovers over the doorbell, and if your parents took any longer to grab… whatever they brought for Jeongin’s parents, you would just mash the white button yourself. Or you’d teleport yourself inside; forget the doorbell entirely.

You follow their movements attentively, your fists balled around your backpack straps and teeth pressed against your tongue to keep yourself from complaining more. You had already gotten an earful in the car, not to mention some confused glances when you mentioned the long-anticipated sleepover you had stayed up until the ungodly hours of 10pm preparing your backpack for. If they thought that was late for a fourth-grader, imagine their horror if they knew of your and Jeongin’s plan to stay up all night and see Santa Claus! 

Regardless, you couldn’t pinpoint why your parents raised their eyebrows and snickered at the idea of you sleeping over at Jeongin’s house. Maybe it was the fact that you had your hair messily thrown up into a ponytail and that your light-up Christmas sweatshirt was maybe a size too big—I mean, say what you want, but you’re perfectly dressed for the occasion.

You were sure that was the reason. And certainly not the fact you were practically jumping out of your skin—maybe acting a little bit too excited—to get inside to see your best friend.

Your parents just didn’t understand that this was a pivotal moment. Plus, you’re getting cold. One can only stand outside for so long.

After what felt like hours of waiting, the door finally swings open to reveal Jeongin’s mother, welcoming you and your parents inside. You release your backpack straps from your grip and sprint past your mother, shouting a “Hi, Mrs. Yang!” as you rip your shoes from your feet.

Shaking your backpack off your shoulders, you make a beeline for Jeongin, who puts down his video game controller when you come into view.

“I made it, Jeongin!” you grin from ear to ear, tossing your backpack aside.

“Yay!” he breaks out into a grin and scoots over.

You plop down at the spot next to him, grabbing the spare controller as you watch the mustached man on screen walk right into a brown mushroom and die. And in World 1-1, you may add.

“Let me on! Let’s get this sleepover started!” you mash the ‘A’ button repeatedly, hoping it somehow speeds up Jeongin getting back to the main menu. Oh, were you ready to kick his sorry butt.

Suddenly, you hear bouts of laughter echo from the hallway. You tear your eyes off the screen, finding your and Jeongin’s parents entering the living room. If it weren’t for the wall that your father leaned against, he would have collapsed to the floor from how hard he was laughing.

“Jeongin, you told Y/N there was a sleepover?!” Jeongin’s mother exclaimed in between giggles.

Jeongin looks up from his game, his eyebrows drawn together. “Yeah?” He blinks, his voice laced with confusion. “That’s what you said to ask?”

His mom laughs even harder at his reply, her hand over her mouth. “Honey sweet, no!”

Jeongin‘s mouth twists into a frown. He opens his mouth to speak, only to close it again.

Mrs. Yang takes a minute to regain her composure before explaining to the boy, “I meant to ask her to stay for the evening, not the whole night.” She tries to keep a straight face, but another giggle slips out. “There’s no sleepover.”

Jeongin looks down, avoiding eye contact with the four adults laughing at his mix-up as heat rises to his cheeks. Dropping his game controller on his lap, he covers his face with his hands, and lets out a nervous chuckle as his face slowly turns red.

You would’ve been lying if you said you weren’t disappointed that you couldn’t try to see Santa with Jeongin, after all. Despite this loss, you try your best not to laugh at your friend, covering up your giggles with awkward coughs to save Jeongin from more embarrassment. You know both his and your parents will never let him live this down.

And frankly, neither will you.

11 years old.

“You son of a nutcracker!” You cry in unison with Buddy the Elf, your mouth stuffed with an audaciously big chunk of cookie. Maybe you got a bit carried away, but you couldn’t help it if someone was kind enough to bring a platter of fresh-baked cookies to the annual neighborhood Christmas party. It might have been the Choi family—the one with the son your age—which makes sense since they’re hosting the party this year.

Looking up from the gingerbread house he was carefully decorating, Jeongin stares at you with a disgusted frown as you struggle to break down the cookie. 

You look back at him innocently, trying not to laugh. “Hi,” you wave, your mouth still full.

Jeongin shakes his head at you. “I worry about you sometimes.”

“You should.” You swallow most of the bite, wincing as you feel it go down.

Gulping down the rest of the cookie, you prop your chin in the palm of your hand as you pull your attention away from the tv and watch Jeongin. He bites his bottom lip lightly, glancing back and forth between the gumdrops and peppermints around the island and the gingerbread house. He squeezes out some icing, poking his tongue out in concentration, and sticks a peppermint window to the food structure.

Smiling at his little creation in progress, you gently poke one of the small candy canes that stand around the house. Jeongin quickly pushes your hand away, letting out a small whine.

You chuckle at his reaction and do it again, and he swats your hand away once more. “Stop itttt~”

You giggle and hold your hands up. “Okayyy, okay.”

You silently follow his movements with your eyes before they flick down to his sweater. It’s hideous, as most holiday sweaters are. The cartoon reindeer with a head too big for its body taunts you, but at the same time it just screams Jeongin. But there is no trace of that obnoxious shade of purple, and you thank whatever deity is above you for it.

Jeongin studies the gingerbread house for a moment, gently turning the brown building around. He takes a yellow gumdrop in his hand and hovers it over a spot on the roof, squinting ever-so-slightly as he imagined how it would look in the final product, whatever he imagined it to be. You stay quiet and just let him go—you know better than to interrupt Jeongin’s creative process.

“What if you did rows of gumdrops on the roof?” 

Mrs. Choi, on the other hand, doesn’t know better. The one with the son your age, that is—he tagged along with you and Jeongin for lunch a couple times. What was his name again? Beomgyu, right? 

You notice the corners of Jeongin’s mouth twitching downward before he catches himself. “I don’t know,” he says, putting the gumdrop down. “I’ll figure it out.”

Mrs. Choi shrugs and just lingers around, mumbling something about how it reminds her of Hansel and Gretel. You thought she had a point… kind of. You had always heard of the tale of Hansel and Gretel and the house made of candy, but considering it wasn’t much of a Christmas story, you tended to ignore it. 

“Oh, that reminds me…” she says to herself after a minute, walking over to the dining table where all the parents sat around. You lean over in your seat and listen closely. 

“Beomgyu keeps bugging me about having a sleepover with Jeongin,” Mrs. Choi says as she approaches Jeongin’s mom, her voice carrying over the rest of the chatter enough for you to eavesdrop.

Mrs. Yang nods, a small smile playing at her lips. “That'd be fun for them, when can he come over?”

You blink. It’s… it’s that easy for him?

The two mothers begin talking about schedules or appointments or some other boring adult thing. Whatever it is, you tune it out and turn back to Jeongin, who has opted for an array of different colored gumdrops carefully spread across the roof. 

“You’re,” you hesitate, “You’re allowed to sleep over with Beomgyu?” 

“Yeah,” Jeongin hums. ”I’ve slept over at his place and he’s been begging to come to mine.”

He chuckles, gluing on another gumdrop, until his words sink in and he fully processes them. His eyes then widen in realization, and he lets the tube of frosting drop from his hand before marching over to his parents.

“Mom,” Jeongin taps on his mom’s shoulder until she turns to him. “Why does Beomgyu get to sleep over but Y/N doesn't?”

You lean over again, hoping to overhear an explanation from Mrs. Yang. All you hear is laughter.

Laughter? That’s it?

You squint as you lean further in their direction, as if squinting would increase the volume of the conversation. All you could observe was a confused look from Mrs. Choi, and a fit of giggles from Mrs. Yang. How helpful.

“Did I ever tell you what happened last year?!” your mom practically shouts to Mrs. Choi, proving your efforts unnecessary. 

“Oh my god, you have to hear this! It’s a good one, it’s so cute,” Mrs. Yang gushes, glancing at a flustered Jeongin. 

The boy frowns and buries his face in his hands, growing more frustrated. “Mommm!”

A smile tugs at the corner of your lips as your eyes flicker between the now-insanely-embarrassed Jeongin, and his parents’ delight at retelling the account of ‘stay for Christmas’. As Mrs. Yang continued, Jeongin sinks deeper and deeper into himself, and you could practically see a little pinkish-red aura surrounding him. 

“And so he tells her…” Mrs. Yang's voice fades into the background when you look out the window and gasp.

Snow.

Before you can register it, your legs are already pushing yourself off the stool, and then you’re running and shoving past other partygoers as you make your way to Jeongin.

“Jeongin.” You tug on his sleeve as you try to get him to move his hands away from his face. However, he swats your hand away. 

“Shut up,” he whines. 

“No, look,” you try again, tugging more. “It’s snowing!” 

Hands instantly falling from his face, he looks out of the window you were motioning at and gasps as well. “Snow.” 

Quickly, you glance at Mrs. Yang, making sure she’s still in in-depth story mode before you grab onto Jeongin’s hand and pull him outside into the cold. You shiver lightly as the winter air nips at your nose, but welcome it nonetheless.

“Wanna make a snowman?” you suggest.

Jeongin shrugs.

“Suit yourself.”

Humming to yourself, you squat down at an empty spot and begin to pile some snow together. A small smile decorates your face, perfectly pairing with your rosy cheeks.

I mean, how could you not be happy right now? It’s the first snow of winter. It may be your third first winter, but you swear each one gets more magical than the last. You know Jeongin would agree, no matter how cranky he may be right now.

“That’s like the fifth time my mom’s told that story this month,” the boy huffs after a minute, kicking at the snow in front of him. “It's not even funny anymore. I was a stupid ten-year-old.”

Looking up from the small base of the snowman, you let out a laugh. “I mean… you were ten last year.”

“Y/NNN,” Jeongin whines.

“And it was kinda funny—”

“Y/N!”

You feel a sudden blast of cold hit your side and you let out a yelp, shielding your face with your arms. Gasping, you look back up after a second to Jeongin preparing more ammunition. Suddenly, you’re in the mood to wipe the shi—sorry, poop-eating grin from your best friend’s face. One nice, cold wipe.

“You ass!” you shriek, gasping and covering your mouth once you realize what you had just said. Thank goodness your mom didn’t hear you or she would’ve brought out the bar of soap.

“That’s what you get!” Jeongin cackles back, hurling another snowball your way. This one also hits your coat, splattering into pieces once it collides with your stomach.

“Oh, it’s on!”

12 years old.

The final bell rings across the school to signal the start of winter break. Students of all types make their way out of the main entrance, leaving you and Jeongin in a rather quiet hallway with your locker still open. 

Whilst you clear it out, the fruitful voice of Jeongin’s new club buddy fills your ears.

“‘Sup, babies.”

You and Jeongin jump at not only the sudden voice, but also the feeling of an arm going around both your shoulders. A year older than you, Jisung, whom Jeongin had met through the middle school’s anime club, sports round glasses that sit on the bridge of his nose. His hair is a chestnut brown, split right down the middle to frame his face. 

Jeongin shrugs Jisung’s arm off of his shoulders, but his other arm stays around you. “How are my favorite underclassmen?” Jisung coos, reaching around to ruffle Jeongin’s hair.

Jeongin jerks his head away from Jisung’s hand, a groan escaping his lips. “You’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“Nope!” Jisung says, flashing the younger boy a dopey grin.

Chuckling, you duck under Jisung’s arm to grab your backpack as Jeongin scrambles to fix his messy hair. You aren’t sure when or why Jisung started referring to you two as ‘babies' when he was only a year older. He once said something about “taking Jeonginnie under his wing” when you first met him, but that’s the closest thing to an explanation that you got.

Once Jeongin manages to tame his hair, he looks at Jisung with a shimmer in his eye. “Did you pick what we’re going to watch next?” he asks, referring to the next club meeting. It wouldn’t be until after New Year’s, but you figured they’d want to plan ahead now while they’re technically still in school.

“Not yet, but I was thinking of going with a classic,” Jisung muses before turning to you. “You should really join us, Y/N.” 

You hum in response, pushing your lips into a line as you ponder it. Of course Jeongin had tried to get you to watch anime with him before, but it was just something you found difficult to get into. “Maybe,” is all you say, mostly to make Jisung happy. 

“Yeah! Anyway,” Jisung quickly moves the conversation along, slinging his arms around both your shoulders again and pulling you two closer to him. “What are you guys doing for Christmas? We should do something!” He gleams, glancing back and forth between you two. “With our parents’ permission, of course.” 

As Jisung gazes longingly at a dog passing by, yours moves to Jeongin and you giggle at the sight of his cheeks tinting pink. He says nothing, but when he looks up and notices you staring at him, he rolls his eyes.

At the silence, Jisung finally tears his eyes away from the dog, who stops at a street pole for a sniff, and looks between you and Jeongin again. “What's up with you two?” he gulps. “You’re acting weird.”

Jeongin makes a sour face. “You’re acting weird,” he tries to rebut, but he only proves Jisung’s point. 

Jisung stops suddenly on the sidewalk. He tilts his head at Jeongin and squints, searching the younger’s face. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Jeongin deadpans, turning his heel to continue the walk home.

“Noooo.” The older boy pulls him back by the hoodie before he can walk away. He gets all up in Jeongin’s face, crossing his arms and furrowing his brows suspiciously. “There’s something going on, isn’t there?”

Nosily, you watch as Jeongin opens his mouth to speak before quickly closing it again. He seems to want to shrink into himself, and you both know why. To his dismay, you find it wholly amusing.

“Baby, come onnnn,” Jisung bounces in place as he chants, “Tell me, tell me, tell me…”

Deciding to ignore the boys’ shenanigans, you look up at the clouds and begin to think about your own plans for Christmas, a small smile forming on your lips.

You’ve always loved the holidays, but after settling into your new neighborhood, it grew on you and swept you off your feet like never before. It’s way more than just the snow—it’s the joy swirling in the air when Christmas music finally begins to play on the radio. It’s the sparkle in the night sky when the whole town shows off their colorful lights. Maybe it’s also the inhuman amount of hot chocolate and sugar cookies coursing through your veins. You’re not hyped up on sugar right now, but Jeongin would be hopelessly shaking his head at you if you were.

It’s way more than just beautiful snow, but it seemed to add a magical touch to Christmas that you never felt in your old neighborhood.

It came like clockwork, too, just like the Christmas party, and you’re eagerly counting the days until both come to life for the first time this season. Especially the Christmas party. Your and Jeongin’s schedules only matched up for lunch this year, and you’re in dire need of some quality time with your best friend.

“Y/N?” Jisung gently shakes your shoulder, interrupting your train of thought.

You blink a few times. “Huh? Yeah?”

“What are your plans for Christmas?”

You look back up at the sky, your lips curving upward again. “I’ll be with my family on Christmas. I'm not doing anything much for Christmas Eve, though,” you say with a giggle, emphasizing the ‘eve’. “It depends.” 

Jisung continues to look at you—and Jeongin—with an eyebrow raised. “On what?” 

You have to take a breath to try and compose yourself before you continue.

“On—” 

“Can’t you let it go?” Jeongin cuts you off with a whine. “It was basically two years ago!”

“‘Cause it was two years ago,” you continue to giggle. 

Jisung blinks, trying to figure out this inside joke you two are bickering over, but the poor boy is just as confused as when the conversation started. “What was two years ago?”

“Oh my god, Y/N,” Jeongin grumbles, but it’s hard to take him seriously when he’s failing miserably trying to hide a smile. You just flash your brows at him, and he slides out from under Jisung’s arm and heads straight for you. 

A teasing grin grazes your lips, and you gently push Jisung’s arm off of you so you can run away. 

“You do this every year!” Jeongin cries out, attempting to reach for your backpack.

“‘Cause it’s funny!” you shout back.

You can feel Jeongin’s fingers brush your shoulders every now and then as he chases after you. Giggles bubble from your throat as you try to make a break for it, tricking him by going the opposite way to where he is. However, he catches on to your attempt to escape and grabs you quickly. His arms wrap securely around you and pull you back as he hugs you, his laughter loud in your ears. 

You let out a surprised squeak as you try to wriggle your way out of Jeongin’s grip. “Jeongin, I was kidding, I was kidding!” you cry out in between giggles.

“You always do this!” he giggles too, refusing to let you go.

“I'm sorry! I'm sorry!” you squeal. Tears start to prick your eyes from how hard you’re laughing. 

Jeongin lets his arms fall and his lip juts out into a pout. You turn to him and quickly match it. 

“Sure, you are,” he mutters, enhancing his frown. 

“I mean it, Jeonginnieee.” You lean closer and let your arms slip around him. “I'm sorry.” 

He stays stiff for a second before he wraps his arms back around you and smiles. “It's okay.” 

A high-pitched squeal from Jisung makes you both jump in surprise and let go of each other. You both stare back at Jisung, who wears a giddy grin stretching from ear to ear. His hands are balled up in tiny fists together, flying up to his mouth as he bounces a little in place.

You blink a few times, stunned to silence for a few seconds before finally speaking. “You okay, Jisung?” 

“Y-You… the…” Jisung stammers excitedly before trailing off.

He points between the two of you, then to the sky, and as you both follow his finger, a cold wet drop lands on your cheek, and another on your nose. Jeongin lets out a squeak at one hitting him in the eye, and he scrunches up his face at the impact.

You looked back at Jisung, gesturing upward. “The snow?” you finish his sentence.

The older boy nods eagerly. “Yeah, yeah, the snow!”

You want to smile, you really do—it is the first snow of winter, after all. But it seems like he has a different reason for his exuberance than you do.

You exchange a glance with Jeongin, and he seems just as lost as you are. At this point, you might as well just ask. “What about it?”

Was it because the snow was pretty as it dotted the earth below you? Was it because it marked the start of only the most beautiful time of the year? This could really go any direction.

“You know, like the movies?” He rambles. “When the boy and the girl witness the first snowfall together and…”

Oh no, no, no. Not that direction.

Briskly stepping away from each other, you both frantically shake your heads, the tips of your ears glowing red. Jeongin argues back with a string of flustered protests that you could only nod along to, as you were at a loss for words yourself.

You wonder what was in the snow that had fallen on Jisung to make him think this way. It was insane, he was insane. You and Jeongin? Jisung must’ve gone mad.

Jisung deflates a little, a pout pulling his lips downward. “Aww. That would’ve been cute though.”

You force out a chuckle before continuing your route home. Jisung parts ways somewhere halfway through, but an icky feeling persists in your stomach for the rest of the walk.

It truly baffles you how he saw you and Jeongin having an inside joke, you know, like best friends do, and somehow morphed it into some coupley thing all because of a little snow. The snow is beautiful, of course, but throwing that sappy stuff on top of it? Jisung’s watched way too many movies. And anime. An alarming amount of anime. 

“I’ll, um,” Jeongin clears his throat as you both approach your front door. “I’ll see you at the party next week.”

An awkward tension still hangs above you from earlier, but you manage to muster a small smile. “Yeah. See you then.”

He smiles back and gives you a little wave before he begins the five-minute walk to his house. But before you knock on your door…

“Wait!” you blurt and reach out for him. You wrap your fingers around Jeongin’s wrist, prompting him to turn around.

“Yeah?”

“That, um, that thing Jisung was saying,” you hesitate, stumbling over your words. You force out another chuckle in hopes to relieve the tension that’s making your stomach twist into knots. “That’s— that’s not gonna happen to us… right?”

Jeongin lets out a scoff, waving you off reassuringly. “Of course not, Jisung’s just being Jisung.” He smiles a little. “We’re best friends, remember?”

His words fill you with relief, and you smile back. “Yeah. The bestest of friends.”

“That’s not a word.”

“You know what I mean, Jeongin.” You chuckle genuinely this time as you roll your eyes, turning back to your front door. “I’ll see you at the party.”

It’s ridiculous that you have to even ask, but apparently it’s necessary. You’re just lucky Jisung listened to Jeongin in the end, or this whole shipping fiasco would’ve been much more difficult than it needed to be.

Especially since several of your classmates who witnessed the interaction in front of the school parking lot actually seemed to believe it. 

13 years old.

You nibble at your bottom lip and run one hand up and down your forearm. Jisung has been glaring rather unamused daggers at you for five minutes now, his round eyes perpetually locked on you as you try to focus on the TV. It makes you feel like there was something crawling all over you, and you have the overwhelming urge to itch every bit of exposed skin you had—which isn’t a lot, but still. 

Part of you was tempted to turn to Jisung just to try and poke his eyes out. You wouldn’t actually do it, but with his eyes boring into your head like this, it’s hard not to think about it. You just wanted to watch A Charlie Brown Christmas in peace.

“...Are you gonna talk to him? Like, at all?” Jisung speaks. 

A small pout plays at your lips and you cross your arms over your chest. “How can I?” you start. “He hasn’t spoken to me since the start of the year.” 

The older boy lets out a sigh. “Have you tried to speak to him?” 

You nod once. Finally, something he can’t get on your case for.

Jisung blinks. “…Besides at lunch back in April?”

You huff, looking down at your lap. Your knuckles turn white as you ball the fabric of your sweater in your fists. "Well, it was kinda hard to do when he’s always with Beomgyu.”

Jisung leans forward to get a better look at you, whilst he rests his chin on his palm. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you sound jealous."

You can’t tell if you want to scoff or to laugh. Jealous? You? Of course not. You just wanted to be around your best friend again. To be able to hang out with your best friend of three years without some stupid kid in your grade teasing you about dating or about how ‘oOOoH, yOu’RE sO iN lOvE’. Ever since winter break ended, it was all you ever heard when you were around him.

"I’m not jealous." You raise your voice slightly, pushing him away without moving your gaze away from the cartoon. "He was my best friend first."

"Can you hear yourself when you speak?"

“Can you hear how annoying you are right now?”

Jisung blinks at you again. He pushes himself off the couch and stands in front of you, his gaze more gentle this time. “You know he asks me about you too, right?”

You sigh. It’s probably the fifth time this week that Jisung has reminded you of this. It’s not that you don’t want to believe him, but with the way Jeongin stared at you with hollow eyes the last time you tried to talk to him in the cafeteria eight months ago, you’re not sure if you can.

“Plus, he’s literally…” Jisung continues, spinning you around to where Jeongin sat in the kitchen with Beomgyu. Right where you two sat at the Christmas party two years ago. “…right there.”

“I know,” you huff.

Of course you knew that, and you knew he knew you knew. Jeongin was the first one you recognized when you stepped foot in the Choi house for the party. Sure, part of it was because Jisung frantically shook your arm and pointed him out, but even if he wasn’t there you would’ve spotted the top of his head from a mile away. You would’ve known he hadn’t left his gingerbread house in the kitchen all afternoon, whether or not the coconut-haired boy was there to pester you about it.

”Then gooo,” Jisung chides, pushing you to the kitchen island by the shoulders. “Talk. To him.”

Oddly enough, talking to him is the last thing you want to do. At least, not here. Not when there’s a bunch of adults that, frankly, are nosier than your typical middle schooler. Luckily, the only adult there when you approach the kitchen island only glances at you for a second before stepping past you. No one else is watching, but it still feels like a hundred pairs of eyes are piercing into your skull.

You suck in a deep breath. Here goes nothing.

“Hey.”

Jeongin pushes his lips into a thin line when he looks up at you. “Hi.”

From the corner of your eye, you can see Beomgyu raise his head and look at you both before going back to what he was doing. Rocking on the balls of your feet, you take another deep breath. “How’ve you been? It’s been a while.”

You’re not sure how long Jeongin goes quiet for, but every second of silence makes you feel like your insides are trying to escape from you. You purse your lips as your gaze casts down to your feet, unable to look him in the eye. Why did the friendship between you and Jeongin have to change? Why couldn’t people just keep their mouths shut?

“I’ve been okay,” he mumbles. “Just busy, you know?” 

You hum in response. He was right; this year had been a lot school-wise, especially when you counted how everyone watched you like hawks, ready to strike at the first opportunity for a ‘ship moment’, as some people had started to call it. 

“Yeah.” You try to laugh, but anyone can tell it’s fake. “Me too.”  

Jeongin stays silent again, just nodding at your words. You weren’t sure what heartbreak was and of course, you weren’t in love with him. He is—was—your best friend. But if you had to guess, heartbreak probably feels something close to what you’re feeling right now.

You gulp, and take one more shaky breath. Your bottom lip wavers as you try to get your next words out.

“I…” miss you. 

You want to say it so bad, but you stopped yourself as soon as you started. When Jeongin doesn’t turn his head, you feel your heart sink to your stomach, or whatever the equivalent of that was when your best friend completely ignores you, effectively declaring the end of your best-friendship. 

You hate this so much. Screw the other kids for getting in the way of your friendship, screw Jeongin for letting them, screw yourself for not doing more to stop it, and screw Jisung for pushing you over to talk to him. 

You don’t say anything more as you turn away and solemnly make your way back over to where Jisung is still standing. When you feel tears pool in your eyes, you make a sharp turn for the bathroom, and the older boy worriedly trails after you.

“Baby…” he calls as he follows, quickening his pace to catch up to you. “Surely it wasn’t that bad.” 

You stop in your tracks, suddenly causing Jisung to bump into you. He leans forward and around your shoulder before taking a step into your view, instantly frowning when he sees the sadness apparent on your face. “Baby…” 

“It’s over, Jisung.” You blink rapidly. “We’re never going to be friends again, not after this.” 

Furrowing his eyebrows together, Jisung sighs. He places his hands on your shoulders to try and get you to look at him. “Don’t say that, you guys will get past this. You guys are best friends for a reason.” 

“No, we won’t.” Your voice shakes as you speak. “You saw how awkward it was back there! There’s no way he wants to be friends anymore… let alone best friends.”

You continue to blink your tears away, but one manages to slide down your cheek. Your breathing becomes ragged as your world feels like it’s crashing down on you, and all you can do is helplessly step closer to Jisung as you hiccup.

“I just want my best friend back.” 

Pulling you in, Jisung wraps his arms around you in his attempt to comfort you. He sighs quietly, his own frown on his lips as you choke out a sob.

“I know you do.” 

14 years old.

Well, your last year of middle school was off to a surprisingly pleasant start.

After years of being told where in the classroom you could sit, your 1st period teacher nearly had you jumping for joy when she said you were free to pick your seat for the year. It was such a minute detail to be in control of, but it felt so freeing to your adolescent self.

The only problem: you don’t know anyone in this class. You vaguely recognize two or three faces from last school year, but even they had gravitated to other students in the class, clustering into their already-established friend groups. It’s like the galaxies in the night sky that you learned about last year, and you’re a lone star, floating around in the abyss called your new English classroom. 

Shrugging to yourself, you scoot past some students in the aisles and pick a seat in the middle of the room in between two other empty desks. You had counted ten or so desks that had yet to be filled, so you figured you should take your chances. You don’t know anyone… at least, for now. Maybe someone will show up later.

Sliding your phone out of your pocket, you plug your headphones into your ears and listen to music for the last few minutes of passing period to relax a little. It quickly feels pointless, though, as the chatter in the classroom overpowers the song blasting right by your eardrums. 

However, one voice seems to ring above all the others.

“Um… is this seat taken?”

You take an earbud out, lifting your head to find the source of the voice. Jeongin stands over the chair to your left, adorning a god-awful purple sweater that reminds you of the one he wore when you first met. It almost brings a smile to your face… almost. It probably would have if things had ended differently between you two.

This is the first time you have spoken to him since The Most Awkward Conversation Of Your Life™. Maybe you were being slightly dramatic, or at least that’s what Jisung had told you for weeks after the incident, but you still stood by what you felt. You weren't sure if you and Jeongin could ever get back to the way you were—not having spoken since that moment kind of proved to you that you couldn’t.

Yet here you are. You’re not sure if this will just be a one-off conversation or a second chance of sorts. But after a moment, you decide to take that chance.

“Go for it.” You gesture to the seat.

Jeongin smiles awkwardly, the tips of his ears pink as he sets his backpack down on the floor. He doesn’t move to get any of his things out of his bag, and just sits there with laser-focus on his hands that rest on top of his desk.

You’re not sure how long you two sat in silence, but thankfully, it feels nothing like the last time. It actually feels…. comfortable. Welcoming, even. Almost like when you first met him at the monkey bars.

Jeongin looks over at you after a few moments, still rubbing his thumb over the back of his hand. “So… how are you?” he finally speaks.

It’s then that you notice just how much deeper Jeongin’s voice has gotten since the last time you spoke. You figure it would make sense; you hadn’t seen each other in almost a year, and a lot can happen in said year. It’s still odd, however—seeing him change, but not being there to experience it with him.

You nod, looking down at your own hands, but you let a small smile slip out. “I’m okay.”

You are okay, really, at least for the moment. But now you knew you would be, for sure.

…

“Who wants the last cookie—” Mrs. Yang calls from the kitchen, but she’s quickly cut short.

“ME!”

You and Jeongin spring up from the couch at the same time, giggling as you push past each other and race to the kitchen. At the last second, Jeongin sticks his arm in front of you just as you come in reach of the cookie, barring you from the baked treat as he swipes it with his free hand.

“Hey!” You cross your arms, biting your lip to stifle more giggles from coming out. “You cheated!”

Jeongin doesn’t even try to hide the cocky smirk on his face. “Oh, you love me anyway.”

You narrow your eyes at the boy. “Do I? Do I really?”

Jeongin only stares back at you, blinking a few times before he bites into the cookie. Right. In. Front of you.

Your jaw drops in betrayal. What an asshole, he knew you loved those cookies more than life itself! If you had to choose, though, you highly preferred this over where you two were a year ago. He may be stealing your cookies like the pubescent raven-haired crook he is, but since it comes with being best friends again, you’ll learn to live with it.

You keep your eyes trained on him as you calculate your next move. You know exactly how to get him back for this, but is it worth it? Was waiting only a few months after recovering your friendship enough time?

Oh, who are you kidding—of course it was.

“Two can play that game,” you state, taking a piece of cookie from his hand.

The boy scoffs. “Oh, really?”

Your eyes widening ever-so-slightly, you bite into the cookie. You keep your gaze on him as you chew, not looking away even for a second, and you say the three magic words—even more magic than ‘please.’

“Stay for Christmas?”

His smirk immediately drops, and one of your own plays at your lips. You know you got him.

“You’re never gonna let that go, are you?” he grumbles.

You just swipe another piece of cookie from his hand, still grinning triumphantly. “To be fair,” you swirl the cookie in your hand for emphasis, “you walked right into it.”

Jeongin sighs, watching you toss the last bit of the cookie into your mouth. “There's nothing I can do to make you forget it, huh?’

“Nope,” you say with your mouth full. “Not unless you do something more quote-worthy.”

“Fine, then stay.”

You freeze, your cheeks still full of chewed-up cookie. “What?”

“You heard me, Y/N.” Jeongin steps closer, not breaking eye contact. “Just stay for Christmas. It’d be fun, and at least then, you’d have nothing to try and tease me with.”

You swallow the dessert in your mouth and stare at him, speechless. All this time, you had been just playing along with the line as a joke. Was it actually possible to have a sleepover with him? You almost smile as you ponder it over in your head. Being all cooped up in his room and kicking his ass at Mario Kart, then scrambling to be in bed by midnight as if Santa would actually appear the second the clock strikes twelve? You don’t have to think twice.

“Honey sweet, you and Y/N are still on that?” Mrs. Yang says, turning her head to look at you two from the sink.

Jeongin groans. “Yeah, mom, and why do you still call me that?!”

His mother just chuckles and turns back to the dishes she’s rinsing. From what you could gather, she doesn’t seem opposed to you sleeping over. It wasn’t a yes, but it certainly wasn’t a resounding no, so you jump to make a beeline for your parents and beg them to let you stay overnight.

Unfortunately, your parents have a more straightforward answer for you. Not even the growing piles of snow outside could save you from going back home at the end of the night.

You also receive quite the lecture about “the dangers of staying over at boys’ houses” on the way home. Their words fly in one ear and the other for you. If this was anyone else, it’d be different, but this is your best friend that they’re talking about.

The only time Jeongin ever laid a hand on you was during the grand battle of Rainbow Road when you were eleven. In his defense, he didn’t mean to push you so hard that you fell off the bed and nearly dislocated your shoulder, but that’s what happens when two of the most competitive people you know go head-to-head in a battle of Mario Kart.

You huff. At least you know actually staying for Christmas might be an option one day.

15 years old.

You peek around the edge of your locker door every so often as you shove various notebooks into your bag. Even when you finished packing up, you busy yourself with pretending to wipe specks of dust off your binder, and checking that you chose the correct textbooks to bring home with you for the fifth time in three minutes.

Another minute or so passes and you check the clock on your phone, then you look past your locker door one more time, slowly leaning over until one eye peeps past the edge. You find Jeongin speaking to one of his teachers as they exited their classroom, waving goodbye as he heads closer to you. 

You smile to yourself, then scan the area around you one more time. The coast seems clear, but you decide to give it one more minute before going over to him, just to be safe.

“You’re doing that again?”

You jump and turn on your heel, nearly hitting your head against your locker door. Jisung stands behind you as he watches you incredulously, backpack slung over one shoulder as he leans against the wall of lockers. His arms are crossed as he raises an eyebrow at you, and his features are twisted into an odd mixture of concern and confusion.

You look back at the main hallway, then back at Jisung. “Um… yeah,” you state, as if it’s the most obvious thing ever. “Is there a problem?”

Jisung just snickers at your confidence. “Babe, honey, sweetie,” he says. You roll your eyes at the endless string of nicknames. “You look ridiculous.”

“I do not!” you scoff defensively.

He leans closer to you, his wide eyes boring into yours. “Is this about a booooy?” he teases jokingly.

You grimace in his direction, delivering a flick to his forehead as you pretend to rummage through your locker again. “You know what it’s about, Ji,” you grumble.

He’s technically not wrong. It is about a boy, but it’s not about a boy. There’s a huge difference—especially when the boy in question was Jeongin.

“You still look ridiculous.” He props an arm against the locker wall. “It’s like you want people to think you’re dating.”

You sigh, slamming your locker shut. “You don’t get it, people will stare if we don’t do this. Plus, our system’s worked for almost a semester already.”

“Y/N, this almost looks more suspicious than if you two just acted normally.” Reaching out a hand, he turns you by the shoulders to face him. “Is this peeking thing really necessary?”

You let out an agitated huff at his constant questioning. The nearly-unreadable grimace makes a return to Jisung’s face, and you know it is there to stay until you explain yourself. It seems pretty simple to you, though. 

You see, once middle school came to a close, you saw a window for a fresh start in high school. Any indications of The Incident™ (the former name had become a mouthful for you to repeat every time) were to die with the remnants of your braces phase and short-lived obsession with rainbow loom bracelets and 5 Seconds of Summer, as far as you were concerned. So, accordingly, you and Jeongin had devised a plan to prevent those dreaded “ship moments” from repeating themselves in high school.

Since most of your time together at school wasn’t in actual classes, you and Jeongin agreed to sit separately for bus rides to and from school, sometimes even opposite ends of the bus if necessary. On the way to school in the mornings, you two figured it was safe to walk together to the bus most days. Your neighborhood was one of the first stops and the few kids on the bus when you get on are usually snoring in the back. As long as you and Jeongin sat across from each other near the front and didn’t wake them up, you figured you’d be fine.

However, after school, you had to be fast. Ideally, you’d meet up with Jeongin when the hallways were less crowded than right when the final bell sounds, but when enough students were still hanging around the corridors that it wouldn't raise eyebrows with the school staff. You’d meet, speed-walk to the buses together, and enter separately. Once you pulled up at your stop, you two would depart and walk separately—until your bus turned the corner, then you’d walk each other home. It sounded like a lot, yeah, but after a while you get used to it.

After months of practice, you found that the most optimal time to pull this off was around five to eight minutes after the bell. Eight minutes was pushing it, but as long as you and Jeongin made a run for it, you wouldn’t miss your ride home. You had it down to a science. Jisung had no reason to worry, but he always seemed to find one.

Despite this, you don’t want to bother explaining the system you and Jeongin had perfected over the semester, again—the last time you did, it only raised more questions. So this time, you simply wave a hand in dismissal. “Yes, it’s necessary,” you deadpan, “you wouldn’t understand.”

Jisung blinks, then lets out an exhausted sigh. “If you insist…”

The older boy trails off, just in time for the younger one to appear at your side. “Hey, guys,” Jeongin chirps, waving at you both.

You smile at him briefly before turning to Jisung. “Do you have any other questions before we go?” you ask, your voice dripping in (mostly) feigned annoyance.

“No, but I probably will later.” The older brunet waves at one of his friends from anime club before looking back at the two of you one more time. “You two should go catch your bus, get home safe, yeah?”

You both nod, giving him a thumbs up as he jogs over to his friend, and you and Jeongin make your own jog for the front doors of the school.

You’re immediately greeted with a gray cloudy sky and you instantly feel the cold swirl around you. There are crowds of people littered around each section, waiting for their own respective buses. It doesn’t faze you in the least, though.

You had months of practice under your belt—years, actually, if you included shoving past couples in the school hallways who seemed to walk like they were floating on the moon. To this day, you never understood the appeal of holding up foot traffic for your fifth kiss goodbye of the hour, but whatever. Just like how other teenagers always mysteriously seemed to stop right in front of you just as you were dashing full speed for math class, you always seemed to find a way through the crowd.

It was simple, really. Like, actually simple compared to your aforementioned plan. Just keep your eyes straight ahead, and somehow, people always seem to clear a path for you. Despite your current plight, you and Jeongin have yet to miss your bus since the start of high school.

And that’s what you do. You take the lead in pushing through the masse of students, most of which are chatting amongst their friends as they meander to their ride home. Normally, you and Jeongin would talk a bit on the way, too, but you had hit the eight-minute mark thanks to your encounter with Jisung, so you had to book it. 

You keep your gaze locked in front of you, only turning back occasionally to make sure you didn’t lose Jeongin in the crowd. As predicted, students who aren’t otherwise in a hurry move out of your way. You let out a small sigh of relief at this; it’s one less thing you needed to worry about as you got closer to your bus.

Next: enter separately.

By the time you and Jeongin navigate your way out of the crowd and to bus #143, you find a line of students waiting to board that stretches the length of the bus itself. You groan, but at least you wouldn’t be stranded at school, so you consider this a win.

But still, you keep your unwritten pact in mind and you gesture for Jeongin to line up. “You go first,” you mumble, gently pushing him to the end of the line and you step back to wait another minute.

Jeongin turns back to you. “Aren’t you gonna get in line too?”

You stuff your hands in your pockets and quickly scan the line. You recognize the girl in front of him from math class, and two kids from the group of boys that just got behind Jeongin used to tease you two in middle school. “Not yet,” you shake your head. “It’s not safe.”

He furrows his brows together, his lips pulling downward. “You’re shivering,” he deadpans.

Now that he mentioned it, you realize you’re jumping in place in an attempt to warm up. It’s cold outside and you’re eager to leave, but you don’t mind waiting a little longer.

After moments of hesitation, Jeongin removes a hand from his hoodie pocket and grabs your forearm, making sure your hands stay in your own pockets as he pulls you to him. “Just get in line, Y/N,” he mumbles, “the sooner you get in line, the sooner we can get out of the cold.”

With wide eyes, you immediately step back. “Are you crazy?!” you hiss. “People are gonna talk!”

“So? Let them.”

Jeongin’s words ring in your head as he pulls you back towards him one more time.

You let out a gasp when you feel your body collide with his. You blink a few times to recompose yourself and stare up at him, your mouth agape. “What’s gotten into you?” Jeongin makes a face to himself as he responds, “What’s gotten into you?” 

“You know what got into me.” You give him a dubious look. “The agreement, the one we both agreed on?” 

Jeongin hums, shrugging his shoulders. His eyes linger on you for a moment before he looks back over to watch the line. “Who cares?”

“I thought you did…” 

His gaze burning into your skin makes you want to shrink away. Only a few months ago, he was dead set on this agreement, but now? What changed and so suddenly, at that? 

“Why should we let them try to ruin our friendship?” Jeongin asks after a beat of silence. “They already tried once, and look what happened. We shouldn’t let them again.” 

You freeze yet again at his words, so much that the boy has to drag you onto the bus with him. His hand on your forearm is enough to snap you out of your haze, and for some reason, it’s all you can focus on. 

You feel him let your arm go after a minute, and you look over at him. He slings his backpack off his shoulders and places it by his feet as he settles into the window seat, then looks back at you. “Aren’t you gonna sit down?” he says in a similar tone as earlier, patting the empty spot next to him.

“Um…”

Jeongin looks at you expectantly. It was tempting. it really was. But you catch a familiar wisp of curly hair as the group of boys from behind you two turn the corner and strut down the aisle.

You hesitate, before sharply turning on your heel. “I’ll just sit a few rows back,” you mumble.

“Oh my god, Y/N.”

Another surprised yelp leaves your lips as Jeongin pulls you out of the aisle. He tugs you by your hoodie sleeve this time, and when the group of boys walk past you, he lets his grip loosen and you feel his palm rest on your forearm again. It’s warm against your skin and you almost don’t want him to move it, but you wouldn’t dare say it out loud.

The boy glances at the seat next to him, then back at you, his eyes almost weary. “Just sit, please.”

You peer over your shoulder as the group of boys collectively take their seats in the last two rows of the bus. Sighing, you supposed that it’s far enough that you would be safe, and allow yourself to plop on the torn blue leather.

“See, it’s not so bad, is it?” Jeongin smiles at you reassuringly. “No one’s gonna talk, we’ll be fine.”

He pats your forearm twice before bringing his hand back onto his lap. You almost frown at the move.

The last of the students file in after a couple more minutes and the bus slowly pulls onto the road. Jeongin leans his head against the dirty window as he plays Doodle Jump on his phone, and you mindlessly watch him try to beat his high score. 

You don’t know how much time passed when the bus abruptly stops, but it couldn’t have been more than a few minutes. The two of you are thrown forward as the driver suddenly slams the brakes, and Jeongin instinctively grabs your arm to keep you from falling. You don’t, luckily, but you do bump into him.

“Ahh, sorry!” you exclaim.

Jeongin shakes his head, as if to say it’s okay. “Are you okay?”

He gives your forearm a gentle squeeze before letting go. You follow his hand as it falls back on his lap, before meeting his gaze and nodding slightly. “Yeah–” you hesitate for a second, looking down at his hand again then back at him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?”

“Yeah, I’m okay.”

You nod once, giving him a tight smile before settling down properly. That is, until you catch white flecks falling outside from the corner of your eye. It takes a second to click, but once it does, you turn to the window in a flash, eyes sparkling at the view outside.

“Jeongin,” you squeal, shaking him by the shoulder and you point to his right. “Look!”

The boy slides his phone in his pocket and a grin of his own appears as he looks out the window, seeing the snowflakes blanket the outside world for the first time this winter. Leaning past Jeongin to peer outside, your smile grows even more cheerful. All you need now is a mug of hot chocolate filled to the brim with whipped cream as you curl up on the couch and put on one of your beloved Christmas movies. Unfortunately, you wouldn’t be home for a while, so this would have to do for now.

“I’m not sure if you’ve ever noticed, but,” Jeongin starts after a minute, a chuckle escaping his lips, “the snow always starts when we’re together.”

“Really?” you question. 

He nods, his eyes focused on what seemed to be the most interesting bush in the world to him, and he smiles. “Yeah.”

You’re not sure if it was instinct or the cold that made you want to sit closer to Jeongin. You try not to think about it. 

“It's just a coincidence,” you attempt to laugh. “You can’t really predict the weather.” 

“I don’t know,” Jeongin muses, clicking his tongue. “If Jisung was here right now, he’d be losing his mind.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “That boy lost his mind ages ago. We just spend a lot of time together, of course we’re gonna see the first snow together at least once.”

Jeongin shrugs his shoulders beside you, then it goes silent. You aren’t sure how long for, and you just quietly watch the white crystals of snow hit the glass window. 

You feel Jeongin lean into you slightly after another moment. “That reminds me…”

You hum, looking over at him.

His smile curls into a playful smirk. “Stay for Christmas?”

You gape at him with an amused grin. Jeongin? Saying the line himself, unprompted? Who was this boy in front of you? “I thought you hated that line.”

Jeongin shrugs again, a smile still playing on his lips. “Eh, it kinda grew on me.” He pauses for a moment then speaks again. “But seriously, do you want to?”

Your brain goes static for a second. “As in, stay for Christmas? Like, for real?” He nods, and you deflate, slumping in your seat. “You know they’ll just say no.”

The hopeful smile on Jeongin’s face also fades, recalling your failed attempt last year. “I know,” he said, “but maybe it’s worth another try?”

You press your lips into a thin line, keeping your gaze down as you shrug. “We can if you want.”

Once the bus pulls up at your stop, Jeongin walks you home, but not without going inside with you to find your parents. With a reassuring hand on your back, he helps you plead your case to your parents, but as you feared, they shut you down quicker than last time.

Jeongin sends you a sad smile as he heads home that day, leaving you to mentally prepare for the hell you’re about to receive from your mother the minute the door clicks shut behind him. 

16 years old.

“One, two…” your mother counts slowly as she tries her best to fit the both of you on her screen. “Get a bit closer together, guys,” she ushers you with one hand. 

You huff but follow her order, and step closer to the boy next to you. “Mom, don’t you have enough photos?”

A chuckle leaves your mom's lips as she continues to take more, now at different angles. “There’s never enough photos, sugarplum!”

Jisung snorts from beside you at the nickname and you send your elbow right into his ribs to get him to shut up.

“Y/N!” your mother scolds. “Don’t be so mean, he’s being nice and taking you! Heaven knows he didn’t need to.” 

“Mom!” you gasp in surprise.

“Yeah, sugarplum,” Jisung says mockingly, faking a pout as he looks down at you. 

You glare up at the older boy and silently hiss. You knew this would be a bad idea, but this is still better than what you were originally going to do: go to winter formal on your own. Especially since Jeongin had his own date. 

“Okay, okay,” your mother says as her gaze focuses back onto her phone. “Last ones.” 

“You have plenty,” you mutter through gritted teeth.

Your mother finally lowers her phone and slips it into her oversized cardigan pocket. “Bring her home by midnight, okay? No funny business!” She borderline-chastises Jisung, and you give her a look. She’s known Jisung for years at this point, it was almost as bad as if she lectured Jeongin himself.

Luckily for you, Jisung plays along, drawing two fingers to his brow and flicking his wrist to salute. “Yes, ma’am!”

“Okay,” you start quickly as you hastily grab Jisung’s wrist. “We gotta go, bye!” 

With that, you drag Jisung out of the door and to his car before your mother can get another word in.

“Whoa there, sugarplum, calm down,” Jisung sings, “we have all the time in the world.”

“Would you let that nickname go, please?” you groan. 

Jisung unlocks his car as he walks around to the driver's seat, laughing loudly. “Never, baby.” With the car open, he stares at you and taps his temple. “That puppy is locked into the memory banks for life.” 

You roll your eyes for the nth time, open the door, and let it slam behind you as you plop onto your seat with crossed arms, Jisung’s laughter filling your ears as he follows your actions. Igniting the engine, he turns the heaters to full blast and rubs his hands together to try and gain some heat. 

“You good?” you ask, watching him blow hot air onto his hands. 

He hums and nods his head, and turns the heaters down shortly after. “I like the car to be toasty, okay? I want to feel like a marshmallow.” 

“...A marshmallow?” 

Jisung nods again affirmingly. “A marshmallow.” 

“I don’t even want to know,” you shake your head in amazement and look away from him. 

“We’re picking Innie up first, right?” Jisung asks, his attention now on the road as he backs the car out of your driveway.

“Yeah,” you hum. “His date is meeting him there.” 

After that it goes silent, partly because Jisung needs his full attention to drive, but also because there just isn’t much to say. You’re surprised Jisung hasn’t taken this time alone with you to grill and interrogate you, but maybe he had turned over a new leaf, changed his ways.

It seems more likely, however, that you just thought too highly of him, especially when he asks you about it in the next moment.

“So, how do you feel about Jeongin having his own date?” 

You turn your head to look at him. “Don’t you have the road to focus on?”

“Don’t deflect, baby,” he hums. “You can’t answer a question with a question.” 

“You can’t answer a question with a question,” you mimic, tightening your arms around your chest. 

“Now you’re just being obnoxious,” he says, which causes you to whine and throw your head back.

“Why are you even asking me? It’s fine, so what if he has his own date? I don’t care.” 

“Kinda seems like you do,” Jisung sings. 

“I don’t,” you spit back a second too quickly. 

“Look at my face.” Jisung takes one hand, motions around his face, and sends a look towards you before focusing back on the road. “Does this face look like one that would believe your bullshit?” 

“Your face looks dumb and like you’d believe any type of bullshit,” you mutter, your arms still crossed. 

“Now, I know you’re only saying that because you’re annoyed at me for pointing out the obvious.” Jisung laughs. “It's okay, I forgive you and I know I’m the most handsome guy you’ve ever laid your eyes on.” 

“You need to get your ego checked.”

Pulling up at the corner of Jeongin’s street, Jisung places the car in park. “The things I do for this friendship,” he sighs dramatically as he pulls out his phone to text Jeongin.

You shake your head, keeping your gaze out the window. “You’re ridiculous.”

“I think you misspelled the word ‘genius’, sugarplum.”

You side-eye the older boy, whose smug smile is illuminated by the light emitting from his phone. “I wasn’t spelling anything.”

“Misspoke, then.” Jisung locks his phone and looks at you innocently. “Same thing. Jeongin’s on his way.” 

“Not the same thing,” you mumble before you nod your head. “Okay, but how is he going to sneak out in a suit?” 

The sudden thought came to your mind. Jeongin had family come in from out of town for this large family party, which admittedly, he didn’t want to be there for. However, his family would definitely notice if he just walked out of the house in a tux. 

“That's where my genius comes in,” Jisung smirks and points to the back seat. “Emergency tux.” 

You look back and there is, in fact, a tuxedo folded neatly on the middle seat along with a belt to match, ready for Jeongin to wear for the formal. You stare at it for a moment too long before your gaze settles on Jisung. “What emergency is there where you need a tux?” 

The older boy shrugs and makes a face. “A fancy one?” 

You blink as you look at him, but you couldn’t stop the side of your lips turning up into a smile. “I really don’t get you sometimes.” 

His confident grin makes your own grow wider. He leans forward slightly and ruffles your hair with one hand, causing you to groan before flipping down the sun visor and looking in the tiny mirror on the back of it as you try to fix it.

Jisung laughs as he watches you. “It's okay, you can say how amazing I am and how much you love me, you don’t have to pretend.” 

Whilst fixing your hair in the mirror, your mouth twists into a disgusted frown and you send him a glare. “I repeat what I said earlier, you need your ego checked.” 

“You’ll admit it one day,” he jokes.

You close the visor back up. “Not gonna happen.” 

Before Jisung has the chance to say anything else, the right back door opens up. Jeongin throws himself in and sighs contentedly at the warmth that surrounds him. After a moment, he opens his eyes and smiles at the both of you sitting in the front. “Hey, guys!” 

“Hi,” you smile. 

Jisung smiles too and points to the suit behind him, which makes Jeongin clap his hands in delight. “Emergency tux?” he says.

Jisung clicks his tongue, sending a wink and a finger gun the younger boy’s way. “Emergency tux, baby.” 

With furrowed eyebrows, you blink at the boys. “What is it with you and emergency tuxes? Seriously, what would you even need an emergency tux for?” 

“A fancy emergency,” Jeongin answers matter-of-factly, which causes Jisung to point at him and nod.

“See, he gets it!” he agrees. “Hey, without that emergency tux, Innie would be going in sweats to the formal. Wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” 

You roll your eyes and look away from them. “Guess not.” 

“See, Y/N?” Jisung reaches over to ruffle your hair again, and you successfully duck your head away this time. He chuckles and draws his hand back, shifting the gear to drive and bringing his attention back to the road. “There's a method to my madness.”

You just huff, slumping back in your seat in defeat as he turned the car around. 

“Wait,” Jeongin pipes up as Jisung straightens out the wheel, “how am I supposed to change?”

“As I said, there’s a method to my madness.,” Jisung says, perhaps a bit too confidently as he pulls out of the street. “Just give me a minute.”

You narrow your eyes at Jisung, who keeps a straight face as he drives. You almost hate it more than his smug smile from a few minutes ago. At least then, you had the slightest clue to what he was thinking. The fact that the car is silent, save for the quiet Christmas music on the radio, does nothing to calm your worries.

Unfortunately, it looks like your gut feeling was right as you realize Jisung is pulling into a stop just right outside your neighborhood. 

“Here you go,” Jisung announces proudly, placing the car in park again. “Changing time!”

Your eyes bulging out of your head, you snap your head to Jisung. “Are you insane?!” you hiss. “We’re in public!”

The older—but you were very hesitant to say wiser—boy shrugs. “He’s gotta do it somewhere! It’s either here or the school parking lot.”

“You didn’t think about a gas station?!”

“Guys, it’s fine,” Jeongin says, his voice wavering slightly as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Just... just don’t look, please.”

You cover the sides of your eyes as you keep your gaze out the window. Every now and then, you hear Jeongin hit something in the back, causing him to groan in pain and Jisung to holler at his misery. 

This goes on for almost a minute before you hear the gear shift click. Keeping your hands around the sides of your eyes, you glower at Jisung, who smirks deviously as he pulls the lever to drive. “Don’t. You. Dare,” you grumble.

“Oh, watch me,” Jisung snickers, tapping his foot on the gas.

“Hey! I’m not done yet!” Jeongin shouts as the car inches forward, sending Jisung into another fit of laughter.

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding!”

Jisung abruptly hits the brake, causing Jeongin to shriek as he thuds against the back of your seat. The older boy lets out another cackle at this, clapping his hands as he throws his head back. He glances at you in hopes that you’re just as amused, but you only glare at him.

He lets out a drawn-out but satisfied sigh, and puts the car in park again. “Ahhh, that was fun.” 

You stay silent, maintaining your pointed stare.

“Chillax, Y/N.” He nudges your shoulder, but remains overly cheerful even though you don't budge. “Ooh, look! Snow!“

You blink. As tempting as it is to take your eyes off of him, something in your gut begs you not to.

“I’m serious!” Jisung cries again, pointing fervently in front of him. 

You sigh and turn your head slightly. At least he wasn’t lying about the snow, although it does seem lighter this year. A few snowflakes trickle down here and there, but it’s nowhere near enough to obstruct the view outside. And it definitely isn’t enough to keep Jisung from starting and stopping the car one more time, sending Jeongin crashing into the back of your seat again and proving your worries correct.

“I’m gonna kill you,” the younger boy scowls, and you lean over to flick the older one on the forehead.

“Agh!” Jisung slaps your hand away, stifling a giggle. “Okay, okay! I'm done now!”

“You better be,” Jeongin grumbles. 

After a few minutes, he gasps. “Done,” he says, and you drop your hands from either side of your eyes. 

You look in the rearview mirror, Jeongin in full view as he adjusts his tie. Sure, the suit was a size too big, and the jacket almost slipped off the ends of his shoulders, but he somehow seemed to make it work. You couldn’t explain how, it just has this charm that perfectly complements the sweet but awkward boy you’ve grown so fond of. It’s so incredibly Jeongin, and it makes you smile like a dope.

But as he runs his hands through his hair, in desperate attempts to fix it, you feel your breath hitch in your throat. That… was new. And different. By now, one would look away, but for some reason, you can’t.

That is, however, when you notice Jisung’s eyes are locked on you, his eyebrows ever-so-slightly raised in amusement. You look down at your hands as you feel your cheeks get hot. Now that was another thing you’d have to explain to the older fool. Great.

Snow continues to fall from the sky as Jisung resumes the drive to school, but it never goes past a light sprinkle. It wasn’t even enough to coat the ground in that fluffy, white blanket you had grown accustomed to in the last few years. Every so often, the older boy glances over at you, catching you lingering at the rearview mirror as Jeongin uses his phone camera to fix his hair. It only makes you sink lower and lower into your chair, and you resort to keeping your eyes on your lap for the rest of the ride.

You don’t look up again until you feel the car stop and hear the gear shift click back into park.

“We’re here,” Jisung announces in a singsong voice.

“I can tell,” you grumble, recognizing the dimly lit courtyard in front of you.

“There she is!” Jeongin seems to have spotted his date and he squeaks, checking himself in the rearview mirror one last time. “Do I look okay?” he asks, a hopeful smile on his face.

You both turn back to look at him. You open your mouth to speak but can’t get anything out, and you find yourself stupidly staring at him again.

“You look great, Jeongin.” Jisung smiles over his shoulder. He glances at you for a second, flashing his eyebrows at you, and you turn back around in embarrassment. “Now gooo, she”s waiting!” He winks at the younger boy, ushering him out of the car.

Jeongin chuckles, smoothing out his oversized suit once more before he leaves. You keep your gaze out the windshield the whole time, staring at nothing in particular, but you notice that the snow stops entirely once Jeongin wraps his arms around his date and escorts her inside.

You feel your breath get caught in your throat again. “We–” you start, then pause to clear your throat. “Yeah, we should get going, too.” 

Keeping your eyes locked in place, you blindly reach down to unbuckle your seatbelt. You’ve never felt more suffocated in a vehicle in your life and everything inside you was screaming at you to get out.

But Jisung, ever-persistent, seemed to be working against you all evening. He reaches over, gently grabbing your arm before you can touch the door handle. “Uh, uh, uh, you’re not going anywhere.”

You silently groan in your mind as you turn to face him with a sour look. “What do you want?” 

His mouth curls up into a smirk. “What was that just now?” 

“What was what just now?”

You tilt your head, your eyebrows furrowed with your lips pursed together. No matter how hard you try to keep a straight face, it only seems to egg him on more. 

“You know what I’m talking about.” Jisung nudges you repeatedly, his smirk growing wider. “That whole staring at Innie thing! It’s almost like you just realized how in love you are with him.” 

A scoff escapes your lips almost instantly. Seeing Jeongin in that suit was… an experience, to say the least, but to go as far as to say you were in love with him?

That said, it doesn’t surprise you that this all came from the guy who genuinely believed his crush would ask him out at midnight if he made a wish and forwarded a poorly-formatted copypasta to seventeen people. Bless his heart, but you’re smarter than that.

Really, you couldn’t pinpoint what sucked the breath out of your lungs when you laid eyes on Jeongin in the rearview mirror. All you could caulk it up to was some ill-timed coming-of-age epiphany: you two were sixteen now, and you could do things the sixteen-year-olds in movies do all the time. It’s a strange pill to swallow, but unlike Jeongin, it didn’t even occur to you that you could’ve asked someone out to winter formal. Everyone else your age seemed to jump at the chance, but a small part of you figured you and Jeongin would’ve gone together—as friends, of course.

Of course, you know Jisung wouldn’t buy that answer, so you had to think of something else. Something more his style.

“That’s— that’s not what happened.” You take a breath then wave him off with your hand as you continue. “It's just the tuxedo effect, it’ll be gone in the morning.”

You turn to get out of the car (again), hoping Jisung would leave it at that, but he leans over (again), grabbing your hand this time. 

“No, no, no, sugarplum, you aren’t getting away that easily.”

You want to scream. Praying for the earth to swallow you whole sounds good, too. Anything over facing Jisung, whose eyebrows are raised as he nosily rests his chin on his palm.

“Spill.” 

You lightly push him away from you as you sigh. “What is there to spill? It’s…” You pause, before continuing in a rushed mumble. “It's when you find someone attractive because of the fact that they’re wearing a suit.” 

Jisung blinks a number of times before he bursts into laughter.

“That’s so bullshit! Finding someone attractive just because they’re wearing a suit?” He shakes his head in disbelief. “That's insane.” 

“Oh, so magical snow makes complete sense, but finding someone attractive because of a suit doesn’t?” 

“It’s not magical snow, it’s fate and romance all twisted into one!” 

“Whatever, you’re hopeless.” You throw your hands up in defeat. “My point still stands: it’ll be gone by tomorrow.” 

The main doors capture your attention and your eyes linger on it as multiple other students filter in and out of the formal. Your shoulders tighten and an unexplainable uneasy feeling makes a home for itself in your chest. 

“I thought this was what you wanted…” Jisung starts, his gaze following yours, “for people to not think you guys were dating.” 

“It’s not that,” you respond quietly. 

“Then what is it?” he asks, matching your tone.

“It’s just…” you begin. “It’s weird to think he’s at the age where he’s actually thinking about liking someone and dating people.” 

“But you know what that means?” Jisung asks, prompting you to break your staring contest with the school doors and look at him. “It also means you’re old enough to do the same thing: date and move on.” 

You scoff, open the car door, and put one foot out, ready to leave. “I don’t know what you’re on about, shut up.” You get up and let the door swing closed behind you. 

Jisung quickly follows suit and makes his way around the front of his car and over to you. He places one hand on one of your shoulders, as the other delicately moves some of the hair that had fallen in your face behind your ear. 

“I’ll stop bothering you about this, yeah?” he says, his voice more gentle than teasing this time. You could count the number of times he’s spoken to you like this on one hand. “At least, I’ll stop for now. And if Jeongin won’t tell you, then I will—you look absolutely beautiful.” 

Gently lifting your chin with two fingers, Jisung leans over and places a light kiss upon your forehead. You swear that for a minute, your heart stopped beating. Even with all of the overly sweet nicknames and the babying, Jisung had never gone so far as to do something so physically affectionate with you as this. However, you like it. You like it a lot more than you thought you would. 

His lips linger there for a moment longer before he pulls away with a smile. “You’re more than capable of going after what you want. But don’t let him cloud your judgment tonight. Have fun, make memories.”

The older boy steps back from you, but offers an arm for you to take. Once you do, he leans in slightly and chuckles. “And try not to let this so-called tuxedo effect get to you too much,” Jisung adds as an afterthought. “You might fall in love with me by the end of the night.”

Using the arm linked around his, you deliver a light smack to his chest.

“In your dreams, asshole.”

…

Spending the night with Jisung as your quote-unquote “date” was more of a blast than you thought it would be. From the flavorful fruit punch and the obviously bulk-bought snacks, it truly was a night to remember. 

You made sure to catch plenty of Jisung’s dad-dancing on your phone—for blackmail purposes, of course. And when it got to that normally awkward slow dance section of the night, Jisung did what he did best and made it anything but that. Sure, you stood on his toes once or twice, but he didn’t complain, at least verbally, and all-in-all, the night seemed to be a success.

From the few glances you stole during the night, Jeongin also seemed to enjoy his time with his date. The feverish look he had in his eyes when he hopped in the back of Jisung’s car paired with the hint of lipstick on his cheek confirmed it for you. You decide not to dwell too much on it, taking Jisung’s advice, and just hand Jeongin a makeup wipe before he could stroll home with crystal clear evidence on his face that he was ever gone.

The car might as well have been a fridge as you’re sitting there, hands rubbing together so quickly you could start a fire in your attempt to gain warmth. Jisung had started the car already, but his heaters are taking much longer to kick in compared to earlier. Jeongin, now laid out across the back seat, gushes about how the night was and how breathtaking his date seemed to be in her off-white dress. (You don’t know who would wear white to a school dance, but you try your best not to judge.) 

His rambles, however, are soon cut short by Jisung, who looks at him through his rearview mirror. “Sorry, buddy, but you need to change before you get home, remember?” 

Jeongin huffs as he pulls himself up into a sitting position and nods his head. He looks at you, to Jisung, back to you, then Jisung again. “You’re not going to do that stop-start thing again, are you?” 

“Nah.” Jisung waves him off with one hand. “Wouldn’t be as funny the second time. Plus, I feel like sugarplum here would kill me.” 

Jeongin’s eyebrows furrow together slightly. “‘Sugarplum?’” 

“Don’t ask,” you say hollowly, and send Jisung a stern look to not answer Jeongin either. But in all honesty, if ‘sugarplum’ was the main thing the older boy took from tonight, you’d be completely fine with that.

“Just hurry up and change, nimrod,” Jisung says as he once again looks in the mirror.

You stare at him blankly. “What the heck is this? The eighties?” 

“Just say you’re jealous and go, okay, sugarplum?” Jisung makes a face, and you throw your hands up dismissively. 

“Did someone spike the punch?” Jeongin asks. “You’re both acting weird tonight.” Every now and then, you hear bumps and noises as he attempts to get back into his sweats in an orderly fashion. 

“We’re not being weird,” you respond flatly, your eyes locked on a shallow puddle on the sidewalk from the snowfall, if you could even call it that. You try your best to change the subject and keep Jeongin from questioning you more. “Are you done yet? Can we go?” 

With one last grunt, Jeongin succeeds in getting his head through the hole of his sweatshirt. “Yep, you can drive, Jisung.” 

That was enough for Jisung to pull the car into drive and to get on the way. 

You drum your fingers against the dashboard as Jisung drives, using everything in you to not pluck off the acrylic nails that took you an hour to stick on. You’re pleasantly surprised with how little this whole operation had gone wrong, and you could only hope that the rest of the trip would stay this way.

You don’t even allow yourself to relax into your chair until you three pull to the corner of Jeongin’s street for the second time. Jisung nearly laughs at you for this, but you quickly silence him with another smack to the chest.

“Owie! Looks like sugarplum’s feisty tonight,” Jisung cries, flashing you a fake frown.

You wince at the nickname and turn around, ignoring him. “Jeongin, do you have everything?”

Jeongin haphazardly tosses the bunched-up tuxedo on the seat beside him as he nods. He slides across the back seat and reaches for the door handle before you stop him in his tracks. 

“Wait.” You lean over the back seat and quickly wipe at his cheek, and he attempts to back away. “You missed a bit of lipstick, idiot,” you state flatly, ignoring the sudden heat you feel creeping up your neck. “You’re basically asking to get caught.” 

Jisung sits and stares as he watches you wipe away the little remnants of lipstick on Jeongin’s cheek, and he doesn’t fail to notice the way the tips of Jeongin’s ears turn a subtle pink color at your touch. 

“Ah,” Jeongin chuckles awkwardly, “thanks.”

It is when Jeongin exits the vehicle that you finally take a closer look at what he was wearing. He wasn’t just wearing any sweatshirt—it was purple. Suddenly you remember your plight from earlier and your breath catches in your throat for the third time tonight.

“Wait, Y/N.” You hear Jeongin knock on your window, snapping you out of your daze. 

You turn over and lower the glass, Jisung snickering under his breath all the while. “Yeah?”

A stupid grin comes over Jeongin’s face as he utters his next words.

“Stay for Christmas?”

You scoff and suppress a laugh. Maybe if he wasn’t still on a high from the formal, you would've considered asking your parents again this year. But what’s the point if they’ll just say no?

“Not a chance, now go home.”

After making sure Jeongin climbed into his bedroom window, Jisung turns the car around and takes you home. As he pulls into your driveway, you quickly notice how all of the lights are off in your house, minus the porch light. You let out a sigh of relief—your parents must be asleep. 

You unbuckle your seatbelt and turn to Jisung with a smile. “Thank you, Jisung,” you hum. “Tonight was fun.” 

“That's alright, sugarplum, glad to be of service,” he shoots you a toothy grin and salutes. 

You once again wince at the nickname, but decide to let it go this time. You quickly lean across the dashboard and place a kiss on Jisung’s cheek. “And thank you for what you said earlier, it meant a lot.” 

Jisung chuckles as you pull away. “You’re not falling for me, now, are you?” he quips.

“Don’t ruin the moment.” You slap him on the arm, and pause for a moment before opening the car door. “Just, thank you for tonight, seriously.” 

“Y/N, it’s fine, I had fun too.” Jisung smiles. “Just make sure to get inside, it’s cold.” 

You smile back and hum once more. Shutting the car door behind you, you rush your way up to your front porch before turning back to Jisung with a final wave. Then, you’re met with warmth, welcoming you after a long trip away as you get ready for bed.

The next morning, however, you’re greeted by two very angry parents.

By the time you got home last night, both your parents were already asleep, so you thought you had successfully gotten away with everything. Even if they were awake, they had no way to know what you did. But it turns out Jeongin’s cousin, Jungwon, caught him sneaking in and immediately snitched to his parents, who, in turn, texted yours, and probably Jisung’s as well.

Let's just say that you are now grounded well into the new year. No going out for a whole month, except maybe the Christmas party next week, if your parents are feeling generous.

You know it’s going to suck being confined to your house for the entirety of winter break, but you suppose that’s the price you pay for being a loyal best friend. If anyone was going to help Jeongin sneak out to a school dance, it’s you—even if you wouldn’t be the one to go with him in the end.

You’d do it again in a heartbeat.

17 years old.

“Can I open my eyes now?” you whine.

“Nooo,” Jeongin drones from behind you, “just be patient. It’ll be worth it, I promise.”

You sigh impatiently as he guides you by the shoulders to… somewhere. The December cold swirls around you, biting at your cheeks as you attempt to swivel your head and look around. You don’t know why you even bothered trying, though, as Jeongin had tied a black cloth over your eyes before he drove you off to this mystery location. 

Despite this, he still instructed you to keep your eyes shut. It felt excessive, but you obliged to make him happy.

“Fine, but do I really need the blindfold?” You bend your head up and over, looking to your best guess as to where Jeongin is. You can feel his hands on your shoulders, so wherever you’re staring couldn’t have been far off.

“Yes— well, not really.” Jeongin laughs sheepishly and he helps you onto what you assume is a crosswalk. “It was Jisung’s idea.”

You snort, shaking your head to yourself as you try your best to walk in a straight line. “Of course it was.”

Upbeat chatter and Christmas music dances around your ears as you near the still-unknown location. You can’t see a thing, but you can already feel the aura of holiday cheer everywhere around you, just waiting to sweep you off your feet. It is just a week shy of Christmas, after all.

Soon Jeongin comes to a stopping point, and you feel his hands leave your shoulders. “Can I take off the blindfold now?” you frown, bouncing on the balls of your feet.

“Yah, just wait!” Jeongin scolds, but you hear a light chuckle quickly follow. “Patience, Y/N.”

You feel his fingers gently graze your hair after a moment, finding its way to the knot on the back of your head. He gets it undone quickly, but holds the cloth around your head as he counts down.

“Three… two… one…” he says softly, slowly removing the blindfold from your eyes and unveiling the scene in front of you.

The glinting lights make you wince for a moment before your eyes get used to the new sudden brightness. You gasp at the sight in front of you, almost jumping out of your shoes in joy. Thousands of Christmas lights are hung up around trees, swirled around lamp posts, and hung overhead for people to walk under. It is breathtaking, truly breathtaking. 

You spin around to face Jeongin in an instant. His smile almost puts the lights out of business. “You brought me to the lights?” 

“No, I brought you to the desert.” The boy rolls his eyes, his words coated with sarcasm—but still, he smiles. “Yes, I brought you to the lights, dummy.” 

His warmth soon overtakes yours as you wrap your arms around his neck and pull him in close. He freezes for a moment, but soon lets his arms wrap around your waist. He squeezes you tight one final time before he pulls away, looking at you with a tender smile. 

“We should go, don’t want to miss out on the lights, do you?” 

You aren’t sure if he meant to grab your hand as he drags you away, but you don’t do anything to let go, either. You just stare down at your enjoined hands as you follow him, the background noise blurring away into nothing, overtaken by your heartbeat ringing in your ears. 

Minutes seem to tick by before you can bring yourself to look up again. Your gaze lands on the back of Jeongin’s head, and it only seems to intensify when he swiftly turns his head. Something about the way his hair flowed with the quick action almost makes you dizzy, and you have to look back down to shake yourself out of it. 

You finally have the courage to let your eyes trail back up again a moment later. Immediately, something in the air feels different. Jeongin had turned back to check on you, and a cluster of yellow and white lights seemed to give him a halo-like ring above his head. The music and chatter blurs around you once again, fading into a quiet buzz as your body stiffens and you nearly lose your breath. It’s like you’re the main character of one of those animes Jeongin tried to get you to watch, like the one where the boy and the girl stumble upon a field of fireflies together in the middle of the night. Here you two are, a mere speck amongst the thousands of lights, yet the boy in front of you seems to shine brighter than them all.

It’s strange to think about. You are here for the Christmas lights—no, Jeongin brought you here for the Christmas lights—but all you can focus on is him.

“Are you okay?”

The three words and a light squeeze of your hand pull you back down to earth. You didn’t realize Jeongin stepped closer to you, and you feel yourself exhale shakily, your hand slowly slipping from his grasp.

You stare back with wide eyes, and something inside you compels you to step closer to him. “Y-Yeah,” is all you manage to get out.

The colorful lights seem to flicker as you look around. For a second, they do feel like little fireflies, floating around you as they emit their warmth. And when your gaze lands back on the boy in front of you, the warmth seems to encircle you even more. You nearly forget about the cold nipping at your cheeks, and a rosy glow fills them instead. 

“It’s just… I…”

As your eyes meet Jeongin’s once again, you can’t help but notice a slight redness in his cheeks as well.  His lips curve upward slightly, and he gently takes your hands in his.

“I know. It’s beautiful.”

You smile up at Jeongin and notice something moving behind him. You squint, looking past his ear, and find those all-too-familiar fluffy crystals fluttering down. Immediately, your jaw drops and your smile grows wider. 

“Jeongin, look!” You let go of one of his hands and point to the snow surrounding you. 

The scene unfolding around you leaves you awestruck. The colors from the lights bounce off the falling snowflakes, and the music seems to chime more vividly as the snow whisks around, making everything feel brighter and more alive. You feel like your head is spinning as you swivel around, sparkles in your eyes that could rival the spectacle in front of you.

A shaky breath leaves your lips as you take one more step towards Jeongin. Your hands slowly find their way up his shoulders and around his neck, and you let his body heat swaddle you, wrapping you up in a wintry glow as you take it all in. It truly feels like you’re in a dream.

Jeongin follows your gaze and chuckles, a fond smile on his face as he gently pulls you closer. “Yes, Y/N, I know what snow is. Is snow bad?”

You look at him again, your wide, shimmering eyes meeting his warm ones. In that moment, nothing else mattered: just you, the snow, and the boy in front of you.

“It's perfect.”

And like the blonde girl in the firefly scene, you’d give anything for the moment to last forever.

…

“Where were you?”

Your mother’s words nearly make you jump out of your skin the second you step in the house, and you hiss to yourself. Your time with Jeongin at the light festival had swept you off your feet so much that you forgot you weren’t even supposed to be there.

After the events from last year, your parents had grounded you for a whole month, effectively barring you from even stepping foot outside of the house unless it was to school and back. Even worse, they grew so concerned about your so-called “excessive time with this boy” that they placed a strict curfew on you once your grounding sentence was lifted. No seeing friends—read: no seeing Jeongin—after 8pm, lest unspeakable things happen to you. It was ridiculous, not only because you’re seventeen, but because, somehow, your best friend since you were nine was now this supposed threat.

The only way you had been able to skirt around this was to lie, usually about studying at a coffee shop with an unnamed friend. You can’t remember what excuse you gave this time, but at this point, it didn’t matter much.

Your mother crosses her arms, a look of disapproval etched on her features. “Where were you, really? And don’t say the school library this time.”

You curse to yourself, your mistake dawning on you. Why'd you pick a Saturday night to say you were meeting up with some friends at the school library? Did your excitement over Jeongin and his ‘mystery surprise’ really mess with your head that much? It couldn’t have been him… could it?

After a minute, you conclude that you just slipped up after exhausting your list of excuses over the course of the year. It was bound to happen.

“Well?” your mother says expectantly.

You just sigh, throwing up your hands in defeat. “I was with Jeongin.” 

Your eyes flick up, waiting for her next frustrated ramble about how you’ve been spending too much time with him. Instead, you get a throaty chuckle as she shakes her head at you, a smirk taking the place of her frown.

“Of course you were.”

Blinking, you stare at her in shock. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! It means nothing.” She turns around, busying herself with wiping some crumbs off the dining table. However, after closer inspection, you see that the table is spotless.

“No, it means something,” you protest. What happened to all her complaints about how much time you’ve spent with Jeongin? Why the sudden change of heart?

“I didn’t say anything, sweetheart,” your mom says. “But did he?”

“Did he what?”

“You know, the three words,” she looks up, sending you a wink and imitating Jeongin, “‘Stay for Christmas?’” 

Mortified, you feel heat rush up to your ears as your mother lets out another laugh. “Mom!”

You refuse to admit it to her, but you actually said it first this year.

It was just half an hour ago. Jeongin walked you to your car, a gentle hand on the small of your back as he followed you down his driveway. He wrapped you up in a strong embrace before you could even unlock your car, and you looped your arms around his neck in return, smiling into his shoulder.

The hug was sweet—Jeongin’s hugs, which seemed to increase in frequency lately, always were. But he held you for a second longer than normal in this one, and when you tried to let go, he let out a small whine and held you closer to him for one more moment. The move took you by surprise, but you hugged him back nonetheless.

You let your eyes flutter shut as you melted into his hold, letting your head fall against his chest. The sound of his heartbeat could’ve lulled you to sleep if you let it, and the light snowfall twirling around you two certainly didn’t help matters. Gradually, you relaxed your arms, letting them hang loosely around his neck, and you let out a contented sigh. You truly never felt more at peace.

Maybe it was safe to say something in the air shifted while you were wrapped up in each other’s arms. Usually, he’d give you a fond chuckle and a curt pat on the back right before he pulled away and took off. But when the two of you finally let go, you opened your eyes to find him smiling down at you. Something akin to affection swam in his soft irises as he slowly pulled back, his hands gently resting on your waist. It was… different, for sure, especially coming from him. 

You smiled back warmly, linking your hands together behind his neck. “Are you okay?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper.

Jeongin nodded his head, an adoring smile still tugging at his lips. “Just… got a lot on my mind, that’s all.”

Something seemed to swirl in his features that you couldn’t quite pick up. You registered the return of the light pink on his cheeks and the tips of his ears as you stood under the streetlight together, but nothing else. It was probably just the cold that stirred this up, so you decided not to ask.

You could only stare back at him as you tried to think of something else to say. Something about the position you two were in—arms wrapped around each other under the moonlight—felt too close to lovers in the movies. You couldn’t explain why, but it made your brain go static. And in your attempt to relieve the tension, you gulped once and spat out the first stupid one-liner that came to mind.

“By any chance, are any of those things ‘Stay for Christmas’?”

Of course it had to be that.

Jeongin let out a light scoff, rolling his eyes playfully as he dropped his hands from your waist. You giggled at his disappointment, but you instantly missed the warmth that radiated from him. Luckily, you had half a mind not to say that out loud.

“Okay, moment over,” he mumbled, gently pushing you towards your car. “Get home safe, Y/N.”

“I’m just kidding!” your mother cries in exasperation, bringing your focus back to her. “I know I can’t stop you from seeing him. He is your,” she pauses to make air quotes, “‘best friend’, after all.”

You narrow your eyes at her. “He’s my best friend. No air quotes needed.”

Your mother nods, clearly not believing you. “Right… for now.”

Feeling more blood rush to your face, you roll your eyes and unceremoniously march upstairs. “Goodnight, mom.”

She’s crazy, right? Absolutely. You know yourself and you know your friendships better than anyone. You and Jeongin are best friends for a reason—nothing more, and certainly nothing less. The way you felt like you were on cloud nine just hours ago? It was a one-time thing, you were just fascinated by the lights.

Jeongin had nothing to do with it.

18 years old.

Your scarf is wrapped tightly around your neck and face in attempts to shield yourself from the cold. You jump on the balls of your feet in place as you wait for one of the Yang family to open the door and invite you into the familiar warmth. It’s pretty much tradition at this point to spend at least part of Christmas Eve with the Yangs, but they’re hosting the Christmas party this year so it’s just another reason to stop by.

Shoving your hands into your coat pockets, your eyes brighten when you see movement through the front door window. Soon enough, Mrs Yang opens up the door with a smile of her own. 

"Y/N!" She sings, ushering you in before she pulls you into a hug. "I think Jeongin's still asleep, so you can do those honors?" She chuckles. 

You pull away, slip off your coat and scarf, and hang them up before you rush up the stairs. "Leave it to me, Mrs. Yang!" 

Once you’re up the top of the stairs, you creep down the hallway and knock on the door. When you get no response, you just let yourself in.

The scene in front of you is something you expect, but it brings a fond smile to your face nonetheless. Jeongin is spread out across his bed, his blanket bunched up around his chin. His hair is all fluffy from a good night’s sleep and his face looks peaceful as he snores lightly, like nothing in the world could ever hurt him. 

Going over to his bed, you let yourself fall onto it and your head rest on the pillow next to him. Examining his face, you notice how his eyelashes lay against his cheeks and how his lips part slightly as he breathes.

"I can feel you staring at me," Jeongin says, his eyes still closed.

You clutch your chest in surprise as you roll onto your back. "Oh my god, why do you have to scare me like that?” you cry, staring at the ceiling. "You could have said you were awake." 

"But then you wouldn't get your chance to admire me," he chuckles as he finally opens his eyes. 

"Shut up, no I wasn't!" 

"I don't know, your stare felt pretty heavy to me."

You glare at him, flying up and off of his bed before ripping the blanket off of him.

"Y/N! What the hell?!" Jeongin gasps, shooting up so he’s sitting. "What if I was naked?!" 

"I know you too well, you don't sleep naked." You bend down to stare at him. "You'd be too scared to sleep naked," you add as you throw his blanket back onto his bed. 

Jeongin rolls his eyes, grabbing the blanket before he wraps it around himself like a burrito. "What are you doing here anyway?" he mumbles. He runs one hand through his hair in an attempt to tame it, but all it really did was make it even more fluffy. Something about it makes your heart quicken its pace. 

"Don't you remember what day it is?"

Jeongin blinks slowly, his tiredness showing. "Friday?" 

You groan, sitting down on his bed again before quickly grabbing his pillow to hit him with it. "It's the Christmas," hit, "party,” another hit, “you idiot!"

You attempt to hit him again, but he catches the pillow with his hands and pulls it away from you. 

This only causes you to stumble into him, also making Jeongin fall back in the process. A gasp escapes your lips and you use your hand to stop yourself from head-butting the groggy boy. You blink quickly, his eyes gazing into your own. His nose brushes up against yours ever-so-slightly, and you clear your throat, your cheeks flushing. 

"This is your fault,” you attempt to joke. 

"Me?!" Jeongin scoffs. "You hit me first!" Mimicking his words silently, you roll your eyes. "Uh, but can you move, you're a bit heavy." 

Your eyes widen and you scoot away with lightning speed. "Sorry.” You blink, staring down to play with your fingers in your lap. 

"By the way," Jeongin says, "I didn't forget today was the Christmas party."

“Well, that’s why I’m here early, to help out,” you mutter, your face still down. 

Out of the corner of your eye, you watch as Jeongin gets off of his bed, goes over to his drawers and pulls out the first shirt he finds before pulling his pajama top over his head. You jump and turn in the opposite direction, your cheeks fully flushed.

“Jeongin!” you whine, holding the backs of your hands to your cheeks in an attempt to cool them down. “You could have warned me or told me to leave.” 

“Aww, you blushing?” Jeongin snickers. “Never seen a boy undress before?” 

Without looking back at him, you try your best to chuck his pillow in his direction. You hear it thump against the wall instead.

“You missed~” Jeongin sings, which makes you scoff.

“And I wasn’t blushing, asshole, just didn’t want to get scarred for life.”

Of course you’re blushing. Especially when he nonchalantly stood and started to strip off his top. And of course you had seen men undress before… in the movies. But there’s no way you’d utter a word of it to Jeongin, not when it would send his already-soaring ego to new heights. 

“We both know that your life would actually be improved,” Jeongin chuckles to himself.

He walks across his room and when he comes into your peripheral, you instantly move to cover your eyes. It doesn’t help your reddening cheeks when the sound of Jeongin’s laughter rings out louder.

You feel his fingers wrap themselves around your wrists as you try to fight him from pulling them away from your face. “I’m dressed, idiot, stop being so shy.” 

“Stop making fun of me!” you cry and he guides your hands away from your face. 

Your eyes meet his and you notice the cheeky smile playing at his lips, which only turns yours into a pout. You only wish he’ll soon forget about this and move on to something different to make fun of you with. However, when you note the playful twinkle in his eyes, you know your prayers won’t be answered. 

“Look, you’re blushing so hard!” He continues to smirk. 

“I told you, I’m not blushing!” 

You attempt to hit him, but with his fingers still wrapped around your wrists, you fail to do so. His grin seems to only grow wider as you roll your eyes and try to pull your wrists from his grasp. 

“By the way, Jisung said he was going to stop by later for the party,” you mention.  Jeongin’s smile seems to drop slightly at the sound of the older boy’s name. 

“Why? He doesn’t live in the neighborhood.” 

You shrug as you look at Jeongin with a blank expression. “How am I meant to know how Jisung’s brain works? He's in a world of his own.” 

Jeongin hums, his gaze dropping to the floor. 

“But in all seriousness,” you start, “he said something about missing us, and that, like, his college just isn’t the same without us?” you suggest. “Also, there was something about this girl he really likes and magic snow and shit,” you add, which causes Jeongin to snort.

“Did he actually say this or you making it up?” 

“It’s more like reading between the lines, if you will,” you giggle. 

“So he didn’t say shit, you’re just making it up as you go along.”

Jeongin crosses his arms over his chest as he stares at you, waiting for you to formulate your next response. But when the only one he gets is you playfully hitting his arm, he rolls his eyes for the nth time. 

“Don’t we have to help set up the party or something? Or a movie to watch?” 

“Right, yeah. We should do that.”

Jeongin laughs and as soon as he grabs your hand, flashbacks instantly flare up in your mind from the year before, of the Christmas lights he took you to see—of the way he seemed to shine under them all. You make sure to wish again that he won’t notice the new blush that presented itself as you thought of that time.

You keep quiet, not wanting to give yourself away as Jeongin gently pulls you out with him. You let your eyes gloss over his room once more. You’ve been in here a thousand times before and it seemed to grow with him over the years, and in a way, it grew with you, too. You remember the days when his bed was adorned with Toy Story bedsheets, Woody’s face front and center on his comforter (but you knew Rex was his favorite character). It had long since been traded in for sleek, black sheets—arguably more fitting for someone who is waiting for his first choice university, at the other side of the country, to respond with his admission decision.

And although you’ve been here a thousand times before, something new on his dresser catches your eye.

“Wait, is that…?”

Letting go of his hand, you make your way to the dresser, moving a crumpled up piece of paper out of the way to reveal a photo. It’s from when you were both ten years old; nearly a year after you had first met on the monkey bars, about two weeks before that classroom Christmas party. Mrs. Yang had taken Jeongin to a lights festival one December weekend, like the one you went to last year, and she happened to invite you and your parents along. You and Jeongin stood together in the center of the picture, and a giant Christmas tree towered behind your small frames. The mirthful glow of the tree enveloped the two of you as you posed for the photo, jolly smiles plastered on both of your faces.

Gasping in surprise, your lips part slightly as you take the photo in your hands. “No way…” you murmur softly, and you look up at Jeongin as he makes his way to you. “How… how did you find this?”

Jeongin peers over your shoulder. He gently holds the frame in one hand, his fingers brushing against yours as he smiles fondly. “My mom stumbled across it a couple months ago. She was digging through old photo albums and found this tucked in the back of one of them.” His thumb grazes over the glass. “She framed it and gave it to me, I guess she knew how important it was.”

You blink several times, hoping he doesn't catch the way your eyes briefly well with tears as you take in the details of the picture. You remember that night vividly and all the memories from it seem to come flooding back all at once. 

It was your first ever Christmas lights festival, and it was nothing short of magical. The vibrant holiday lights glistened all around you, rivaling the sparkles in your wide eyes. The bells in the soft Christmas music gently tinkled in your ears, as if Santa himself was reminding you he would be on his way soon. The gooey, fresh-baked (and rather expensive) chocolate chip cookie you had split with Jeongin, paired with the rich (and also questionably pricey) hot chocolate you had begged your mom to buy along with it, brought even more warmth pooling in your belly as you leaped down the lit-up aisles with your best friend. 

Looking back, perhaps that was what sparked your ongoing Christmas obsession. Sure, it didn’t snow that night, but seeing the bright bulbs all around you twinkling like stars in the sky captivated you wholly, wrapping little ten-year-old you in a warm, merry glow. It calmed the impatience for Christmas bubbling inside you by the day, but lit the fire inside you for the awaited day like never before. And best of all, your best friend was right by your side, being pulled into the evening’s embrace with you.

You notice one very important detail in the picture, though, that breaks your bubbling sentimentality, and instead makes you giggle.

“Oh my god, it’s the sweater.”

The fact that the picture was taken at night and the lights added a yellow glare to the photo made it difficult to spot. But one could take a closer look and see that, indeed, Jeongin was sporting that obnoxious purple sweater under his puffy blue coat.

Jeongin lets his hand drop, leaving the frame in yours as he frowns in offense. “Heyyy, it was comfy!”

You stifle another laugh. “Doesn’t change the fact that it was ugly as hell.”

He sneers at you, “Oh please, like you didn’t wear hideous clothes when you were ten!”

You shrug as you pull the frame up to eye level and continue to giggle. “Maybe, but nothing will beat that sweater.” 

You lunge out of the way as Jeongin tries to wrap his arms around you and grab the photo from your grasp. However, a giggle escapes your lips as Jeongin’s fingers graze your side, which causes you to jump away from him. 

A knowing smirk appears on his face. Your eyes widen. 

“Don’t you even think about it.”

Jeongin doesn’t listen to you though, and his hands are already at your sides. Your grip on the photo tightens in an attempt to not drop it as your eyes prickle with tears. Jeongin’s fingers run up and down your sides as he tickles you, and causes a mix of gasps and laughter to escape your throat. 

“Jeongin!” You continue to laugh as you try to step away from him.

Jeongin thinks quicker. Instead of torturing you more, though, you’re surprised that he chooses to pull you closer to him instead, wrapping his arms around your waist.

“I got you now!” His giggle rings in your ears as he wiggles you like a rag doll. You halfheartedly try to push him away, protesting in between your own giggles.

“Stop itttt, you asshole!”

He seems to listen to you this time, too, and lets you go. However, an evil grin lingers on his face.

You inch back cautiously, keeping a careful watch for his next move. He responds by slowly leaning closer, his smile stretching wider and wider. You slowly move your hands up to your sides to protect yourself from another tickle ambush, a nervous giggle slipping out.

He seems to inch closer and closer to you, and he stops right before your noses can touch, a shit-eating grin on his face. Then he mumbles, flashing his eyebrows:

“Stay for Christmas?”

You groan exasperatedly and lightly push the cheeky boy away from you.

“Oh my god, Jeongin!”

Jeongin breaks out into shy giggles as he steps closer to you, poking you playfully. You have to bite the inside of your cheek to stop yourself from doing the same whilst you try and swat his hands away.

“Come baaaack!” He chuckles after a moment, stepping close enough to wrap his arms around you again.

“Get me out!” You cry out as you try to break free. Your giggly demeanor completely breaks, however, when Jeongin just hugs you closer to him, taking you by surprise one more time.

“No,” you feel him hum through your shoulder, tucking his head in it when you try to step away. “Don’t move.” 

You fight and lose to the smile that appears on your face as you wrap your own arms around his shoulders. 

You can’t explain how in moments like this, he easily causes your heart to race by doing the littlest things. It makes you wonder if he can feel your heartbeat right now as you’re pressed up against him. If he can, he doesn’t say anything. 

“Ahem.”

A familiar voice breaks the silence hanging around you two. You both break away from the hug, keeping your gaze cast downwards as you turn to face Jisung. He had swung the door open at some point and was now leaning coolly against the doorframe as he watches you two.

Seeing you both cower under his gaze seems to amuse him greatly, and a smirk makes its way onto his face. “What was that?” he says, failing to hide the chuckle threatening to spill out.

You stuff your hands in your pockets as you sputter. “It– it’s not what it– we were just–“

“We were just reminiscing, Jisung,” Jeongin grumbles from beside you, his arms crossed over his chest. His cheeks seem to burn red as Jisung grins wider.

You simply nod along with Jeongin. “Yeah, reminiscing. What he said,” you murmur.

“Oh, you keep telling yourself that, baby.” He chuckles, running a hand through his hair, which he had seemed to let grow out during his time away.

He lets out a satisfied sigh before he continues. “Ahh, I knew this would happen! It was snowing by the time I got here, so I figured you two were up here together,” he wiggles his eyebrows for emphasis, “alone. And you called me crazy!”

You want to roll your eyes at his antics, but you can only chuckle fondly. Sure, it seems like the now-college boy still believes in magic snow, but you have to admit: you did miss hearing him gush about it all the time.

“Yeah, yeah,” you say, “why’d you come up here anyway?” You seize the opportunity to wiggle your eyebrows back at him. “Did you miss us?”

It’s now Jisung’s turn to roll his eyes at you. “Mrs. Yang was looking for you two so she sent me up here,” he says, dodging your question.'' You know the party started already, right?”

Your eyes widen, and you and Jeongin flush in embarrassment again.

“Oh, right,” Jeongin mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly as he exits the room. “The party.”

You place the framed photo of you two on the foot of Jeongin’s bed before following him out. Jisung holds the door open for you two, his smirk getting cockier by the minute.

The older boy pokes both your and Jeongin’s cheeks as you step out of Jeongin’s room. “For the record, I did miss you two.”

You snort, reaching a hand up to ruffle his hair before the three of you make your way downstairs. “I know.”

19 years old.

“You’re cheating!”

Hyunjin’s voice nearly makes your ears ring. He really has no need to be speaking so loud, as you’re literally right next to him.

You grip your controller tighter as he tries to swipe it from you with his hand, and you lean away from him. 

“Am not!” You yell back, your eyes focused on the tiny Nintendo Switch screen. “You just suck at this game.” 

At the same time as Hyunjin gasps, Felix and Seungmin burst into laughter at your response from the other end of Jisung’s bed. At the corner of your eye, you notice Felix fall to the ground amidst his fit of giggles.

“Just get better, Jinnie,” you quip, a confident smirk tugging at your lips.

Even with Hyunjin trying to swat you like a bug, you still manage to keep your eyes locked on the game. Your chosen character, Toad, remained in first place, and after getting a green shell from a lucky box, you send it backwards, causing Hyunjin’s Princess Daisy to spin out. 

He gets passed by multiple NPCs, landing him in 10th place with one lap to go. The way he grumbles and glares at the screen only increases yours and the other two boys’ laughter. 

You’ve successfully maintained your first place title as you raced around Moo Moo Meadows. That is, until halfway through the last lap, when a voice pulls your attention from the game. 

“Why are only two of you playing?” Jeongin says, entering the room with a bowl of popcorn in his hands. At the sound of his voice, you shoot up out of your seat and look at him with a smile. 

“Jisung only has two controllers and Felix was dumb and forgot his,” Seungmin snorts, which causes the blonde boy to pout. 

“Hey!” 

Hyunjin goes silent, his own eyes narrowed on his half of the screen as he slowly creeps up the positions. 

“About time you showed up,” you giggle, “thought you weren’t going to come.” 

Jeongin laughs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Sorry, had a few things to do first, but I’m here now.” 

Gasps erupt from Seungmin and Felix, and Hyunjin cries in triumph as he throws his hands and the controller into the air. Your head snaps to the game and your mouth falls open as you find Princess Daisy listed as first place, dancing in her car as she continued around the track—whereas Toad, in your distracted state, had been passed by all of the NPCs and was in dead last, “DNF” flashing on your half of the screen and on your 12th place ranking in the middle. 

“You cheated!” You gasp at Hyunjin, throwing yourself back down onto the couch as you mash the ’A’ button. 

“Just get better Y/Nie,” Hyunjin remarks as he grins mockingly, using your own words against you. 

“You guys did this on purpose,” you huff, glaring at the boy who just ruined your five-game-win streak. “Rematch, now.” 

“But it was meant to be our go next!” Felix cries, his pout exaggerated. 

“Maybe Hyunjin shouldn’t have cheated!” 

“Maybe you should have stayed focused!” Hyunjin fights back. 

“Where's Jisung?” Jeongin asks out of the blue, and you motion to the door without saying a word. Jeongin snorts, nodding his head. “Thanks.” 

He leaves the four of you in the tiny dorm room to join Jisung wherever he was outside—you assumed the convenience store by the dorm lobby. Your attention gets caught once again when your phone lights up, a message notification greeting you on your lockscreen.

baby: outside :)

you: be right there :)

You chuck the controller to Felix, and he jumps in surprise. “You can play now, I need to go get someone,” you state simply, but the grin on your face seems to give you away.

A single “huh?” escapes Felix’s mouth as the other two boys watch you with curious eyes. Not letting their gaze disturb you, you head to Jisung’s front door. 

You open it swiftly to be met with your fairly new boyfriend, Heeseung. you met him after starting college this past semester through a mutual friend, and have been dating for around two months now. you don’t remember what drew you to him in the first place, but one thing is clear—he’s so damn cute.

Your cheeks heat up quickly at the sight of him. His fluffy brown hair was hidden underneath a hat and the bits of his fringe that did stick out fell against his forehead. 

“Hey.” you smile, taking a step towards him.

“Hi,” he responds, wrapping his arms around your waist which you reciprocate. “Sorry I’m late.”

“All good,” you hum into his shoulder. “All the boys are here. I’d say they’re not crazy, but I’d be lying.” 

You feel Heeseung’s chuckle vibrate through you. “It's fine, you’ve met my friends, how much worse can they be?” 

Pulling away slightly so you could look at him, you push your lips into a thin line and feign a concerned look. 

“Eh, they’re something, alright,” you drop the fake look, chuckling. 

“They finally have those snacks downstairs~!”

Jisung swings the door open, prompting you to turn around. He’s beaming and there’s a bounce in his step as a bag of chips sways in his hand, but it all dissipates into an inquisitive, perhaps even nosy, stance once he sees the boy whose arms are wrapped around you.

“Who's this?” The chestnut-haired boy tilts his head, his eyebrows drawn together.

You can’t help the smile that adorns your face. “Jisung, this is Heeseung, my boyfriend.”

You gesture one hand towards Heeseung himself, and you grin wider as he pulls you closer, nuzzling your nose against his shoulder. When you settle your head against his chest, you look back at Jisung and his jaw is practically on the floor. 

“Boyfriend?!”

Oh boy.

Heeseung chuckles again, shyly this time. He glances down at you, unsure of what to say, and you take that as your cue to do most of the talking.

“Yeah?” you affirm with a nod, but your statement sounds more like a question. “Is… is that bad?”

Jisung, still in a shocked state, opens and closes his mouth like a fish. He brings a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it nervously. “Oh, no, of course not! I’m happy that you’re happy, it’s just…”

Heeseung cocks an eyebrow at the older boy. “It’s just…?” He repeats, trailing off at the end like Jisung did.

You want so desperately to pretend you don’t know what Jisung meant by that last bit, but the fact that you catch three heads peeking from around Jisung’s bed only seems to prove your suspicions correct. Looks like Seungmin wasn’t exaggerating when he mentioned that “Jisung has told us so much about you!” when you met him and the others an hour ago. From the way Jisung glances fervently between you and the door, though, it’s safe to assume the majority of what he said involved Jeongin in some context.

Maybe you should’ve told them ahead of time the “plus one” you were bringing to the Christmas hangout was, in fact, your boyfriend. In hindsight, it was foolish of you to assume they’d get the memo from the mere mention of “plus one.” And by someone, you meant Jisung—the main man on the “Y/Ninnie train”, as he liked to call it. 

Funny enough, you were just following his advice from that winter formal back in high school: date and move on. Sure, it was three years too late, and there wasn’t anything in particular that you needed to move on from, but advice is advice.

Still, you send the flustered boy a stern glare. You were not getting Heeseung involved in his shenanigans if it’s the last thing you do.

But you notice Jeongin stumble in the room, bag of gummy bears in hand, and Jisung’s eyes grow wide. Your voice nearly strangles, but you quickly snap out of it before Heeseung can notice.

“And this is Jeongin,” you gesture to the hooded boy, “my best friend.”

You don’t notice the way Jeongin’s smile falls slightly as his eyes land on you, though your eyes trail after him as he wordlessly shuffles past you two and plops on Jisung’s bed. 

Jisung seems to recompose himself, and he steps closer to you and Heeseung, holding out a hand. “Heh, I’m sorry about that,” he laughs nervously, but Heeseung smiles curtly and shakes his hand. “Make yourself at home, we’re happy to have you here.”

“No worries, man.”

Jisung leaves you two alone, but you don’t miss the look he gives Jeongin. It’s full of concern, and you can’t pinpoint why.

Blinking, you shake off the sinking feeling in your chest, and take Heeseung’s hand as you two move to a spot on the floor by Seungmin’s feet, as the bed was all occupied.

Heeseung snakes his arm around your shoulders as you both focus on the tiny console screen. Felix and Hyunjin were on their last lap of Cheep Cheep Beach, neck-in-neck with each other, and you both chuckle at the boys’ chaotic screams as they pass each other back and forth.

You notice throughout the evening that Jeongin will occasionally meet your gaze when you glance his way. Each time, he opens his mouth to speak and there’s this look pooling in his eyes—some mix of longing but urgency that you can’t sense the reason behind. Regardless, your chest tightens at the sight.

You observe Jeongin whisper something to Jisung, ignoring and trying to filter out the screams of the other three boys as they argue over who gets to be Yoshi, but it’s no use.

“Are you okay?” Heeseung asks softly, the hand around your shoulders gently rubbing your arm.

You gulp but nod, not taking your eyes off of Jeongin but leaning into Heeseung’s side. “Yeah.”

An hour or so passes, and it seems like the awkward glances have only increased in frequency—not just from Jeongin, but between the other boys, too. It eats at you inside not knowing why. All you have gathered so far is that it definitely involves you and Jeongin.

“Hey, Heeseung, is it?'' Felix suddenly pipes up. Both you and Heeseung look up to his spot in the middle of Jisung’s bed, his legs criss-cross applesauce.

“What’s up?” Heeseung responds.

Felix smiles and hands Heeseung his Switch controller. “Wanna play a round? You haven’t had a turn yet.”

A smile of Heeseung’s own forms on his face as he takes the controller in his hands, slowly moving his arm from your shoulders as he hops on the bed. “Oh, bet!”

You’re happy to watch your boyfriend get along with Jisung’s friends as if they were your own—in a way, they kind of are. But one look at Jeongin and all that comes crashing down, seeing the longing look in his eyes.

You still don’t know what’s wrong. Is it because of Heeseung? Does he have some unspoken beef with him? If so, why were all his gazes targeted at you and not him?

Jeongin looks back at Jisung hopelessly, and you attempt to eavesdrop as they whisper amongst themselves. Again, the other boys in the room are too loud for you to get anything useful.

That is, until you glance back at the screen as Seungmin and Heeseung go head-to-head on Rainbow Road, and Jisung scolds Jeongin out of the blue—probably louder than he intended to.

“You need to tell Y/N. Now.”

Your head snaps their direction. Your gaze lands on Jisung for speaking so loud, but slowly shifts to Jeongin. The other boys seem to fall silent, too.

“Tell me what?”

You’re already driving yourself crazy trying to figure it out. All you want is an answer.

Jeongin sighs and sits next to you on the floor. You carefully follow his movements with your eyes. He clasps his hands together, resting them on top of his knee. He opens his mouth to speak, and you nod expectantly.

And… nothing.

After a minute of strangled silence, Jeongin sighs in defeat and drags his feet as he shuffles back to Jisung. The older boy gives him a look you can’t quite read and quietly scolds him some more. The other boys just exchange glances with each other and continue to play Mario Kart quietly, making for the worst awkward silence of your life. So much for your first college hangout.

At least you’re able to pick up some information now. You can barely hear Jisung and Jeongin’s hushed whispers even though the room is largely silent, but you do hear the word “college” over and over.

You guess it makes sense. After months of patiently waiting during your senior year of high school, you remembered Jeongin’s dispirited form when he found out he had been waitlisted for his top choice school. Following that, he’s been going to the state university in your city with you, but he mentioned something offhand about re-applying for the spring semester. Maybe he’s stressed about that, but it seems like Jisung has it covered for now.

Still, they both look over at you with those concerned, longing stares, and it’s not hard to miss.

Even after you get another turn on the Switch, you’re still left with an uncomfortable feeling in the pit of your stomach by the end of the night. Yes, you won another cup and got your sweet, sweet revenge on Hyunjin for earlier, but it does nothing to tell you why Jeongin hasn’t spoken a word to you all night. Well, he tried to, but look how well that went.

It seemed like everyone around you knew except, well, you. You hate that feeling, but at least, whatever it was, Heeseung wasn’t involved. He doesn’t need to be thrown in whatever drama had concocted under your nose, especially not during his first time meeting them all.

By the time the boys start heading out, with Jeongin being the first to go, you’re practically squirming in your spot. You can’t take this anymore.

You give Heeseung a goodbye peck as he slips his coat on and leaves the dorm. “Thanks for inviting me, I had a great time.”

You smile. “I’m glad. I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?”

Heeseung nods, leaning down to kiss your cheek once more before exiting the dorm. That left just you and Jisung, and you turn towards the wide-eyed boy the second the door clicks shut.

“Okay, what is going on?” You don’t mean to snap, but your pent-up emotions get the better of you as you storm toward Jisung. “You and Jeongin have been acting weird all night. Actually, all of you have! What the hell, Jisung!”

“Y/N—” Jisung tries to speak, but you cut him off quickly.

“Was it Heeseung? He didn’t even do anything wrong, he was the quietest one here besides Jeongin!”

“Y/N—”

“And you think I’m not gonna notice you and my best friend staring at me like you two just did?” You stop to take a breath, and you feel heat rush to your ears the more you think about this. “How do you think Heeseung felt?! Is this some kind of sick joke?”

“Y/N, listen.”

Jisung’s soft voice makes you step back. It’s the same tone he gave you in the school parking lot when you were sixteen.

“Jeongin got into the school he wanted for spring semester. He’s been trying to tell you for weeks, he— he just didn’t know how. He leaves tomorrow morning.”

You freeze, and your heart sinks to your stomach. It’s like everything around you comes to a stand-still and the world goes deathly silent. All your attempts to speak go unheard as all you do is open and close your mouth, unable to formulate a sentence, let alone a single thought. 

A long list of questions fly through your mind at rapid speed. Why didn’t he say something? Why didn’t you push him to say something? Why did he not want to tell you when Heeseung was there? Why couldn’t you have just stayed with him instead?

“What?” 

You feel Jisung gently place a hand on your shoulder as he frowns. He pulls you in close and wraps his arms around your shoulders. That's when you notice tiny dots dampening his shirt and you finally realize you’re crying.

[go to part two HERE]

[eirenses]

hopy shit man, the qsmp team makes me fall in love again and again with this setver.

the purgatory event was insane.

i only watched bolas pov, but man, they were so fun to watch. their whole team synergy was unmatched. after months of postponing watching qsmp because of <life> i tried to rewatch the vods every day, i was sooo hooked. i didn't even notice how much i got attached to this event. i'm gonna miss them so much

AND THE FINALE OH MY GOD

i can't deal with this cliffhanger. it hurts so much to see the parents being just a few steps away from their kids, but failing to save them, and to save themselves because of it.

istg when cellbit messages roier "adiós guapito" as he was looking down on the boat made me cry. also philza destroying his new wings to save tubbo was so sad also.

i am just so so distraught. I NEED IT TO CONTINUE NOW

[ddiidi]

Secrets and Danger

idol!Leeknowx fem!reader (ot8 mentioned)

Masterlist

Part 4 - PART5 (not proof read!)- Part 6

Synopsis: It's been a while since the Stray kids concert and you were continuing with you university. You and stray kids got really close, expacially you and Minho, you two even meet up every now and then, doing things together. Also today was a normal university day till someone came to visit you...

!warnings: non, fluff (lmk if i missed anything)

"Hey Y/nnieeeeee!! Heyyy do you want to go eat Lunch together?" Mila trumped out, while you packed your things together, to go out for Lunch "Of course Mil! Just let me quickly pack my things."

You finished packing and walked out of the Classroom, straight to the Cafeteria, together with Mila. When you walked outside on the university ground, you both saw a giant student circle, everyone being really hyped up about something.

You looked at Mila, she shrugging her shoulders, so you went to see what everyone was so focused at and when you saw what the thing- no, better- who the person was, they all gone crazy for, your jaw hit the floor. "What in the world is HE doing here" you thought to yourself and when he spotted you in the crowd, a big smile formed on his face "Y/nnnnn, I finally found you!"

You wanted to just bury yourself, when he ran over to you and stopped infront of you, taking your hands in his. You feel it. All the eyes were one you. You just wanted to disappear and never come back, so you grabbed his wrist and pulled him out fo the crowed, behind the uni building.

"Are you crazy??? What in the world are you doing here Minho!" you quietly scream at him. "I wanted to suprise you..I thought you'd be happy if I come around some time to suprise you, what are you so mad for?? Aren't you the one who's sad so often because we barely are able to meet since I'm so busy? Why are you mad now that I visit you???" "It's not that you can't visit me, in fact, I love that you're thinking about what I say and try to still spend time with me, but you can't visit me here! Everyone here at this school knows you and those who didn't, least know you now! Do you even know what rumors can spread?? They could think I'm your girlfriend or something and-" "And what's so bad about that?" he interrupts you, "What?" "What's so bad about the fact, that they could think you're my girlfriend? I wouldn't mind it." he says with a serious expression, "Minho what do you-"

"Y/NNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNNN????! OH Y/N, THERE YOU ARE!!" Mila runs over to you and you let out a tried sigh "Mila...I'm really not in the mood rightnow-" "Are you two together?!?!" Mila yells excited, while looking between you two. "Mil no we're not. I told you we're just friends. Right Min?" you look at him for reassurance but he didn't say anything "Min-" "I'm going." "Wha-" before you could say or do anything, he already walked off to his car, leaving you and Mila alone.

"Did I say something wrong..?" Mila whispered to you carefully. "No...no you didn't. Go eat Lunch, I'm not hungry anymore.." and with that you went back into the uni building and sat on your chair in the Classroom, wanting nothing more than to know what he meant and why he suddenly ran off.

The rest of the day was pulled long and slow like a gum, it was killing you, because you wanted nothing more than to go home and ask Minho what he meant, he hasn't been answering to any messages or calls and to top it all off, everyone has been staring at you the whole time, since the incident. You just wanted this day to end.

By the time you got home, you were so tired, it's a wonder you were able to walk home by yourself. You laid down on the couch, wanting to close your eyes for just two minutes, before going to stray kids's dorm to talk with Minho, but somehow you fell asleep...2 am, you fell down the couch and woke up. You mentally cursed at yourself, for falling asleep and when you looked at the clock, you decided to still go to the dorm and sleep over there, hoping you could talk to Minho, before he goes off to work. Luckly, Chan gifted you a second key, so you can enter anytime.

You changed you clothes, took a few things with you and made yourself off to the dorm. On the way, you scrolled on your phone, opening Instagram and the first thing you see left you in shock. "This can't be...This has to be some bad joke!!"

[draguta]

.fairytale of new york | four.

pairing: professor!bucky x fem!reader

summary: a semester in new york. a handsome man in a bar. whiskey neat. to the lighthouse. christmas lights. this is the tale of a whirlwind romance. a forbidden fairytale. college au.

chapter word count: 4937

warnings: smut, 18+, minors dni, unprotected sex, oral (male recieving) age gap (reader 19, bucky 34), student/teacher relationship

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Y/N

October rolled around quickly, the weather becoming colder and the nights becoming longer and darker than before. Less than a week had passed since your rendezvous with Bucky in the university library, and it was all you had been able to think about. You had never done something so scandalous before, something so risky. It was that which terrified you, how you could’ve been caught at any moment, yet that was also the thing that thrilled you more than anything else.

The next day you had been cuddled up under the covers in your room with Wanda and Yelena watching some sappy romance movie when your phone screen had lit up. Wanda passed it to you without even looking at it, and as soon as you saw the message you were thankful that she hadn’t.

Bucky (Prof. Barnes) Can’t stop thinking about yesterday and last night. The bed feels empty without you.

You were certain that had you not turned the lights off for the movie, both Yelena and Wanda would have seen the blush that rose up on your cheeks, likely the same red as Wanda’s pyjamas. They did, however, catch the smile that crept up your cheeks to kiss the corners of your eyes, and that was something that they wouldn’t let go.

“Will you just tell us what’s got you so happy already?” Wanda asked, leaning forward to pause the movie. “Because you haven’t stopped grinning since breakfast.”

“I actually think this grin is bigger than before even,” Yelena interjected, rolling over and using her arm as a pillow as they both stared at you expectantly.

“It’s nothing, really,” you lied, trying to straighten your face, but failing entirely.

“Yes, I was correct. Much bigger.” It was an off-hand comment, perhaps meant as a joke if you knew Yelena well enough, but the truth was that she was right. Ever since leaving the library the night before and sliding into the passenger seat of Bucky’s car, his hand planted firmly on your thigh the entire drive through the city, The Neighbourhood playing softly through the speakers, you hadn’t been able to stop smiling. That text was simply a reminder of how happy you really were.

Of course, it was complicated. He wasn’t your boyfriend, there was no possible chance of that happening, and he certainly wasn’t the type that you could take home to meet your parents over Christmas break or gush about to your friends. But he was still yours, even if only in the shadows. You wanted to know everything about him, you thought about him all of the time, and now it seemed he felt the same way. It wasn’t love, it was lust with passion but also a hint of affection. It was sex and fucking, with quiet moments of him playing with your hair as you fell asleep on his chest listening to his heartbeat.

It wasn’t something that could last, but you would enjoy every second of it whilst you had it.

“Is this about that boy?” Wanda asked, raising an eyebrow expectantly, as if she already knew the answer. “Did you see him again?”

Whilst you had told your friends about the conversation that you’d had with Bucky back in his office all those weeks ago, you hadn’t explicitly told them that it was Bucky, or what had happened after the conversation. It wasn’t that you didn’t want to tell them, explain everything to them from the moment that you had walked into that bar on the very first night, but you knew that you couldn’t - it was too much of a risk, not for you, but for him.

“Yeah, I did see him again,” you replied, hoping that they wouldn’t ask too many questions. You were wrong of course - you really should’ve known better from them.

“What?” Yelena asked, dragging the word out as she sat up to look at you properly. With the two of them looking at you like that you felt almost as if you were on trial, about to be sentenced for a crime that they didn’t even know you’d committed. They didn’t know the extent that your sins went, and they wouldn’t if you had anything to say about it.

“Yeah, yesterday in the library,” you explained, giggling slightly as you thought back to the ruckus that you and Bucky had created between the bookshelves. “He helped me with my analysis, and then…”

You paused for a moment, wondering if you should tell them what had happened after that, finally deciding that they might as well know some of the details if they weren’t party to knowing who they were about.

“Then?” Wanda urged, flapping her hands in a motion to suggest she wanted you to continue.

“Then we slept together,” you finally blurted out, almost as if it were a confession that you were ashamed of, when in truth, you could never be ashamed of Bucky.

“You did what?” Wanda squealed, and Yelena nodded approvingly.

“I told you, fucking to get it out of your system works every time. I’m proud that you took him home,” she said, clearly content that you had taken her advice.

“Well…” you mumbled, catching Yelena’s attention who glared at you with a raised eyebrow. “I didn’t exactly take him home at first.”

“What do you mean?” Wanda asked, clearly not piecing together what Yelena already had based on her shocked expression. “You said you slept with him.”

“Well, yes, I did go home with him eventually,” you said slowly. “But did you know that there are some parts of the library, especially upstairs, that are basically abandoned?”

“No you didn’t!”

“Yeah, we did,” you chuckled to yourself. Your two friends laid back down in bed, one on either side of you, their expressions the perfect picture of astonishment.

“When are we going to get to meet this mystery boy then?” Wanda asked, wiggling her eyebrows. You simply shrugged.

“I don’t know, maybe I’ll bring him over one day,” you lied as you leaned forward and clicked play on the movie again.

A few moments later a knock at your bedroom door caught your attention and the three of you looked up to find MJ hovering awkwardly in the doorway.

“Shuri wanted me to let you guys know that we’re apparently having a party tonight,” she mumbled, her face stoic. “Not that I really want a party, but apparently it’s been decided.”

Yelena was clearly excited by this prospect, although you weren’t as enthused. You had really wanted a relaxed evening, and perhaps there was a small sliver of hope that Bucky would text again asking you back to his place that night. A party was the last thing on your mind.

Bucky (Prof. Barnes) I’m sorry I can’t see you tonight doll. I’ve gotta go to some student faculty fundraiser. Tomorrow?

You couldn’t help but feel disappointed that you weren’t going to be able to see Bucky that night, but with the loud music raging on and the drinks flowing it was easy to distract yourself. A game of spin the bottle was being played on the living room floor, whilst Yelena was hooking up with some girl she’d met five minutes ago in the kitchen. MJ curled up in a chair with a vodka and orange soda, clearly waiting for the entire debacle to be over with, whilst Kate and Wanda made everyone drinks at what they were calling the ‘drinks station’ even though it was simply the coffee table in the lounge pushed against the wall with every bottle of alcohol they could find sitting on top next to 101 red plastic cups. Of course Liz and her posse had joined; the more time you spent in a class with them, the more they annoyed you, and you weren’t sure how you had ever contemplated being friends with them in the first place. She, like her friends, were sat front and centre of the party discussing the presents that her daddy had bought her for her birthday last week, all expensive, all unnecessary.

You on the other hand were perched on the couch simply taking in everything around you. The music was blasting from the speakers so loud that you were certain you’d get a complaint from the student union in the morning, but no one seemed to care. Everyone was having fun.

MJ had introduced you to her boyfriend Peter and his best friend Ned who were studying Physics, and had inadvertently turned your hallway into a meeting place for anyone willing to discuss Star Wars with them. A girl named Karli had introduced herself, immediately rushing into a conversation about politics with another girl named Monica, one which you had quickly excused yourself from to find your spot on the couch. It was chaotic, but in the best way; your first college party.

Two hands landed harshly on your shoulders causing you to jump, startled, turning around to find Yelena and the girl that she’d found for the night.

“I heard something!” She grinned, throwing herself over the back of the couch and motioning for the girl to join us. “I heard Shuri has planned an insane prank!”

“Really?” You asked, raising an eyebrow as you took a sip of your beer, now warm and flat. “What might that be?”

“Something about pretending to be The Dean and inviting one of the professors to the party,” she chuckled, pulling a joint from her pocket and lighting it up, taking a puff and passing it to the girl she was with. You squinted your eyes suspiciously, looking over at your best friend.

“Which one?” You asked, but she simply shrugged.

“No idea,” she replied. “Apparently they’re cute though.”

With that she turned back to the girl, taking the joint from her once again, planting a kiss on her lips, and you simply resigned yourself to a night watching others enjoy themselves, chugging beer on the couch alone.

Bucky

Bucky stared down at his phone, looking at the email from Dean Fury, and then back up at the building that he’d found himself outside. The address was certainly correct, but the building that he’d found himself at didn’t exactly seem like the appropriate location for a student and faculty fundraiser. For a second he considered going home, or double checking with The Dean to make sure it was the correct place, but changed his mind; surely Dean Fury wouldn’t send him to the wrong place?

He made his way up the stairs and into the lobby. There were already people there, seemingly coming from the open elevator. He frowned as he watched them leave; they all seemed young, and very drunk. Slipping between the elevator doors, he clicked the button for the third floor, waiting as it moved upwards until finally the doors opened.

The hallway that he found himself on was small, with peeling wallpaper on either side, but that wasn’t what caught his attention. Instead, he was focused on the few drunk students that were hovering there, most clearly underage with plastic cups in their hands which, if he knew anything about students, definitely contained alcohol.

He pushed through to the door that said 3B, the apartment that he was told the event was being held, and let himself inside. The music was blaring, and there were people everywhere, but from what he could see, none of his co-workers, or even a single member of the faculty were present anywhere. It definitely seemed like a student rager. A cheer erupted as he slowly but surely walked further into the apartment, coming to a stop as all heads turned to him, and he was left standing in the hallway in complete and utter confusion, until he caught a pair of familiar eyes.

Y/N

The room erupted into a cheer, every single head turning towards the door to the apartment. You clambered to get a good view at what they were looking at, gripping your beer tightly in your hand, but there were too many heads in the way. You saw Shuri rushing to whisper with Kate who burst out laughing, but you still didn’t understand the joke; was it the professor that Shuri had invited as a prank?

“Oh my gosh!” Yelena squealed as she pushed herself up onto her knees to peer over the other people.

“What?” You asked, frantically trying to see through the hoard of people, not wanting to be the only person to miss the joke. “Who is it?”

“It’s Professor Barnes!”

You froze, unsure if you had heard her correctly, a small ‘what?’ escaping from your lips as you followed suit and pushed yourself up onto your knees to crane over the heads of your fellow students.

That was when you saw him, standing in the hallway, confusion written across his handsome features. He looked formal, wearing a suit, his hair pulled back, no glasses instead presumably wearing contacts.

But there was only one thought that ran through your mind in that moment, and it wasn’t how good he looked.

Not him, you thought. Anyone but him. He doesn’t deserve this.

His eyes caught yours, and for a second everything around you seemed to slow, almost as if you were in a movie. The music and chatter from your peers downed out, your only focus now on him, on Bucky, on making sure that he was ok.

Without thinking you pushed yourself from the couch, squeezing through the crowd that was going back to their previous conversations, until you found yourself directly in front of him, his eyes trained on yours. Glancing over your shoulder to make sure no one was watching, you grabbed his wrist and pulled him towards the now empty kitchen.

When you were finally out of view of the other students, leaning around the corner to make sure no one was watching, you turned to him. His eyebrows were still knitted together in confusion, his hands awkwardly fidgeting at the ends of his suit jacket.

“Y/N, what the fuck is going on?” His voice was concerned, his eyes darting towards the lounge where your friends and guests were still getting drunk. All you could do was sigh.

“My roommate thought it would be a good prank,” you explained awkwardly, grabbing yourself another beer from the fridge before fishing the good whiskey from the top shelf. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know it would be you.”

Bucky leaned against the counter, running his hand through his hair as he watched you prepare drinks. “It’s ok,” he mumbled. “At least you’re here.”

You chuckled, handing him a drink, moving closer to him slowly, taking a swig of your beer. He glanced down into the cup, raising an eyebrow as he took a sip, smiling with a small chuckle as he realised what you’d made him.

“Whiskey neat?” He asked, placing the cup on the counter and pulling you close by your waist, looking down at you with affectionate eyes. “You remembered.”

“How could I forget your drink of choice?” You laughed, leaning upwards to catch his lips with yours. The kiss was tender, sweet, different to the kisses you’d shared before. He dragged your bottom lip through his teeth and you parted your lips, allowing him the access that he was asking for.

“Professor Barnes!” You heard Kate’s voice call from the lounge, and the two of you pulled apart, and you rushed to the other side of the kitchen as your roommate appeared at the counter. “Come play a game with us?”

Bucky glanced over at you, and you simply shrugged, leaving it open to him to decide whatever he wanted to do. He snorted, finishing off his whiskey in one go before turning to you completely.

“I’m here now, I might as well enjoy myself,” he chuckled. “But here’s the deal, no one can know I was here, and I’m going to need another whiskey.”

The circle that partook in the game was small, but the crowd that was watching was much bigger. You awkwardly sat between Bucky and Kate as they decided what game they were going to play, twiddling your thumbs, waiting for the opportunity to somehow get the both of you out of the situation that you’d found yourselves in.

“What about ring of fire?” Wanda suggested, but Yelena was quick to shut it down.

“We don’t have any cards, dummy.”

“Truth or dare?” Kate suggested, but Shuri disagreed. Finally Yelena came up with the plan.

“Never have I ever.”

There was a moment of silence as everyone else slowly nodded, but you could sense the panic that Bucky was beginning to feel. He wasn’t a teenager, wasn’t a student, and whilst you didn’t know that much about his past, you were sure there were certain things that he didn’t want to divulge in front of a group of his students.

“‘Lena, come on,” you tried to argue. “Professor Barnes is here, can’t we play something a little more…grown up?”

But the others disagreed, and before you knew it the game was in full swing. It began with a rather boring question, “never have I ever drank vodka straight”, to which almost everyone in the circle drank besides MJ and Peter. But after that, the questions began to get juicier.

“Never have I ever had sex in a car.”

“Never have I ever had a threesome.”

“Never have I ever slept with a person 20 years older than me.”

You took little sips for every thing that you had done, and from the corner of your eye you caught Bucky doing the same, laughing at each option, seemingly having fun. It was a completely different Bucky to the one that you had seen before; this was casual Bucky, with no obligations, no worries, simply him and a drink at a party.

It was then that the big guns came out, with Wanda staring directly at you as she asked her next question, a mischievous glint in her eye. “Never have I ever had sex in a library.”

Your eyes widened in shock, making a mental note to scold her later as you angrily took a sip of your beer, now nearly empty. From the corner of your eyes you saw Bucky take a quick swig, trying desperately to hide it, but one glance at Yelena told you that she had seen it, a slight smirk on her face as she watched him. But the way she giggled with Wanda about how Kate had also drunk showed that she thought nothing of it. She hadn’t worked it out. It was her turn next.

“Professor Barnes, this one is for you,” she chuckled teasingly. You felt the lump building in your throat in anticipation of what your best friend was about to say. “Never have I ever slept with a student.”

Your mouth went dry, your heart beating three times faster than you were sure was healthy as you watched Bucky’s eyes widen in shock, clearly weighing up his options. He waited a moment until the others grew bored of waiting for his response, and quickly took a swig before the next question was asked, catching your eye with a slight smirk as he did so. He was playing a game with you, and he was enjoying it. You couldn’t help but smirk at him as he threw you a quick wink before turning back to the question that Ned was asking.

But just as relief flooded your system at having evaded being caught you turned to Yelena. She was sat upright, her face blank as she glanced between you and Bucky. And just like that, you could practically see the switch in her head snapping, the lightbulb glowing above her head as she finally worked it out, her mouth falling open in shock.

You didn’t know what to do, quickly rising to your feet and grabbing her by the arm, pulling her towards your room and closing the door behind you, turning to her quickly.

“Y-You and Professor Barnes?” She practically squealed until you shushed her, glancing over your shoulder at the door behind you, letting out a sigh.

“Yes,” you finally said, placing a hand on her shoulder as if to calm her own thoughts, when your own were flailing around without a life support. “Buck-Professor Barnes is the guy from the first night, the guy from the library who I went home with, he’s the one I’ve been sleeping with.”

Yelena was speechless, and you didn’t blame her. If she had told you that she was doing the same thing as you had been doing for the past month you would have been in the same boat.

“But please, Lena, you can’t tell anyone,” you said urgently. “It wasn’t supposed to be like this, and if anyone found out he could get fired, and even I could get expelled.”

Yelena’s face melted into calmness, a gentle smile curling at her lips. “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone. Don’t want my best friend to get expelled,” she chuckled. “But, you lucky girl.”

She glanced over your shoulder towards where the party roared outside. You hadn’t even heard the door open until she looked over, and as you turned you saw Bucky standing awkwardly in the doorway, one hand on the back of his neck, two fresh drinks in his hands. You looked back over to Yelena apologetically, but she simply laughed.

“I guess I’ll leave you two to it.” With that she made her way back out to the party, brushing past Bucky and closing the door behind her.

Bucky looked at you for a moment, before walking forward and handing you your beer. You thanked him, perching on the end of your bed, an action that he followed only moments later.

“So,” he said awkwardly. “I guess your friend knows now, right?”

“Her name is Yelena,” you smirked, looking up at him awkwardly. “And yeah, she does. I’m sorry.”

“No need to apologise,” he countered, brushing his hand down the front of his now unbuttoned suit jacket. “It’s not your fault. Sh-She won’t tell anyone though, right?”

“I mean, she promised that she wouldn’t,” you shrugged. “And I do trust her. She’s my best friend here. She’s actually in your class with me.”

He chuckled, his smile reaching to the corners of his eyes as he glanced down at the floor for a second before looking back up at you, his hand instinctively reaching for your thigh. “Oh, that I know. She’s the one that always doodles in the margins of any report she hands in.”

You laughed slightly before the pair of you fell into silence. After a swig or two of your drinks, staring into space together, completely comfortable in the quiet, he spoke again.

“Everyone seems to be leaving the party,” he said. “Guess it’s coming to an end.”

You smiled down at him, slipping your hand under his on your thigh, lacing your fingers with his, leaning forward to put your beer on the floor, shuffling back on your bed.

“You could stay here, you know?” You suggested quietly. “I could sneak you out in the morning.”

“You’ll be too hungover, doll,” he chuckled, turning to look at you.

“I won’t forget, I promise.”

He leaned down to place his cup on the floor by your beer, letting go of your hand only to shed himself of his jacket. “I’m going to hold you to that promise.”

And then he was on top of you, pushing you down towards the bed, his hands roaming your body, your hands in his hair, sliding further down, past his neck, down his chest, undoing every button as you went. When you reached the final button you pulled it open, and he quickly shrugged it off, your hands now able to roam over his muscles without a barrier between. He followed suit pulling you shirt over your head, practically ripping your bra from your body. Your hands pulled at the buckle of his belt, and he toyed with the button on your jeans. Soon, all clothes were discarded to the floor below.

He gripped at your hair suddenly, his fingertips pulling at the very roots, pulling you roughly to position you kneeling between his slightly open legs. His length was standing tall, ready for you, and you gulped in anticipation, your mouth watering, just as he looked down at you, waiting patiently.

“You know what to do.”

His hand didn’t move from your hair as you took his length in your hands, trying a few practice strokes which made him hiss as he threw his head back against the pillows, bucking up into your hand at the sensation. You leaned forward, and he gave just enough leeway with his grip in your hair to allow you to take his tip in your mouth. He was hot and heavy against your tongue, and you savoured the sensation. Based on the groan that he let out, he did too.

Almost painfully slowly for the both of you, you dipped your head downwards and back up, and then down again, each time taking just a little more of him, until finally you had taken as much as you could, able to feel him in the back of your throat. You pulled back, swirling your tongue across his tip before pushing back down again, gagging ever so slightly at his size. You began the job that he had given you properly, beginning to move more confidently, speeding up with every bob of your head. His hand guided you perfectly, occasionally pushing you too far and causing you to gag around him, something that made him groan loudly each time.

“Fuck,” he mumbled. “Feel so good, doll. Too good.”

He bucked upwards again when you pulled back, dragging your tongue up his entire length, palming his balls as you did so, and before long the two of you had found a rhythm that worked well for you, with you bobbing down at the same pace as he thrusted upwards. Drool fell down from the corner of your mouth, and tears began to pool at the corners of your eyes as he started the thrust harder, until eventually you simply held your mouth open wide enough for him, your tongue sticking out slightly, allowing him to use it as he pleased.

He glanced down towards you, cursing at the sight of you between his legs, mascara smudged, slick down your jaw, his precum dripping from between your lips. He pulled you back, up and away from him, pulling him towards him until you were straddling him, his lips connecting with yours hungrily. You were sure he could taste himself on your tongue, but he didn’t seem to mind as he lined himself up with you.

“Fuck, you’re so good doll,” he murmured between kisses. “Need to feel you, need you now.”

And you obliged, happily, allowing him to slide into you, moving down slowly and carefully until he was entirely inside you, filling you up with every inch. You both gasped at the sensation, this position giving both of you more pleasure than you’d felt before. It took you a moment to push past the pleasure that you were feeling, but finally you ground your hips against his, and the both of you cursed loudly. You repeated the action a few more times before planting your hands on his chest and testing the waters as you rose up and fell back down towards him.

In an instant he was sitting up, enveloping you in his arms as you rode him, each movement of your hips bringing a new wave of pleasure. Your eyes fell closed, your head falling back at the feeling, the feeling of being well and truly complete, as if he was the piece that was missing this entire time.

“Look at me,” he said firmly, his fingertips brushing against your chin to pull your gaze down to his. “I want to watch you, doll. Want to see everything.”

You whimpered, your bottom lip dragging between your teeth as you began to move faster, harsher, your eyes remaining trained on his. His hand fell down to the curve of your ass, squeezing at the flesh there as he helped to guide you in your movements.

“Mine.”

You weren’t sure you had heard it properly, your brows twitching between movements, but he repeated it, and this time you heard it clearly.

“Mine. You’re all mine. You belong to me, and no one else.”

“Y-Yes Bucky, all for you. Only you.”

The way that you finished together, your hands intertwining with each other, your foreheads pressed together, your eyes connected, trained on each other, felt more intimate than you ever thought possible. In that moment, you weren’t two people simply fucking, you were one, you were whole, together in this world.

Neither of you screamed when you finished, instead choosing to crash your lips together in a needy, longing kiss. Your body quivered above him, but he held you close as he finished inside you, supporting you, keeping you grounded even as you felt yourself floating away.

When you were both completely spent, having come down from your highs, you collapsed backwards into your bed, your breaths heavy, words eluding you, unsure how to even describe what you had just experienced together. He slid an arm out to you and pulled you towards him, planting a gentle kiss to your forehead.

“You’re incredible, Y/N.”

| @eclecticpatrolroadlawyer | @moonlightreader649 |

[mochinomnoms]

Hey! Anon who said about the economy of the Inca and stuff!

Sorry if the message came out wrong, I didn’t mean to dismiss the pre-Inca cultures, really sorry about that :(. I meant the last one when the conquistadores came and conquered the land. I always forget the names, sorry :/. I’ll look into that further.

Also, I didn’t know Inca was used for both singular and plural. I always heard the S being included when talked about them in plural, at least in Lima-Peru Spanish, that or I just heard it wrong my entire life holy fuck.

Oh! Almost forgot to ask, are there languages like Quechua in Mexico to this day? Like, are they still taught and talked or?

Oh it's okay! I don't think it's common knowledge? I didn't get taught about it in school at least and I'm in the US. It learned about it for my anthro/archaeology classes.

For the singluar vs plural thing, it might depend on region? I was taught that it was Inca, but it can also be spelled as Inka as well. It might be Incas in Lima, Peru, but I wouldn't know myself. It might be case of referring to the empire equals Inca but the peoples are Incas.

For the language, Quechua is an indigenous language family that originated in South America in Peru and the surrounding countries. It gets confused with the Quechan/Yuma tribe of Arizona, but they are different! I don't know much about it, but it's also referred to as Runasimi and is either one of or the most spoken pre-Columbian language family in the Americas. Technically there are a few different languages within Quechua, think of Quechua like this: Quechua languages equals Romance languages, and it's variates such as Lima equals Spanish or Italian.

From what I could gather, it mostly remains a spoken language, but is one of Peru's, Bolivia's, and Ecuador's official languages, as well as intergraded with bilingual education. In the Andean region, as with other indigenous languages, it has been intermixed with Spanish and Spanish as a dialact is distinct there because of this! These are called loanwords, where words from one language are adopted into another. For Quechua, wawa (infant), misi (cat), waska (strap or thrashing) are common words used instead of their Spanish counterparts bebe, gato, paliza. This is a common thing with most languages, but it's very cool.

For Mexico, the family of languages is entirely different as they're made of up completely different indigenous people! In Western United States and Mexico, most people are familiar with Uto-Aztecan languages and the Mayan languages in Southern Mexico. The Uto-Aztecan languages include over 30 languages such as Hopi, Nahuan, Cupan, Piman, and I couldn't possibly name them all! There are so many of them! For the Mayan languages, it's smaller but one of the best documented ones! They include the Yucatecan branch and the Huastecan branch in Mexico, but there are more in Guatemala, which is also where the Maya empire resided.

Quite a few of these languages are still alive and mostly well, they obviously suffered due to conquest, but are efforts to preserve the language and teach it, though I believe it's mostly at a local level and not national. Mexico isn't very nice to their indigenous peoples from what I'm aware, but I'm not knowledgeable enough to speak on the subject unfortunately, so I don't want to say too much about it without more research.

[niuniente]

Hello Niu, I've come to ask you if you have any recommendations for particular books, websites, or people for dream interpretation? Or perhaps advice for how to interpret.

Tonight I had a dream and one part just felt so significant, and I must write it before its lost to me.

In the dream I was relaxing in a guest bed at a home that's not mine, and suddenly my mouth hurt and a tooth fell out. On rushing to the bathroom, it turned out many teeth had broken or fully fallen out or had big ugly cavities (the absolute horror 😱)

In one particular cavity, there was a whole entire frog hiding inside? Idk how?? It must have been very small.

In my hand full of broken bloody teeth there was a good sized round stone, with a small iridescence on the edge. On breaking open this stone, it had a beautiful rainbow ammonite fossil.

I know I can google "frog dream meaning" and "broken teeth dream meaning" there are just soooooo many results, and often websites vary drastically in what they say (especially for frogs) so I wanted to ask your thoughts on where to look

Regardless if you have advice, thank you for your time and your open inbox. Wishing you good vibes and good times <3

I'm unfortunately not specialized in dreams and don't know any extra good sources. When you encounter animals in dreams, check what their spiritual meaning is (for example in this case; "frog spirit animal"). Some of the animal guidance pages have meanings from multiple culture for the said animal. Something there most likely fits your situation.

Broken teeth and tooth injuries are always stress or anxiety related dreams. What worries you at this moment? Have you taken enough time to rest? How's your self confidence?

Long, long time ago I read of a woman who has been doing dream interpretations for 30 years. She said that the best person to tell what the dream means is the person who had the dream, because it's a direct message from the person's subconscious mind.

When googling, keep googling until you land to something which resonates with you. I once had a dream where two spiders twice of my size came inside a house I was in. When I defended myself and hit one of them, it cried out with a sad voice my spirit guide's name, Ian.

After the dream I spent hours trying to understand what a Spider means. All dream interpretations said that it was a bad omen but it didn't feel like it, especially when the spiders were friendly and called Ian, who is my guardian. Finally, I found a Hopi story of the Grandmother Spider, Hopi Kokyangwuti, who created the world and humans (if I remember it right). I realized that the Spiders in my dream were encouraging me to be more creative, as I had planned to but kept pushing it aside because I was "too busy".

Since then, seeing living spiders randomly has always meant for me that it's time to be creative, especially to write something. I literally fall into a bad health and a bad mental space if I don't do something creative regularly, so Spider is always a good reminder that time to get creative.

You can find your own meanings to your dreams and symbols like this, too. Sometimes it is a bit like a detective work.

[nurulkassim]

At time i just wanna give up. Im just too speechless and exhausted...

While im working today, I receive multiple calls from my daughter school. But I unable to answer cause Im a Nurse and being a nurse it is dealing with life and death so while im on duty i have to put my pt first. after im settle i pick up the phone and get to know that 1 of my daughter having fever with a temperature of 37.6 degree Her teacher instructed someone to fetch her back right away. told her I will arrange someone else to fetch cause both me and my husband not available and requested for her teacher to just give me sometime and continue to monitor my kid. then after ending the call few min later receive another call she was asking if anyone coming to fetch. my patience is at the tip of my head i almost shouted cause 1st my pt have to sent to icu, 2nd my daughter having fever, 3rd i unable to contact my mom hp, 4th i have 2 undertrain SN and 5th IM PRAGNENT and i have not eaten. deep breath and told her that i need some time to settle everything and i put down the phone. and again few minutes later another call from school this is too much decided to scream at the lady calling then put down the phone. Multiple call to mom until she picks up then hand over to ICU staff then documented and rush back home.

Alhmadulillah reach home mom already fetch both my girls. so texted husband what time his coming back as I have to prepare and let my mom rest cause she have to be admitted for an operation early tomorrow morning. receive a reply that he will end his course in about 30min. waited and waited hopi g he will reach home in the next 1 hr time and will be able to help me. but nop I was wrong he have not reach home yet. message him asking what time he will reach home no reply. and again I get annoyed and frustrated cause Im super exhausted from what had happen few hours before this.

started to nagged... and few hrs later receive a msg " I bebual bebual ngan kwn I tadi. Nie baru nk balik" waut....WHAT!!!!!

Anak kau sakit , aku kalang kabot habiskn keje troz balik sebab risaukn anak plus having that mindset that you unable to excuse urself cause you attending a course. tpi after 2 hrs you are still not back. Make me question myself where were you. Im trying to reason up oh maybe you caught in the rain, oh maybe you caught in the traffic jam... Aku pujuk diri aku tk pe fatin tahan sikit kejap lagi dier balik and end up get to know kau bbual ngan kwn kau yg hari2 same shift and tdi went to the same course as you??? what the hell were you thinking? maner kau punyer urgency.

I am 33 weeks pregnant. carrying a 13kg girl, whom cant stop crying cause she is not comfortable (high fever) cause she just refuse to let go. put her to sleep while continue to carry her and have to tolerate the backache cause unable to put her down and not to forget have another 3 yrs old daughter that needs attention as well. kau bole reply aku ckp kau bbual ngan kwn kau!

please what can I say? nanti aku bersuara org ckp aku nie kurang ajar. tpi haiz.... im just speechless... I just dont know what to say what to react. Just unable to cry anymore. nie la kehidupan yg aku pilih so i have to deal with it....

[primordialsoundmeditation]

Follow @zaraenergy on Instagram, send a message to the Instagram page, you followed from Facebook for a free card pull 💕

Butterfly Maiden ~ Transformation: “You are experiencing enormous change right now, which brings great blessing.”

Message From Butterfly Maiden: “As you go, through this period of change, it is natural for you to wonder if your future is safe. I am here to assure you that you are part of nature’s cycles of birth, death, and rebirth. To bring in your desired newness, you must first allow old parts of your life to fall way. These changes are to be celebrated, not feared. Give thanks for this shedding of the old! Embrace all of the lessons it brought, and then let it go! Be giddy with excitement at the newness of the gifts that are now being bestowed upon you, and let their magic surprise and delight you.”

Various Meanings of This Card: “Do not be concerned about endings, as they are bringing in the new for you. Your prayers have been answered. with this change. Let go of the old. Do not worry about these changes – they are truly for the best.

About Butterfly Maiden: Butterfly Maiden is a Hopi Native American Kachina (spirit) who ensures that crops yield healthy and bountiful harvests. She is a springtime goddess who helps us to escape from any cocoon situation that is trapping us or impeding our growth or joy. If you are feeling stuck, she is a wonderful goddess to call upon during the emerging process. She will also guide you trough life transitions and help you spread your winds!” #tarot #tarotreading #tarotreadersofinstragram #tarotcommunity #tarotcards #tarotcardoftheday #tarotreader #thirdeye #tarotreadings #tarottribe #spiritualgrowth #spiritualguidance #spirituality #messagefromspirit #messagefromtheuniverse #messagefromhigherself #divinefeminineenergy #divinefeminine #divinetiming #divineguidance #messagefromangels #oraclecardreading #oraclereadersofinstagram #oraclereader #cardreadersofinstagram #cardreadings #crystalhealing #spiritualguidance #oraclecards

Zara Energy

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

“All the stages of Hopi prophecy have come to pass, except for the last, the purification. The intensity of this purification will depend on how humanity collaborates with creation. We are entering the last days.

The Hopi spiritual leaders have spoken their urgent warning and message to the United Nations and around the world, yet there has been no response.

We must correct and change our ways, go back to the Spiritual ways, and take care of Mother Earth. If we do not, we are going to face terrible destruction by Nature, bringing purification or destruction.

The more we turn away from the instructions of the Great Spirit, the more signs we see in the form of earthquakes, floods, drought, fires, tornadoes, along with wars and corruption."

~ A Hopi Elder

Ian Sanders]

[harrelltut]

Eye Ancient 9 Ether Ægiptian GNOSTIC of the Aboriginal INCAS from the ANDES [GAIA] MOUNTAIN HIGHLANDS… who TELEPATHICALLY Communicate the HOPIS' Highly Complex [ADVANCED] Ancient Cosmic Algorithmic [CA] Cosmic Computation [Compton] STAR WEB GATEWAY Languages of the MUURS’ Interactively [MI = MICHAEL] PATENTED Unicode Software [U.S.] on My Hi:teKEMETICompu_TAH [PTAH] Pentagon INVENTION of Militarized [I’M] 6G Quantum Interactive [Qi] Data CLOUD [D.C.] Language Networks… SELF AUTOMATING... APPLE's TERMINOLOGY TEXT [AT&T] MESSAGING SERVICES @ Ægiptian QHT IBM [Qi] APPLE in Downtown [A.D.] 2023 [VII] San Diego CA

ENQI [ME] NUDIMMUD MU:13

EVERYTHING ON EARTH... ÆGIPTIAN 

ANCIENT GREEN GIANT UFO TECHNOLOGY PREDATING MODERN DAY MANKIND

WE THE GOLDEN 9 ETHER GREEN GIANTS OF ANCIENT AMERICA [ATLANTIS]

DO THE OPPOSITE OF WHAT THE MASSES ARE TOLD TO DO

[kisekikobo]

onlineshopに、

「Message from Hopiマクラメキーホルダー」１０点を掲載しました。

↓ぜひこちらからご覧ください

Message from Hopiマクラメアクセサリー

[jodilin65]

TUESDAY, JUNE 29, 1999 Yesterday Tom turned 42. It’s hard to believe that in just 8 years he’ll be 50. If there’s one good thing about his being older, it’s that if the place we move to does end up growing over the years, we can move to Sun City in just 13 years.

The thing that really pissed me off was that Tom’s mom didn’t even care to send him a birthday card this year like she always used to. There’s always the chance it was misdelivered or will be delayed, but if not, that just made the woman go even lower in my mind. First she uses him, steals our time and money, then she doesn’t even send him a birthday card!

For his birthday, I made Tom a disk of a screen saver I made for him with different sayings on different backgrounds.

Before I get into our land hunt - Minnie’s trying to get in touch again. Also, and to my utter amazement, I never did hear from Andy this weekend and no pants showed up at my door. I left him a message a little while ago asking what the scoop was with that. Maybe he took care of his own damn pants for a change. Or got too fat for them, button or no button.

Next door was quiet all weekend. As quiet as they usually are during the week. But will it stay this way? I wonder about July 4th. Well, if it doesn’t stay quiet, we’ll deal with it then.

I went out to put my mail out and saw all their van windows open. This may not be New York City, Boston, or Springfield, but that is so stupid!

Later…

OK, on with yesterday’s outing. We left at 6 AM and didn’t return till 1 PM.

We didn’t go to Palm Harbor’s place in Apache Junction as we originally planned, but that’s to be our next step to find out what we qualify for. Then, we go out with a realtor to more property.

We drove out to Maricopa which is nestled by the Ak-chin Indian reservation and the Gila River Indian reservation. They also have Hopi, Navajo, Mojave, Apache, and more throughout the state. In fact, most of Arizona is owned by the government (national parks or forests) or the Indians. They have a lot of ancient Indian ruins around the state too, that I want to check out some time.

We looked at 3-acre lots. Some had manufactured houses on them, some were empty. I was surprised to see how close the houses were, although Tom didn’t think they were too close at all. To me, they looked two houses apart. From us to the collie’s house. He said he didn’t think so. He felt they looked 10 houses apart, and that distance can fool you if there’s nothing in between houses. He said we wouldn’t hear neighbors in our house. Outside - maybe. The 3-acre lots were more expensive but were rigged with utilities and water that was piped into the houses just like they are here in the city. We liked the more secluded, private, bigger lots, that are cheaper, but the catch is that they aren’t rigged for phone, electricity, or water.

I was surprised to see how many kids lived there (I still plan not to have a kid) and the school buses for summer school that went by. They have mail services, but the mail doesn’t come into your house through a slot. You have mailboxes at the edge of your property. I don’t know if UPS goes out there or not, but I’d think so. Maybe the mail service will be better out there and we won’t need a PO Box.

The owners of the rental are here now. When are they gonna sell or re-rent the place?

Anyway, the secluded lots were more private because their natural desert landscape was untouched. The sage bushes and Palo Verde trees are boring looking compared to saguaros, prickly pears, and ocotillos, but they do shield you from other houses. The houses that were on the smaller lots had originally been farmland, so all the sage and cactuses were cleared out. In that area, though, embedded in the base of Papago Butte Mountain, was a house for sale that we might consider checking into. It’d be perfect as far as utilities and water go, and the payments would be cheaper than this house, but the house might be a dump. It’s a manufactured house, but it’s about 20 years old. I’d prefer something new. It’s listed as a 3-bedroom 2½ bath with an addition that could make it a 4-bedroom house, but the big question is - is it quiet being elevated above other houses and with neighbors on either side, that again, seem so close? Don’t get me wrong. They’re not 3 feet away, but I still don’t see how a pack of screaming kids couldn’t be heard from the next house over (not that a 3-acre lot wouldn’t suit us. It’d sure beat 3 feet and be much quieter) Also, being higher, that enables the surrounding houses a straight shot at the house with their noise. Lastly, we were wondering how you’d put a pool in with it being on an incline like that. We may have to put it in front. At least we wouldn’t have to worry about anything noisy coming in behind us being nestled right against the bass of the mountain.

So, now that we saw the area, measured distances, checked out acreage, and looked over landscapes, we checked off all the appealing ads in those papers that the realtor sent so we can check those out, and the mountain house, too. We got a kick out of some of the ads that said: secluded with good neighbors. If you’re so secluded, then how do you know what your neighbors are like? And when they say “good neighbors” do they mean quiet neighbors or neighbors that are decent people?

Some of the mountains are prettier than others. I like the rockier mountains, rather than the ones that look like huge piles of dirt.

Tom asked if I’d be nervous with him gone since some people worry about being all alone with homicidal maniacs on the loose. Homicidal maniacs can be anywhere, but I think there are more of those in cities. Also, and as I told him, if it’s my time to go, so be it. If I’m destined to ever be shot, run over, or stricken with a killer disease, then there’s nothing I can do to stop that. Meanwhile, I can’t imagine my being nervous, and to this day I regret bothering the police to check out the sounds I heard when I first came to this house. I should’ve been a big girl and checked it out myself, just like I do from time to time, and that’s what I’ll do if I hear anything strange no matter where we live. If it’s our house, it’s our problem and our responsibility to deal with anything suspicious or that has our curiosity peaked. Anyway, a homicidal maniac can throw itself into anyone’s house anywhere, but if one does decide to pick our house, it damn well better come armed or with lots of pals, cuz any unarmed cock or two that comes to my door is gonna be walking straight into a death trap. I’ll kill it, bury it, and not even bother to call the cops. Let its family wonder whatever the hell became of it.

Anyway, noise is more important an issue to me than views or privacy. People can look as long as they don’t bother us. If I hear soft sounds off in the distance that isn’t constant, OK. As long as dogs, music, and people aren’t heard as well as I can hear them here.

The only bummer of it is, is that we’re still looking at being here another 2-3 months. At least. As Tom says, we have the rest of our lives, but I want out of here! I’ve been wanting out for years!

After looking at the land we went to K-Mart. They had ugly sundresses, but a surprising number of $20 porcelain dolls. They had some for $30 too, that were a little bigger.

What I did end up getting was a Heart CD. It was another Greatest Hits album, but this time, with the original recordings. Not live. I was hoping this one would have another version of Dreamboat Annie, a really beautiful song, for variety’s sake. They did. Only this one’s not nearly as nice. It also comes with the lyrics. Tom and I had tried to find Heart lyrics online to no avail.

Tom forgot the map, so he bought another one in Osco Drug so he could find the way to Red Lobster. Also, he wanted a newer map of the state. Osco Drug also had a handful of $20 porcelain dolls.

Our experience at Red Lobster was totally different than our last trip there a year ago. No kid could’ve thrown food at us if they wanted to as the nearest table was too far away. Also, all the neighboring diners were adults. There was one baby, but it slept the whole time it was there.

The lobster was good, but it didn’t seem as meaty this time around. Guess it was a little one. He had a hamburger.

Our last stop was the grocery store to quickly pick up a few items. When we were at the check-out counter, I saw a little booklet titled: The Right Way to Pray. Well, how hard can that be? Don’t you just ask God for what you want? Maybe there is a right way and a wrong way to pray since he’s never answered 98% of my prayers. Or maybe there simply is no right way we can pray for the things we aren’t meant to have. You can’t ask for what isn’t destined.

What is it with all this God shit popping up, anyway? There are so many commercials about books to get on how to establish a personal relationship with God. Well, to each their own, and yes, God’s blessed me in many ways, but for the most part, he’s allowed pain and hardship to be inflicted upon me and I don’t care to establish a relationship with someone that could do that to me. I don’t do connections with control freaks whether they’re parents, Gods, or whoever.

I look in the mirror and I still see a pudgy person there. How can Tom call me skinny? I swear I’m only thin in the wrists and ankles! Having such a small mouth doesn’t help my face. It makes it look bigger. I also wonder if my bottom teeth will always go downhill from left to right. Since the teeth on the right side are back further, it makes it look like the teeth on the left side are taller. Well, even if they stay like they are - they’re great compared to what I started with. They’re plenty straight enough now.

Later…

I got to thinking about it and started wondering if all those private calls not only could be Andy, but messages he’s leaving that I’m not getting, so even though I doubted that the machine was fucked up, I called and left a message asking him about it, but he says it’s not him that’s been calling. Well, I admit that it could be sales or Eldon, but my gut instinct says it’s Andy. The calls are coming when I know he’s home, and I really think he had Michelle call when he was back east to try to throw me off. A private call came in right after he left his message. What better way to try to throw someone off than to call right after leaving a message denying you’ve been calling them, huh? I should know. I used to do the same thing he’s doing. Well, although I’m curious to know who the caller is for sure, they say your gut instinct is the one to trust, so I think I can bet on it being Andy. OK then Andy, have your fun while it lasts!

Really, though, if it’s entertaining to him - fine. The loser doesn’t have anything better to do. It’s so sad, too. This guy isn’t dumb. I mean, he is and he isn’t. If he only wouldn’t waste his life sitting home getting stoned, he could offer this world so much.

Anyway, in his message denying the calls, he didn’t say anything about the pants, just that he had a dream about Quinn (oh, God!) and that he misses him. Also, he knows where Papago Butte is and wouldn’t mind visiting me there cuz it’s not too far. Well, Andy dear, it’s about 40 minutes away from where you are, you say you have a shit car that’s unregistered, and the town is Maricopa. Only the mountain’s called Papago Butte (not that we’re definitely gonna live at the base of this mountain). But it doesn’t matter how close or how far it is, cuz I know he’s not going to be visiting.

SUNDAY, JUNE 27, 1999 My vibes have been right so far. No music from next door. All we saw was the gold car come to visit and Tom said he heard voices out back yesterday afternoon when he was rinsing paintbrushes. I told him I knew the humidity wouldn’t stop them from hanging out back (not that I care about voices at this point. It’s music I care about) and he said they may’ve been inside the house with the evaporative cooler running which needs open windows. I said I was surprised they’d run the cooler and not the AC, and he said they may not have much of a choice. Really? I thought everything was paid for them - their bills, their food, their clothes, etc. Maybe not, though. The electricity may’ve been included in the Oswego Street project, but it wasn’t in the NHA.

Just heard the van return and two car doors. One for him. One for her. So, does the smaller fat lady, whose name I don’t know, stay home and watch the kids when Debra and her hubby take off? Who is this woman in relation to Deb? Her mom? Sister? Cousin? In-law? Friend? I never got a good look at her to see if I could see a resemblance to Deb and how old she might be, but she’s gotta be in her 40s at the very least. I can’t tell if Deb’s in her 20s or 30s. Her face is so swollen with fat that her eyes are nearly swollen shut and I can’t see lines and wrinkles too well if they’re there.

No calls from Andy (yet). Now that’s really surprising. I mean, aren’t we gonna have to play phone a zillion times over a lousy pair of pants? Isn’t he gonna have to call a zillion times leading up to the big drop-off of these pants? Maybe they’re already out front, but I’m not gonna check right now. Not with the hinges loaded with masking tape. We masked the doors and shit like that that we didn’t want the paint sprayer to hit.

For the last 5 days or so, there have been private messageless calls. Tom says it could be Eldon, whose number comes up as private, and who’s been known to call and leave no message. Could be Andy, too.

Later…

Tom took the air compressor inside so he could spray paint and he made a major breakthrough with covering the wall art. Most of it barely shows anymore, so that’s great. He did the kitchen and the living room yesterday, although the living room ceiling still needs to be done. Today he’s gonna concentrate on the bedrooms.

SATURDAY, JUNE 26, 1999 The bathroom fan does a great job. Not one drop of moisture was on the mirror when I stepped out of the shower.

To give my hair a break from the same old, same old, I switched shampoos. This one has a separate shampoo and conditioner, unlike the one I’d been using that had both in one bottle. Its vanilla scent, which seems to be a popular scent these days, is nice and it lets me use more conditioner. Those two-in-one put way more shampoo in than conditioner and this hair needs a ton of conditioner.

All’s been quiet next door since I got up at midnight. In fact, from what I can see, no vehicle at all has been over there. My vibes said there wouldn’t be any music, but my logic said there would be. Well, I’m glad my vibes have won so far, but I repeat, so far. The weekend’s young. However, since our chat last Sunday, I haven’t seen or heard anything more than the van’s comings and goings. No kids, no music, no voices. And thank you God for seeing that as of yet, I’ve been wrong on that dog vibe. If that vibe’s right, I just hope it’s not till after we’ve moved. I don’t know if their quietness is a result of our talk, or if it would’ve panned out this way anyway, but I’m enjoying it while it lasts.

Later…

The van went out at 6:30. It’s deathly humid out there now, and hot. That might curb any shit from going down next door, and my vibes are good, but I don’t know. It didn’t stop that black cock from banging in and out of there when he was here in the heat and humidity, but so far, no sign of the ranchero or the white car.

Sex was pretty amazing earlier. Makes me wonder if he’s read my recent writings about the same old, same old getting rather old. He’s still making excuses, as usual. Don’t get me wrong. He’s still on the back excuse trip, saying it’s really weak and needs to be strengthened. Maybe so, and although he denies this, perhaps his age has something to do with it, too. Whatever. What was amazing was that he suddenly, out of the blue, asked if I wanted to go on top. I guess a part of this was cuz of his back and not just for the sake of variety, but what was even more amazing than me being on top for the first time in ages, was that I had no problem guiding him in there. As almost always, neither of us came. I asked if he’s cum by that before and he said yes. Anyway, I told him the variety was nice, and that although I did prefer to screw and be on the bottom most of the time, I like a change of pace every so often. Actually, I wish he’d go down on me every other time we got together (it just feels the best), but I know that that would be too much to ask of him. Way too much. The guy’s tongue would fall out! It takes me longer to cum nowadays. Besides, I already made my feelings known about him going down on me for a change, he didn’t do it, and I don’t want to make him do anything he doesn’t want to do.

FRIDAY, JUNE 25, 1999 Less than 24 hours to go before the peace we’ve had around here since Sunday’s gone.

I saw a bunch of people working on the rental yesterday, but I don’t know what they were doing. They were hammering an assortment of objects that were on the ground, they were on the roof, they were everywhere. I can’t believe the place is still empty, but I doubt it’ll last much longer.

I wish I could get myself to quit worrying about what I eat and just live life. Tom says I’m skinny, but as far as I’m concerned, I’m far from it. I’m not huge either, but I’m plump. Quite chunky in most areas. I will never be any thinner than I am now, so I wish I could get myself to stop wasting my time on diets. Also, although I want to, getting a home gym will be a tremendous waste of money. I’m just gonna do what I always do - I’ll stick to it with utter dedication and determination for the first few weeks, and then I’ll have to push myself. I always lose interest and drive. I’m still doing my stomach exercises, but barely. It’s a real struggle to get myself to do it. All that ambition I felt for a couple of weeks there is gone. Perhaps the reason I lack motivation is that I know I’m so limited. I knew my stomach wasn’t gonna get any flatter than where I’d flattened it to after a couple of weeks.

Tom worked a zillion hours overtime, again, as usual, cuz of a failed hard drive that runs the sorter he uses. When are we ever gonna get back on track with the painting, and when will this painting ever end, and when will we get the fuck out of here?! Before Lisa tries calling a hundredth time? Before Tammy decides to go on a let’s-forget-the-past-and-move-on-till-the-same-old-shit-happens-again-for-the-zillionth-time calling spree? Before Andy asks for a dozen more favors or wants me to go somewhere with him? Before next door’s company has banged in and out enough times to drive me crazy and wake me up?

Lisa’s only called once so far, but here we go with Andy’s favors again. Can’t come over without needing something from me. Couldn’t God have held him off just until we could finally get the fuck out of here?! He needs another button sewn. He says it popped off the first time he wore the pants, but I don’t buy it for a second. I’ve never heard of anyone popping buttons like he does, and sometimes I think he does it deliberately just to get a favor from me. And he happens to need to bring the pants over to me on a weekend? He says he wants to bring them over for just “5 minutes” or drop them off. Anything to rebel and to butt into my weekends! I left him a message to just drop them off and I’ll call him when they’re done. I told him we’d be out all weekend looking at land.

What’s he gonna do when I’m gone? He’s gonna have to learn to sew his own buttons on. And stop eating, too! I’m sure that most of this constant button popping is cuz he’s stuffing the shit out of himself. And I also think that’s the cause of the bulk of his puking, too. Stomachs and pants can only handle so much food.

Later…

Wow. It’s supposed to hit 110º this weekend. Finally! This is the mildest summer Arizona’s ever seen so far. It won’t stop cars from blasting in and out from, 10 PM-1 AM, though.

I listened to music, I scrubbed the bathroom, I scrubbed the kitchen sink, and now I’m bored shitless. Perhaps I should read and do some more cleaning since there’s nothing on TV but the usual, and since I have nothing to say till the weekend. Come the weekend, I’m sure I’ll have plenty to say. Till then and till we can get the fuck out of here, I find myself vegging out with my thoughts. I think about what my view is going to be like looking out at the natural desert landscape. You know how rotten a neighborhood Oswego Street was but did I ever tell you about the view? The exact view? From my back door, I could see a big old ugly dumpster. A few feet behind that was another 4-story brick building only it was empty and rundown. Some of its windows were boarded up and the ones that weren’t were smashed. There was graffiti all over it and garbage strewn everywhere. That was my view. And that was barely a decade ago.

THURSDAY, JUNE 24, 1999 Andy hasn’t called to tell me he was fired yet, so I guess that means he’s still working. He said the job was a piece of cake and that he has more free time than not while he’s there, so he reads magazines.

Also, he was puking his brains out like he always does the day before he starts a new job. But why? He should be an expert on starting new jobs. He only starts 50 new jobs a year.

Tom was rubbing against me suggestively when I got up. I asked him if he needed a quickie and he said no because it’d be too quick of a quickie and he had to shave. But he had nearly an hour and a half before work. Talk about being inflexible!

Anyway, I feel sexually trapped. This guy just does not want to branch out, explore, experiment, or try anything new when it comes to sex. It’s the same old, same old. It’s starting to get to me, but again, knowing I’m sexually hexed and knowing my bitching about it won’t change anything, I just keep my mouth shut and go along with what he wants in bed as we always have. I mean, there’s no variety. I know what we’ll do step by step whenever we get into bed. There are no surprises anymore. It’s not new and exciting anymore, and I know it’ll really turn him on if I bitch about it (I know it sounds horrible saying this about this otherwise great man, but it’s true. I just know it is), and that God has me hexed sexually no matter what, no matter who it’s with. It doesn’t matter if it’s only him for the rest of my life or a million people. Hexed is hexed. I can’t get him to break his rut of the same old and try something different for a change, and when I can, it’s only once or twice, then it’s right back to the usual. His idea of variety is stopping before we even begin. And every single Goddamn weekend it’s the excuses. 90% of the time, there’s a problem. He can’t just screw and not make excuses for why he has to stop. I know why he has to stop, but I was obviously right when I said he’d never admit to it. Then why not just keep his mouth shut? Why the constant excuses? If he can’t come out and admit his fears and ask that we use birth control, does he have to make excuses instead?

I’ve never enjoyed sex with this guy and I think about quitting, but what kind of guilt trip will he lay on me for it? How guilty will I end up feeling regardless? What will God do to me for it?

Speaking of God and his doing things to me, it’s quite a coincidence that I’ve been bothered, once again, by his taking away my right as a woman to choose, ever since the showdown with next door this weekend. See? If I don’t take what he dishes out to me, he inflicts some kind of pain or punishment upon me for it. There’s just no fighting what God’s got on the menu for me. I fear that if I go against God by throwing away the sex, he’ll do something to me emotionally for it.

Anyway, Tom straightened up the kitchen and the living room of papers and hardware, and I cleaned the refrigerator.

He got some more boxes today and a pretty, colorful pad of notepaper for me.

Later…

Next door’s still quiet at night and during the daytime. They still seem to go in and out a lot, the first trip usually starting now, at 6 AM.

I’m not at all looking forward to the weekend, as always. I don’t know if that white car did start to move in only to change its mind, if it only planned to be there for the weekend, or what, but I do know there’ll be some kind of shit over there this weekend. My guess is that the white car will bang in and out, or the ranchero will. I’ll probably send the city letter off next Monday. Especially if they fuck up my schedule which I just managed to get back on track so we can go look at land Monday, as well as to Red Lobster and to Wal-Mart.

I’ve gone from 107 pounds to 111 pounds. Yeah, I knew I would. Am I gonna try to lose it again? No. I’m not gonna bother, cuz I’ll just gain it right back.

Later…

Oh, no. Here we go again with Lisa trying to call collect. I’m not gonna answer and tell her a third time not to call me. I’m just gonna ignore her calls and hope they stop while we’re still here. We just can’t get out of here fast enough!

There was a private call a little while ago. Could it have been Andy? They didn’t leave a message, but he’s supposed to be at work now. What’d he do? Bail out of this job, too?

TUESDAY, JUNE 22, 1999 Andy left a message about starting a 2-week temp job answering phones during the day for $9 an hour (which he’ll quit or lose by Friday) and in my reply, I told him my feelings about not acknowledging our anniversary. He left a message saying he doesn’t acknowledge anyone’s anniversaries. Only birthdays. He said it was because he didn’t believe in marriage, then he chuckled and said he didn’t know why. I know why. It’s because he’s jealous. I know jealousy when I see it. It’s OK, though, to be jealous. I understand how badly he wishes he could say he’s been with someone for years and has had a great relationship with them. Then he tried to say he wasn’t sure when our anniversary was, but he thought it was June 15th. He knew that. He knew damn well when it was, cuz I mentioned it before the 15th. He can’t even blame his scrambled pot memory on that one, but he didn’t try. Anyway, we acknowledge what we acknowledge and I told him that’s OK (but of course, only I know, despite how much he may suspect it, that this will be our last anniversary where we’re friends).

Later…

Boy, have I been in a lazy mood! I got up at 12:30 last night, but all I wanted to do for the most part was lay around. At 10:00 this morning I ended up conking out till 5:30. I hope this doesn’t mean my schedule is fucked up for Monday. Monday, his birthday, we were gonna go to Red Lobster and look at some land.

Tom called yesterday about some land advertised in the Penny Saver, and we received info on it today. He said there are some promising deals.

Also, ironically enough, a lady left a message saying she sold some property in this area, so, if we’re interested, give her a call. That’s quite a coincidence, although I doubt we’ll be needing her.

It looks like I may’ve forgotten to mention this, but about a week ago, Paula left a message. It came up as private, so she apparently called from a friend’s house. I hope she doesn’t ring someone else’s bill up to call me. It doesn’t look like she’ll be doing that, though. She said she didn’t want a phone anymore, she’ll call me back, and everything’s OK. She hasn’t tried to call back yet, as far as I know. Also, I doubt it was a case of her simply not wanting a phone anymore. Maybe some guys were bothering her, but I think the main reason she lost the phone was due to so many calls to me. Also, she didn’t sound “OK.” She sounded rather down.

Yesterday, I gave Mel (who decided to leave that bracket off) a few pictures of animals I printed out for her, as well as a few of myself at different stages of my life, including one of my hair just past my shoulders back when I was 24.

As I stood up to leave, I wondered - was her big, baggy smock just sticking out? Or was she pregnant? I certainly wasn’t gonna ask and risk offending her and making her wonder if she was suddenly huge-looking and if it was just a case of her smock sticking out. Well, I’ll pay closer attention next time I see her, but it’s awfully hard to picture her pregnant. She just doesn’t look like a mom, nor does she seem like the type to want the hassle. I always pictured her as either never having kids, or not having them till she was in her late 30s.

I decided to forget about singing softly since we did make a deal, after all, to go to our doors if there’s a problem. So, if she can hear me, and if it bothers her, let her come to my door. I highly doubt she can hear me, though, cuz it’s in the house that sound goes easily, not out of the house.

I still haven’t seen the white car since Sunday, and all’s been quiet, but it’s not the weekend yet, either. I know the ranchero and the white car will be banging in and out next weekend, too. At least that white car doesn’t live there like I was beginning to fear was the case. I think it’ll live there on weekends, though.

MONDAY, JUNE 21, 1999 Things kind of came to a head around here yesterday, but it may be for the better. It’s too soon to tell, but it just may’ve been a good thing.

At around 5 AM yesterday, when Tom was getting up, they finally shut up next door. I typed the city a letter too, but we agreed to hold off on the mayor’s till the house went up for sale.

As we were going to Jack-n-the-Box at 7:00, I saw a guy walk out from between the houses in the carport, glance at us, then go back towards the backyard.

When we returned, the hood of the van was open, and I was thinking, great. Just great. So now they’re gonna be playing car repair all day like most freeloaders do and who knows what noise that’ll trigger being just a few feet away.

Between 8:00-9:00, the white car banged in and out 3 times. The final time, which was finally loud enough to wake me up, was the final straw. I blew from there. The years of having to deal with neighbor’s shit had taken its toll on me and I snapped. The stupid fucks with the white car backed the car out in the middle of the driveway, then left it sitting there with the bass booming while they went inside the house. So I stormed over there and walked up to their door which was wide open and let them know I was fed up and they had to shut up. At the same time I was turning to walk away, a woman was saying, “Will you please get out of my house” (but I didn’t step foot over their threshold and I reminded her that it wasn’t her house). Once I was back at our door (Tom was outside at this point) and the dudes with the white car came out. Tom was telling them to turn it down but they played deaf and dumb. Then he told me to call the cops, but they were leaving right as the dispatcher answered, so I told her to never mind and I hung up. She called right back and Tom told her the scoop.

Just as he hung up with the dispatcher, the doorbell rang. I opened the door and there stood two fat ladies and a guy. From there on out, I was thoroughly surprised and even impressed with what transpired. I was a little confused, too. The bigger woman, Debra, who looked and sounded white just like the other woman even though Tom thought she looked Hispanic, told me she was trying to buy the house. I guess the city has different programs and that they’re on an extremely different program than the blacks were on. How can a low-income person afford to buy a house? How can jobless people afford to buy a house? And how can 5 adults and at least 4 kids live in that house and still have room to breathe?

Anyway, Deb basically did all the talking. Her husband, who seemed like a very subdued, passive individual and who appears to be Mexican, said nothing. The other lady, whose name I don’t know, only spoke a few scattered sentences.

The 5 of us spoke for about 10 minutes and Deb let us know that my temper wouldn’t get me anywhere, if there was a problem with anything please come to her and not yell over the wall or go off on her guests, and that she knew where our door was, so she’d do the same. We agreed to this, and as I let her know, it was music that concerned me more than voices or anything else.

She said she was a good person and that she wanted to talk like normal human beings. Well, I must give her credit for coming over and talking to us like a civilized adult. She didn’t have to do that. She didn’t have to try to reason with us or compromise. She could’ve come over yelling right back. But she didn’t and I appreciate and admire her for it. She’s to be commended for how she handled the situation, which was far better than how I handled it.

All’s been quiet since I got up at 10:30 (Tom didn’t leave any messages, so I guess that means they were quiet) and the white car hasn’t been back that I know of, but don’t get me wrong. Even though I feel much calmer and have a good feeling about how things will go from here, that doesn’t mean that some sort of shit won’t go down (mainly with the white car or some other vehicle). Maybe they’ll go right back to being just as loud, or even worse of a nightmare, but for now, I’m hopeful that things will be OK till we can move, and I feel much more comfortable having met these people. Now that I know the people and have seen the faces behind the voices, I’m not as stressed out.

Tom and I agreed that from here on out, if there are any more problems, to let him know about it in full detail, then he’ll go talk to them.

From here on out, even though I’m sure I can’t be heard, I’m going to be singing really soft so they can’t say I’m practicing what I preach. Normally, I wouldn’t care, since they’ve been noisy and since most people out here are noisy, but I have to care. They have music more powerful than mine. Music that can take away my sleep. Therefore, as far as they’re concerned (if they stay quiet), they don’t know I exist.

So, we’ll just see what happens from here on out. I’m putting a hold on the city letter for now. I may even forget about sending them any excerpts on them after we move. It’s one thing to call a person a racial slur behind their backs as a way of venting, but it’s totally wrong, as far as I’m concerned, to directly call anyone a racial slur.

Even if things do go well from here on out, I still think they were wrong to be as noisy as they have been, and I still think it was intentional. I think they wanted to get attention and acknowledgment and I don’t condone their antics.

Meanwhile, I never meant to condemn them or anyone else for their lifestyle. The only time I have a problem with someone else’s way of doing things is when it comes through my walls. I don’t sic my noise on others. Therefore, I expect them to keep their noise and music for their ears only, too. I expect others to treat me as I treat them.

SUNDAY, JUNE 20, 1999 How do the kids sleep throughout all this loud babbling? Somehow, I doubt these wonderful role models give a shit.

Anyway, they’ve been out back gabbing away since I got up at 10:30. Makes me wonder if they could ever run out of things to say to each other. They just never seem to come up for air. The mouths go on and on and on, and bitch! I hate you for moving! I never thought that I’d be faced with having to worry about next door again like this. Especially after midnight! If it weren’t for us moving, I’d be out back screaming for them to shut up, even though I know it wouldn’t do me any good. Besides, I did say I’d fan out anything that wasn’t bass and that could be fanned out during our remaining weeks left here (unless God sees fit to add more time to our stay here). I really feel bad for the next people in here, cuz knowing how God works, odds are they’ll be nice folks who won’t deserve this shit. Not assholes, or assholes that are just as noisy.

Other than their vocal antics, this is the quietest Saturday yet with them here and that will probably ever be. Tom said there was the expected weekend company, but no music, and only a couple of cars. He didn’t see that white car.

Unbelievably, the van came and went from 10 PM last night to late in the morning. Over 12 hours of coming and going to and from God only knows where. From what we can gather, these fucks are sleeping from around noon-8 PM. I’ve never seen anything like this coming and going. Not even the blacks and the renters combined had these many vehicles and this many trips in and out.

I’m a little disappointed with Tom, cuz I feel like he reneged on our deal. He said if I insisted, he’d send out the city and mayor letters Monday but would prefer to wait till the house went up for sale. But who knows how many more weeks away that is?

I thought I just heard car doors, but I just went into the music room where they can be heard loud and clear and they’re still there. Why are they sitting out gabbing in the dark? Not one light is on over there.

Anyway, Tom thinks that others have complained already. I don’t think so. If they complained about these people, then why didn’t they complain about the blacks? And why isn’t the city doing anything like they did with the blacks?

Tom said that the city won’t do anything cuz of the way they run things. He said the mayor will, cuz mayors know that people write letters to newspapers if the mayor fails to respond to their letters. Well, I disagree, but maybe I’m wrong. I don’t think that just because the mayor’s in real estate and sold David this house that it means he’ll do something about the shit next door. If the city doesn’t do something, no one will. Not unless we the people take action and go over there and shoot all of them dead ourselves.

As I told Tom, I can’t make him do anything he doesn’t want to do, but I don’t think we can rely on other people having complained first, or wait till we put the house up for sale in case we can’t put it up for sale for months. Something’s stalling us and keeping us here by hurling one setback after another at us, as I knew would be the case eventually. It does not want us leaving here, and as far as I can see, if we don’t gain by the letters, can we really lose that much?

Yesterday, we thought we finally found the answer to the wall art not being able to be covered by putting on a thick joint wall compound, but guess what? As soon as it dried, the wall art was visible again. It just won’t fucking go away! And of course, he’s still in denial, saying it will get covered with spray paint, but no it won’t. Only painting the walls black or wallpapering will cover it. At least he got the bathroom vent working.

Yesterday morning I wished to hell I had the camera ready for that fat bitch who mooned me really good. It was barefoot, wearing a short dress as it bent over to grind out a cigarette. It obviously doesn’t believe in underwear either. Got a perfect full view of that fat ass!

I figured out how to program my stereo to play the Heart songs I like best repetitiously while I slept, but that didn’t go over very well. I kept waking up for the first few hours of sleep. I turned it off and slept well from there on out. If I’m gonna ever need music, I’m gonna have to go back to playing Gloria’s instrumental CD. That has a steadier beat, although if music pulls in next door that’s loud enough, nothing short of blasting my stereo will override it.

Later…

This is fucking unbelievable! Totally! It’s 3:00 in the morning and the freeloaders are still out there gabbing. I went out back a few minutes ago and screamed for them to shut up. I knew it wouldn’t work, but it made me feel good just to scream like that. Someone answered, “Hello? Are we really that loud?”

I told them, yeah, they were, and that I’d have them evicted. Then all I could make out through the garble of 3-4 voices was something about how they’re only human, but I didn’t want to hear anymore. I just came inside and threw the headphones on and watched a movie.

I’m telling you, no one complained. No one complained and no one ever will.

Why God?! Why me?! Why is it always next to me?! Any prayers to God for peace around here are going unanswered, as always. He wants this for me. He wants me inflicted with this shit from neighbors.

Later…

Still gabbing away non-stop. Also, I just noticed that the white car’s here behind the van now. I knew it’d be back. I forgot to say that it left quietly yesterday morning at 8:30.

These are obviously “seasonal freeloaders.” If it were December, they’d be gabbing all day and sleeping at night. At least I think they would be. You call this human, though? Normal humans don’t gab outside till 3:30 in the fucking morning, and if there’s anything I do agree with Tom on, it’s that no, they don’t mind getting evicted. If you’re gonna be out gabbing at this hour, you can’t be worried about getting evicted, and if you are stupid enough to be out gabbing at this hour, and someone threatens you with eviction, and you still gab on, then you really don’t mind being evicted.

This is not a good moving sign. Between the freeloaders and the wall art crisis and other setbacks, this is not a good moving sign at all. I really hope Tom will write the letters now and stop assuming too much. I mean, what if we are here till September? Or even later? I’m not putting up with their shit that long. No way!

If the kids are sleeping while they’re up yacking away all night, who watches them during the daytime?

I woke up at 107 pounds, and haven’t had much of an appetite. First time I’ve been this low in ages, but you can thank the freeloaders for it. It’s cuz of the stress from their shit. Whenever the fuck we get out of here, I’m sure I’ll be struggling like hell to keep from going over 110 pounds.

I was eating popcorn when the bracket let go. I doubt the popcorn did it, cuz I’ve been eating it ever since the braces went on and that was over a year ago, but just in case, I’m having more graham crackers and less popcorn. There are fewer calories in a serving of bite-size graham crackers than in a bag of popcorn, although you certainly don’t get as much. Still, it should be filling enough as a snack. If I have two servings a day that is a couple of hundred calories each, a couple of 200-calorie TV dinners, and a banana or two, that should keep me from going over 110 once the stress comes off. No wonder I was so thin back east and when I first got here!

I’m just too stressed out to do much when I’m not writing or listening to music. I can’t concentrate on reading. All I do is sit and stare at the wall sometimes. I keep reminding myself that we will be moving. It may not be soon enough, but it’ll happen. It doesn’t seem to reassure and calm me as much as I’d like.

Later…

And the lovely freeloaders continue to ramble on. How is it that the dogs haven’t been going off all night cuz of these freeloaders?

I wonder if these freeloaders are my present from God for having the hoop removed. Maybe he would’ve been more lenient with me with neighbors if I hadn’t gone against him, so to speak, and had it removed. Like I said, if I don’t take what he gives me, I’m really in for trouble.

Later…

Although somewhat quieter, the freeloaders are still out back. This time, I went out back now that it was getting light. I could smell that they were doing laundry. I thought you couldn’t raise kids if you were like me - no routine, schedule, or structure? Well, there are not just an awful lot of kids over there. There are an awful lot of adults over there, too. Maybe the adults that are up are childless, but I’ve never heard of a childless freeloader. They start breeding practically as soon as they hit puberty, and they don’t stop till menopause.

I wonder - is the white car gonna be here every night? Or just during weekends? Will the freeloaders be out back every night from here on out while we’re still here?

SATURDAY, JUNE 19, 1999 The van’s been gone an hour and a half. This is the longest it’s stayed out this late that I know of. What if they went to Mexico or somewhere and are having the people with the Ranchero and white car babysit their many mistakes? That’d be all I’d need! Unless they’re not back by 2:00, I’ll assume the van will be returning, then the white car and the Ranchero can bass out. They don’t mind waking up the kids. They don’t just shit on others. They shit on each other, too.

Why has God been so obsessed with using kids and music against me like he has since 1992? Why?! The kids are easier to deal with than the bass, and people attached to me that live directly next to or above me like in the NHA and the apartments I had here. But still, I just don’t get it. God’s obviously not using the kids to show me that he has that planned for me, too. I’ve known all my life I was destined to be childless, like it or not, and 6 years of unprotected sex with a virtually cumless dick has proved that. Maybe God just felt that knowing I wasn’t going to have kids, he felt it wasn’t fair that I live my whole life without a taste of what it’s like to have them close by. Well, believe me, God, I know what it’s like!

Good. The van’s back. Now can we just pack it in for the night and be done with all this shit till tomorrow night so I can have some peace and concentrate on things I want to do?

Anyway, the only reason I can think of as to why God would sic the music on me is due to people I’ve bugged with my stereo, like my old neighbors on Oswego Street and Woodside Terrace (the first time I lived there). If this is the case, once again, it just goes to show how I have to get what I gave many times over. If I make one prank phone call, I get four. Get it? There’s no way in hell anyone could’ve been as bothered by my music as I’ve been by other people’s music. No way. Not even close. There’s no comparison between the stereos I had back in the mid to late 80s, and these bassy car stereos and that band that used to play across the street. If you played the stereo I had back then full blast, it still couldn’t come close to the volume of one of these car stereos playing softly.

It’s almost 1 AM. Makes me wonder if the white car and the Ranchero, or at least one of them, will be staying overnight. They may be too doped up to leave, but if that white car wants out, the van’s gonna have to move first.

Tom was right about Mexican music being less bassy. I heard plenty of bass, don’t get me wrong, but I heard more drums than bass. It doesn’t matter, though. Drums on these stereos are just like bass - they both sound like someone’s hammering your walls. I’m sleeping with my stereo on for damn sure. I know they’re gonna wake me up. It seems only inevitable. It also seems only logical that that’d be just what the Gods would order, too.

Later…

I can’t see for sure, but it looks like the Ranchero left.

It’s a damn shame these sick fucks have so many laws on their side. These fuckeroos are next to impossible to evict, and even if we could have them out of here tomorrow - they’ll just turn around and have people move in that are just like these assholes and the last ones, too. It’s a widespread, endless cycle. And of course, their millions of kids grow up to be just as fucked up, if they stay alive and out of jail.

Tom caught Melanie’s call to remind me of our Monday appointment and told her the scoop. She said it’s a common thing, go ahead and keep it waxed in place, and she’ll glue it back Monday.

Later…

The van left again, but the white car is still there. Just where the fuck do these people need to go 50 times a day and is the white car staying overnight or what?

I brought up the idea to Tom (in a phone msg) of us exploring and experimenting with sex stimulants when we move, figuring that if we use lubricants, why not try stimulants, too? I have a feeling, though, that this stuck-in-a-rut kind of guy here won’t want to bother, but OK. I have vibrators to spice things up. I still say that the vibrators do the trick for me better than he can, anyway. They’re more reliable. They don’t work, they don’t sleep, they’re always on my schedule available when I want them, and they don’t have a million excuses.

Anyway, all he said in his reply was that he wanted fun when he got up. Says he deserves it and that I owe him that. No prob. I just hope my crotch won’t mind, cuz we skipped last weekend. I wouldn’t be too surprised if he came either, cuz I’m getting close to a period.

He also said that he’s gonna work 8 hours on Saturday, 6 on Sunday, then evaluate where we are and decide the rest of the week from there. I feel like we’ve got a long way to go yet. We haven’t even bought the land yet! If we could just finish this fucking painting and cover this fucking wall art I never thought I’d regret doing so badly!

Later…

The van’s back and the white car’s still here. The front light’s off, though, so that tells me all the more that the white car’s staying overnight. The fact that I’ve never seen this car before worries me. What if one of the adults living over there just got this car and what if it’s here to stay? I saw two people get out of this car, but that doesn’t matter. The passenger could’ve been a friend. These subsided blacks and Mexicans know a whole shitload of people.

Just a few more days and the city and the mayor will be hearing from us. But is Tom right for sure? Will it worsen things? Do they really not mind getting evicted? Or will it have the same effect on them as on the blacks? I tend to agree with Tom. Not just for the reasons he does, but because I’ve learned that just because something works once, doesn’t mean it will again. In fact, it’s usually just the opposite. What brought good results once tends to bring negative results the second time around. Or at least with the second batch of assholes. Well, it took two letters for the blacks to get it, so maybe after our 10th letter, the fucks will either shut up or move out.

Later…

No, he won’t be cumming. He’s gone to “do a duty” before we get together, so that tells me something right there. It’s just a gut feeling, know what I mean? He took the little computer in to play Hearts, he says, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if he got relief out of the way first, but again, it’s best that he does. Despite what’s destined, a man shouldn’t cum in a woman that doesn’t want kids if they’re not gonna use birth control.

FRIDAY, JUNE 18, 1999 OK, now that I’ve had time to calm down somewhat, I’ll update the latest batch of shit I’ve had to deal with.

First, though, next door seemed to have taken their antics indoors at about 11:30, and the van made its last trip in and out at around that time, too. At my last 1 AM check, I could see the glow of a TV coming from over there. See, I really think they’ve got themselves scheduled by the weather. I knew there was no way they’d stay inside just because it was hotter and more humid. They’ve got to get the neighborhood’s attention. Apparently, they’re sleeping in later and going out when it’s cooler. They might be sleeping till late afternoon.

Well, we’ll be taking care of the freeloaders, but meanwhile, enough of them and onto other things.

One of my brackets popped off. At first I thought it was gonna be a big deal and something I couldn’t live with till Monday that’d have to be dealt with like now. However, I waxed it and it’s holding it in place well enough till I can get in to see Mel Monday. Tom says he’s still gonna try to be here when they call tomorrow, tell them what the scoop is, and see what they recommend. I think it’ll hold till Monday with the wax, and fortunately, it’s the second tooth from the back, so I can eat on the other side of my mouth. If it were a front incisor, rather than a back molar, I’d have to have only liquid foods, not that that’d kill me to do if I had to.

Later…

I checked just before 2 AM and the lights are out. Maybe they are up during the day, but just don’t go outside. Or maybe I don’t hear them if they’re out. I didn’t know they were out till I went to check on Shiny. With the fan on, I couldn’t hear them. With the AC running and not the cooler, I couldn’t smell their food. As Tom suggested, maybe I ought to just stay inside and fan them out. That way, I won’t have to know they exist and burn with rage and want to go kill them.

My idea to sand the wall art was a bust. Tom’s new plan is to go around and paint the walls and ceiling completely. No more playing games, he says. Then, he’s gonna spray paint the wall art. He says that’ll cover it cuz you can get more on that way. I hope so! He says we’re still on for early August. I really, really hope so!!!

Later…

Another day with the freeloaders to deal with.

I didn’t get up till 8:00, their peak time these days. Tom said he hadn’t heard anything since being home at around 9 AM. That kind of didn’t surprise me. They didn’t start up till 10:00. It’s only just after 10:30 now, and I’m sure they’ll be up doing God knows what till around 1:30.

At 10:00, a white car I’ve never seen before came blasting in. It sat in the driveway for a couple of minutes to let the neighborhood know it had arrived, and by the time I got out there and screamed to keep it down, I didn’t want to know they exist, and that I was to have them evicted, the cock was walking towards the house. It glanced at me for a second without a word, then kept on walking.

A few minutes later, I thought it was leaving, but it obviously came out to test/bait me, along with 3-4 of the Mexicans that live there, then they deserted the car which is still out there. The weird thing about it was that they only based me out for barely half a minute. Just as I was on my way out there to really raise some hell of my own, the music stopped. The people stayed, though. I couldn’t make out a word they were saying, but I can guess what must’ve been said. Something like, “Go ahead. Have us evicted. We don’t care.” Or “No one can get us evicted. We can do anything we want and get away with it, too.” Yeah, well if this is what they think, they’re gonna learn the hard way how wrong they are.

I was surprised to see the van leave as early as 6 AM yesterday, just 6 hours after its last trip. Just when do these people sleep?

Anyway, I haven’t heard anyone hanging out back yet, but I’m sure I’ll know it when this white car leaves.

All I know is that I’m being severely compensated for the two months that house was empty, just like I knew I would. Something’s really out to get me good lately, and I don’t know why.

My stereo conked out again on me yesterday, but thankfully, Tom fixed it. God’s really on a let’s-get-Jodi spree now. So let me guess - he’s gonna have that white car return tomorrow earlier so it can wake me up, right? But why?! Why is God letting this happen?! What did I ever do to these people? And the last people? And the last? I thought people were supposed to only have people harassing them who did something to deserve it first. Well, that’s the way it should be, but it’s obviously not. People just don’t know when to give up, either. They pick and pick and pick. They just don’t know when to quit provoking.

I’d still like to know what I ever did to these people. Why does God insist on throwing these people on me like this? I don’t even know these people. Why can’t God allow me to be left alone? And just what will he have done to me for moving away from these people he seems so desperate to sic upon me?

I think Tom’s right - these blatant fucks are blatantly illegal, and now that they know they have enemies (which they obviously sought out as an excuse to badger people all the more), they’re gonna really live it up at our expense, and I’m sure they’ll insist that this white car visit more often now, too. How I’m gonna keep from killing these people, beats me. I’m so pissed right now and my adrenaline is so pumped up that I could probably take on a champion boxer. Okay, so not literally but these people just don’t care and they just don’t get it. They really are extremists.

Later…

These people are just as weird as the renters and the blacks, only ten times more fucked.

See, it’s in the middle of the day for these people. It’ll be a few more hours before things die down around here. The Ranchero decided to make a visit. The white car and the van backed out of the driveway. The van took off somewhere. After a few minutes of shouting, the white car pulled into the driveway. The Ranchero stayed on the street. Both the white car and the Ranchero have bassy stereos, so which one was playing music, which was shockingly sort of soft, I can’t say for sure, but I’ll bet it was the white car. The Ranchero, also shockingly, was only here for a few minutes (but will probably be back). I heard a shitload of voices hollering at each other.

Later…

I was right. The Ranchero’s back.

Later…

It used to be that these freeloaders wouldn’t slam doors and hang out in cars like the blacks did, but not anymore. There are at least two adults who went to hang out in the Ranchero, play a little bass, and so did their kids. Kids running around at nearly midnight in nothing but diapers! It’s sick! Fucking sick!

I hope one of their kids gets killed. Not only would the kid be better off dead, but maybe that’s what it’d take to teach them a lesson, although I doubt it. As long as there are Mexicans and blacks in this world, there’ll be trouble. If God would erase the Mexican and black population completely, he’d solve half our problems. I’m not saying there isn’t a lot of white trash out there, but how many good Mexicans and blacks do you know? I’ve met quite a few of these people and I can count the good ones on just one hand.

I saw the guy that talked to us and them walking around the other day. Tom was right when he said he walks around the neighborhood a lot.

Which of the 3 is the case here so far? 1. No one complained to the city. 2. Someone complained and the city didn’t talk to them. 3. Someone complained, the city talked to them, and true to what Tom said would be the case, they just don’t give a damn. I have a feeling it’s the first one that’s the case. Why must everything be up to us and dumped on our shoulders, huh?

Later…

The white car just left. Thank God! And please God, don’t let it come back in 10 minutes! I’m sure it’ll be back tomorrow, as it is. When the car started up, the music was a little loud, but get this - after just 3 beats, it turned it off. It turned it off! I couldn’t believe it! The Ranchero’s still here and the van’s still out unless it slipped in without my noticing it. I can’t believe that God doesn’t have this van, the vehicle that lives here, bass in and out 20 times a day. I wonder if it’ll start, though. That’d surely make things twice as bad if not more. If the Ranchero and the white car bang in and out regularly, though, that’ll make up for the lack of bass coming from the van.

Later…

Oh, God! I should’ve known better. The white car’s back. It came in with soft music. Why God? Why me?! What did I ever do to these assholes to deserve this?! There’s no doubt in my mind, though, that all these cars’ trips in and out are to get drugs. All that keeps going through my head over and over again is - bitch, why’d you have to move!

THURSDAY, JUNE 17, 1999 I haven’t heard from Andy since Monday, if I’m remembering correctly. He knows. He knows we’re basically finished. Who knows why he hasn’t called for sure; perhaps he’s waiting for the weekend, but I won’t call him till I hear from him. I want to see if I’m right or not about his not mentioning a damn thing about our anniversary before I go reminding him how it’s just as easy to be offended by him. I mean, he says he’s my “best friend” and he doesn’t even call and wish us a happy anniversary? Please! Some “best” friend. It’s not just about his being jealous, it’s about his being the typical selfish person Andy is famous for being.

It was pretty funny the other day how I reached to open a kitchen cabinet and ended up with half a handle in my hand (the door stayed closed). The middle chunk of the handle broke apart and let go, so we’ve got to replace that handle.

As I knew would be the case, we’re still having a hell of a time covering this fucking wall art I wish to hell I never did, even with the primer, but I got an idea. Tom said he didn’t think of it, which surprised me. I figured that if I thought of it, he must’ve too, but nope. Anyway, I thought we ought to take that sanding block, which only strips what’s on a wall and not the wall itself, and maybe that way we can get through the stubborn parts. The reds, oranges, blues, browns, blacks, and darker colors, just won’t budge. Tom isn’t sure this will work but is definitely willing to give it a try. I’m hoping to hell it will work without adding another week to our sentence here, but with our luck, something or another will keep us here into September, although it doesn’t look that way right now. But we need to get through this painting! If we could just get the inside painted, and the outside trim painted, we’re virtually home-free and ready to sell. Well, there are worse places to be than here on N. 21 Ave.

There was an ad in the Penny Saver with a good deal on a house on a 3.3-acre parcel of land with irrigation and all that, that Tom intends to call about on Monday. He said he was going to wait till Monday cuz he was tired of not being called back. Well, something just hit me - maybe he’s not being called back for a reason. Remember how God had people missing phone calls by seconds on other apartments for me in Connecticut? Well, of course, God knew it was my time to come out here. Well, maybe, just maybe, God is on our side about getting the model we want.

The rental’s still empty, and I wish God would keep it that way while we’re still here, but as I write this, I’m sure God’s up there looking down at me saying, keep dreaming!

The only thing I’ve seen from next door this week is a cock that lives there that came out at 7 PM and mowed. I guess they do have a mower. The weird part was that only 1 kid was out there, too. Not 4 or more. It was about 3 years old, playing in the driveway, stark naked except for its underwear.

Also, the van was there last night. I either just didn’t see it when I wrote my last report, or it was out. They didn’t hit the sack over there till around 12:30.

Tonight, the living room window blind that’s deeper in the carport is drawn shut. The other’s open and I can see straight through to the inside of their front door. They have shelves with God only knows what by that window. Some time I’ll take the binoculars and see if I can see what.

Tom says that if the weekend’s like today, no one will be hanging outdoors. He said it’s like we’ve skipped summer and went straight into the monsoons which aren’t supposed to be till August. It’s very humid out and definitely hotter than last Saturday. We’ll see, but I still say that even if there’s no music, not a ton of cars, no adults out, the kids will be. They’ll be outside screaming all day. There’ll be some sort of ruckus, and I’m not even gonna wait for them to act up. As soon as I get up, on goes the stereo. I may sleep through most of their wild times, though (God help them if they wake me up!). I’m trying to roll my schedule over for Melanie’s appointment on Monday.

Here’s something astounding - I don’t think they had company yesterday or today. From what I could see and remember, there wasn’t any other vehicle but the van.

Another thing that’s sort of surprising is that I haven’t seen the city come out. You’d think that by now, with all these fucking party animals, there’d be something to fix. They should go out and inspect a week or two after someone’s moved into their houses to make sure they’re sticking to the rules, but maybe they just don’t give a damn. They’re just too damn trusting and too damn naïve. Mexicans and blacks live to break rules, and I still can’t believe there’s no dog over there yet.

What I don’t get is why these freeloaders seem to act like they work. From what I’ve seen so far, they seem to have the bulk of their company and shit going on during weekends, just like with the blacks. Maybe their cronies actually work.

Later…

Typical, typical Mexican, I swear! This is just like on Oswego Street in "Puerto Rico." The air cleaner’s on, so naturally, I thought that at this hour, all would be quiet, but boy was I wrong. I went out back to see if I could coax the cat in to eat and got an earful of screams from the kids next door. They’re out barbecuing or something since I could smell food. Meanwhile, the backyard’s infested with screaming kids and I could hear adults, too. I screamed and got a scream from one of their many mistakes in return, along with laughter like it was some big fucking joke to them. What are these freeloaders gonna do - spend hours outdoors at night since it’s too hot and humid during the day? Thanks, God. Thanks a real fucking lot! In fact, they’re probably sleeping in late, just so they can be out at night. Anything to get attention and stand out like a sore fucking thumb. Fucking motherfucking freeloaders, I HATE them!

I can’t wait to see the letter to the city Tom’s gonna write. Why the fuck did that bitch have to move?! Even months after she’s gone she’s still pissing me the fuck off!

Even if these people were normal and quiet, I’d still be pissed at having to pay my tax dollars to these people just so they can sit around all day. Why can’t they get up off their lazy asses and work and support their own fucking needs?! Let them take care of their own damn kids!

Later…

Just went outside to do another “sound check.” I didn’t hear any kids this time. Just an adult female laughing. Yeah, sit on your fat ass and laugh at our expense bitch, but enjoy it while it lasts, you mother-fucking cunt, cuz I’m gonna set you straight before too long!

Later…

Next door is still going strong. What? Is it really a Saturday afternoon out there right now? I caught one of them peering over the wall, but couldn’t tell if it was an adult or not. It was too dark. I thought I heard what could’ve been a chair moving right after it saw that I saw it, suggesting it was a kid that climbed up to peer over, then ducked and jumped down when it saw me. Well, adults or kids, they can peer over all they want. If I catch any of them in the yard, though, they’ll learn in seconds what a grave mistake that was and that they picked the wrong yard. We better not have anything of value out in the yard or they’ll steal it for sure. They may even steal something that isn’t of value just to be stealing. These people don’t have brains enough to think their crimes through. They act on impulse and will risk their lives just for the sake of spontaneously stealing a fucking gum wrapper.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 16, 1999 God, the constant biting gets frustrating! Every day I bite myself or get pinched by these braces, and I’m so sick of it! I had planned to quit the Tic-Tacs and just chew gum after the braces come off, but I don’t know. Not if that means I’ll be biting the fuck out of myself. The more I chew something, the more I get bit up. It not only doesn’t tickle, but the area that gets bit swells up and makes it harder to chew around.

Tom got primer, and as my vibes said, it doesn’t seem to really help a lot. It looks like we’re gonna have to spray paint since that puts a lot more paint on. If that doesn’t work, I guess we’ll have to either go with a darker color or wallpaper. Why the fuck did I ever have to do this wall art?!

The assholes next door have been home for the most part, as usual, sitting on their asses. The van’s on one of its many trips out right now, though.

God, do I dread this weekend!

I’m reconsidering the exercise machine once again. Maybe I should get it and just build. That doesn’t take numerous hours a day like shaping/toning does. I’ll just have too much muscle rather than too much fat, but I think that if most of us had to choose which one we had an excess of, it’d be the muscle.

As I was doing some printing yesterday, I noticed that the second to last call made by Tammy was on the 5th. Well, of course. The day before Doe’s birthday. She was calling to pressure me into calling Doe on her birthday. The last call still has me baffled, but my guess is that rather than deal with acknowledging my letter and going off on me about it like she probably intended to do that time she tried calling twice, she decided she’d play dumb with the hopes that things would carry on as usual so she wouldn’t have to deal with it.

Later…

I made the mistake of calling Tammy back, who still insists on calling. I figured I could hold her off and keep her at arm’s length at least till we moved, but from here on out, if she calls again, I’m ignoring her just like with the others for damn sure. There’s nothing anyone can do to ever get me to talk to her again, any more than with the others. I’ve had it for good with anyone named O or G, and that includes Lisa. I hate to give her up, but I have no choice and again, sometimes you have to give up the good in order to give up the bad. Reuniting with her when she’s an adult and on her own would only open up an old can of worms, bringing the past and its people with it, to haunt me all over again. I’m haunted enough as it is. For the rest of my life, I’ll have to deal with thoughts and memories of these people popping into my head at any given time of the day and tormenting me, and this is hard enough to live with.

She called swearing that she wasn’t dumping me and that she wasn’t trying to pressure me into doing anything I didn’t want to do (could’ve fooled me!). All she wanted to do was talk about her feelings. She said she doesn’t give a fuck about Ma, but that she still has feelings for Dad. Well, that’s between her and him, as it is, but I understand we can’t help our feelings. Then she started to tell me something about his carotid artery, making his throat and vocal muscles paralyzed. She said he can talk, but it’s very hard for him and that he’s hard to understand (oh, so they called me a few weeks ago so I could feel sorry for them, huh? They figured they’d use a little pity trip as a way of snaring back into their sick little web of abuse and going through the same old sick cycle). This is when I came out and told her that due to her hyping things up in the past, I had no way of believing or knowing just how ill someone really was when the report was coming from her. She told everyone she was dying when she lived in Texas. She blamed that one on having no self-esteem. Well, I was no angel myself, and I had no self-esteem for a while there either, but I didn’t go around telling people I was dying.

The fact that I felt no emotion whatsoever over Art’s condition, tells me all the more how badly he and his associates have hurt me time and time again. It may take years, but you can only fuck with your kids so many times before they’ll be gone forever. I just thank God he wouldn’t allow me kids so that this cycle could be broken, cuz it won’t break with Tammy. Larry’s nothing like Dureen and Art was, fortunately, but that’s only when the whoring wimp’s home.

Anyway, our conversation ended with her asking for examples of how she’s hyped things up. After the dying in Texas incident, I told her I didn’t buy Bill’s so-called cancer for a minute, and this is when she screamed oh, fuck off and hung up. Well, Tammy, that’s exactly what I’ll do. In fact, I’ll make damn sure to fuck off for the rest of your life. I promise. You asked for it, you got it. Meanwhile, you’ll have to talk to someone else about your feelings. I don’t need any more shit from these people and 33 years of it is more than enough.

I watched Tom’s father struggle with cancer until he died. I saw what it did to him. Meanwhile, Bill’s not only alive, but his health is just wonderful. According to what Tom and I read about lymphoma online, he should be long dead, not that I wish he weren’t.

The very beginning of our little chat started out with her not knowing we were seriously moving (not a word about our anniversary). Oh yeah, we’re damn serious. We just can’t get the fuck out of here fast enough! With our luck, we really will be here till September or even October. Even 7-8 more weeks seems like a year.

Later…

I added Tammy to my mailing list, so that’s Tammy, Larry, the folks, the bitch, the freeloaders, the collie people, and Andy that’ll be hearing from me one last time when we move. 1 manila envelope to Tammy, 1 to Larry, 1 to the folks, 1 to Andy, and 2 to the bitch. 3 regular envelopes to the Mexicans and 1 to the collie people. A total of 10 pieces. I also inserted a couple of sheets of old journal shit in the envelopes I had printed pictures on the backs of, so Bob will get a total of 6 and Paula will get 15. I’ll send them out weekly.

Our freeloaders are doing a different routine tonight. Instead of lights out by 8:00 with the blinds drawn and the van there for the night, their blinds are open, I can see a light down the hall that may be coming from one of the bedrooms (there are 2 in front/1 in back), and the van is nowhere in sight. Maybe the late-night scream I gave them has them a little on guard.

I’m surprised I haven’t seen the little kids outside playing in the late afternoons lately. Maybe they do get a little sensitive to temps over 100º.

TUESDAY, JUNE 15, 1999 Half a decade married! It’s been a great half a decade, that’s for sure. Despite his being a disorganized slob and not very good in bed, I couldn’t be more blessed.

He picked up some primer today for the wall art. I knew we’d have trouble covering most of the Goddamn wall art I wish to hell I never did. He picked up a couple of gallons of it and I hope it works. He’s gonna put a coat of it on the wall art tomorrow.

I’ve seen the people that own the house across the street over there, and I saw a jeep pull in there last night. All it did was pull in, sit for a few minutes, then leave. Right now it appears empty, but I’m sure that soon enough the new batch of kids will arrive. Maybe, though, the owners will be pickier with whom they rent this time around. I know we’re not gonna be here much longer, but I don’t want a dog barking non-stop from right across there!

Again, from what I could see, it was lights out next door at 8:00. Why so early? Well, not all of them were early on hitting the sack. Some kid was dropped off at 1:30 AM in two cars. Why it took two cars to drop off this boy of 18-21 who’s definitely not supposed to be there, beats me.

I typed a brief yet perfect little get-the-fuck-out-lazies!/I’m-gonna-report-you-to-the-city letter that I was gonna claim was from that guy we saw talking to them that also talked to Tom, and tape it to the back of their van at 3 AM last night, but I chickened out. Not because I feared what they’d do if they saw me, but because it’d be just my shit luck that they’d come to this door inquiring about it and maybe asking if we knew this man when Tom was home and awake. Naturally, all we’d have to do is deny knowing a damn thing about it, but the paranoia it’d bring upon Tom may very well kill him. So, instead of typing it to ‘Resident’ at their address with no return address, I handwrote a bogus name, put the return address as being across the street and a few houses down, and then in the lower-left corner of the envelope, I wrote: $10 Wal-Mart certificate enclosed. This way, just in case they would’ve thrown the envelope away seeing that it wasn’t addressed to them, they should at least want that certificate.

I can’t believe the mailman hasn’t given me a piece of their mail yet! Most of the mail we get that isn’t ours, although it improved after the 10th complaint, is to N. 21 Dr.

Anyway, the Mexicans will be getting 3 envelopes from me. I decided they should read up on their party review, after all.

Tom sees I was right - no one next door works. He suggested that the guy with the van could be on disability, but admits that it’d be unlikely for a couple to be on disability together. I don’t think they are. I think she’s on welfare and that he’s just freeloading off of her and that he got that van illegally.

Later…

Got an anniversary card from Kim. That was nice of her to remember, unlike someone who’s supposed to be my best friend. That is unless he calls later. I wouldn’t be surprised if he did call later, only I doubt he’ll even acknowledge our anniversary. A part of that could be his jealousy, though, and not just his pot brain with its dead memory cells and his being wrapped up in his own self. A friend shouldn’t have to get another friend a gift, or even send a card on birthdays and anniversaries, but a simple, quick phone call would be nice. A simple “happy anniversary.” But you know how it is, you can’t make people care about things they just don’t care about.

Guess I didn’t re-offend him by sending him the last letter I sent him clarifying what I meant by his jumping from subject to subject. Personally, I wouldn’t have cared if I did. I have better things to do than smooth over any ruffled feathers Andy might have and I’m just not in the mood to smooth over his poor little hurt feelings right now if he’s got any.

Later…

The freeloaders look like they may be getting their yard done now, although I don’t hear anything. There’s an old beat-up truck with a cage-like back that’s parked on the street in front of their house. I was wondering when they were gonna stop watering and start cutting that grass. Could just be one of the many assholes that visit them, though.

I hope it’s as hot as they say it’s going to be this weekend, although I’m sure they’ll still be outside acting like wild little assholes, blaring music from their house. At least half a dozen cars will have to visit, too. Everybody’s always gotta go next door. Next door just can’t go to them. If it’s not as rowdy as last Saturday, then it’ll be like Sunday was. Sunday was in between Saturday’s nightmare and yesterday’s and today’s peace. In fact, if they were like they have been today and yesterday every day that we’re still here, we’d have it made, but that’s just not gonna happen. They said it was supposed to be 102º the day they partied, but Tom said it couldn’t have even hit 100º. They say this weekend’s to be 105º. A little hotter, if not much, but like I said, still won’t keep them from ruling the outdoors.

MONDAY, JUNE 14, 1999 I’ve got a ton of stuff to write about. A ton! I may not remember everything in the first shot, so I may have to come back and make additions as more things come to me. I wasn’t in a good frame of mind to take notes for the most part, and yes, it has to do with our wonderful freeloaders. Besides the lovely welfare bums, though, I was quite busy. Before getting to next door, let me get other things out of the way first.

I’m having second thoughts about an exercise machine. It’d take hours and hours of working out every day to get the ideal body and to really make a difference in my muscle tone and my appearance. I just don’t have the desire to work out 8 hours a day. I’m never gonna be smaller than I have been the last 6-7 months, and I’m never gonna be under 108 pounds again, either. Not without starving or being ill. So, it’s best I just accept that and do the best I can to maintain the muscle and appearance I’ve got now, but I’m not gonna drive myself crazy with it and slave myself 8 hours a day. I’ll never be thin again and that’s that.

I’m hoping to get Trio 2 sometime soon. I forgot about that till I remembered it the other day. That’s the second album Linda, Dolly, and Emmylou did together. They put out their first one in ‘87 when I was living on Oswego Sreet in Springfield.

That wasn’t Andy who called Saturday morning when I last wrote. I was surprised he didn’t call me on Saturday, though. He chose Sunday evening instead. He told me that he and Michelle had been having fun going to gay bars.

I did get a call on Saturday morning from someone else, though. I got up at 8:00 that morning and saw that my dear old sister called. When I went to listen to her message, I got the exact opposite of what I expected to hear. I expected her to really lay into me and cuss me out and cut me down in every way possible, but instead, all she said was hi, hope to talk to you guys soon. What’s going on here? Is she playing dumb, or did she not get my fuck you letter? Well, in hopes of keeping her at a distance till we can split, I sent her a letter saying that I just needed time and would contact her once we moved, but as you know, I’ll do no such thing.

The last 3 days we spent painting the house. Tom was sandblasting the pool steps, too. It’s got a way to go but is moving along sure enough. He packed some more in the back room and took the shelves down that were bracketed to one wall.

We decided to celebrate our anniversary on his birthday. We’ll go to Red Lobster that day, and to Wal-Mart to pick each other up some cheap little $10 gift. We don’t want to be spending any money right now what with the move coming up, and you know how we are - just being together, happy and healthy, is what matters most.

OK, freeloader update - the nightmare began just after I last wrote last Saturday morning. The only thing they haven’t taken from me yet is my sleep. And they also haven’t gotten that dog yet or blasted in and out with car stereos, but they certainly took my peace away from me last Saturday. That’s the only credit I can give these sick, sorry, motherfuckers I’d like to kill so bad. God, I am so sick of blacks, Mexicans, Mormons, and assholes!!!! Someone’s gotta set these fuckers straight. They’ve got to be taught that having a subsidized house is not a ticket to making a scene for the whole neighborhood.

Saturday was like having the blacks and Mormons all over again all rolled into one. The ironic part of it was that this wild party followed the party the blacks had back in June of ‘96 to a T, with the exception of the car stereos. The similarity in it was almost scary, but that’s what you get when you got blacks or Mexicans on your shoulders. I never hated them as much as I do now. They are the rudest, hateful, mean, selfish, subhuman species I’ve ever known, and God should be ashamed of himself for creating such fucking assholes! What did I ever do to these assholes for God to sic them on me as he has?!

The party was also on a Saturday, it also was in June (the 8th rather than the 12th), they too, had a zillion cars over there, they partied for 12 hours, they barbecued, they played music from their house, and a ton of adult and kid’s voices could be heard carrying on throughout the whole ordeal. Like I said, the party was almost identical to the blacks.

Just when I was thinking that these people just might be OK after all, what with God knowing we’re moving soon, I found out the hard way how wrong I was, and boy was it hard to restrain myself. I wanted to let them have it soooooo bad with no regard to Tom’s reminding me that no human being can beat up 16 people. I was too mad to care. Yeah, I probably would’ve gotten my ass kicked, but it would’ve been worth it. These freeloaders don’t know just how lucky they are, though. It’s only because it’s temporary (besides Tom’s wanting to always do things the legal way) but had we no plans to move, you bet I’d lose it on them! I’m so sick of these fucking freeloaders partying at our expense. We pay for them to sit on their asses all day and they treat us like shit in return for it. When is this country gonna wake the fuck up and change its totally unfair laws?! These scum suckers have got to go. We can’t keep supporting them for 3 or more years at a time and have them carry on in society the way they do. No wonder there are so many racists! Well, the hatred they get is exactly what they ask for. They get what they deserve when they encounter racism. If they learned how to carry on like respectful, productive, normal, non-selfish, non-destructive, non-lazy human beings, then maybe people would see them in a different light. Meanwhile, you carry on like a fucking selfish asshole, desperate for attention, no one’s going to like you or give a damn. From here on out, I don’t care if they see me spying on them, I don’t care if they hear me singing at night, I don’t care what they think about the complaints the city’s gonna receive on them, but I’ll tell you one thing right now and this is a fact, not a threat - if any of these assholes come to my door, the reaction won’t be just verbal like it was with that black bitch. There’ll be no words coming out of my mouth and I don’t care if there are 50 of them.

There’s a chance they may get complained about by others, too. That guy who asked Tom what the story was with them was talking to one of the people who attended the party, and he might be lodging a complaint. We think he was trying to weed out any info he could from the guy. Also, their rowdiness set off someone’s house alarm in back somewhere. The reason we’re gonna wait till next week to send off our letter is so that the city doesn’t think we mistook their noise for moving-in noise. By then these losers will have been here 3 weeks. Also, Tom wants to wait till we get closer to moving, cuz he thinks that they’ll react just the opposite of the blacks. He thinks it’ll provoke them into being louder, and that they’re “blatantly illegal.” They go to extremes and push it to the limit till they can’t get away with their shit anymore, then they go elsewhere and start all over again. They don’t mind getting evicted, either. Yeah, but the city’s not gonna just keep moving them around. If they get evicted enough times, then they’re on their own, and if they’re too lazy to work, what are they gonna do? Guess they’ll have to deal drugs, won’t they? That’s probably why so many Mexicans and blacks deal in the first place. It’s easier than working. They’re just so anti-work. “Blatantly fucked” is what they are, and no matter when we move, or what they do, they’re gonna get theirs and I’m gonna see to it. No matter what happens from here on out, and regardless of the fact that they have been much quieter, the city and the mayor’s gonna be hearing from us. Someone’s gotta teach these assholes that they can’t keep up with the same old cycle of shit and that their avenues will run out on them.

Anyway, from the looks of it, Saturday was a special occasion. We thought one of the millions of kids was having a birthday party, but it may’ve been more like a housewarming party, cuz I thought I saw someone carrying a gift as they arrived, and Tom saw a box for a blender in the dumpster. I thought housewarming parties were supposed to be for those who owned houses, not rented.

At 10:00, the music began. Not from cars, but from inside the house. It didn’t have the bass that rap music has, and with no fans, you could only hear it in the music room, and faintly in the bedroom. That was enough for me, though, so I went out front just as half a dozen adults and half a dozen kids were pulled up in two cars and told them to turn the music down.

A woman said, “We don’t have any music.”

I mentioned the music coming from the house, and she said she’d tell them. Believe it or not, the music did get softer. I could still hear it in the music room, but it did actually get softer. But not right away. No, these rebellious little fucks, that are a total, total carbon copy of the phony black cock, took their sweet time in lowering it. Nothing could be heard at all over fans, the music was never close to being loud enough to wake me up, and neither was anything else they did, but we both heard enough. The illegality of it and knowing that it’s our tax dollars that lets them carry on this way is what really burned me up. And how dare God give people like this any kids let alone so many! I don’t want a kid, and he did the right thing by not allowing me one, but I swear, he wants kids to go to the fuck-ups of this world. That was obvious a long time ago, and I try not to let things that I can never change get to me, but it’s hard at times. I’d have gone after them for damn sure if I knew we weren’t moving, and I’d have been way more stressed out and tight-chested. I’d have slept like shit too, always waking up, but I slept OK. Not going to sleep till the party was breaking up helped, too. In fact, I went to sleep at the exact same time I did the night of the freeloader’s big bash.

I thought about opening the music room window and giving them a sample of my music, but as Tom said, they wouldn’t even think twice about it, cuz it’s so much a part of their lives and everyday living.

When I asked Tom what our compensation would be for the new house, since God puts strings attached to everything he lets me have and seemingly with him too, he said this is our compensation. I hope he’s right!

It just couldn’t get dark fast enough, but not even that stopped them from hanging outside yelling and screaming. I can’t believe our yard wasn’t littered like hell. They sat on their cars and were everywhere! In back, in front, in the carport, in the driveway. The house was infested with adults and kids. I knew the heat wouldn’t keep them inside, although conveniently, God’s been keeping things pretty mild around here weather-wise. I kept wishing it was December, cuz I’d think that any normal human being wouldn’t want to be out on a cold winter evening, but these people are anything but normal, and not even human as far as I’m concerned.

Let’s see…besides the 5-hour concert, there were at least a dozen cars, and of course, they kept coming and going. They’re all so fucking fat over there that they probably had to keep going to the store for hot dogs and shit like that (they were barbecuing), among lines of coke, no doubt.

For cars - there was the ranchero, the gold one, the darker gold one, some dark green one, the furniture truck, the blue pickup, a silver pickup, an older white car, a new white car, a red and white van, and more.

The voices were non-stop for 12 hours, and I almost screamed shut up out back by the wall just to make me feel better. However, I knew that if Tom heard me, he’d be paranoid that Iran’s army would come hunt us down and kill us for it.

This is really gonna hurt us trying to sell this place. These people fuck those up who just want to live their lives in peace in so many ways. No one wants to move into a Mexican neighborhood with their loud, overcrowded, selfish, rude lifestyle. I just hope God sends us someone who doesn’t mind the noise, but I know better than to ask him for any favors.

Yesterday, I heard horn-honking, a woman saying, “Fucking son of a bitch,” and the kids’ screams that would come in intermittent bouts. Like I said, it was blacks and Mormons all over again. The blue pickup was over there for a while yesterday. Just like with the bitch, they can’t go a day in their lives without some car showing up there. The fat broad in the ranchero was the visitor of today, but today’s been amazingly quiet. Today they’re pretty much back to being how they were up till Saturday. Not even the kids are out for their evening stroll in the street.

My neighbor at the Vista, Mary B, wasn’t kidding when she said that where there’s 1 there are 50 of these things. There had to have been a total of 50 people, counting adults and kids.

SATURDAY, JUNE 12, 1999 Our beautiful freeloaders have been predictable, outdoors, at home practically all the time, and have company every day. I can't believe there's only been one bout of music and that there's no dog yet, but I still have a dog vibe.

The van's been in and out already and is in and out a dozen times a day. At least, like I said before, they hop in and go. They don't slam doors a dozen times to get my attention along the way. I heard them talking in their carport, but couldn't make out anything that was said. I saw a broom handle leaning against the house and saw that their driveway was wet, so they've been watering again.

Here we go again with the weekend calls from Andy. That's OK, though, cuz if all goes well and as planned, there should only be about 8 weekends left here.

Anyway, there's a gold car here, but it's not the same gold car that the older couple drive. At least I don't think it is. It seems darker. I think that whoever drives this car has kids, but don't all freeloaders? Yesterday, about 4-5 animals were out front. Amazingly, the only sound I heard was when one of them decided to beat its hand on the basketball hoop pole that still stands.

FRIDAY, JUNE 11, 1999 This is the third morning I’ve woken up to spots. They go away after I’ve been up for a little while. It’s obviously accumulating in my sleep, then when my body’s upright after awakening, I bleed a little.

The day before yesterday I was up for 18 hours and slept for only 6 hours. I wasn’t tired, though. Yesterday I was up about 16, your normal number of hours that you’re up for, but then I only slept 5 hours. I crashed last night close to midnight and got up just before 5:00. I’m a little tired. This is good, though, cuz I’m gonna need to be on days as much as I can while we’re prepping and moving.

The bird clock’s dead already? But we just changed the batteries. Damn, those sounds really suck up the juice!

I don’t know why I’ve been calling the house I like best a Redman model when it’s a Palm Harbor. It gets hard to keep track of all the names. There’s Shultz, Redman, Cavco, Palm Harbor, and more.

Later…

The gold car just came next door, and again, I swear this old couple’s white. The guy was on crutches. It’s weird, though. Why would this seemingly well-to-do white couple want to associate with poor, lazy old scum? I don’t have a bad vibe on next door for the weekend, but unless the Ranchero or some other vehicle bangs in, I shouldn’t. That’s because I’m still pretty sure that the weekends will be just like the weekdays and when you don’t work, and none of the people you know work, your daily routine tends to be the same whether it’s the weekend or not.

The gold car’s leaving. This time, someone’s in the backseat with them. The guy’s nauseating, though. Totally anorexic. It seems that the guys I’ve seen over there are bone-thin while the women are huge. Except for the one that comes with the girl in the blue pickup.

Once again, though, just like with the blacks, all the vehicles except for the Ranchero have been nice and fairly new. Whoever it is that owns the van, does not work. I doubt they inherited the money to buy the van and laze around. They either stole the money for the van. Stole something and cashed it in so they could buy the van. Or they’re dealing drugs or doing something illegal in order to afford the van and laze off.

THURSDAY, JUNE 10, 1999 Tom said the war was over. I don’t watch the news. Too depressing. So I asked him which war he was talking about and he said we were bombing some country I’d never heard of. I asked why the slut president felt that was necessary and he said just because. That’s what’s really scary. If you can bomb innocent people in other countries, why not in your own country? People are sick enough to let their friends and family be killed just so they can take down the whole country and more. And then of course there’s our wonderful God to fear and despise for letting this happen.

Yesterday, I saw a young fat girl move the Ranchero to let the blue pickup out, driven by the fat girl and the guy. A couple of hours later, the Ranchero left. No music.

It looks like we may have more Mexicans moving in next door. There’s a gold pickup I’ve never seen before, and then the blue one was here for a while, too. The van’s been in all day. The van didn’t take off till late afternoon yesterday, but for how many times, I don’t know. Anyway, I saw tons of kids and adults carrying kids’ toys into the house. See, this is the problem with Mexicans. They cause overcrowding due to the way they breed like rabbits. Take a house, any house, and you’ve got wall-to-wall Mexicans.

Some guy was asking Tom, as he pulled in today, what the scoop was with next door. I guess we’re not the only ones who aren’t happy about it being a rental, and even more so that it’s an overcrowded rental owned by the city. So, Tom’s gonna send a letter to the city using the address we’ve been using to let them know of the overcrowding in a couple of days. If they start being noisy, the letter will go in right away, to the city and to the mayor.

I decided the pack of freeloaders isn’t worth the ink and paper, so I’ve decided to print the 15 or so pages I have on them and mail that in a regular envelope. I’m not gonna mail them all I’ll write about them while we’re here and send it to them in a manila envelope like with the blacks.

If I said it before, I’ll say it again - thank God there’s no hoop over there! I still can’t believe how quiet they’ve been though, as far as the kids go, and as far as that one bass attack being all we’ve heard so far. I just hope we’re out of here by the time the weather starts cooling down!

The fucking freeloaders are overloading the dumpster. I did say, after all, that there’s a lot of trash next door. God! Why me? Huh?! Why is it always next to me?!

Tom got the paints today (the yellow for the cabinets is called yellow rose) and we’re gonna begin painting this weekend. Right now, he thinks we can be moved by early August. I hope he’s right! At least my October vibe has faded. Even September’s a little weak, so that’s good.

Later…

Damn, these fucking distractions! I’m trying to talk to my husband, but the fucking phone which rings non-stop, just won’t fucking quit! When am I gonna be paid back enough, God? When are we going to let the past be the past and move on, huh? How much more payback do I deserve? Maybe someday he’ll forgive me for my mistakes as well as for my forefathers.

Both pickups have left, but how many people are in that house right now and how many are living there for sure, is still unclear. I just know there are close to a dozen and that most of them aren’t supposed to be there.

I forgot to mention that Tom said Butterscotch lunged at him the other night. He just charged at him when he was walking by to let Shiny out. I believe it. He is a meany. The most aggressive of the rats.

I cleaned the rat’s cage today and put newspaper in place of sawdust. I want to see how well it absorbs, how messy it is, and how much they like it, although I tend to think they don’t give a damn one way or the other. I’m hoping this will work out, cuz I’m getting a little tired of their kicking sawdust outside the cage.

Also, I cleaned the bar walls of the cage. It took me nearly 3 hours to clean it rung by rung.

I just can’t wait to move! The only sad part of it is that when we do move into that bigger, nicer, more modern home with its beautiful desert landscape and its peace and quiet, there’ll be a price to pay for it. You think God’s gonna let me have it sweet and nice with no strings attached? Think again! That’s not the way God works with me. Every good thing he lets me have has a string or two attached. I don’t know what the payment’s gonna be, though. Could be something wrong with the house, something wrong with us, more problems at work for Tom. My guess is that he’ll have things within the house, among our stuff, break or not work right. It’d be just my luck to move and find that the dishwasher doesn’t work, but at least we’ll be out of here!

I mentioned to Tom certain things I saw happening when we moved, including that the sex would remain as it has been. Then he had the nerve to say he would go down on me but was hesitant cuz he doesn’t want me to pretend I’ve cum. What a lame excuse. Why does he always have to make up some bogus excuse, or pin the blame on me, instead of just coming out and admitting that he doesn’t want to? It’s plain and simple - he doesn’t want to. He can just say so. Not make excuses.

The nerve of him, though, cuz wasn’t it him that was the pretender for a while there? Wasn’t it him that claimed to be cumming most of the time for many months till I spilled the beans on him and let him know I knew better? I told him how it was quite ironic how things changed as soon as I spilled the beans on him. When I pointed this out to him, though, he said that it comes and goes in spurts. Yeah, right. Uh-huh. Tom, you’re great at just about everything, but you’re a lousy liar. I mean how fucking convenient to say that, huh? He says the reason he hasn’t been cumming lately is cuz he’s had problems, be it colds, his back, etc. But he always has a problem. Ever since I knew him, there was a problem. Some are legit, but my gut instinct tells me that most of them were just excuses.

I hope he isn’t forgetting the important thing and that’s that he can never cum again if that’s what he wants, as long as he’s happy, doesn’t lie, or play games. I appreciate the fact that he hasn’t put me through the sexual head games he used to, like the I-forgot-how-to-screw game he used to play with me when he wouldn’t go inside.

Oh, did I tell you yet how he’s changed from guessing we’ll have a child to that being a logical thing to happen? Yeah, he feels a kid is logical cuz of how our lives are going. That’s what he said in the past several times. Well, he can stay in denial all he wants and believe what he wants, but I know two things. That it can’t happen no matter how our lives are going, and that it’s still not what I want.

Later…

The van’s made a couple of its multi-trips out.

Again, the little animals are out with the sunset. It amazes me that I can see them, but I can’t hear them.

Tom and I were talking about how mish-mashed this house is. Some of the baseboards are wood, some are vinyl. Some of the plugs/outlets are wood, some are plastic. They used two different types of wood to do the kitchen cabinets and two different shades of yellow. A darker shade for the upper cabinets and a lighter for the bottom. Then there’s the shade of yellow that’s in the tiles, and the contact paper that’s white with yellow wicker-like stripes that’s on a few of the cabinet doors. Of course, there’s also that blue/green paint I painted on, too. Then you have the disgustingly ugly floor colors of gold, dark orange, and brown.

Tom’s mom sent us an anniversary card with a $25 check.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 9, 1999 Been here for 7 years today!

More evidence has come in to make my mass ovulation theory a little more likely. I can’t say for sure, cuz I’m no expert, but I just had a big spot. I’ve noticed I tend to spot after having those mid-cycle pains. I’ve read you can bleed a little when you ovulate, so if you can bleed from ovulating one egg, imagine how you could bleed from releasing a lot of eggs. Normally, you’re not supposed to be able to feel yourself ovulate, but if the ovary wall is opening up wider than usual, with a lot of eggs going through it like a bunch of people trying to cram through a doorway, maybe you could feel it. Any kind of cyst is out of the question, cuz those grow for a long time before they hurt, and it would’ve shown up last December. Why it feels like a UT infection, though, beats me, but I find it awfully hard to believe I’m getting a UT every month at the same time of month. Also, I had no cramps. Usually, when the bleeding’s coming from the uterus, you have cramps, but I never had cramps.

If my theory is right, though, it makes no sense. It’s totally against destiny. Why would God allow me to release so many eggs at once if he knew a kid wasn’t meant to be unless the eggs were maybe dead? I can see it making sense if a kid was meant to be to bypass his not cumming, but since it’s not, I just don’t get it, if this is the case.

If God can do anything, though, and if I’m right about a kid not being meant to be, then it doesn’t matter if Tom doesn’t feel comfortable with cumming, and it doesn’t matter how many eggs I do or do not have, dead or alive.

Now I’ve got quite an update on Andy, which for the most part, isn’t very good.

We finally got to talk yesterday. I couldn’t believe he didn’t leave me any messages last weekend, but I think I know why. He started off by telling me that when he got the letter I sent to Gary’s house, he was not a happy camper and he suggested I don’t include my journal excerpts. He said I was so mean and he was offended by the following excerpt:

I first showed him my dolls, then the animals. He had trouble focusing, though, and I couldn’t get his attention to hold on to any one subject for too long. If I’d comment about the dolls, he’d ask about the rats. If I’d comment about the mice, he’d ask about objects in the back room.

When I wrote this I didn’t mean it to be “mean.” I meant it to be simply a fact like if I said I was short, I was hyper, I had asthma, etc. It was just an observation I made, and I do the same thing all the time. We both do. We’ve both always been on the hyper side and tended to repeat ourselves a lot and jump from subject to subject, and even he himself has admitted to this. It isn’t just him and I’m not saying he’s a bad person for it. I was simply stating what I perceived his state of mind to be at the time. It was sort of like he was distracted and had his mind on other things. I never meant to imply that he wasn’t paying any attention at all to the things I was saying, although yes, Andy has always had a problem with being a little on the selfish side and once again, he’s even admitted this, and has said that he’s gonna do what he wants to do.

I was right about his suspicions too, cuz I’ve dumped my sister and parents in the past and he never wondered if he was next back then. Now, though, he’s wondering if he could be next cuz I seem to have a problem with his ways, he says. There was no way I was gonna lie. I told him “I don’t know what the future holds with that.” Then I guess my dumping him won’t hit him as hard or surprise him as much.

Andy mentioned how he doesn’t dump people so easily, and he’s right. My having a hard time tolerating his ways, and my not sticking to the friendship as faithfully as he has, is my problem. In fact, if I had to pick Andy’s best quality, it’d be his sticking to friendships and not dumping people. I sort of envy him. I wish I could be as faithful and as tolerant, but on the other hand, I used to be that way and found that that was what got me in so many jambs with people. By sticking by and tolerating fuck-ups like Fran for as long as I did, I ended up having to deal with all his shit for as long as I did. Same goes for Nervous and so many others. I’m not saying I didn’t give them any shit in return, but things have changed. I think Andy’s in denial, not willing to accept that we’ve become so different from one another, but it’s true. I’m very very picky as to who I associate with nowadays, and not as tolerant as Andy is or as I used to be. I’m not saying his ways are wrong (except for the pot and the smokes, cuz it’s always wrong when we abuse our bodies) I’m just saying I’m bored, sick of, and annoyed by them, and that’s my own problem. If it’s wrong, or a weakness on my part, then so be it, but it’s not his fault.

It’s tough for me with my conflicting feelings. A part of me wants to stick by him like he’s stuck by me, not dump him, try to be more accepting and tolerant of his ways, and risk the consequences of being in his car again with his pot. Even though he’s a damn good driver, anything’s possible. The other part, the much bigger part, says to walk away for reasons that I’ve already gone through a million times.

Later…

The blue/green pickup’s here now. Also, the van apparently made its first trip in and out for the day, because it’s parked in a different spot than it was earlier.

Back to Andy. What it comes down to is that we’ve just become very different people with very different interests. I’m not saying I’m not doing some things I was doing back in the 80s, like journaling, and I’m not saying we have literally nothing in common, I’m just saying that his ways aren’t for me anymore, and I don’t want a druggie for a friend anymore. I’m just bored with his ways and I’m tired of talking to someone that’s baked out of his mind nearly every time we talk, and who just doesn’t get or remember half the things I say. Or write. He just gets on my nerves. If that makes me a Dureen, in a sense, for being so non-accepting and non-tolerating, then so be it, but I feel it’s best to walk away from him than to try to change him. I’ve politely asked him certain favors, like not eating on the phone, which I don’t think is asking too much, but to try to change everything about him that bugs me would be trying to change him. Meanwhile, he’s got other people he can call who’ll accept and tolerate his ways. Even if he backs off the phone like he has as soon as he suspected he was next, it’s still time to move on. We’ve done our time together and we’ve done what we were destined to do for each other (but I’m not always sure what I was supposed to have done for him).

Wow, it’s the 9th and I’m already on the 20th page for this month. For last month, I was only on the 4th page or so by this time.

Later…

The girl and the guy in the blue/green pickup just left. I remember seeing them when they were unloading the pickup. They’re fairly young. He’s sort of beefy and she’s your classic fat mom, but not as fat as the lady that lives there. She has long hair. It was pulled back in a ponytail with a white scrunchy.

What? Did we forget something? The pickup just came right back, then went right back out again.

We didn’t finish our discussion about his trip (cuz Tom came home and I wanted to spend a little time with him before he had to crash), but I’m very happy with him for the fact that he didn’t try contacting Tammy. I appreciate his respecting my wishes. I’m shocked he hasn’t mentioned God or food, but I’m sure he will soon enough. Again, this isn’t something I detest with a passion. So be it if he wants to tell me about God and the food he eats. Just because I think he’s delusional about God for the most part, and just because I think he’s making a pig of himself and making himself sick, doesn’t mean he’s wrong for it. He can believe what he wants and eat what he wants. It’s just that it gets old, that’s all. I still can’t figure out, though, if he’s stuffing himself to reflect Michelle onto himself, or if he’s doing it to make himself sick so he can have an excuse to avoid working.

All he really told me was that it didn’t rain on him, miraculously, but that it was hot, muggy, and cloudy the whole time he was there. He didn’t get to spend much time at the beach cuz of the cloudiness, and cuz Jenny, Gary’s girlfriend, fucked him out of having some time to himself at the cottage. So did Jenny’s stepfather. I guess he just had to do some work on a cottage wall at the time Andy wanted to be there. Then Jenny came down and took a whole slew of people along with her that live barely an hour away and that could’ve used the cottage any other time. Well, that whole family and its associates have always been notorious for being rude. Except for Marla, although she’s been rather rude to Charlotte. I agree with Andy as far as that goes - fine. Don’t be nice to Charlotte. But let the past go and don’t be rude and tell her you didn’t mean to say hello when you accidentally did cuz you thought it was someone else. I haven’t had any experience with Linda other than the phone chat we had last December, but I can see what Andy means when he says he feels like he’s walking on eggshells when he’s around her. I can see how she may be hard to deal with. This is why I haven’t contacted her as much as Marla. Judy and Al have always been phony, rude, selfish, vindictive, lying, gossiping trashholes, and the brothers are unstable little druggies themselves. Most of the family treats poor Andy like an outsider who no longer belongs cuz he’s even more different and cuz he’s moved away.

I don’t know what really happened in the 70s with our parents. Was it Judy and Al’s fault? Dureen and Art’s? Both? Don’t know and don’t care. All I’m saying is that I’ll never know for sure what went down, but I do know this - I know what these people are capable of. I’m sure they all fucked each other over. Shitfucks shit on other shitfucks all the time. An asshole for an asshole. That sort of thing. Know what I’m saying?

Meanwhile, I sent a note to Andy explaining the excerpts to hopefully smooth over his poor little feelings for now. I’m trying not to make any waves till we can get out of here. I’ll put up with a little more than I normally would, cuz it’s only for a few more months. It’s not like I don’t care about his feelings at all. I do, but at the same time, I can only spend so much time worrying about his precious, fragile feelings. I’m sure he can relate to that, too.

Speaking of precious, fragile feelings, I’m both surprised and not surprised that I haven’t gotten a call from Tammy about the letter I sent her explaining why I don’t want anything to do with her. Again, not that it’d change a damn thing, but just to express myself, which always feels good. I’m surprised cuz I know a letter like she got would upset her, but I’m not surprised cuz she probably wouldn’t want to give me the satisfaction of a reaction, but she’d be falsely flattering herself if that’s what she thought it’d be. A reaction wouldn’t satisfy me at all. No way. I don’t want to know she exists.

Anyway, the next thing I’m going to cover that Andy told me about makes me think, what a total, total loser! How desperate! What a waste of time! But hey, it’s his life. It doesn’t make it a bad thing, just because I wouldn’t want to go cross country to make out with some bar slut. He went to a new bar and made out with some guy, then had to deal with Adam’s boyfriend squeezing his ass. He didn’t want to tell Adam cuz of how happy he was. I can understand that, but poor old Adam’s happiness isn’t bound to last. He’s gotta find out sooner or later, I’d think, that his boyfriend’s a regular little whore.

I don’t know what else he did there. I’ll find out in our next conversation, but I have a feeling this is all he did.

He said that Wendy was super high all the way back there. She does major drugs like Laura did. Yeah, that’s an Andy friend for you.

He said he’s not going to be distributing notes anymore, cuz Wendy got him to see that he should be promoting peace, not terrorizing people. Good advice for a crystal druggie.

Later…

I was wrong. Tammy just tried calling twice, but I quickly picked up and hung up before a message could be left. Maybe I shouldn’t have told her I didn’t want to know she existed and that I’d erase any messages she left as soon as I heard her voice. You know how people are - gotta do the opposite of what you tell them.

An out-of-area call just came in right after the two with Mark’s number, which is typically sales, but it also says that for collect calls. Even so, I have a feeling that despite the many sales calls we get, that was Tammy trying to see if she could get through by calling collect.

I know Tammy, though. She’s a stubborn bitch who doesn’t give up. If she really wants to push her existence in my face, she’ll try again till she can leave a fuck you message, but fine. That doesn’t mean I have to listen to it or have her, her parents, or her brother in my life ever again.

I wonder, does Andy even have her number anymore? If so, he can call her and she and he can bitch about me together after I’m gone.

I asked Tom for his opinion as to my walking away from Andy and the others. He said he didn’t see the necessity of it cuz one can just let things evolve apart. Yeah, right! Not with the parents, the sister, and Andy. That’s not the way it works with them.

Later…

This is the longest stretch of time I’ve known the van to stay put. It’s been where it’s at since around 8:00 this morning. The pickup’s here again, though.

Tom sanded some more spackling and ordered the paints to be mixed. They’ll be ready tomorrow. Just the outside trim and the interior paints, though. We still have to bring them a sample of the light blue that’s on the house and hope they can match it. That way we only have to do the bad spots and not the whole house. We’re gonna be painting the exterior a glossy extreme white, and the interior walls a flat bridal gown. We need to get Blue Mist for the pool, and I don’t know what the yellow for the cabinet is called. I think that one only goes by a number, not a name.

I have more news on Andy. We talked for what seemed like forever and it took me 4 tries to get him off the phone. If I wanted to hang up at noon, for example, I’d have to start mentioning it and trying at a quarter till. Nonetheless, the conversation went well. He seemed sober and alert and spoke more fluently. Yes, most of what he told me was the same old same old, and the inevitable food and God delusion came up, but some of the things he told me were just so typical of him, that they were actually kind of amusing.

Let’s see…he left off with making out with Adam’s roommate and getting his ass squeezed by Adam’s boyfriend. After that, he went to the beach with Wendy. From what he’s told me so far, Wendy sounds pretty fucked up and selfish. He says she doesn’t do drugs as much since leaving Phoenix, though, and that she hated it here.

He didn’t see Charlotte, but he saw Natalie and Al. Natalie said to give her regards to me. Like I really care! He told me of some cottages that got modernized, including his favorite.

He said the first time he went down there, the water was unusually blue and clear. So clear you could see the bottom. What happened to that brown murky filth we always used to know? He said the place was litter-free too, till he went down the second time. He said the second time, the water was just as clear, but there was litter on the flat rocks. So, he decided that he was going to clean it up and not take any credit for it, cuz it’s best to get that from God. Gee, I wish I could get credit from God where it’s due me! I mean, what’s the trick? How does he get credit while I don’t? He said his tongue had been hurting him cuz of a decayed tooth rubbing against it, but that after he cleaned up, it was gone. He said he didn’t appreciate how Wendy bragged to a couple of people walking by that they were gonna go clean up. She never lifted a finger to help either, as Andy figured would be the case.

He said he had a lengthy discussion with his mother. His inheritance will be the condo they own in Springfield, which he doesn’t want. He says he’s gonna sell it and put the money towards buying some other house out here. Judy told him she felt he’d be happier if he sold his stuff and drove home, and that he could stay with them rent-free for as long as he needed to. Andy told her that even though his life is the same here as it was there, he’s staying here. Wendy also offered to put him up in the guy’s mansion she lives in in Brookline, New Hampshire. It’s nice to know he has all these options open to him.

He said he was bored most of the time he was there and that two weeks is too long. He said he’ll only go back there for a week at a time from now on.

Later…

Tom said he didn’t think the Ranchero would be back and that he thought it was just someone helping them out only. Well, it’s back. I knew it would be. The amazing thing about it is that I haven’t heard any music, but we’ll see. The pickup’s still here, too. None of these Mexicans work. They’re totally, totally lazy bums.

Later…

Andy finished off his visit in New Hampshire. The guy that owns the house bought an old ski resort which is the mountain his house sits on. He said the house was gorgeous and so was the view looking down into town. Wendy takes care of this house when the guy’s out of town. He owns 4 houses.

Wendy introduced him to a “functional drunk” who lives nearby. Leave it to Wendy to know such a character. He said that she had a nice house too, with a horse that was well taken care of. She was some artist, I guess, who was seeing a married man.

Andy flew out of New Hampshire and not from Bradley. He flew to Baltimore, then boarded his plane for here. He said he was sitting next to a couple of unruly boys, got up to go to the bathroom, then sat down in a different seat next to a gay guy. The guy was his type, but was from DC and only going to Phoenix for a wedding. Figures, huh? That’s just his luck. If he weren’t his type, he’d be headed for Phoenix to stay.

He told me he went to the bar when he first came back, which was loaded with your typical sluts. He said it was also the first time he went 90 minutes in a bar without smoking. He’s been thinking of quitting a lot. Aren’t most smokers?

I was right about Michelle. I knew it. I just knew it. She did get dumped by that so-called stable teacher. That so-called stable teacher was very similar to how Kacey was, telling Michelle she loved her one minute, then didn’t want her in her life the next. What a shit! She’s been getting jerked around by this girl yet she’s too stupid to keep putting up with it. She and Andy have what I believe to be a very warped idea of relationships. To them, a bad relationship is better than no relationship. I’d rather be alone than have my head played with like that. If Michelle keeps following in my footsteps like she has been, then she won’t settle down with the right person till she’s in her late 20s (she’s 24 or 25 now), and the person she settles down with just may have a dick attached to it.

Here’s the part that’s funny while it’s not funny. It’s just so Andy. Only he could end up in a situation like this with people like Beth (that’s the shit’s name). Beth is bi and has hit on Andy before. That’s when he learned the truth about Beth and decided he didn’t like her.

Andy, Michelle, and Beth went to Camelback Mountain. The three of them were sitting side by side and at one point Beth asked for a kiss, since Andy’s breath mints make your breath wonderful, as he says. Andy looked at Michelle for a response and got none, so he and Beth made out right there in front of Michelle with her watching.

Then they ended up in Andy’s bed. Everyone had their clothes on, except Beth lost her shirt at some point. Michelle was massaging her while Andy was licking her tits. Then Michelle pulled back and said, “Andy I can’t do this. You’re my friend and you’re a guy. I never wanted a threesome in the first place.” So, Andy apologized and admitted to being vulnerable and susceptible at the moment, cuz he was lonely, horny, and missing Quinn. Quinn, of all scum-sucking waste products! Quinn, I love you for hanging your ass, you little cock!

TUESDAY, JUNE 8, 1999 The van didn’t leave as early as 4:00, but I got a good look at the driver of the van, and it’s the guy I’ve seen living over there. I think I’ve got a better idea as to a headcount over there. At first I thought there were two women, a guy, and God knows how many kids over there, but now I think there’s a woman, a guy, and 4 kids. What is it with me and 4 kids? That cunt Barbara in Norwich had 4 kids, the Mormons had 4 kids, and from what I’ve seen, I’ve got 4 kids on my shoulders again.

All my predictions are ringing true so far, but I have yet to see the dog arrive, cuz I don’t think it’ll be here for another week or two. I just can’t believe how naïve and trusting the city is of its welfare bums!

The van comes and goes a million more times than the cock did, believe it or not. I find it hard to believe all these trips are to get stuff for the house. I don’t know where it’s going or why, or if it’s even legal, but at least these people don’t make such a big production out of it. They hop in the van, then after one or two door slams, they leave. They don’t hang out yelling for 10 minutes and slam doors 8 or 10 times before leaving.

Here’s another van report: Van left at 4:00, van came at 5:00, van left at 7:50, van came at 9:00, van left at 12:30, van came at around 1:00, van left at 2:30, van came at 3:30, van left at 4:45, van came at 4:00, van left at 4:10, van came at 4:30, van left and returned at least once more after 4:30. Yesterday, the van stayed in throughout the morning after returning at 9:00 and was gone at 12:30. I don’t know what time it returned, but it left again at 2:30. Then it made a quick run in and out at 4:00, left again, then came back at around 4:30. This was the last time I checked it before bed, but when I got up, I saw that the van was in a different position, so it had to have made at least one more run after 4:30. This is at least 8 times that I know of, that the van came and went. I just can’t believe this van doesn’t bang in and out! That tells me all the more that compensation from a dog is coming my way. If I can help it, though, that dog won’t be here for more than a week. Then God can go do something else to me. Tom says he doubts there’ll be a dog cuz of the patterns I usually see when I, or a move. It’s when they finally shut up or when I get a quiet neighbor that one of us moves. Well, it has been quiet so far, except for that one bass attack, and the collies. I’m very curious to see how the ranchero comes in the next time it visits. I think it’ll come in with its music much louder (Tom said it was almost as loud as the cock would play his music) cuz you know how people are - always gotta do the opposite of what you ask of them. It’s a human obsession.

Later…

The guy and the woman (I don’t know about any kids) left at 6:50 and returned at 7:11.

It’s not even 9:30 yet and already there have been two sales calls.

I’m getting bored with documenting my dreams, so I’ll just copy in what I’ve got so far, then I’ll just write the ones that really stand out. Here are the dreams I’ve written in from May 12th to June 6th:

I went back east to Massachusetts with Tom. We stayed in a motel and I went outside when it got dark and glanced up at the window above me. I saw that it was dark and assumed no one was staying above us. I remember thinking that Tom wouldn’t be seeing Connecticut or meeting anyone I knew there, due to my not being in touch with Tammy. We ended up in the yard of one of the houses I grew up in and were staying there for a while, apparently. I went out in the yard by myself. There was snow on the ground, even though we went there during the summer. I walked to a big swing set with 4-5 swings that had wicker baskets for seats. I saw a spider web on its bars and went looking for a stick to knock it down with. As I looked down on the ground, I noticed several straws from drinks. A feeling of sadness came over me at some point as I remembered how I only lived in the house 2-3 years before they sent me away. I felt cheated and like I hadn’t gotten to live there long enough. Inside the house, I pictured it set up with our stuff, then ran down the stairs into the living room where Tom was watching TV. Tom loved it there so much and when we were talking to someone about it, I said that if we did stay, it’d only be for a year, since I do love Arizona and newer, more modern places.

While back east, Tom was complaining to me about how the big maxi pad I was wearing bulged out in back. I bitched to him that hey, they were just big pads, so deal with it. It’s a normal fact of life.

A woman was playing a sex game with me, also back east, by rolling dice and touching a certain area of my crotch depending on what the dice said. At some point, I shouted that I was so horny and needed to get off. I couldn’t be teased anymore and she said, “Alright,” and kind of cupped my crotch with her hand.

In some building back east, I saw a young woman who appeared to be in her early 20s and wished I had her looks. I wished I could be just over 5’ like she was, that I was as thin as she was, and had her shorter hair and “simple eyes.” I then realized it was Jessie, who acted as if she didn’t know me.

I was alone at our supposed new home which was still sort of occupied. The people were on their way out, though. It was set up high on a hill-like slope in a crowded city by the ocean. Which ocean and where this was, I don’t know. Despite the congestion, the house was airtight enough that you couldn’t hear outside noise. At some point, people from the disability office were there, obviously doing some sort of evaluation on me. They sat at a large table in the middle of the house, while I was in one of the 3 spare bedrooms playing music. I had at least brought over my stereo, I guess. They called me out at one point to ask a question, then I went to the other end of the house to the master bedroom. Upon entering it, I wondered if it was too big for being just a bedroom, but then I decided that once the bed was in there, it’d look great. Besides, I wanted to sleep in the room that had the bathroom off it. I remember thinking that I hoped the former resident’s housekeeper would move out, since I wanted to live alone with Tom, and since I was used to the fact that if I wanted something done and done right, I had to do it myself or else it wouldn’t get done at all. I walked over to the window and admired the vast ocean view. Tears of happiness stung my eyes at the thought of living here and seeing this view every day. To the left of me, a partial statue that looked like the Statue of Liberty stuck up out of the water a few feet from shore. Then another thing dawned on me and I went out to where the group of disability evaluators sat. I asked them if they were aware of the fact that I wasn’t on disability anymore. They said no. Later on, at dusk, while I was still hanging out at the house by myself, Jim left a message saying that he and Jackie were having a party, but that they’d call later to see if I wanted one of them to pick me up and bring me over to their place for a while. I thought that was just oh so sweet of them that I called there to thank them. I couldn’t get Jackie or Jim to the phone, so I drove over to their house in my new car. Somehow, I knew the way and got there OK. I found Jackie who said, “My party ran later than expected.” I guess I stood there a little while. Then when it came time to leave, I chickened out, doubting I could find my way back safely enough, so Jackie drove me home and I asked if someone would drive my car over later. She said yes.

Apparently, I went to a GYN, who was secretive about the results of my exam. He said something about my needing steroids down there. Then I went and got into Nervous’s van and we agreed that we’d later figure out what I owed him for driving me around.

White people moved next door. I saw two cars, a woman, a man, and a boy around 10 years of age. The woman was coming towards me as I was walking towards our front door. It appeared she wanted to ask me something, but I just kept on walking and ignoring her as if I didn’t see her, not wanting to be associated with neighbors. I shut the door on her as I walked into our living room which was crowded with people.

I was watching what was supposed to be a Gloria music video, but that I also knew was no act. In real life, her son’s about 18, and her daughter’s about 4. In the dream, though, the son was about 8 and the daughter was in her teens. Gloria and her son were sitting on a couch. The daughter was crouched nearby sulking about something. Gloria was verbally coaxing the daughter to sit by her. Eventually, she did. She sat to Gloria’s left while the son was to her right. Then she leaned back against the son, who leaned back too, so that his back was to the couch while Gloria’s back was to his stomach, and she started moving up and down as if to massage the son’s stomach and her back at the same time.

I was waiting at Red Lobster for Tom to meet me there. I got there a long time before he did. At one point, I had to go to the bathroom and as I was walking toward it, I thought I saw Andy, but couldn’t be sure cuz the guy kept moving further away and the room was dimly lit.

I was in what was supposed to be this house, even though it didn’t look like this house. I was looking out our back door which was off a parking lot. A van pulled in and was parking as I shut the door, wondering if the person in the van could be a serial killer or something like that.

This dream had something to do with Tammy and Melanie. Something we were supposed to do for Melanie. A favor maybe? Anyway, I guess we never did it, cuz Mel didn’t seem too happy at one point. Marlee Matlin, the deaf actress, might’ve been in this dream, too.

I was wishing I could keep a schedule so I could get into watching TV series steadily. For some reason, a schedule was necessary for that in this dream.

Something about sucking up cobwebs from the ceiling with a vacuum.

I was at some huge, crowded store wondering how they closed a certain doorway with so many people streaming through it. Then some guy told me a warning beep goes off so people can know to move away.

I was supposed to wake Tom at 4:00. I don’t know if we were going to do fun shopping, errands, or what, but I was pissed when I realized it was past 4:00. I feared it was a whole hour past 4:00, and that he’d be pissed too, but a look at the clock showed I was only 20 minutes late in waking him up.

Tom tried to hide it by pulling an outer blind down outside the living room window, but we got new neighbors. It all began when I heard the obnoxious thump of bass. I went next door and saw that 5 white kids moved in. “Kids,” meaning between 18-20 years old. They had their music blaring away in an upstairs bedroom right by the wall of our house where our bedrooms are. At first, we were all friendly smiles as we introduced ourselves and shook hands, then I mentioned the music and could see by their sudden sulking faces and quiet demeanors that they weren’t too happy about my bringing that up. I knew that it’d take firmness to set them straight so I threatened to have them evicted if they didn’t shut up. Their silence continued. I asked one of the girls what her name was, but she just went slack-jawed, unsure whether or not to answer. She didn’t though. No one said another word from there on out.

Someone at some business, be it a library or something like that, looked on a computer and told me that the blacks weren’t evicted. They just moved on their own.

A cop was stalking me. It started out with him chasing me around a room trying to beat or kill me, but then it turned into a scene on a TV that I and someone else were watching. Tom and I lived on the third or fourth floor of an apartment, I guess, and I was afraid to leave any windows open. At one point I saw the stalker’s car pull up on the street and somehow I knew he was gonna pick the lock of our door and come kidnap me, so I went outside to hide.

I decorated a card with drawings for an old elementary school teacher - Joan Bowe.

I was ice skating.

Doe was sitting at a table with some guy crying about something, then looking out a window and commenting on people’s yards. These were yards of people she’d known for a long time.

Michelle, Andy’s friend, kills herself.

I was riding in the backseat of a convertible when I looked up at a tall building and saw it was an FBI building. Then I realized a few FBI agents were sitting in the front seat. They were asking me questions of some sort.

Someone, perhaps myself, killed someone. The dead body was sprawled across a table and a bunch of cops were milling about.

Something about a high-rise. Maybe an apartment building I lived in or a hotel I was staying in? I was walking outside of it when I realized it was already late fall and that we barely had a summer. It barely got up to 100 degrees.

I was psyched cuz Tom and I were going to do some serious shopping in some computer or electronics store. Then a rowdy high school crowd came in, and Chris Tazzini, a friend in elementary school, was suddenly there. She got shoved by the crowd and was annoyed.

We were away somewhere and I left Tom in some crowded downstairs room and went upstairs to change my dress for dinner. My ear began making a weird static-like sound. A voice said I better clean my ear, so I started to do that, then to do my hair till Christine McVie walked in and took over brushing my hair.

I was suddenly on a TV set, with who I believe was Roseanne Barr. I was noticing how fat she still was, wearing black. A color I figured they’d put her in.

My legs were stuck in rubber bands as I came awake from sleeping.

Two of the rats had babies. I had someone sex them for me. There were two females/two males. I kept the males.

I was observing someone pull a dead body from the ocean, but later on, I saw this person alive.

Me and a homeless girl whom I was hesitant about taking in as a roommate, stole some nice clothes from a fat lady.

My Bailey doll was undressed. I guess I was washing her clothes. I was looking for her diaper to put back on, but in reality, she doesn’t wear one. Just a sleeper.

Larry left a hateful message on our machine. At first, I was furious but then something about it (I don’t know what) had me cracking up with laughter.

I thought Tom wasn’t home and I wanted to order a pizza. For some reason, I felt I had to sneak it behind his back and keep it a secret, so I was wondering where I’d dispose of the pizza box after I finished the pizza. Instead of dumping it in the dumpster, I decided to dispose of it a few yards down. Just as I was going to call to place the order, I saw that Tom was home.

Tammy, Andy, and I were hanging out someplace. I was bitching to them about being fat and aging quickly.

My dolls had been packed away and undressed for some time. I put a leg back on that fell off of one of my Barbies, then I felt that it would be a good time to take all my dolls out and dress them. Patrice was the only one I couldn’t dress right away. I was in a building several stories up. Just outside the window, a foot away was another building just like the one I was in. Patrice was just inside the window right across from me. I knew I could open the window in the room I was in, reach across, open the window across the way, and pull Patrice across to my side, but it was nighttime, so I didn’t want to risk dropping her since I couldn’t see well.

I was filling up a big square tub in a big bathroom somewhere. I felt I had to pee and walked over to the toilet.

I was lying in a bed, and I don’t know if I had this baby or adopted it, but someone handed me a baby that sort of resembled Bailey with really long hair. Tom was standing to the left of the bed and his mom was sitting near the bed to the right smiling. Dureen was sitting behind her with a watchful, yet blank expression on her face. I tried to tell the baby that they were nana, but then I looked at our moms and said, “She doesn’t get it.”

Then some woman seated at a desk a few feet behind Tom, suggested a mold of the baby be made so I could use it to practice handling her properly.

I was looking through a phonebook and found Doe and Art’s current number and email address. In this phonebook, there were about 15 pages of family pictures, mostly of Tammy.

I was out just as the crack of dawn was setting in, roaming around a hillside at the beach I spent my summers at, only it didn’t look like that beach at all. I went indoors and suddenly, the 2-story cottage had no front wall. A carload of guys was slowly cruising by. The driver spotted me in one of the front rooms and moved back into a hallway where a closet was supposed to be, but then I realized he’d just back up the car and see me cuz there was no wall, and that’s what he did.

Tammy and I were at some beach or lake sitting on the shore.

Someone was showing someone the proof of someone’s kidnapping and explaining how they were kidnapped.

I was videotaping my so-called long-haired cat who looked like a dog. I was planning on sending Dureen and Art a copy of this video and I was wondering if they’d think this cat was really a dog.

I heard bass softly thumping and I opened the front door to find 3 full carloads of the black bitch’s associates. Guess they came back to live next door.

I went to Florida to see my parents, I guess. I don’t know if Tom was with me. I don’t remember seeing Art in this dream, just Dureen. I was sitting at a table with her and some others. She asked us if we needed anything. I said that just turning up the AC would be good enough for me, and she did. Then she was showing me the rest of the place and it dawned on me that it was similar to the same manufactured home we were looking to get. I remember thinking to myself that I’d just be cool, cuz I’d be disappearing and they’d never see me again after our visit.

I was in a private school that was several stories. A staff member kept asking me to take a test I’d already taken. We were in some huge kitchen with slanted skylights at a long picnic-like table that was filled with several girls or women and we were eating cheesecake. Then at one point, I was climbing out of a pool with two other girls who admired my really long hair.

I was dancing with somebody who was trying to give me these slurping, disgusting kisses.

Tammy told me she was using coke regularly.

I beat up some girl.

I took a journal that was half full of writing and gave it to Melanie. I’m not sure if I was going to leave the last half of it blank for her to use, or if I’d written something just for her in the last half, but anyway, right before I was going to give it to her, I realized I better check the first half in case there was anything there I didn’t want her to see. After checking it, I saw that they were mostly drawings.

Tom and I moved into our new house which may’ve been somewhere back east. This is because the house was huge and old, especially huge. We were on our way to go gambling. Tom asked me if I was excited about it. I said yes, but that knowing we weren’t destined to ever really win anything dampened some of the excitement. He went to wait for me in the car. I was in the kitchen and I remembered that I had reminded myself to look for a good spot for the garbage pail. I scanned the room and decided on a spot and planned to tell Tom when I got into the car that I found a spot in our perfect kitchen for the pail. I left the kitchen and entered the long, huge living room, heading for the door. Then I saw a light on at the opposite end of the room that I felt should be turned off. The living room was so huge that it was quite a jog down to where this light was. Some other day we went back to the old house. I don’t know why, but I saw that we left my wind chimes there and other outdoor things. We left stuff in the attic, too. As I was realizing this while standing out in the backyard, I saw that the people with the collies two yards down were having a huge party and were using next door’s yard too, since there was still no one living there. A kid would pop up every few seconds from behind the block wall and blow through a harmonica at me.

"Shauna" and I were talking about how she could afford to take a month or two off from work to go on a cross-country drive, which she said she’d been wanting to do.

I started some job in Maine and was filling out a questionnaire. One of the questions asked if I liked living in Maine. My boss reminded me she wanted me to wait an hour after work so she could do some treatment on me (connected to my female parts?) and I was wondering if the buses would still be running when we got done. I knew Doe would be home, believe it or not, so I made a mental note to call her for a ride when I could go home.

I was going up and down an elevator in a 6-story building. I got off on the 6th floor and found myself surrounded by fall foliage. When I tried to leave, I couldn’t find the elevator or any other exit.

I was showing Dureen my dolls.

A cop was sadly saying how he found some well-known actress had committed suicide.

Later…

The van left again at 9:50 and I don’t know when it returned, but it’s here now.

Yesterday, I was feeling a little bummed. Fortunately, I rarely feel that way these days, but it was mainly cuz of how long things are taking. I’ve been waiting to move to a house like we want that’s outside of the city for years now. Tom cheered me up, though, then we went to a couple of stores. Also, the frustration of being tight constantly was bringing me down, tiring me out.

I got some more books and some pet food.

Tom saw them cleaning the carpet across the street and thinks they’re gonna try to re-rent the house, rather than sell it. That’s too bad. I had hoped they’d sell it, but hey, we shouldn’t have too many more months to go. In fact, my move date vibe changed from the middle of October to early September. Tom still thinks we’ll move in July or August. Late August is possible, but I don’t know.

Tom’s picking up paint tomorrow.

I’ll really be looking forward to going back to Cigna when we move. I hate Intergroup. It may be more crowded, and the co-pay is higher, but it’ll be worth it to have doctors that are more dependable, all in one building, along with a pharmacist right in the building too, where I can get 3 months’ worth of refills at a time, rather than one refill at a time.

This time around the pain went away faster than it did the other months I had that pain in the lower right side of my gut. Guess it helps to have the cranberry juice on hand.

MONDAY, JUNE 7, 1999 Boy, do they leave early next door. Today they did, anyway. The van left just after 4:00. I could hear voices talking loud enough to tell me just how rude they are. They’re not as loud as the black bitch was, but loud enough for 4:00 in the morning. I could tell that the person in the van was talking to someone outside of the van as it was pulling out of the carport, so again, the person with the van who’s not supposed to be there, works. Meanwhile, there’s at least one adult home now, but probably two or more adults. I wonder if the van will leave this early every day. Does that mean it’ll be back as early as noon since people typically work 8 hours a day? At first I wondered if it was leaving to hide out from the city, but 4:00 is a little overkill of a head start on beating the city since they wouldn’t come out to the house till after 8:00. If they’re even coming out today. All in all, since they’ve been here, except for the ranchero’s mini-concert, they’ve been astonishingly quiet. The lack of bass tells me all the more I can expect a dog any minute (since God’s gonna compensate me for the lack of bass), but that’s when they’ll learn the hard way about following rules. And I’m still pretty sure they’re not supposed to have a dog. That van is not allowed to live there, either. So, if they know what’s good for them, they shouldn’t get a dog unless they want all their frauds exposed; the dog, the van, the people living there that aren’t supposed to be, etc.

Later…

The van’s back. When it left I heard one door slam, but just now I heard two. What? Are they going to be going in and out from 4 AM to after midnight? When do they sleep? And where in the world would you need to go for an hour at 4 AM and why? Questions, questions, questions. I like the mystery here. It makes for fun spying and detective work, but I still kind of wish the bitch had just stayed put. With her and her cronies, I at least knew what to expect. I knew pretty much who was who and what their patterns were as far as who’d come and go and when.

Tom called to let me know he’d be late. I figured as much.

Later…

In Kim’s email to me, she told me her fertility appointments are being postponed so they can check out what they think may be a growth on her cervix. Damn! Talk about hexed plumbing. I really really don’t think she’s ever going to be a mother. It’s rather obvious. I know the signs. All these setbacks are for a reason and I really think that if she was meant to be a mother, she’d have been one by now. She’d be too good of a mother, as far as God’s concerned. She just wouldn’t be abusive enough. Also, it’s what she wants.

Speaking of how life is unfair and all that, it’s amazing I haven’t gotten pregnant in the last couple of years. I’ve always known it’s not meant to be, but knowing how much God loves to give babies to women who don’t want them or who couldn’t cut it as a mother still amazes me that he’s let me off the hook as far as that general rule goes. Nonetheless, as far as Kim goes, something always comes up. There’s always a problem preventing her from conceiving. Regardless of the fact that she wants a kid and I don’t, see what I mean about God using things and other people to control our destinies? It’s no joke. With Kim, he’s using her plumbing and the fact that Walt’s had a vasectomy and is being resistant. With me, if I’m not too dry, too sore, or on a different schedule, it’s Tom’s fear, resistance, and the fact that there’s usually a problem with him. His back, a cold, being tired, sore, busy, too hot, a bum hip, allergies, bum knees, etc. About 7 or 8 out of 10 times we screw, we have to stop cuz of something going on with him. Coincidence? I don’t think so! Try a God-given fear. Well, he can rest assured, cuz even if he had no problems and squirted every day - fate is fate. Just because they couldn’t find anything wrong with me doesn’t mean I can conceive. It simply means that they don’t know why I can’t conceive. I know why, though, and that’s all that counts. I also know I didn’t have all the testing possible done, or have him tested (if he’d have been willing), but what I do know is that the results would’ve been the same - the tests would’ve been negative.

What are his fears based on? The usual - the time the kid would take up, the money it’d cost, my not being able to handle it. Those are the three basic things - time, money, and me. See the pattern? Now ask anyone who’s ever had kids and I’m sure that 98% of them will tell you the same thing - they conceived effortlessly, in no time at all, and they pretty much weren’t planning on it, if they weren’t totally against it. You either have kids just like that, or you don’t have them at all. So, my heart goes out to Kim, cuz I know what it’s like to want a child that cannot be had. I was once in her shoes. Again, as far as having to stop in the middle of sex goes - familiarity is comfortable. However, I feel like all the surprises are a thing of the past. There’ll be nothing new to look forward to. Nothing unexpected. It’s like how I feel about that bitch moving.

I sat and compared a cheaper 4-bedroom Cavco model to the 4-bedroom Redman model I love so much and you know, if we do have to settle if next door really gets out of hand, or if selfish people we’ve helped won’t help us with money if we fall short, it’s really not that much of a settlement. It has its pros and cons as do all models, but it would still work out very well. We could function in it just fine. I just worry that Tom will break his promise to me about not trashing his room, making it harder for me to clean. I know he’ll break that promise. That’s totally his style. He loves things cluttered, unorganized, and in sloppy piles. Saying there’s no room for the stuff is just an excuse.

Anyway, I like how the Redman model’s master bedroom is sandwiched in between its bathroom and its closet, and how it only has two windows. The Cavco has three windows and is on the corner, right smack by the front door. The Redman rooms are bigger, but the Cavco has more of a wall dividing the family room, the kitchen, and the dining area. Its kitchen also has a pantry. So, they sort of even out in the end, although I’d still take the Redman over the Cavco. The sandwiched bedroom with just two windows and the bigger rooms mean a little more to me than more wall length and a pantry.

Later…

That pain is back again. The one that feels like a UT infection. Again, always right before I’m mid-cycle. Could it really then be connected to the ovary on that side? I can’t believe God never hexed my plumbing with growths and things like that and had me have a hysterectomy. I guess he felt a dick that was virtually cumless would do the trick well enough.

Later…

The van left again. I’m sure it’ll be back by 10:00 or 11:00. I’ll bet you anything it’ll come and go 5 more times.

A small truck just pulled in across the street at the rental that says: carpeting & furniture something. There’s also a gray car there. Well, there was. It just pulled out. I wonder if they’re gonna re-rent it or sell it. I hope they sell it. That should keep it empty longer and up the chances of better, white people going in there, but that won’t change the chances of a dog ending up over there.

SUNDAY, JUNE 6, 1999 I went to bed at around 5 PM and got up at 2 AM to find Tom asleep. He should be getting up in 2-3 hours. Meanwhile, to my utter amazement, nothing happened next door while I was up. I didn’t even hear any voices. Tom didn’t leave me any messages, but if anything did go down next door, it went down after I went to bed. All I saw, besides the furniture truck leaving at 8:00 and the red/white pickup, was the blue/green pickup at 11:30. It was there for almost an hour. Then the van left at 1:45. Someone was there watering the yard while the van was out. I’m not surprised, cuz I’m pretty sure there are at least two women and one guy living over there. However, there’s a chance that the guy was dropped off by the red/white pickup, then later picked up by the blue/green pickup. I never got to the window in time to see if the guy was dropped off or if he just went out to talk to them, but the more I think about it, the more I think he was dropped off. So, I don’t know if there are any guys living over there, but I do know there are two women living over there, and one of them isn’t supposed to be there. The one with the van. The van one may work, but I don’t know. I think the carless woman that lives there doesn’t work. I think that even when the van’s out, there’ll always be some adult at the house.

When I got up, I peeked over there. It’s a very dark night out so I can’t be too sure, but I’m pretty sure that the vehicle in the carport is the van that lives there. Also, they have their living room blinds open and a dim light on. I could see stuff piled up near the window, but nothing in particular. It looked more like a room with things thrown in it than a living room.

What I want to know is how the city can be so naïve. Are they really this dumb? Stupid enough not to do regular checks on their subsidized houses to get rid of all the people and cars that aren’t supposed to be there? I can just imagine how many of these subsidized houses have dogs in their yards right now that aren’t supposed to be there.

Yesterday, Tom got the vent installed in the bathroom, but there’s no electricity hooked up to it yet. That’ll be done today. He also spackled holes and I did a few, too. Did a good job, if I do say so myself.

Later…

OK, the sun’s up enough for me to see the vehicle in the carport and yes, it’s the van. Once again, though, if they don’t wake me up, get a dog, or go banging in and out with bass every day, they can fraud the system all they want and I won’t report this van that’s not supposed to be there.

Since my weight and inches aren’t going to go down anymore, I want to get my wedding ring enlarged sometime after we move.

Later…

I don’t believe this. I just don’t believe it! So far next door’s been quiet. There’s been some outdoor activity and vehicles coming and going as I’d predicted, but not only is there nothing going on that could wake me up, there’s nothing going on to disturb the peace in the house while I’m awake, either. If that basketball hoop was still there, though, they’d be driving me nuts. Tom said that 3 vehicles we haven’t seen before visited next door at 6:00, but that there was no music (that’s 10 vehicles). He saw a guy’s head in the backyard at 9:00 this morning when he was doing some outside prep work. For an hour or two, late this morning, I saw a guy and 3 kids out front. You’d think you’d hear their voices loud and clear throughout the entire house like you could with the Mormon kids, but nope. Only if you go into the music room can you hear an occasional burst of voices. At 2:30 the van left, then I noticed a red and white van parked there. The regular van that lives there returned shortly after (11 vehicles). So far things have been as expected, but not as expected. Except for the ranchero’s bass, Tom told me about, they’ve been too good to be true. So far. I’m not saying that they won’t start with constant music. I mean, I don’t sense it, but they’ve got to be furious with Tom for asking that kid to turn the music down. You don’t do that in Arizona. You don’t ask someone to quiet down. That’s like asking them to kill their mothers.

I don’t see anyone in front right now, but that’s typical of Arizona people, too. Always gotta hang out in front. Wouldn’t it be safer to have those kids in the backyard where it’s walled off? Then again, the main reason they hang out front is to be seen and to get attention. I can’t believe they only hung out there for just two hours, though. I really thought they’d be out there for more like 6 hours.

Tom said that ever since these people moved in, the collie house has had lights blaring like never before as if to say they’re afraid of all these people and fear they may break into their house. I don’t know about that. That bitch had a lot of people over there, too.

So, so far I haven’t gotten an eighth of the door slamming I’d get from the blacks. Most of the time someone comes and goes I never hear it (proving all the more that the blacks deliberately slammed doors loudly in regard to me). I’ve been right so far, though, about the hanging outdoors, the many vehicles coming and going, and the van living here. This next week will be an even bigger test, though. I say this will be the scoop: there may not be a music problem like what the blacks gave me, but at least one of the many people living there won’t work and will be home most of the time, the van will stay there, they’ll hang outdoors a lot, have many vehicles come and go, and they’ll get a dog. That’s when Tom contacts the city and the mayor, though.

Tom suggested we check at the library to see if the city still owns the house and that they didn’t sell it at a discount somehow, but we’re pretty sure it’s still city-owned and that these people are subs.

SATURDAY, JUNE 5, 1999 So far I’ve been right about next door. They’re officially moved in and here to stay now, and the van does live there. I knew it would. I just don’t understand it, though. How is it they can be so poor and in need of our tax dollars, yet own a van like this? Maybe the city doesn’t know about the van. There’s a damn good chance that the woman that’s supposed to live there is carless like she’s supposed to be, but let her friend with the van (and the friend with the van’s kids) move in with her and her kids in secret so they could help each other out. Just like how the bitch had the convenience of her cock’s car, and the cock had the convenience of a pussy in his bed. So that makes two adults and God only knows how many kids. The friend probably needed a place too, or at least wanted to be in a house rather than an apartment, and the woman that’s supposed to be there probably appreciates the transportation. Guess they have a deal - you drive me where I need to go, and I’ll let you stay here and I’ll watch your kids along with mine and do most of the household chores.

Come next week, I’ll be able to prove/disprove my belief that says they don’t work. Already, though, we’re up to 6 different vehicles that we know of, about 10 different adults, and God only knows how many kids. Sound familiar? Tom disagrees, but I say they’re gonna be in and out several times a day, every day of the week. I think that just like with the freeloaders and the renters, there’ll be several different cars and people coming and going from there regularly. I just can’t believe I haven’t heard any music yet. Those stereos with major bass are more of a black thing, but still, I can’t believe it. Well, they’ve only been here a week, so we’ll see. They’re bound to have a theme of some kind. Just like it was the kids with the Mormons and the bass with the blacks, there’ll be something with these people. If we get through the weekend without and music problems, I’d guess their theme’s going to be a dog or two rather than music. Till I can get it removed, that is. Of course, I don’t know what the rules are for sure anymore, so I may not be able to get it removed. Hopefully, I can get them to take it indoors, though, cuz I really really do think there’s going to be a dog over there before two weeks is up. Not to mention a whole shitload of loud adults and kids. That I can live with, though. It’s music and dogs that I won’t tolerate. Not even for 5 more months.

Also, true to my vibes, they’re outdoors kinds of people. However, they were just moving in, and the weather yesterday was unbelievably mild. Like 20º below normal for being June. Perhaps something up there is going to call for mild weather for a while to let them be outdoors comfortably on account of me? Well like I said, voices I’ll tolerate, but nothing more.

The van came and went several times yesterday, and at one point, a blue/green pickup came with boxes and furniture and odds and ends. A guy and a girl in their late teens to early 20s unloaded the pickup.

When I got up at midnight, I saw a big huge furniture truck parked just outside their carport. The van was right in front of it. Do these people ever sleep, though? The lights were off when I looked over there, but the van left for a half hour or so just after midnight. As you’ll see, I’ve typed a log of their comings and goings. It’s been quite hectic, but fortunately for them, there hasn’t been much noise yet as far as slamming doors and voices go, and I’ve slept just fine. If you were to sit in the music room with no fans or music on, then yes, you can hear adult and kid voices. Van comes at 7:50 AM. Van leaves at 8:15 AM. Van comes at 9:30 AM. Van leaves at 10:30 AM. Van comes at 11:00 AM. Van leaves at noon. Blue/green pickup comes at 1:45 PM. Pickup/van leaves at 3:10 PM. Van comes at 3:40 PM. Van leaves at 12:30 AM. Van comes at 1:00 AM.

Tom and I both agree that it’ll be a rowdy weekend over there as far as people and cars go. They’re gonna want to show the place off to their millions of fucked up, jobless friends. He doesn’t think there’ll be a problem with music or dogs. He also thinks they work and that weekdays won’t call for much noise over there, but I don’t know. Like I said, God may let me out of having to deal with the music this time around, and thank God there’s no hoop there, but he’d never not let me have to deal with something. Never can Jodi have a neighbor that’s quiet or at least at a normal volume. There’s got to be something extreme. The bass vibes may’ve dropped slightly, but the dog vibe’s soared way up, and I think we can count on a dog over there for damn sure. It may take a couple of weeks, but that’s what I see. Along with the train of cars and people coming and going several times a day, it’s gonna be bark, bark, bark. Yeah well, they’ll just have to deal with me then.

Just like I did with that bitch, I’m gonna start a file on these people of their write-ups, omitting names, of course. You never know if in the end, I’ll want them to do some reading, too (if they’re not illiterate!).

Later…

Well, well, well. Our little freeloaders have been even naughtier than I was aware of. Tom didn’t leave me a message about what I’m about to write about (he crashed before I got up). He told me when he got up which was about 4 hours after I did. Bitch! Why’d you have to fucking move?! I swear it’s the same old shit all over again.

I don’t know how the hell I slept through this, but fortunately for them, I did. Tom says that the ranchero was here again and that it does have a bassy stereo which was blaring in the carport. Tom went out and told him to turn it down, but of course, I know it won’t do him a damn bit of good. I was curious, though, to know if the reaction was annoyed, or what. He said it was a kid, less than 18 years old, and that he startled him. The kid was apparently tired of hanging out with the adults, so it went to sit in the ranchero and make an ass of itself. This is all part of the hear-me obsession these subsidized, low-class, subhuman blacks and Mexicans have. The more you reject and try to turn away from someone, the more they rebel and try harder to be heard/noticed. It’s what they want. They want the whole neighborhood to hear them, to notice them, to acknowledge them, to know they’ve arrived. These sick fucks cry about not being accepted in society, but look how they treat people! Of course, society’s gonna try to brush these species out. Our refusal to tolerate such trash, though, only feeds fuel to the fire. Tom’s asking him to turn the music down will only ensure that all the more they go out of their way to blast us out. I know the drill. I know these kinds of filth. It’s the same old deal all over again. The only difference is that instead of a pack of skinny blacks, we’ve got a pack of fat welfare bums.

Oh, how I wish we could bake them a pie, bring it over to them, welcome them to the neighborhood, then watch them croak on the poison I put in the pie! Thanks, God! Thanks a real fucking lot! You really have a lot of concern and empathy for me, huh? Why do you always do this to me? Why do the rowdy shitfucks have to go next to me? Give me a break! What? Is this my compensation for having the last year of the black’s presence be fairly quiet? Why must I start this whole noise cycle all over again? Thank God, I don’t have to go through this for 3 years, but why can’t I just have quiet neighbors? Power of prayer, my ass! I knew praying for peace would be a waste of time. Now I have to fight to restrain myself from pummeling the shit out of them and do you have any idea how hard that is? It’s like drinking several cups of water and trying not to pee.

The dogs were going off last night, as usual. I’d like to say that they were rudely awakened from a peaceful slumber only to be pissed and have a hard time falling back asleep, but I know better. They all slept like logs regardless of the barking. The barking doesn’t bother them one bit. Not while they’re awake, not while they’re asleep. They just better not be waking me up, though, or else they’re gonna learn the hard way about the consequences of being such rude, selfish assholes.

I’m tired of society’s misfits! All our hard-earned tax dollars go to support these lazy bums while they turn right around and shit on us for it. That’s what we get for helping them. Such wonderful people! Why do these fucking subsidized city bums think that just because they’re in a subsided house that they can be so rude and so loud?! Why can’t these people blend into society and act like normal, civilized human beings and keep their noise for their ears only?!

So, here’s our new plan: Again, though, I don’t know how close we can come to acting upon our current plan, but the latest idea is to just do the bare necessities as far the prep work goes, then settle on a smaller 3-bedroom cookie-cutter house, or a house that already exists on a few acres of land, get out of here in 4-6 weeks, then get the dream home put on our property later on and turn the first house into a guest house or a place for Tom to work on projects and store stuff.

Also, Tom says he’s gonna assume the weekend will be wild over there since they just moved in, but that if they’re still wild come Monday, which he’s not gonna jump the gun and assume, then he’ll write a letter not only to the city address we’ve been using, but to the mayor too, and let them know that this is just ridiculous. It’s sickening! Totally, totally asinine! Well, he may be reluctant to assume anything, but I know. I know there’ll be trouble every day.

Anyway, Tom finished sanding the kitchen yesterday, and right now he’s draining the pool so we can do the step that’s chipped, and we’re gonna prep to paint and get the vent in the bathroom.

Even picking up this old, small house and putting it on a 3-acre lot is better than staying here, but to think that we may be forced to settle for a while on account of these fucking freeloaders really makes my blood boil! I don’t like feeling like I’m being controlled like that. Especially by sick twists that ought to be shot execution-style, or better yet, tortured for hours prior to being shot execution-style.

Later…

The furniture truck left a few minutes ago and the van’s out in the street. So I guess these freeloaders have furniture buddies, huh? That must be how they can afford to rent furniture. I suppose the furniture truck took off to make deliveries, but I don’t know. Is this truck going to live there, too? Or did the people with the truck just crash there overnight last night?

A red and white pickup that was loaded with God knows what and two guys just pulled up alongside the street to talk to some Mexican guy. Then the truck took off and the Mexican guy walked back towards the house. That’s vehicle number 7. I’ve lost count of the people, though.

Later…

Oh, no you won’t. Tammy just left a message, all nicey-nice, as if nothing ever happened. She said she was just calling to say hi, she hopes we’re doing OK, and she’ll talk to me later. Keep dreaming, sis!

FRIDAY, JUNE 4, 1999 I called Andy to get the discussion about food and God over with, but he said it wasn’t a good time to talk cuz he wanted to just relax. Then why’d he answer his phone? Anyway, I told him to leave all the messages he wants this weekend, that I was glad he was back safe and sound, and that I’ll call him next week.

I had been wondering why Paula wasn’t pestering me so much lately till I tried calling her. I got a recording saying her phone’s been temporarily disconnected. I hope it’s a little more than temporary! But anyway, that’s more like the Paula I always knew. I mean, she’d move and lose phones as often as Fran did. Well, she always moved as much as he did, but for a while there, I thought she’d keep this last phone for life. That must’ve been the longest stretch she’s gone with a phone. I’m sure the main reason she lost that phone was cuz of all the calls she made to me. I tried to warn her about that, but it’s her life. Meanwhile, I’ll keep the letters going to her. She damn well better keep that PO Box she just got, cuz I made up about 30 envelopes with all kinds of pictures on the back of animals and scenery. Yeah, I sure got myself a lot of pictures. Got palm trees, cactuses, dogs, cats, and other scenic and animal pictures. I’ve got about 25 different screensavers made up now.

Tom told me what the neighborhood people helped themselves to this time around (the stuff we put in the alley). They not only took stuff we figured they’d take, but they surprised us by taking the faucets off the old sink but leaving the sink there. Now that’s desperate! Who’d want such old, ugly faucets when you can buy nicer ones at a reasonable enough price? I hated those faucets just like I hate the kitchen ones. I’d always hurt my fingers on them. They also took the beanbag and the last two old, beat-up kitchen chairs.

As for next door - Tom says that when he got home at 12:30, that van was there for about an hour and so was the gas company. He said he thinks the reason they haven’t been there is cuz they’ve had no hot water. However, it doesn’t appear that anyone’s there tonight, either.

He said he didn’t see any people, and that he’s not sure of the van’s color. He said it’s some dark, obscure color. Also, he’s not sure what blue/gray is (the color of the van driven by that pregnant child). Oh really? Why is that? Is he trying to stall me from finding out it’s that van after hoping differently after seeing what I thought was different, white people last Sunday? He tried that with the cock. When he changed cars, he tried to convince me that it wasn’t him.

But then he started describing other things that say this isn’t the same van, after all. When I asked if this woman was pregnant, he said that she was so fat that he wouldn’t even be able to tell if she was or not. Well, the woman I saw, the child, I mean, was definitely pregnant. Also, he said he’s seen two toddlers. That Mexican kid, though, had one toddler and one infant, but that’s just what I saw. Mexicans have kids like rabbits, so there’s no saying how many she had for sure. She could’ve left ten kids at home. I’m so sick of Mormons, blacks and Mexicans! If it weren’t for Gloria Estefan, I’d hate all Mexicans, though she’s Cuban.

I asked him if he thought that van belonged to whoever lived there, and he said no, he doubts a vehicle of any kind will be there at night, and he thinks the van belonged to someone related to them. Well, we’ll see. I mean, there’s always a chance someone is there now, and that they walk to the bus stop on weekday mornings to go to work, and return the same way, but somehow I doubt that very much. I think a car of some kind will be living there, but if that’s not the case, I think someone will pick them up and drop them off. What about the kids, though, if they do work? Who takes care of them during the day? Does someone come here like Bill did with the bitch’s kid? Or do they go somewhere during the day? Even if it’s peaceful there during the workdays, that doesn’t mean it’ll be that way after work and on weekends. I still don’t have a bad vibe, but my logic says that as soon as they get settled, they’ll be noisy. I don’t know if it’ll be from voices, dogs, or music, but there’ll be some source of noise and it’ll be more noise than normal. Of course, there’s still always the off chance that they end up being no problem since God knows we’re not going to have to be neighbors for 2-3 years. We had two years with the Mormons and 3 years with the blacks. If this was so, though, that’d be wonderful, but I’d still be like - thanks, God. Now you send me the ideal neighbors? Now?! When we’ve got just a few months left here? Well, if this is the case, better late than never. If I can get a few extra months of peace and take the last 6 or so months off from neighbor’s shit before moving - why not? Still, I highly doubt this will be the case. I’m sure they’ll be anything but ideal to have just a few feet away. Just wait till they get settled in, and of course, I wish I could say they won’t want to be outdoors much when it gets really hot like most people, but I’m sure that won’t stop them. Didn’t stop the blacks. He said he doubts the woman he saw will take to the heat very well cuz of how fat she is and that fat people usually have fat friends so they won’t either. Yeah? Well with my luck she and her cronies will be able to take it just fine. I’m sure they won’t mind at all.

He also said that if she’s as hard to get along with as I felt she is, she won’t have too many friends.

Wrong. Just the opposite. Assholes always have a lot of friends. That’s because most people are assholes, and since most people want people they have things in common with for friends, there are plenty of assholes out there for other assholes to be buddies with. It seems that the nicer you are, the fewer people you know.

Anyway, now that I’m rolling onto days, I should be able to get a look at this mystery van if it comes today, too.

Later…

At 7:50 the van pulled in. At first I thought it was that blue/gray van driven by the pregnant kid, but now I don’t know. I saw not only a boy of about 5 but a girl of about 9, too. Mexicans have kids like rabbits, and if these people are as Mexican as they look to be, there’ll be half a dozen kids living over there. The van pulled out 15 minutes later and once it got out into the sunlight, I could see that the color didn’t quite look blue/gray and I can see how Tom may’ve thought it was brown. This van seemed to be more like a brown/gray. Also, I saw two big fat women in the front, but couldn’t see into the van to see how many kids were in it. After seeing these women, I can’t say for sure that either of them is that pregnant kid I saw. So were there people in the house last night after all? Was this van picking up someone in the house to bring them to work? If so, why bring the kids, too? They can’t go to work with them, can they? Maybe they’re going to get dropped off first at daycare or something. Before they left, I saw them shutting the back of the van which suggests they may’ve unloaded or loaded something into it, but is this van going to live there full-time at some point? This weekend ought to tell me a lot, but I’d say that if weekends aren’t wild over there, I’d be one surprised girl! Maybe there won’t be a music problem, but I’d think that all these kids these Mexicans love to have, would be outside running wild for hours. Not just kids who live there, but other people’s kids, too.

I’ll be finding out their name in no time at all. It’s only a matter of time before the mailman gives me a piece of their mail.

I’m glad my letters to the girls didn’t spawn off calls from Tammy. That just goes to show how selfish she really is. She’s just like Dureen in so many ways. I never pressured or dumped her when she wasn’t having any contact with Doe and Art. But now that I’m not and she is, she had to pressure me into contacting them and then dump me when she couldn’t get her way. Well, she better enjoy life without a sister, cuz she certainly lost me for good, along with the others.

Again, just like I questioned being friends with someone who beats her kids (Paula), I’ve got to wonder if I really want to associate with someone who abuses her kids mentally and physically, uses one of them as a built-in babysitter and housekeeper, and who can’t accept me as I am, even when I’m not just like them, and I don’t think so! I think I deserve better than that. All I need is Tom. Just having one person who fully accepts me is enough.

THURSDAY, JUNE 3, 1999 Boy, are we taking a familiar trip down Memory Lane here! It’s the same pattern. The same exact pattern. The Mexicans moved in little by little without making much noise. Meanwhile, I’d see several different vehicles. Like 3-4 of them. It wasn’t until they got fully moved in and were sleeping here that they began to make noise. As soon as they were settled in, though, it was time to get the neighborhood’s attention. Well, I see the same thing going on all over again. Again, no one stayed there last night. All Tom said he saw was a brown van in the carport at 2 PM yesterday. That’s 4 vehicles. They’ve been moving in little by little, not making much noise. Yet. Just as soon as they get fully moved in and are living there day and night, we’ll be hearing from them. That’s when they’ll let the whole street know they exist. What? Do these subsidized assholes have a system out here? Do they all move into houses slowly and quietly, then raise hell once they’re settled in? Are they all so rude and selfish, desperate for their neighbors to hear and notice what sick fucks they are?

I might’ve been wrong about assuming they don’t work cuz they're moving in little by little says they do, just like with the bitch and cock.

Well, I may be seeing familiar patterns all over again, but guess what? This time I’ve got something I didn’t have the first time around - the city’s address. As soon as the parties, the music, the company, and the dogs get out of hand, I’ll be perfectly happy to put them in their place like I should’ve done with the bitch and cock from the get-go. I should never have let it get to the point where that bitch came running to take her shit fit on my doorstep and make me wonder for the rest of my life if I should’ve decked her. I should’ve dealt with every single fucking freeloader over there by contacting the city from the start of their shit. But I didn’t know these things like Tom did, and I wish to hell he’d brought up the idea sooner. He said he did, but I said it wouldn’t work. I remember saying that I had my doubts about it working, but that doesn’t mean he brought it up from the get-go. Those blacks moved in March of 96 and he never went to the library for the city’s address till late November of 97. Once again, I’m thrilled to know we’ll be out of here soon enough, cuz what once worked in the past, may not work in the future. The city may decide this time around to ignore my complaint and just let this batch of scum do whatever it wants.

What’s not thrilling to know is that the pest will be returning home today. I can imagine all the calls I’ll be getting about it, too. I’ll try to put off the 2-hour conversation all about God and food for as long as possible. I was going to be just as available to talk as always till we moved. Meaning, that I was still going to leave messages 1-3 times a week and chat about once a week, but I’m gonna be harder and harder for Andy to get a hold of as we get closer to moving. I’m not obligated, after all, to cater to this guy’s phone needs. Also, I’m sorry, I know it sounds selfish, but I’m just not thrilled to chat with him these days. I’m tired of it.

WEDNESDAY, JUNE 2, 1999 I’m going to cover the basics as best and as fast as I can. I’m not really in the mood to do much writing now. I want to work out some more and go online to see if I can find more goodies. Been getting some really nice wallpaper pictures of landscapes, animals, etc.

Anyway, the city came to mow at 9:30, but I still didn’t have a bad vibe or any vibes about being woken up, so I went to bed relaxed enough and slept fine. Tom fell asleep around the same time I did, but when he got up in the late afternoon, a few hours before I did, he saw the new scum moving in (I can’t believe they moved in while I slept just fine just three feet away! He said it was a pretty quiet ordeal, though, with just a few car doors). I had thought the people I saw Monday looked white, but he said he thought what he saw looked Mexican. Well, it’d make more sense. How many subsidized people are white compared to black and Hispanic? I can tell you firsthand, from experience that most subs aren’t white.

He said he saw three different vehicles. The gold car we already saw, a blazer, and an old junkie Ranchero. The gold car and the blazer look like something the bitch’s associates would drive, but the beat-up Ranchero is a different story. He said he saw some rented furniture being delivered. How can they afford to rent furniture? Renting furniture can be more expensive than buying it. He said he didn’t get a good look at people, but he did see a big fat woman and two toddlers. So far, no dog and the only music he said he heard was played softly and without bass by the Ranchero as it was pulling out. He said it was so soft that he couldn’t tell what kind of music it was and that it wasn’t one of those really bassy stereos. He says he believes they work cuz how else would they pay their rent? With their SSI, SS, or welfare checks, I told him. We’ll see, though. It’s too soon for me to know if anyone there works, how many people are living there (among the ones that aren’t supposed to be living there), and if someone living there has a car, or what. They’re not here tonight. They were gone when I got up at around 7 PM, then they pulled in an hour later. I heard some voices calling out to each other and saw a mattress and a box spring being pulled from the Ranchero. They left at 9:30 and haven’t been back since.

They did what I figured would be done the very first day someone moved in there - changed the security light bulb. This one may not be too obnoxious, though. It seems to be a lower wattage than what was there before.

It’s just a matter of time. I may not have a bad vibe. I mean, this is a totally different feeling than what I had right before the other freeloaders arrived. Before the other freeloaders, there was a very ominous feeling in the air. I was all stressed out, knowing my peace was about to be stolen. Well, I may not feel this way what with knowing we’re moving soon enough, but I’m no idiot, either. I know the parties, the mass of vehicles, the music, the kids, and maybe even a dog, will be a problem. Like I said, it’s just a matter of time. Come the weekend, the whole street will be hearing them.

TUESDAY, JUNE 1, 1999 The next next-door problem has arrived. So far, there's been no problems, but I said, "so far." Just give it time and there will be. I'll write about it more later. Right now, I want to go work out.

[beyondcuckoo]

Handbags of the Gods: Divine Knowledge, Authority, and Celestial Secrets (Shared from Mu the Motherland) has been published on Elaine Webster - http://elainewebster.com/handbags-of-the-gods-divine-knowledge-authority-and-celestial-secrets-shared-from-mu-the-motherland/

New Post has been published on http://elainewebster.com/handbags-of-the-gods-divine-knowledge-authority-and-celestial-secrets-shared-from-mu-the-motherland/

Handbags of the Gods: Divine Knowledge, Authority, and Celestial Secrets (Shared from Mu the Motherland)

Handbags of the Gods: Divine Knowledge, Authority, and Celestial Secrets (Shared from Mu the Motherland)

Accessories in mythologies often carry deep symbolic meanings, representing the deity’s roles, attributes, or powers. They can be literal objects or metaphorical symbols that convey complex ideas about the cosmos, morality, and human nature.

It is common to see the Hopi Snake Clan’s Saviki, (a supernatural entity and divine messenger) carrying a square handbag as part of the snake ceremony. Most people consider this bag to be a medicine bag and it may well be. However, there is evidence that ancient cultures carried a similar bag that had the ability to produce water and often held corn seeds. It is said that when planted, these special seeds could produce crops that were able to be harvested in one day, thus supplying food for long migrations. As extraordinary as this may seem, if we think about it, there are today, electric generators, that can pull moisture from the air and produce water. Was this technology previously available to the ancients and was divine intervention responsible for the holy corn? Remember that the famous horticulturist, Luther Burbank was able to ‘convince’ fruit trees and other plants to produce increased harvests with seemingly magical rapidity. In fact, Paramahansa Yogananda, founder of Self-Realization Fellowship, dedicated his famous book, ‘Autobiography of a Yogi’, to Luther Burbank and he often referred to his friend as “a saint amid the roses.”

The Inca tribes of Peru were a migratory civilization with ancestral ties to North America. Over a period of 4000 years, they established colonies throughout the Andes, including the one at Lake Titicaca. Northern trade routes were established and many familial ties formed. Many believe that the Hopi Kachinas migrated from the south and took on the task of guiding the Hopi clans spiritually and materially. The water generators that they carried were described as metal plates encased in a portable tight metal box with a handle, that could produce about a quart of water per minute. Pretty handy to have around on a long perilous journey.

Of course, medicine and divination bags are common worldwide. In ancient Mesopotamian reliefs, figures (sometimes interpreted as gods or deities) are depicted carrying a peculiar handbag-like object. Scholars speculate these may symbolize containers of knowledge, life, or the secrets of the universe, reflecting the civilization’s values and understanding of divine authority. One such deity, Oannes, is credited with teaching some of the earliest foundations of civilization. His story also happens to be inter-twined with stories of a worldwide flood which destroyed civilization for a time. It is said that square-shaped tablets were buried with enough knowledge to assist the rise of civilization once it was safe to return to the earth’s surface. This idea agrees with the many emergence stories popular throughout the world.

In Greek mythology, Hermes (Mercury in Roman mythology), the messenger of the gods, carries a satchel or pouch used to carry messages, potions, or even souls to the underworld. This accessory underscores Hermes’ role as a bridge between different realms and his trickster aspects.

In present-day Southwestern Nigeria, the priests of the Yoruba religion often carry a similar divination bag. Much like medicine bags it symbolizes wisdom, knowledge of destiny, and the communication between the spiritual and material worlds, reflecting the profound cultural and religious importance of divination in Yoruba society.

However, it is the square bags with round handles that appear in many ancient carvings and reliefs. In addition, the cultures that frequently include these bags in their artwork are separated by vast amounts of time in places, such as Mesopotamia, Mesoamerica, Asia, Africa, Europe, and North America. One theory is that these bags are instrumental in time travel, through interdimensional portals and vortexes.

Another theory, (which goes along with the previous Hopi discussion), that they were a type of ancient technology. For instance, the Mesoamerican god, Quetzalcoatl, is often depicted carrying the square version of the bag and is credited with teaching such skills as agriculture, engineering, laws, and religion.

In Assyria, the same square bag appears held by various entities, often near a ‘Tree of Life’, from which he/she has plucked a pinecone. In India at the Hindu temple of Brihadeeswarar, Shiva is carved with two square handbags hanging from a tree above and behind the supreme god. It is thought that these may be electrical batteries, which were hung rather than carried or placed on the ground to protect the portable energy source. In fact, in India, battery usage has been traced back at least 4000 years.

Another place to note is the Indonesian island of Sumba where Panji, a local ancient hero, is immortalized—carved in stone sitting next to guess what? —a square handbag with a curved handle. And the oldest place that the handbag image appears is in Gobekli Tepe in Turkey showing three handbags of the gods. The carvings found there have been dated back to 10,950 BCE, a time after the last ice age. Is it possible that the survivors of that cataclysmic time finally emerged from underground, carrying, what else? –handbags!

The intriguing motif of handbags carried by gods across various ancient cultures symbolizes not just the universality of human creativity but also a shared understanding of divinity and authority.

What’s in yours?

[storiesandorigami]

The Frog (#5)

The frog holds diverse and significant meanings in various Native American cultures, often symbolizing rebirth, renewal, regeneration, and transformation. In Hopi and Pueblo tribes, the frog is specifically associated with these themes. Some tribes also consider the frog as a messenger from the spirit world, linking it to spiritual communication and insight. In one of the stories called, "Swarak'xn Chaptikwl- The Frog Mountain Story", the narrative centers on an Elder, a revered leader who deeply cares for his people and their well-being. Observing the suffering caused by the drought, he encourages the villagers to leave their homes to survive, organizing the preparation for their departure. Unbeknownst to the villagers, the Elder decides to stay behind, unable to leave the land of his ancestors.

As the villagers prepare to leave, they plead with the Elder to join them, but he remains steadfast in his decision to stay. He believes his place is with the land of his ancestors, a land imbued with his heart and memories. Despite the villagers' sorrow at leaving the Elder behind, they recognize the need for some to journey onward for the survival of their people.

In a turn of events, the Elder, while praying for guidance, is visited by a frog who advises him to have the remaining villagers dig caves along the riverbank to spend the winter. This work gives the villagers a sense of hope and purpose, although the Elder worries these caves might eventually serve as their graves due to the scarcity of food.

Remarkably, during the harsh winter, frogs begin to enter the caves, offering themselves as food for the villagers. This act of sacrifice allows the villagers to survive the winter. At the end of the season, a frog visits the villagers with a message of hope, declaring that their suffering is over and the land will become bountiful again. In a symbolic gesture, the frog transforms into a mountain, representing the power and significance of even the smallest creatures in nature and leaving a lasting symbol for the Sinixt People to honor.

[hoppitty-doppity]

Made myself a Carrd, and updated my commission info!! Feel free to DM me here, or on my insta/discord, @/hoppity._.doppity !!

If you have any questions, also feel free to message me!!:)))