#thinking about sunday suddenly sparked something in me...

[morgaseus]

Thinking about slow dancing with sunday…

Contains slight spoilers for the Penacony quest. Set before the nameless arrived in Penacony.

“Do you know how to dance?”

The scratching of a pen suddenly stopped, he lifted his head, pen hovering above the parchment for a moment, before finally being laid down beside it. Your voice echoed throughout his study, breaking the silence between you two.

“Oh? Where did that suddenly come from?" His gaze drifted towards you. Moonlight spilled through the windows, tracing silver lines across your face. You were always beautiful but basked in the moonlight's glow, you looked absolutely breathtaking, as delicate as the forget-me-not's in his garden.

“I was thinking” you trailed off, slowly walking towards the gramophone resting beside the bookshelf. Your fingers trailed along the smooth brass surface of the gramophone, before finally reaching for the record tucked beside it. And with a click, a slow, but familiar melody filled in the air. “How about a dance?” You turned to him with a smile.

You needn't say anymore. He rose from his chair, his leather shoes creating a soft thud along the carpet as he walked towards you. The moonlight that filtered through the window bathed him in an ethereal glow. It danced across his features, casting a faint glow to his golden halo. His dull gray hair shimmered, the moonlight painting it silver. It emphasized the sharp, yet, soft angles of his face. His feathery soft wings, pierced with golden studs. You wonder how he got that, whenever you asked, he’d always changed the subject. You let out a faint smile. Everything about him was captivating but it was his eyes that drew you in. His golden eyes, full of secrets, held a warmth that enveloped you. You could get lost in them forever. Ahhh. truly, he looked like a being that fell from the heavens. Befitting his title as “the most handsome man in Penacony.” 

As he reached you, his hand extended, palm open and inviting. A soft smile present in his face, his gaze never leaving yours. “Well, then, would you care for a dance, m’lady?”

You gladly took his hand and slipped into his embrace, swaying together to the rhythm of the melody. In this moment, he could lose himself entirely. Whenever you’re with him, time seems to slow down, the world fading into a blur.

The weight of the Oak family’s legacy - the 106,366 oak family members - loomed over him like a dark cloud. And with the Charmony Festival looming, a single misstep could shatter generations of aspirations. He'd been preparing for this ever since the dreammaster whispered words of promises in his ear. Every moment led to that one, final performance. 

No longer would Robin have the need to go on a “tour” and risk her life to bring harmony. No longer would everyone have to suffer and endure mortal pain. No longer would everyone have to tear down each other's throat for a mere sliver of gold. He will bring order and utopia to everyone. Yes, he will be their salvation, not a tyrant, not a conqueror, but a shepherd ushering his flock to a new dawn. 

Yet, for a moment, under the soft glow of the moon, he allowed himself to forget. In your arms, the crushing weight seemed to ease.

For now, it was just you and him.

[monstersholygrail]

A familiar voice clears their throat and Demon Priest immediately knows it’s you who’s come to him so early on this Sunday morning. Not because the sound of your voice but because the call that yanks at his chest, urging him to go to the door. His body ready to obey your every command.

The nearing church service lingers in the back of his mind but as he meets your eye it soon becomes forgotten. “Good morning, little dove. What calls you to me this morning?”

“Maybe I missed you. I haven’t seen you in nearly a week,” you respond coyly, sauntering in. Looking Demon Priest up and down, thinking about how damn hot he looks in his robes.

Seeing you walk to him, Demon Priest immediately stands and matches your steps. The need to be closer to you, to touch you, claws at his chest. That familiar relief shoots through him as soon as he gathers you in his arms, your touch flooding through him and providing a break to the ache.

“Oh, my heart… I apologize. I’ve been far too focused on finishing my work. And I fear I’ve still yet to perfect it.”

You glance down at his desk, papers sprawled everywhere. A perfect amount to passionately brush the clutter aside and slam you down on the desk to take you right then and there. A shiver runs through your body as you look up at him through half-lidded eyes.

“Why don’t you practice it on me?”

It’s as if Demon Priest was set on this path to simply answer to your every desire as the moment you look at him he seems to read your mind. Knowing exactly what you need from him. And he’d risk anything to give it to you. He growls furiously and scoops you up into his arms only to plop you down on the desk.

“Or why don’t I practice something else on you first?”

Demon Priest’s hand is down your panties in a flash and a wicked glint sparks in his eye as he realizes you came to him ready for his cock, your folds gushing with slick. His fangs shine in the morning light as he smirks, revealing his cock and driving it to your core as if it’s his guiding light.

As soon as his cock sinks into your warm walls a rumble moves through Demon Priests’ chest, your warmth akin not to the flames of hell but of the blessed rays of heaven. He loses himself in the smooth glide of your pussy against his length.

Time and everything else fades more and more with every passionate thrust of his cock. He’s found his holy grail and he won’t let go of you for anything. Your nails clawing into his back as you gasp and moan shows him you don’t plan to let go either. The table squeaks along with floor with the increasing force of his hips.

A sudden knock on the door, a reminder of his duties, threatens to pull him from paradise and Demon Priest suddenly realizes where he is. A house of worship. He looks at your fucked out expression as he shows his devotion. How fitting.

“Ten— fifteen minutes!” Demon Priest calls back, not even able to stop as he pounds his cock deep inside your warm fat cunt. As your jaw extends to moan, he pulls you into his throat, the vibrations causing him to shake.

“You’ll be late,” The man outside annoyingly replies.

“They can wait!” Demon Priest snarls, his demonic features drawing out at the force of his anger. His claws extending to tickle your sides.

Deep growls huff out of him and he has to bury his face in your hair. It takes deep gulps of your scent and the ravaging of your gummy walls just to calm down. His large towering form cages you into his embrace and he falls back into your abyss.

He takes every second he can of those fifteen minutes to rut inside you as ferociously as he can. Pumping inside you till you fall apart in his arms, a fierce scream falling past your lips and right into his wiling flesh. With your pussy clenching around him so sweetly he explodes inside of you, relishing in every spurt that hits your eager womb.

Demon Priest whispers endless praises under his breath as you both calm down. Your panting breaths the loudest sound in the room. Both of you bask in the glow for as long as you can.

“You have to go,” you whisper breathlessly. Not wanting him to.

“They can wait,” he repeats softly to you. Not wanting to either.

[rhyrhy]

Thinking about loser! Barista Abby! And the girl who works in the bookstore across the street…

[Contains]: cutesy headcannons!

Barista Abby! Who works Sunday to Wednesday, carefully balancing the rest of her week.

Sure, she gets hit on—at the gym, sometimes even at work. And while it’s flattering, she always turns them down. Why? Because lately, she’s found herself watching the clock, waiting for 10 a.m.

A different cozy outfit every time, a tote bag always slung over your shoulder, a pencil tucked behind your ear. Such a sweet sight. Yeah. She was a goner.

Barista Abby! Who told her coworker (and dearest friend) that she’d say something… eventually. But she never quite works up the nerve. She hates when it rains—raindrops littering the windows, ruining her perfect view of you across the street.

Barista Abby! Who wanted to duck behind the counter the first time you walked in. Crushes weren’t something she developed often, but you? The pretty girl balancing more books than you could carry, nudging the door open with your foot. The girl who always checked on the flowers outside the store, The girl who sat in her car for a few moments before heading home, deep in thought.

Barista Abby! Whose face burned when you made a flirty comment in passing, suddenly hyper-aware of herself in ways she never had been before.

“Are you on the menu?” You leaned in across the counter, eyes slowly scanning over her.

“Uh, no, but—but I could be? Like, theoretically?” she stammered.

Barista Abby! Who was a bookworm herself but couldn’t find the nerve to bring it up—until the day she saw you holding City of Thieves by David Benioff, a book she’d read a million times.

“Wait—you’re reading that? Like, actually reading it? Not just holding it for aesthetic purposes?” she blurted, pointing at the book tucked in the crook of your arm.

“You have to tell me what you think. Like, every thought. Immediately.”

And when you said you liked it? She practically beamed with excitement. “Okay, if you liked that one—please, please read The Nightingale and All the Light We Cannot See. Thank me later.”

Barista Abby! Who, over time, grew more comfortable flirting back. Who lived for the giggles she earned, for the way your smile lingered all the way until the red neon CLOSED sign flickered on.

Who perfected her coffee art—so of course, she started drawing tiny hearts and silly faces in your drinks. Who started leaving little notes on your cups. Sometimes a simple have a good day, sometimes a quick sketch of the way your hair looked that morning. Who gushed to her coworker about the spark she swore she felt when your fingers brushed against hers that morning. Who spent the whole day thinking about it—until she finally worked up the nerve to ask you out.

The sun was out, she was off for the rest of the week, and she knew you were too. So she said it. Do you want to go out with me? And when you didn’t even hesitate before saying yes? She let out a tiny scream of excitement in her car—only to immediately stop, remembering her windows weren’t that tinted.

Barista Abby! Who melted the first time you kissed her cheek after your second date.

Who finally stepped foot into the bookstore where you worked, taking in the scent of paper and vanilla—the same scent that always lingered on your clothes. And as she watched you move between the shelves, smiling at customers, in your element, she thought—

Yeah, im really, really gone.

[prettygirl-gabi]

What am I gonna do

Pairing: Paige Bueckers x Reader

Fandom:WNBA-Dallas Wings

Summary: Childhood friends, hidden feelings, one game, one necklace, everything changes…

🏷️: @paigeshirleytemple , @cowboybueckers , @unknowgirlypop , @yailtsv , @nicebellee , @sitawita , @thatonesuschix , @vamptizm , @elalfywhore , @starfulani , @authentic-girl03 , @paxaz535 , @azziswrld , @jadasogay , @paigeluvvr , @melpthatsme , @lessi-lover , @courtsidewithlani , @elswhore , @italyyy , @lightsgore , @private-but-not-a-secret , @aubreygriffin , @issilovesherself , @graceeeeeesblog , @sayurireidotcom , @zizi-bee-yapping

There are three places I always end up after school: my classroom, my place and the Bueckers’ house.

Second grade in Hopkins keeps me busy—glitter glue disasters, working on the core subjects, and a never-ending stream of knock-knock jokes.

But somehow, I still make time for Sunday dinners with Bob, his wife, and Drew.

Paige’s family.

Paige’s house.

It’s funny.

Paige hasn’t lived in it for years, but somehow her presence lingers.

I guess it always will.

“Y/N!” Drew’s voice crackled through my phone speaker one Monday night after bedtime stories and grading spelling tests.

“Paige’s team is playing the Lynx this week. It’s basically her homecoming! You have to come with me! You promised!”

“I did not,” I said, but I was already smiling. “You begged last time and I said I’d think about it.”

“Well think faster. Please? She hasn’t played in Minnesota yet. It’s her rookie year. It’s history.”

God, he had that same spark Paige used to have when she was twelve—wide-eyed, earnest, unstoppable.

And just like with her, I couldn’t say no.

“Fine. I’ll come.”

“Let’s gooo!”

I hung up with a shake of my head, not knowing what was waiting for me the next day.

Tuesday started like normal: math centers, a spilled juice box, a mini-fire in the staff microwave (thanks, Miss Connelly).

After school, I baked—my usual lemon bars—figuring I’d drop them off at my second home-the Bueckers’ place before heading home to change for Taco Tuesday.

The house felt weirdly quiet when I unlocked the door with the spare key Ive had since middle school, no Drew charging to the door. I slipped inside—Bob always told me not to knock, since I had a key. Something about me being family —and I left the pan on the counter with a sticky note.

As I turned to go, the door opened, keys jingling in the door.

Paige.

Hair pulled into a bun, hoodie slung over her shoulder, WNBA-issued duffle in hand.

I froze in the hallway, with an empty pan from last weeks cookies in my grip like a shield.

She stopped in her tracks, eyes flicking to the pan, then to me.

We didn’t speak.

Just nodded.

A silent hello heavy with years of almosts and could’ve-beens.

Then I left.

Drew showed up at my door a few hours later, bouncing on his toes.

“Taco Tuesday! C’mon!”

I followed him, still a little rattled from the silent run-in. I hadn’t really seen Paige in years. Social media glimpses, sure. But in person? In her childhood home?

She was at the table when we walked in, laughing at something Bob said, plate half-filled with taco shells and shredded lettuce.

“Hey,” she said when she saw me. Softly.

I nodded. “Hey.”

We sat.

Ate.

Talked around each other.

My fork clinked too loudly against the plate.

Paige asked about my class like we were strangers, not people who once knew everything about each other.

But I stayed.

Because Drew begged me to play Fortnite like we always did.

And after, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Paige offered to walk me home.

Just like old times.

The night air was cool, the sidewalks quiet. For a moment, I forgot that we hadn’t done this in years.

“You remember when we used to race home from the park?” she asked suddenly.

I smiled. “You always cheated.”

She laughed. “I was faster.”

“You cut corners.”

She shrugged. “Still beat you.”

We stopped at the corner near my apartment, and something shifted in the air. That quiet, cautious thing that always danced between us.

“Y/N…” she started, shoving her hands in her hoodie pocket. “Why’d we drift apart?”

I looked at her. Really looked.

“Because I had a crush on you.”

The words came out too easy, like they’d been waiting. Maybe they had.

She blinked.

“And every time I thought you might feel the same,” I went on, “you’d friend-zone me. Hard. I figured it wasn’t going away, so I distanced myself.”

Paige swallowed. “I didn’t know…”

“Maybe you didn’t want to.”

Silence.

Then I stepped toward my door. “Goodnight, Paige.”

“Y/N, wait—”

But I was already inside.

Paige’s POV

I stood there for a minute, staring at the closed door like it might open again.

It didn’t.

When I got back to the house, Drew was on the couch, controller in hand.

“Did you walk her back?” he asked.

“Yeah.”

“She still plays with me every week, even when she’s tired. She’s gonna be at the game, you know.”

I looked up. “What?”

“I convinced her. She’s coming with me.”

My heart thudded.

That night, in my childhood room that used to be ours-in a way that only we knew, I pulled out my phone and sent a message.

Me: Hey, I know I’m only in town just for today and tomorrow morning I’ll be heading to Minneapolis for basketball stuff before the game. So if there’s any chance we could talk tonight, let’s talk.

Ten minutes later, my phone buzzed.

Y/N: Sure. Come when you feel like. Door’s unlocked. Just tell me once you enter so I know it’s you.

Y/N’s POV

She knocked once anyway.

I was curled up on the couch with a mug of tea, a candle flickering beside me. The room smelled like lavender and lemon from the dessert I never finished.

Paige stepped inside, a little hesitant. She looked out of place and too familiar all at once.

“You really kept the door unlocked,” she said.

I shrugged. “Didn’t think you’d rob me.”

We sat across from each other. Talked. Not about basketball or school. About everything else.

About how she felt like she wasn’t living up to the hype.

How Dallas didn’t feel like home yet.

How being back in Hopkins made everything simpler and harder at the same time.

“You were my best friend,” she said quietly. “And I think… I was scared.”

“Scared of what?”

“That you were more than that.”

My breath caught.

“I felt something,” she said, eyes never leaving mine. “But I was fifteen and dumb and afraid to lose you. So I pretended I didn’t.”

I didn’t know what to say.

Paige stood slowly, brushing imaginary lint off her thigh.

As she stood to leave, she paused in my doorway.

“There’s something I gave you once,” she said. “Christmas, right before everything changed. A necklace.”

I remembered it instantly. A small gold chain with a tiny charm shaped like an infinity symbol. I kept it in a box in my nightstand, untouched, untarnished.

“If you still feel the same way,” she said, eyes searching mine, “wear it to the game.”

I swallowed.

“And if I don’t?” I asked, heart pounding.

Paige gave a sad smile. “Then I’ll know I waited too long.”

She stepped out into the night.

I closed the door, leaned back against it, and stared at the ceiling.

Then I walked to my nightstand. Opened the drawer. Pulled out the little box with the necklace I never had the heart to throw away.

It shimmered faintly in the lamplight.

My hands trembled.

Tomorrow was game day.

What am I gonna do?

To Be Continued…

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                 -Thank You For Reading!💚💙

                             -prettygirl-gabi✨️💗

[soulofapatrick]

Domesticated - Jace Herondale x Female (Daylighter) Reader

Summary: this is a 5 + 1 of all the times you and Jace act like a couple even before you admit feelings for each other

Words: 6k

Warnings: injury, bleeding, blood drinking

Y/N’s POV - 

Part One

I’m not really sure when Jace appearing at random hours of the day in my apartment became a normal things. He’s dirty and covered in ichor from a demon hunt the Clave sent him and Alec on and he’s grumbling to himself as he shrugs off his leather jacket. There’s dried blood on him from wounds his iratze rune probably healed and he’s toeing off his shoes before grumbling more about the demons. 

“I’m going to shower.” He tells me, voice gruff but there’s a softness to it as he addresses me. 

“Alright Jace.” I respond, turning back to the show I was watching, waiting up for him to get back as it’s nearly 2am. Being a vampire is weird, especially a daylighter like Simon as at first I was nocturnal and now, suddenly, I’m back to daylight hours. It was weird getting used to humanity again but ever since Jace has been coming round it’s been easier somehow. 

As I listen to the sound of the water running in the bathroom, I can’t help but think about how effortlessly Jace fits into my life. We’ve been…friends? Yeah, friends for so long, and lately, it feels like we’ve crossed some invisible line into something more. But whenever I’m around him, my heart would be pounding if it could still beat and there’s a stirring in my undead soul, a flutter of excitement I though I had long forgotten. 

If it weren’t for Jace, I might have left the Shadowhunter world behind altogether, taken Magnus up on whisking me somewhere far away, maybe Canada, Clary and Simon, my own best friends, seem to have forgotten about me again, lost in their own adventures and relationship. And Luke, the only parental figure in my life, is more invested in his pack than checking up on me. But somehow, Jace always manages to find his way back to my doorstep, like a guiding light in the darkness. 

I remember the first time he appeared on my doorstep, how he looked at me with those piercing golden eyes and saw something in me that no one else seemed to. He didn’t treat me like a monster or a freak because of what I had become, but instead, he saw me for who I truly am—a creature worthy of love and friendship.

And now, sitting here on the couch, waiting for him to remerge from the bathroom, I can’t help but wonder how the hell we ended up here in this weird dance and routine, so domesticated. One moment we’re battling demons and next, we’re lounging on the couch like a couple of teenagers on a lazy Sunday afternoon. 

Finally, after what feel like an eternity, Jace remerges from the bathroom, looking surprisingly innocent and boyish in a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a graphic tee-shirt that I’m pretty sure is either mine or my brothers. His hair is still damp from the shower, tousled in a way that makes him look disarmingly handsome. Despite the exhaustion tech into his features, there’s a spark in his golden eyes that never fails to draw me in. 

Jace collapses onto the couch beside me, his head finding its place on my shoulder, it feels like the most natural thing in the world. His weight against me is comforting, like an anchor tethering me to reality amidst the chaos of our lives. I close my eyes, revelling in the warmth of his presence and the steady rhythm of his breath against my skin.

As exhaustion finally catches up to him, his breathing evens out, lulling me into a sense of peace. I listen to the sound of his steady inhales and exhales, a gentle melody that soothes my restless mind. And as I drift off into sleep, I'm enveloped in the cocoon of his scent—sunshine and something uniquely Jace, mixed with the subtle fragrance of my shower products. It's a comforting aroma, one that fills me with a sense of belonging and contentment.

In the depths of slumber, I feel his warmth beside me, a constant presence that eases my fears and worries. But when I wake in the morning, he's gone, leaving behind only a hastily scrawled note on my coffee table. My heart sinks as I read his words, explaining that Alec called him in early for paperwork and debriefing on the previous day's hunt.

Despite the pang of disappointment at his absence, I can't help but smile at the thought of him, out there in the world, fighting alongside his fellow Shadowhunters. And as I rise to start the day, I carry with me the memory of his presence, the echo of his warmth lingering in the air like a promise of his return.

Part Two

I awake to a crashing and the grumbled cry of Jace, my panic immediately vanishing at the sound of his voice. My phone reads 7.03pm and I’m realising my nap was longer than I had planned or anticipated, having tried to stay awake for Jace who had messaged me to say he’d be home in time for dinner. 

As I groggily process the situation, something within me stirs at the realisation Jace used the word “home” to describe my place. It’s a simple word, but coming from him, it carries a weight that sends a flutter through my un-beating heart. I push aside the covers and pull myself sleepy from bed, feeling the fabric of a shirt that definitely isn’t mine brush against my skin as it reaches mid-thigh. 

Shuffling towards the kitchen, I’m met with the sight and smell of chaos. Jace is in the midst of a culinary disaster, his brow furrowed in frustration as he grumbles to himself. The scent of burning food fills the air, assaulting my sensitive vampire senses, But despite the mess and the mishap, there’s something oddly endearing about the scene—the way Jace is so determined to make dinner for us, even if it means nothing is going according to plan. 

As I approach him, I can’t help but smile at the sight of him, his hir tousled and his expression a mix of annoyance and determination. Despite the chaos, there a sense of warmth and familiarity in the air, a feeling of him that I’ve come to associate with him. 

I head straight for the fridge to grab fresh ingredients as soon as I get the gist of what he was trying to make by the minced meat and the spaghetti, catching the way he looks at me. There’s a softness in his gaze, a silent appreciation for my presence and the way I effortlessly step in to salvage the situation. But when I reach for the pasta sauce, Jace stops me, holding up a jar of red liquid. 

My heart tries to burst out of my chest when I realise what it is. Jace wasn’t just trying to make dinner for us; he was trying to recreate a meal I loved as a human, altered for my now vampire self. It’s a small gesture, but it speaks volumes about his thoughtfulness and the depth of his care for me. 

“Raphael said it was the best of the best and told me how to prepare it so it doesn’t…” Jace waves his hands around trying to think of the word Raphael used, “Separate?” 

I can’t help but laugh softly at the face Jace makes as he says the word ‘separate’. It’s moments like these that remind me of just how endearing he can be, even when he’s trying his best to navigate unfamiliar territory like helping a vampire like me. 

Stepping closer to him, I wrap my arms around him in a hug, feeling the tension in his muscles as he hesitates before finally relaxing enough to return the embrace. His strong arms wrap around me, pulling me close as he buries his face in my hair. In the moment, with the scent of blood and spices lingering in the air and the warmth of Jace’s embrace surrounding me, I feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude and love for the man standing in front of me. 

Reluctantly, Jace finally lets me go, suggesting we try cooking again. As I try to assist him, he’s suddenly spinning me back to face and him and gripping my waist in his strong hands, lifting me and sitting me on a clean area of the counter top, “You’re to just sit there and look pretty while I work this out.” He says with a smirk, a hint of redness colouring his cheeks. 

I can’t help but let out the most embarrassing giggle at his sudden shyness, feeling a warmth spread through me at his playfulness. As I watch him move around the pitch with practiced ease, a sense of contentment washes over me. Despite the chaos and mishaps, being here with Jace feels like home. 

And as I sit on the counter, watching him cook, I cant’t help but feel grateful for moments like these—simple, ordinary, mundane moments that remind me of what I could have had when human. Surrounded by the warmth and aroma of our makeshift meal and Jace’s soft humming as he cooks, I know that no matter what challenges may come our way, as long as we have each other, we'll always find a way to make it through.

Part Three

The library is quiet as I slip inside, the familiar scent of old books and parchment greeting me like an old friend. Alec had given me permission to use the Institute as a safe haven whenever I like, and I often find myself wandering towards the library. It’s become my sanctuary, a place where I can escape the weird world I’m now a part of and lose myself in the pages of novels and histories. 

As I roam the aisles, my fingers trailing along the spines of countless books, I feel a sense of calm wash over me. The library is a treasure trove of knowledge, and I’ve made it my mission to learn as much as I can about the Shadowhunter world. I immerse myself in the histories of the Clave, learning about the battles fought and the heroes who rose to prominence, the history of the main families in this world. 

Eventually, I pick a book off the shelves, one that Alec had actually recommended to me during one of our conversations. It’s a thick volume filled with tales of Shadowhunter lore, and I can’t wait to delve into its pages. With a contented sigh, I sink into one of the soft loveseats scattered throughout the massive library, feeling eh weight of the book in my hands as I lose myself in the pages. 

For the rest of the afternoon, I’m lost in a world of magic and mystery, my surroundings fading away as I become immersed in the story unfolding before me. The hours pass in a blur, but in the moment, surrounded by the knowledge and history of the Shadowhunters, I feel a sense of belonging and purpose that I’ve been searching for since the day I was turned. 

My attention is momentarily drawn away from the pages of the book in my hand by the faint murmur of voices approaching. It takes a moment but I’m recognising the voices, the cadence of their speech familiar to me even from a distance with my new hearing abilities. But it’s the sound of the library door opening that truly captures my attention, and when I look up, my heart skips a beat at the sight of a familiar blonde figure standing in the doorway. 

Jace. 

His golden eyes scan the room, searching, until they land on me. A smile spreads across his face, lighting up his features in a way that never fails to make my heart flutter like it’s still beating, “There you are, Mouse,” He greets, using the stupid pet name he’s decided for me, “You weren’t at home.” 

As he strides over, my attention is captivated by the way his muscles ripple beneath the fabric of his tight black shirt, each movement a testament to his strength and grace. My pulse would be skyrocketing if it could, and I can feel a flush from the recent blood I drank creeping its way up my neck as he stops in front of me, his presence commanding and magnetic. 

“Hey Jace,” I manage to say, voice betraying the flutters of excitement I feel within me. 

He smirks, golden eyes dancing with amusement as if he knows what he’s doing to me, “What were you doing here all alone?” He asks, tone teasing yet filled with genuine curiosity. 

I just shrug, attempting to maintain an air of casualness despite the turmoil of emotions swirling within me, “Just needed the quiet.” I reply, my voice soft. 

He nods in understanding, his expression softening as he reaches out to gently tuck a strand of hair behind my ear. The simple gesture sending a shiver down my spine, igniting a rush of sensations that I struggle to contain. His proximity, his touch—it's all too much, and yet not enough.

“Hey, listen,” He says, his voice warm and inviting, “We’re all heading to the Hunter’s Moon to hear Simon sing, You wanna join us?” 

The thought of being surrounded by so many voices, sounds and smells—the overwhelming sensory overload—has me shuddering involuntarily. I feel a knot form in my stomach, a wave of anxiety washing over me at the mere thought of venturing out into the bustling world beyond the quiet of the Institute currently. 

With a shaky breath, I shake my head almost aggressively, “No, I think I’ll pass.” I reply, my voice barely above a whisper, “I’m… I’m not really in the mood for crowds tonight.” 

Jace nods in understanding, his expression sympathetic, “Hey, that’s okay,” He reassures me, his voice gentle, and he’s surprising me by leaning down and pressing a soft kiss to my cheek, “You do what feels right for you. But if you ever change your mind, we’ll be there.” 

I offer him a weak smile, grateful for his understanding, “Thanks Sunshine.” I murmur, the weight of my anxiety slowly easing with his words of reassurance and his sweet actions. 

As Jace turns to leave, I watch him go, feeling a sense of longing wash over me like a gentle tide. His departure leaves an ache in my chest, a yearning for something more, something I can't quite name. But then, I feel the lingering warmth of his kiss on my cheek, a fleeting touch that sends a jolt of electricity through me.

Despite my reluctance to join them, a part of me wishes I could be there, sharing in the camaraderie and laughter with Jace and the others. The thought of being by his side, laughing and joking like we always do, fills me with a bittersweet longing. 

In the moment, as I sit alone in the quiet solitude of the library, the whole interaction feels strangely domesticated, as if it’s something we’ve done a thousand times before. Jace’s kiss was casual yet intimate, like it was a natural extension of our friendship, and yet it leaves me yearning for more. 

I can’t help but replay the moment in my mind, the sensation of his lips against my cold skin, the warmth of his touch. It’s a memory I want to hold onto, to savour and cherish, and yet it only serves to deepen my desire for him. 

As I sink back into the soft cushions of the loveseat, the ache in my chest lingers, a constant reminder of the feelings I can’t shake. I want him to kiss me again, to make me feel alive in a way I never thought possible. And as I close my eyes and let out a heavy sigh, I know that despite the risks and uncertainties, I can't deny the pull he has on my undead heart.

Part Four

I honestly have no idea how I ended up in the training room with Jace but I definitely know how I ended up on my ass glaring up at his laughing figure. Jace decided that he was going to teach me how to defend myself as Alec wants downworlders to help Shadowhunters on patrols to bridge the gap that had formed since Valentine. 

So here I am, climbing to my feet and glaring at Jace who readies himself for another round and my body is already aching. Jace is already readying himself for another round, and I steel myself for the onslaught, determined to at least make him break a sweat. As he lunges at me, I use my vampire speed to dodge and jab him in the back with my elbow with precision. But before I can revel in the small victory, he’s already spinning around and swiping my feet out from underneath me again. 

I hit the ground with a frustrated grunt, the air would have been knocked out of me if I were still breathing. I let out a sound of pure annoyance as I lie there, staring up at the ceiling, feeling so goddamn angry that I haven’t managed to get Jace down once. 

“Come on, Mouse,” Jace says, offering me a hand up, “You’re getting better, I promise.” 

I take his hand and pull myself to my feet yet again, but the weight of defeat still hangs heavy on my shoulders. No matter how hard I try, I can't seem to measure up to Jace's level of skill and agility. It's frustrating, disheartening even, to constantly fall short despite my best efforts.

With a heavy sigh, I get back into position, expecting Jace to do the same but instead a small gasp is drawn from me when I feel his body practically pressed to my back as he adjusts my positioning. I feel a rush of warmth as he nudges my feet into a better position and adjusts my arms, guiding them a little higher. 

His touch is firm yet gentle, his hands moving with practiced precision as he adjusts my stance. And then, his hands fall to my hips, twisting them slightly to improve my balance before he steps back, satisfied with his work. 

I’m left standing there, the lingering sensations of his touch sending a shiver down my spine. Despite the lack of a heartbeat or any physical sensations, I can’t deny the way he makes me feel. Safe. Protected. As if, just for a moment, the weight of the world is lifted from my shoulders and I can simply be. 

With a renewed determination, I square my shoulder and focus on the task at hand. As we being sparring again, I find myself moving with a newfound confidence, each strike more precise than the last. And then, miraculously, it happens—I actually manage to get Jace down for once. 

I just watch in disbelief as he hits the ground, a surprised laugh escaping him as he looks up at me with sparkling eyes. In the moment, his laughter is like music to y ears, lighthearted. As Jace lies there, sprawled on the ground with a grin that could light up the room, I can't help but feel a rush of exhilaration. His boyish charm and playful energy are infectious, making me forget for a moment that we're supposed to be training. But as he starts to rise, that cocky smirk forming on his lips, I know the challenge isn't over yet.

With a twinkle in his eyes, he beckons me forward, goading me to try again. His confidence is palpable, almost tangible in the air between us. And I, of course, take the bait, eager to prove myself once more. 

But, as I unleash my vampire strength and speed, throwing my self into the spar with all I’ve got, I quickly realise that Jace has activated both runes, his agility now matching mine. His speed rune makes him a formidable opponent, dodging and waving with ease, always one step ahead. 

In the blink of an eye, he’s behind me, sweeping my feet out from under me with a swift motion. I feel the ground rushing up to meet me, but my reflexes kick in instinctively. As I tumble backwards, I grab onto Jace’s shirt, pulling him down with me. 

We land in a tangled heap, laughter bubbling up between us as we lie there, catching our breath. For a moment, time seems to stand still, the world around us fading away until it's just the two of us, tangled together on the ground. I can smell how sweet and like sunshine Jace’s blood smells in his veins and feel the way his heart is pounding as he buries his face in my neck. 

And in the moment, I realise just how much I enjoy being with him, the easy camaraderie and undeniable chemistry between us, making me, again, realise just how domesticated we are with each other. 

Part Five

The rain is coming down so hard it’s bordering on hail and as overwhelming as my senses are, the sound of it hitting the windows of my apartment is actually very comforting. Jace is in the shower again, coming back from another demon nest hunt and he’s told me he ordered pizzas on his way home as he invited the others around to jin us for the movie night before he jumped in the shower. 

As grateful as I am for his presence, a flicker of anxiety creeps into my mind at the thought of the others joining us. Alec and Magnus have always been welcoming, their easygoing nature together putting me at ease from the start. But Simon and Clary, lost in their own bubble of love, often seem oblivious to anyone around them nowadays, especially me their childhood friend. And Izzy.. well, Izzy can get anyone she wants with a bat of her eyelashes has me a little jealous. 

As I wait for Jace to emerge from the shower, the sound of the rain drumming against the window grows louder, echoing the turmoil of my thoughts. I find myself questioning whether I’ll be able to navigate the dynamics of the evening, whether I’ll be able to hold my own amidst the company of the Shadowhunters and Downworlders that make up Jace’s inner circle. 

But then, as if sensing my apprehension, Jace appears, a towel draped casually around his waist and a smile lighting up his face. It’s as if time itself pauses for a moment, allowing me to drink in the sight before me. His presence is like a beacon of light in the dimly lit apartment, his golden eyes sparkling with warmth and mischief. With his damp hair tousled and his skin glistening with droplets of water, he looks every bit like an adonis, a vision of strength and beauty. 

The towel draped casually around his waist hangs dangerously low, teasingly revealing the beginnings of his happy trail. My gaze is drawn to the tantalising glimpse of skin, the curve of his hips, the sculptured muscles of his abdomen. It's a sight that leaves me breathless, a reminder of just how effortlessly attractive he is.

But it's not just his physical appearance that captivates me; it's the way he carries himself, with a confidence that borders on arrogance yet somehow remains endearing. His smile is like a beacon of warmth, infectious and irresistible, drawing me closer with its magnetic pull.

As he moves closer, the scent of his shower gel fills the air, a heady mixture of musk and citrus that sends a shiver down my spine. I find myself mesmerised by the play of light and shadow on his skin, the way the droplets of water cling to his body like liquid diamonds. He brushes a gentle kiss against my cheek, his touch reassuring in its familiarity, a warmth spreading through me, soothing the lingering traces of anxiety that had gripped me moments before. His touch is a familiar reassurance, grounding me to the present moment and easing the flutter of my nonexistent heartbeat. 

But before I can fully lose myself in the intimacy of the moment, a sharp knock at the door interrupts us, shattering the fragile bubble of privacy we’ve created. With a playful smack to Jace’s arm I stop him from heading to the door, “Go get some damn clothes on, I’ll answer it.” Before I’m striding over to answer the door, cheeks flushed with a heat that most likely betrays the intensity of my emotions. 

As I swing the door open, Jace is ducking into our room and I’m met with the amused gazes of Alec and Magnus, their eyebrows raised in teasing curiosity. Magnus’ playful smirk hints at the mischief dancing in his eyes, while Alec's expression is a mix of amusement and affection. 

Despite my embarrassment at being caught in such a vulnerable moment, I can't help but smile at the sight of them. Their presence is like a ray of sunshine breaking through the clouds, casting a warm glow over the room and dispelling the tension that had threatened to linger.

Suppressing the urge to bury my burning cheeks in my hands, I offer them a sheepish grin, knowing they heard what I said through the door, hoping to deflect their teasing with a lighthearted remark. But as Magnus's eyebrow quirks suggestively, I know that my attempt at nonchalance has fallen short. So, with a sigh of resignation, I step aside to let them in, knowing that there's no use in trying to hide the flush that still colours my cheeks

As I step aside to let them in, Alec hands me a DVD with a knowing smile. I can’t help bit roll my eyes fondly at his choice—Dracula. It’s become somewhat of an inside joke between me and Jace so I just know Jace told him to bring it. But before I have a chance to protest, Magnus is interjecting, his tone unreadable as he tells me “I’m afraid the others won’t be joining us tonight,” 

But Magnus’ words cut through the light-hearted banter, his tone carrying an unexpected weight as he informs me of the absence of our other friends. A pang of disappointment courses through me, a subtle ache in my chest as I realise that Clary and Simon won't be joining us tonight. They were more than just friends—they were my childhood companions, the ones who had been there through thick and thin. Their absence feels like a tangible loss, a reminder of how much our lives have changed since those carefree days of youth.

As I put the DVD in and get it ready, sinking into the couch with a heavy heart, I can't help but feel a sense of longing for the comfort of their presence. But I push aside those feelings, focusing instead on the company of Alec and Magnus, who have become like family to me in their own right. 

I sink into the cushions, allowing Alec and Magnus to take the other couch as we wait for Jace to return with the pizzas. Despite the disappointment lingering in the air, there's a quiet camaraderie between us, a shared understanding that in times of need, we can always rely on each other.

As the anticipation of Jace's return hangs in the air, the sound of the door opening signals his arrival. He appears just in time to answer the door, a grin spreading across his face as he enters with pizzas in hand. The sight of him brings a flicker of warmth to my heart, dispelling the lingering disappointment of our missing friends. 

Jace sets the pizzas down on the table with a flourish, his presence injecting a sense of energy into the room. With a casual ease, he joins us on the couch, seamlessly sliding in beside me. Without a second thought, he wraps an arm around my shoulders, pulling me snugly into his side. The gesture both  comforting and familiar, a silent reassurance of his affection for me. I lean into his embrace, feeling the warmth of his body against mine as he adjusts the blanket to cover us both. It's a simple act, but it speaks volumes about the bond we share—a bond that transcends words and barriers, connecting us on a deeper level.

With the remote in hand, Jace settles back against the cushions, his gaze fixed on the screen as he starts the movie. As the opening credits roll, I feel a sense of contentment wash over me, grateful for the warmth of Jace's embrace and the company of friends who feel like family.

Despite the disappointments and challenges we may face, in this moment, surrounded by laughter and love, I know that we'll always have each other. And as we lose ourselves in the world of Dracula, I find solace in the simple pleasures of friendship and companionship, knowing that no matter what the future may hold, we'll face it together, as a team.

Plus One

I’m not really sure how it happened but one moment I’m walking home from a day at the coffee shop and the next I’m being thrown into a wall. A wave of disorientating pain washes over me, leaving me gasping for breath and struggling to make sense eo what just happened. My sense reel, the world spinning in a dizzying blur as I try to focus on what just hit me. 

For a terrifying moment, I’m convinced that this is it—that I’m facing my end, torn to shreds by whatever unseen force assaulted me. Panic claws at the edges of my consciousness, threatening to consume me as I brace for the final blow. 

But then, as suddenly as it began, the assault ceases, leaving me trembling and shaken in its wake, unable to heal as I’ve lost too much blood. Slowly, I stagger to my feet, the world still spinning around me as I struggle to regain my bearings.The realisation that I’ve lost too much blood to heal hits me like a physical blow, leaving me lightheaded and unsteady. Every step is a battle against the dizziness and weakness that threatens to overwhelm me, but I push forward with grim determination. 

With each faltering step, the distance to the institute feels impossibly far, unable to use vampire speed without passing out. Panic sets in as I realise that Jace, my lifeline, is at the Institute today, and he hasn’t called to tell me he’s on his way home. Fear grips me like a vice, squeezing the breath from my lungs as I struggle to keep moving forwards. 

The world around me blurs as I stumble out of the alleyway and into the desired streets. My vision swims, the darkness closing in around me as I fight to stay conscious. Each breath is a struggle, my lungs burning with exertion as I push my body beyond its limits. 

Time loses all meaning as I continue to trudge forwards my footsteps echoing in the empty silence of the night. The Institute looms in the distance like a beacon of hope, its towering walls offering the promise of safety and sanctuary. But with each passing moment, it feels as though I'm slipping further and further away, teetering on the brink of unconsciousness.

Desperation claws at the edge of my consciousness as I force myself to keep moving, driven by the fear of what awaits me if I don’t reach the Institute in time. Every step is a battle against the darkness that threatens to engulf me, but I refuse to give up. 

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I push myself forward, determination fuelling my movements as I draw upon the last reserves of energy within me. As I approach the looming doors of the Institute, desperation spurs me to action, and I unleash the full force of my vampire speed. 

The doors fly open before me with a forceful momentum, swinging wide as if welcoming me home. But even as I breach the threshold, I trigger the wards surrounding the entrance, setting off alarms that echo through the empty halls. Before I can fully comprehend the situation, Jace appears before me, his weapon raised in a defensive stance. The sight of him, strong and unwavering, fills me with both relief and a sense of impending doom. I choke out his name, my voice barely a whisper as I struggle to remain upright. 

My knees give way beneath me, threatening to send me crashing to the unforgiving tiles below. But in the blink of an eye, Jace is there, his arms wrapping around me with lightning speed, catching me before I can hit the ground. The seraph blade clatters to the floor, forgotten in the urgency of the moment as Jace sinks us to the floor, cradling me in his arms, his eyes filled with concern and a hint of fear. I reach out to him, my fingers trembling as they brush against his cheek, a silent plea for reassurance. 

Despite my initial resistance, Jace's urgency is palpable, his wrist pressed insistently against my mouth as he pleads with me to drink. Fear courses through me as I shake my head, the thought of losing control terrifying me to the core. But as the scent of his blood fills my senses, a primal hunger takes hold, overpowering my rational thoughts. With a grip on my hair that borders on painful, Jace guides my mouth to the wound on his wrist, his other hand pressing against the back of my head. The taste of his blood is like nothing I've ever experienced before—warm and intoxicating, with a sweetness that rivals the warmth of the sun. 

As I drink, the fog that had clouded my mind begins to lift, clarity returning with each swallow. Guilt washes over me in waves, but I can't bring myself to stop. Jace's blood is a lifeline, grounding me in the present moment and soothing the ache of my wounds. I feed until I can feel the worst of the wounds stopping bleeding, my tongue lapping at the skin on Jace’s wrist to seal it shut. The taste of his blood lingering on my lips, a bittersweet taste. 

With a sigh of relief, I collapse against Jace's safe chest, my body trembling with exhaustion and relief. His touch is gentle yet firm, his hand cupping my jaw with a tenderness that tugs at my heartstrings. I feel his thumb under my chin, lifting my gaze to meet his, and as I look into those golden eyes, I see the raw emotion reflected in their depths.

Tears glisten in his eyes, a silent testament to the fear and concern he's been harboring for me. His voice is soft as he checks if I'm okay, the sound of it like a soothing balm to my battered soul. In that moment, I realise just how much he cares, how deeply he feels, and the thought fills me with a warmth that transcends the physical. 

As he leans down, his lips ghosting over mine with a hesitance that speaks volumes, I can feel the tension building between us, a palpable electricity that crackles in the air. My heart would be hammering in my chest, a rhythm that matches the erratic beat of his own. A small whine escapes my throat, a sound born of longing and need, and in that instant, his resolve crumbles. His lips crash against mine with a fervour that steals my breath away, a kiss so full of passion and intensity that it leaves me reeling. 

In that moment, I feel alive in a way I never have before, as if every nerve in my body is on fire with the intensity of his touch. It's as if he's breathing life back into me with each caress of his lips, each touch igniting a fire that burns brighter than the sun. 

“Maybe don’t almost die to act upon mutual feelings.” Jace is mumbling against my lips, earning a weak smack from me. 

“Shut up.” 

“Make me.” He retorts, kissing me softly once again. 

“Later I will.” 

The Shadowhunters Masterlist TAG LIST - updated 21st Dec 2023

[movingmusically]

What Are Friends For? - Chapter 1

Series Synopsis: Callum Turner thinks he’s a genius matchmaker. Angie, his best friend, thinks he’s meddling. Austin? He’s just curious. But as sparks fly, one question lingers—is this just a fleeting moment, or something worth holding on to?

Word Count: 3.2k

Masterlist

I’ve known Callum Turner since before I could walk—literally. Our mums were inseparable from the antenatal classes all the way through to playgroups. We were born three days apart, grew up living opposite each other on a quiet street in West London, and spent so much time together that people used to joke we were like twins.

In a way, they weren’t wrong. He’s the brother I never had, my partner-in-crime for as long as I can remember. The kind of friend you can scream at one minute and laugh with the next, no grudges, no pretence. We’ve been through everything together—bruised knees, first crushes, exam stress, and all the rest of it.

Now he’s off being an actor, doing incredible things, while I’ve stayed behind in the “real world.” Teaching primary school isn’t glamorous, but it’s solid. It’s meaningful. And while I’d never say it out loud, part of me envies the freedom Callum’s life offers—the chance to take big risks and chase something extraordinary.

So when he called me a few months back, buzzing with the news about Masters of the Air, I couldn’t help but feel proud of him. He was practically bouncing through the phone, telling me about the part, the cast, the bootcamp they’d be doing. “It’s a proper World War Two epic,” he’d said. “You’d love it, Ange. You’re the expert, after all.”

The “expert” part was pushing it, but he wasn’t wrong about my love for the era. It started with my Nan’s stories—tales of bomb shelters, rationing, and dancing with American soldiers. She made that time sound equal parts terrifying and magical. When she passed a few years ago, I started writing about it, trying to weave her stories into something meaningful. Not that anyone’s read it.

“You’ll have to let me visit the set,” I’d teased Callum.

“Absolutely,” he’d promised. “Though you might have to cook me a roast first.”

Now, standing in my tiny kitchen on a grey Sunday afternoon, I was realising he hadn’t been joking. Callum had insisted on coming home for the day, and of course, I couldn’t say no. It had been ages since we’d caught up properly. But the mention of a “plus one” came only yesterday.

“Don’t stress,” Callum had said over the phone. “He’s just a mate. You’ll get on great.”

The buzzer rang, and I wiped my hands on my apron before pressing the intercom. “Come on up,” I said, unlocking the door. A moment later, footsteps echoed in the stairwell, followed by a familiar knock.

I pulled the door open to find Callum grinning like the cat that got the cream. Beside him stood a man I didn’t recognise. A beautiful man. Striking, really, with sandy blonde hair and sharp features that belonged on the cover of a glossy magazine. His piercing blue eyes locked onto mine, and for a second, I forgot how to speak.

Callum beamed. “Angie, meet Austin. Austin, Angie.”

Austin shifted slightly, offering a small smile. “Hey. Thanks for having me.”

His voice was warm, low but unassuming, and for some reason, that grounded me more than anything else. I blinked, recovering from my momentary lapse into silence, and stepped aside. “Oh—yeah, of course. Come in.”

Callum breezed past me first, kicking off his shoes without a care in the world, while Austin followed more carefully, glancing around my flat with quiet interest. I suddenly became hyper-aware of everything—the books stacked on my coffee table, the slightly wonky gallery wall I’d been meaning to fix, the faint smell of roast chicken lingering in the air.

“It smells amazing in here,” Austin said, his smile soft but genuine.

“Yeah, yeah, she’s a bloody domestic goddess,” Callum called over his shoulder as he collapsed onto my sofa, sprawling out like he owned the place. “You’ll never eat a better roast in your life, mate.”

I rolled my eyes, untying my apron as I followed them in. “Don’t oversell it, Cal. It’s just a roast.”

“No, it’s the roast,” Callum corrected, before turning to Austin. “I’ve had Michelin-star meals that don’t come close to this.”

Austin let out a quiet laugh, looking at me. “That true?”

I shook my head, smirking. “He’s full of it. But I appreciate the enthusiasm.”

Austin nodded like he was taking mental notes, then hesitated for half a second. “Do you need any help with anything?”

The offer surprised me. I was used to Callum doing absolutely nothing when it came to meals, except for showing up and eating. I waved a hand dismissively. “Nah, it’s all under control. You can make yourself comfortable.”

Austin seemed to consider that for a moment before choosing a seat at the table, resting his forearms on the wood. He was relaxed, but not in an arrogant way—more like someone who was perfectly fine just observing for now. Callum, meanwhile, was already flicking through the books on my coffee table.

“Oh, come on,” I sighed. “At least pretend you’re a guest.”

“I am a guest,” he shot back. “A regular guest. I’m like—like an honorary flatmate.”

“You're not even in the city most of the time,” I pointed out.

“Details,” Callum said, dismissing me with a wave. “The point is, Austin, my dear friend, you’re in for a treat.”

Austin chuckled, glancing between us. “You guys really are like siblings.”

I huffed, heading back toward the kitchen to check on the gravy. “Unfortunately.”

Callum grinned. “You love it.”

I didn’t dignify that with an answer.

By the time we sat down to eat, the atmosphere had settled into something easier, more familiar. Callum had always had a way of making a room feel alive, and Austin—while quieter—seemed to absorb it rather than deflect it. He wasn’t trying to keep up or match Callum’s energy, but he wasn’t shrinking back either.

“So, how do you two know each other?” I asked as I passed Austin the potatoes.

“Work,” Callum said through a mouthful of food. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” I echoed dryly. “I mean, how? Did they stick you in a room together and tell you to bond?”

“Pretty much,” Austin said, amusement flickering in his expression. “Bootcamp started a few weeks before we began filming, so we were thrown together pretty quickly.”

“You mean torture camp,” Callum corrected. “It was brutal, Ange. You’d have cried.”

I shot him a look. “Wow, thanks.”

“You know what I mean.” He waved his fork at me. “You don’t do military nonsense.”

“No, I don’t do your nonsense,” I muttered. Then I glanced at Austin, curious. “Was that the training thing Cal mentioned? Was it really that bad?”

Austin hesitated, as if weighing his answer. “It was intense. But I get why they did it. They wanted us to feel like a unit.”

“And did you?” I asked.

His gaze flicked toward Callum, then back to me. “Yeah,” he said simply. “I think we did.”

Callum grinned. “See? That’s soldier talk right there.”

Austin rolled his eyes but didn’t argue.

The conversation meandered between filming, travel, and Callum’s usual over-the-top stories. Austin listened more than he spoke, but when he did chime in, his words carried weight. He wasn’t just nodding along—he was engaged, asking me questions about my job, my life, like he actually cared to know the answers.

“So, Callum tells me you’re a teacher?” he asked at one point.

“Yeah, Year Four,” I said. “Mostly wrangling kids, trying to get them to listen.”

Austin smiled. “That’s impressive. I bet it takes a lot of patience.”

“Some days more than others,” I admitted. “But they’re great. Keeps life interesting.”

“I believe it,” he said. “My mom ran daycare out of our house when I was a kid. Always a full house. I don’t know how she did it.”

That caught my attention. “So you grew up surrounded by kids?”

“Pretty much,” he said. “I got good at sharing.”

That made me laugh. “Wish I could say the same about my lot. They’d fight over air if I let them.”

Austin chuckled. “I feel like that’s just kids in general.”

“Yeah,” I agreed, shaking my head. “Still. They’re brilliant. Exhausting, but brilliant.”

Austin didn’t look away, and I found myself holding his gaze for just a beat longer than necessary before I cleared my throat and reached for my drink.

After dinner, Callum predictably migrated back to the sofa, stretching out like he had no plans to move for the next several hours. Austin, however, surprised me.

“Let me help,” he said, standing and gathering his plate.

“You don’t have to,” I said automatically.

“I want to,” he replied simply.

I hesitated, then nodded toward the kitchen. “Alright. If you insist.”

He followed me in, rolling up his sleeves before reaching for the drying rack. “That was seriously good,” he said as I ran the tap. “Callum wasn’t lying.”

“He usually is,” I joked, elbowing him lightly. “But I appreciate that.”

Austin chuckled, taking a plate from me to dry. “Does he always invite himself over like this?”

“Like clockwork,” I said. “It started when we were kids. He realised my mum made better Sunday dinners than his and never left.”

Austin smirked. “Smart man.”

“Debatable.”

We worked in comfortable silence for a minute before he spoke again. “So, Callum mentioned you’re into World War Two history?”

I paused. “Did he?”

Austin nodded. “Said your Nan had stories.”

I swallowed, focusing on rinsing a glass. “Yeah. She grew up during the war. She used to tell me about it all the time.”

“That’s amazing,” Austin said, genuine interest in his voice. “You must’ve learned a lot from her.”

“I did,” I said softly. “She made it feel real.”

Austin studied me for a moment, as if he wanted to ask something else, but instead, he just nodded. “That’s really cool.”

I exhaled, forcing myself to relax. I hadn’t expected that conversation to affect me, but something about the way he listened—really listened—made me feel oddly seen.

And I wasn’t sure how I felt about that.

With the dishes done, we moved into the living room, where Callum had sprawled himself out on the sofa like he owned the place. I settled into the armchair across from him, while Austin took the spot beside Callum, resting his forearm on the back of the sofa, looking perfectly at ease but not overconfident.

The conversation drifted between light topics—London weather (predictably unpredictable), the state of Callum’s flat (“a disaster zone,” according to him), and the absurdity of filming in wool uniforms during a heatwave. Then, during a lull, I turned to Austin.

“So,” I said, tucking my legs under myself, “what else have you worked on? I’ll be honest—I haven’t seen much of Callum’s castmates’ work. He tends to just tell me they’re ‘brilliant’ and leave it at that.”

Austin let out a quiet laugh but hesitated before answering. He rubbed his hands together absently, as if weighing his words. “Uh, a few things here and there,” he said finally, his voice even. “Mostly smaller roles until recently.”

“He’s being modest,” Callum cut in, nudging him with his elbow. “You should’ve seen him in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood. Absolutely terrifying.”

I blinked. “Wait—you were in Once Upon a Time in Hollywood? I’ve seen that!”

Austin gave a small, almost sheepish smile, a faint flush creeping up his neck. “I played Tex.”

The name clicked instantly, and my eyes widened. “The guy in the ranch scene? That was you?”

He nodded, ducking his head slightly like he wasn’t used to this kind of attention. “Yeah, that was me.”

“That’s insane,” I said, leaning back. “I remember watching that scene and thinking, ‘This guy is way too good at being creepy.’ No offence.”

“None taken,” he replied with a quiet laugh, his shoulders relaxing slightly. “That was the goal, after all.”

“Tarantino helped, I bet,” Callum added, taking a sip of his drink. “But seriously, tell her about Elvis.”

Austin shot him a quick look, somewhere between exasperated and amused, but Callum wasn’t about to let it go.

“He just wrapped filming on Elvis,” Callum announced, grinning like he was proud of himself for being the first to say it. “Spent two years working on it. Two years!”

“Almost,” Austin corrected, rubbing the back of his neck. “It was… a lot. A lot of prep, a lot of music, a lot of late nights.”

“Two years?” I echoed, eyebrows shooting up. “That’s… intense. I can’t imagine staying in someone else’s head for that long.”

Austin nodded, his gaze dropping briefly to his hands. “It was one of those roles where you don’t really have a choice. You either give it everything, or you don’t do it at all.”

I studied him for a moment, trying to imagine what that kind of commitment must have felt like. Callum had told me before about getting lost in characters, but there was something different about the way Austin spoke—like the experience still lingered with him, its weight undeniable but not unwelcome.

“That must’ve been overwhelming,” I said carefully, unsure how much to press.

“It was,” he admitted, his voice steady as his eyes met mine again. “But it was worth it. I learned a lot—about the music, about him, about myself.”

Callum, mercifully, took the reins, raising his glass in a mock toast. “He killed it. I’ve seen clips. Absolutely smashed it.”

Austin shook his head, smiling faintly. “It’s not out yet, so we’ll see what people think. You never know how something like that will land.”

“If you’re even half as good as you were in bootcamp, it’ll be amazing,” Callum said confidently.

“High praise,” I quipped, grateful for the chance to lighten the mood. “Callum doesn’t usually compliment anyone who might outshine him.”

“Oi!” Callum protested, though his grin betrayed his amusement.

Austin laughed, the sound rich and low, his earlier heaviness lifting just enough to make the moment feel lighter again.

And just like that, the evening settled into something easy—Callum cracking jokes, Austin chiming in with dry humour, and me, caught between the two of them, realising that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t such a bad way to spend a Sunday.

Monday morning came too quickly.

One minute, I was sitting in my flat, laughing with Callum and Austin, half a glass of wine in my hand and no real obligations beyond tidying up. The next, I was back in the real world, standing in my classroom at 8 a.m., trying to summon the energy to wrangle a group of nine-year-olds into being remotely functional human beings for the day.

The contrast was almost comical.

I stacked the last of the exercise books on my desk, exhaling as I glanced around the room. The weekend already felt like a strange, detached memory—like something I’d watched happen to someone else rather than lived myself. That, or I’d dreamt the whole thing.

Except I hadn’t.

I’d met Austin Butler. He’d been in my flat, eating my food, washing my dishes. He’d laughed at my jokes. And, perhaps most disorientingly, he’d listened to me—really listened.

Not that it mattered now. I had a full day of lessons ahead, and the only people listening to me today would be my students, who, judging by the volume level in the corridor, were already far too awake for a Monday morning.

Midday—The Staff Room

“…And then he says, ‘Angie, meet Austin,’ like it’s the most casual thing in the world. Meanwhile, I’m standing there like an idiot, trying to remember how to speak.”

Zara, a Year Three teacher and my closest work friend, let out an exaggerated gasp, nearly spilling her tea. “Wait, wait, Austin Butler? Are you kidding?”

“Not kidding,” I said, stabbing at my pasta salad with my fork. “I had no clue who he was. Just thought, ‘Wow, this guy is stupidly attractive.’”

“That’s because he is stupidly attractive.” She leaned forward. “Angie. Angie. This man played Elvis.”

“Technically, not yet,” I corrected. “The film isn’t out.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Don’t do that thing where you act like this is normal. You had Austin Butler in your flat, eating your roast dinner, probably having a borderline religious experience because Yorkshire puddings aren’t a thing in America—”

“I don’t think it was religious—”

“—and you didn’t realise who he was?”

“I don’t live under a rock,” I said, exasperated. “I knew Callum’s new co-star was called Austin. I just hadn’t seen his films, and Callum’s descriptions of people are always useless.”

Zara groaned, flopping back in her chair. “I cannot believe you just casually had dinner with him.”

“It wasn’t a date,” I pointed out.

“Yet,” she shot back.

I rolled my eyes, but before I could argue, the bell rang, signalling the end of lunch.

Zara sighed dramatically. “You’re lucky I love my class, otherwise I’d stay here and interrogate you for another half hour.”

“Your class is adorable,” I agreed, standing up.

“So are you and Austin, apparently.” She winked before slipping out the door, leaving me shaking my head as I headed back to my classroom.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted. Monday always took it out of me, but today felt worse than usual. Maybe it was the mental whiplash—going from sipping wine with an A-lister (who I hadn’t even known was an A-lister at the time) to breaking up an argument between two nine-year-olds over whose turn it was to be goalie at lunchtime.

I dropped onto my sofa with a sigh, already thinking about ordering takeaway, when my phone buzzed.

Callum: Did you survive Monday?

I huffed a laugh and typed back: Barely. Back to reality and all that.

A second later, another message popped up.

Callum: Austin says thanks for dinner. Also, he thinks you’re cool.

I frowned at my phone. What does that mean?

Me: I’m cool? That’s a vague review.

Callum: Mate, just take the compliment.

I rolled my eyes but smiled despite myself.

I hovered for a second, debating whether to ask something before my curiosity got the better of me.

Me: So… what’s his deal?

Callum: What do you mean?

Me: Like… he seems quieter than the guys you usually hang out with. More serious. Is he always like that?

A pause. Then—

Callum: Yeah, he’s a good one. He thinks a lot before he speaks. And he’s proper dedicated to his work. Probably the most disciplined person I’ve met, if I’m honest.

That didn’t surprise me. I’d sensed something like that when Austin talked about Elvis—the way his voice had changed, the weight in his words.

I chewed on my lip before typing:

Me: What’s he like outside of work?

Callum: Why, you interested?

I groaned. I walked straight into that one.

Me: Forget I asked.

Callum: Nah, nah, I love this. Let’s unpack it.

Me: I hate you.

Callum: You love me.

I was about to throw my phone across the room when another message came through.

Callum: Just come to brunch on Sunday. You’ll see for yourself.

[mrkis]

⛧ this is apart of my ‘MARK BDAY REQUEST SPECIAL’ event that i will be doing for his bday (originally wednesday-sunday, but now im posting them when i can). requests are now CLOSED for this.

REQUEST: ⇢ for the bday mark request!!! maybe reader sends mark several videos and sexts throughout the day since mark is busy with schedules on his bday, then surprises mark when he finally gets home hehe

⛧ WARNINGS: social media format at first but then writing, 18+ content, sexting, mean!mark, bratty!reader, mentions of cum, choking, fingering

[ AUTHORS NOTE. sorry that i'm so behind, i'm still sick and not really in the mental state to do anything lmfao. but i managed to pump this one out, i hope you enjoy <3 ]

Your body buzzes with excitement as you read Mark’s last text, a grin forming on your lips as you shut off your phone and place it on the bedside table, keeping your position on the bed as you know your front door is already unlocked—it always is for him.

During your relationship with Mark, he’s always been very caring and loving, always careful and delicate when touching your body and making you cum on his cock, fingers or tongue and kissing you so sweetly after.

He rarely ever shows his mean side, something that’s constantly locked away and something you’ve only seen once. 

You remember it well. You visited him after hours at the studio, watching him work on lyrics and testing a few beats for a song he was working on. It wasn’t your fault that he looked so attractive with a serious expression that made you desperately want to sit on his face. You had teased him, seating yourself in his lap and subtly rubbing yourself against his cock, ignoring the warnings he was giving you due to you being so clouded by lust. 

The next thing you remember was suddenly being bent over his lap, stomach against his thighs, skirt flipped up over your hips and ass raw as he spanked you, muttering the most mouth watering filth that made you cum on the spot. But after that, he returned to his normal and loving self as he wrapped you up in his arms on his lap, pressing gentle kisses to your forehead and claiming how much he loves you. 

You wanted that Mark back. You love soft Mark, you love caring and gentle Mark, but there was something about a mean and dominant Mark that makes you feel crazy. You yearn for him to come back, to snap and have you any way he pleases. 

It makes your thighs clench thinking about it, a giddy smile spreading across your cheeks as you hear your front door open and slam shut, loud footsteps moving along the floorboards heading in your direction—the bedroom. 

The door to your room swings open and you almost jump Mark when you see the look on his face, eyes wild and brows furrowed, clearly angrily at your swarm of texts and videos you’ve sent him throughout the day. 

His breathing is steady despite the look on his face, hands buried deep into the pockets of his sweatpants and fail to hide the obvious hard on he’s sporting, and you bite back the urge to make a comment about how much you must’ve really affected him.

“What game are you playing right now?” He asks you, tone deep which makes your pussy ache. “What are you doing?”

“Nothing” You feign innocence, giving him a smile. “I’m just giving you your birthday presents”

“My birthday present is you?” Mark asks you again as he steps a few steps further into your room, standing at the edge of your bed. His question sparks interest in you, the way he said it has your tummy rolling and tightening in knots. 

“Yes” You confirm, spreading your legs to show him that you’re bare beneath the shirt of his you’re wearing and he exhales deeply, pressing his lips together to suppress any other sound. “I’m all yours. You can do whatever you want”

“Whatever I want?” Mark repeats as his hands reach forward, curling his fingers around your ankles which causes your brow to raise up in question. “Are you sure you want to say that to me, baby? After all the texts and the videos you sent?” Your breath hitches at the back of your throat when you feel his grip on you tighten. “Do you know that Jaemin and Haechan saw how hard I got after I saw them? How they teased me about the hold you got over me?”

“I do, don’t I?” You tease despite your voice wavering a little, biting your bottom lip nervously as your thighs press together for some friction. You decide to push the buttons, testing him to see if he snaps by using words that aren’t even true. “Every single thing I do makes your little cock hard, doesn’t it?”

He grins with a soft hum as his thumb strokes your skin, tongue prodding at his cheek and the look in his eyes darken before his tight grip returns, a yelp erupting from your throat as Mark suddenly drags you down the bed, the silk sheets sliding against your skin as he pulls you flush against him. 

One hand wraps around your throat as his mouth attacks yours while the other slips between your thighs, fingers brushing over your wet folds before he pushes two fingers in without warning, the arousal and cum from your previous orgasm making it an easy access.

You gasp against his lips as you feel him pump his fingers inside you, brushing over the spot that has your toes curling and mind whirling, unable to keep up with the kiss to which he slides his tongue into your mouth, a mixture of drool and spit seeping past your lips as his tongue glides with your own.

Mark’s putting the right amount of pressure on your neck to keep you still and the shockwaves of pleasure courses through your veins, thighs trembling around his hand that fucks your pussy into oversensitivity, your own hand flying down to grip his wrist to try and stop his fast paced movements but he grunts, biting on your lower lip in warning.

“Isn’t this what you want?” Mark speaks low as you pant into his mouth, whines and cries spilling from your lips. “For me to do whatever I want?” He then pouts at you mockingly, head turning to the side. “Aw baby… don’t tell me you regret it already?”

“I don’t” You manage to choke out, eyelids fluttering as you struggle to keep them open. “Do your worst. Show me what you got”

“Oh, my pretty girl…” He hums softly as he presses his thumb to your clit for extra stimulation, relishing in the sounds you make as he stares at you. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you”

[mlqueen89]

Six Sentence Sunday

... because i'm not yet asleep, it still counts as sunday, so here she is. a not six sentence sunday. a snippet sunday, if you will. not sure if this is anything yet, but this is a thing that happened because i have a glen powell problem obsession and he makes me want to die in the best way.

The director, Isla Rivera, stood with her arms crossed, glaring at the monitor. The scene had been shot five times already, and each take was measurably worse than the last.

“No, no, no!” Isla finally shouted, throwing up her hands. “This isn’t working. The audience isn’t going to feel anything! There’s no tension, no connection. It’s, it's... flat!”

The actress playing the female lead, a rising star named Lila Marks, looked over with an apologetic shrug. “I’m trying, Isla, but—”

“It’s not about trying, Lila,” Isla interrupted, pacing in frustration. “It’s about being. This kiss is the pivotal moment, where the characters finally give in to everything they’ve been holding back. It’s longing, it’s vulnerability, it’s fireworks—” She turned to Aimee, who had been standing just off set, scribbling notes in the notebook with the crooked binding. “You,” Isla jabbed a finger in Aimee's direction, “you wrote this scene. You are this scene. You know it better than anyone.”

Aimee blinked, caught off guard, suddenly aware of the amount of eyes on her. “Uh, yeah, I guess, but—”

“Perfect,” Isla said, her eyes lighting up with determination. She waved a hand toward the set, as if it were nothing. “You’ll do it.”

Aimee’s stomach dropped into her toes. “Wait, what?”

“Get in there. Show them how it’s supposed to look. You and Glen. Right now.” Isla huffed, sipping on the green smoothie she never seemed to run out of, her too large headphones hanging around her neck as she settled back into her usual chair.

Glen, who had been leaning casually against a prop table, straightened and raised an eyebrow. “You sure about that, Isla?”

“Absolutely. Lila needs to see it. Aimee, you’ll step in for her, just for one take. No cameras rolling—this is strictly for reference.”

“I don’t think this is—” Aimee started, but Isla wasn’t listening, her hand already waving at the crew standing around to reset.

“Let’s go, people!” Isla clapped her hands, beckoning Aimee toward the set. “Glen, hit your mark. Aimee, come on. Stand on the tape. You’re doing the scene.”

Aimee hesitated, glancing at Glen, who gave her a small, reassuring smile. “No pressure,” he said with a slight shrug, though his tone was teasing.

“Right,” Aimee muttered, her cheeks already warming as she reluctantly stepped onto the set. She felt completely out of place as the crew adjusted lights and set pieces around her.

Isla scuttled over, positioned Aimee carefully between the table and Glen. “Okay, Aimee, remember, this is the big moment. You’ve been fighting this attraction for the entire story. Now it all comes spilling out. Go with it. Glen, you know what to do.” Isla clapped him on the bicep before skipping away, her excitement palpable.

Aimee swallowed hard as Glen stepped closer, his expression shifting into something serious, intense. Her heart started pounding in a way she couldn’t quite explain.

“Ready?” Glen asked softly, his voice low.

Aimee nodded, her throat suddenly dry.

"And, action!" Isla's voice followed by a clap of her hands carried over to Aimee.

The scene began as it had the last five takes before this one. Glen took a step toward her, closing the space between them. His gaze locked onto hers, his hands hovering near her waist but not quite touching her. The air between them felt charged, like it might spark if they moved even an inch closer.

“You drive me crazy, you know that?” he said, his voice filled with the perfect blend of frustration and longing, just as she’d written.

“That’s not my fault,” Aimee replied, her own voice shaky but real, the line coming to her as easy as when she wrote it last year, cursor blinking on her too small laptop screen.

“It is,” Glen murmured, leaning in. “Because every time I look at you—”

He didn’t finish the line, because the moment had already taken over. His face was just inches from hers now, and Aimee felt the heat of his breath against her skin. It felt real—too real.

Her eyes fluttered shut instinctively as he leaned closer, the distance between them almost nonexistent. Then—

“THAT!” Isla’s voice cut through the moment like a clap of thunder. “That is the chemistry this scene needs!”

Aimee jolted back, her eyes flying open as reality came rushing back in. Glen took a step away, rubbing the back of his neck, looking as flustered as she felt.

Lila watched from the edge of the set, wide-eyed. “Okay, yeah. I get it now.”

Aimee, her cheeks burning, quickly stepped off the set, avoiding everyone’s gaze. She heard Isla continuing to lecture Lila about connection and timing, but the words barely registered, her mind swimming.

Glen caught her eye as she passed him, and for a second, she thought he might say something, but he didn’t. He just gave her a small, almost imperceptible smile. For that, at least, she was thankful.

Aimee fled until she reached the safety of the craft services table, grabbing a bottle of water and pressing it to her overheated face. She could still feel the ghost of the moment—the way Glen's eyes had burned into hers, the way he’d leaned in.

“Get it together, Aimee,” she muttered to herself. But the pounding in her chest wasn’t going anywhere.

i can do it with a broken heart - glen powell x ofc

[femalestyles]

stunt (h.s.)

masterlist

TW: alcohol

wc: 3k

-

15: boston, ma

As a little girl, the idea of a first kiss was wrapped in something almost sacred. It was this magical thing I couldn’t quite touch but always dreamed about, hidden in bedtime stories and Sunday afternoon movies. I remember curling up on the couch with my mom and Lexi, the three of us tangled in a blanket as Lady and the Tramp played on our old DVD player. We squealed when their noses met in the middle of a strand of spaghetti, two cartoon dogs clumsily falling into something that looked a lot like love. I didn’t understand much back then, but I felt it—the spark, the sweetness, the moment that was supposed to change everything.

Later, when we were a bit older and thought we knew more than we did, Mom told us about her first kiss with Dad. It was their third date and he was walking her back to the apartment she shared with Shelley after a trip to the movie theatre. She said she stood there in the dim light of the porch, her heart doing little somersaults, waiting. Waiting for him to lean in. Waiting for the moment. But instead, he just hugged her and started to turn away.

Mom laughed when she told it, but there was this softness in her eyes, like she could put herself back in that moment. “I thought maybe I had spinach in my teeth or smelled weird,” she’d said. “I was starting to wonder if he even liked me.”

So she did what she was best at; she took charge. Grabbed him by the collar, pulled him in, and kissed him right there on the stoop. She said it felt like waking up—like she'd been sleepwalking through life until that moment, and suddenly everything was in color.

I held onto that feeling, tucking it away for safe keeping. The idea that one day I would have that, and my life would suddenly make sense.

But my first kiss was nothing like that.

I was fifteen, at Maddie Ford’s sweet sixteen, which was less sweet and more chaos. Her parents were out for the night, and she’d been bragging all week that she was throwing the party of the year. The house buzzed with loud music and the smell of popcorn and perfume and someone’s older brother’s weed. I took my first sip of alcohol that night—peach schnapps in a red plastic cup. It tasted like syrup, like something I wasn’t supposed to have. It made my head light and my limbs floaty.

Brian Mackey and I ended up in her little brother’s room. We sat on beanbag chairs, surrounded by Legos and posters of Marvel superheroes, pretending the thump of bass below didn’t make the floor vibrate. He leaned in. I let him. He tasted like cheap beer and Axe body spray, his lips in desperate need of chapstick. The kiss was over in a blink, and I sat there afterward trying to feel something. Anything.

Later that night, I crawled into my mom’s bed, the room spinning slightly. I whispered to her what happened, thinking maybe saying it out loud would conjure the feeling I was supposed to have. I spent the rest of the night lying awake in my room, staring at the ceiling, waiting for the fireworks everyone always talked about. I told myself maybe it was just delayed. Maybe tomorrow I’d feel it.

I never did.

With Austin, I thought it would be different. Our first kiss came after weeks of working together and wondering if he liked me as much as I liked him. When it finally happened, I was so nervous I felt sick. My stomach churned, my hands were clammy, and all I could think about was how many other girls he’d kissed before me. I worried I wouldn’t measure up, that I’d be forgettable. I hardly remember the kiss at all. It just… happened. And then we were kissing all the time, like it was something we’d always done. Like muscle memory.

Eventually, I let go of the idea that first kisses meant anything at all. They were just another part of growing up—like learning to drive or realizing Santa wasn’t real. The magic, I told myself, was a fairytale. 

But then came Harry.

Kissing Harry didn’t feel like a choice. It felt inevitable, all-consuming. It felt like diving headfirst into a pool on the hottest day of summer. Like the moment your body hits the water and every cell wakes up at once. It wasn’t neat or planned, and it definitely wasn’t quiet. It was messy and frenzied. 

His lips are cool and minty, moving slowly against mine like he wants to memorize the shape of my mouth. There’s a kind of carefulness to it at first, like he’s savoring the feel of me, drawing out the moment before it can slip away. For a split second, I’m frozen. My heart thudding, lungs tight. But then my brain catches up with my body, and I melt into him.

I kiss him back, everything else falling away. My hands find his hips, sliding around to anchor him there, needing something to hold onto. The fabric of his shirt bunches beneath my fingers as I grip him tighter. His hands cradle my cheeks like I’m something breakable, burning palms branding my skin in the best way.

We kiss like we’ve been starving for it. Like we’ve both gone too long pretending we didn’t want this, and now that the dam has broken, we can’t get enough. The kiss is urgent, lips clashing, breaths mingling, hands roaming without thought. My mind is screaming, thoughts tangled and buzzing as I lose myself in him completely.

We’re so wrapped up in each other we don’t hear the elevator ding at the end of the hall. Don’t register the distant thud of footsteps against cheap carpet, the soft hum of hallway chatter.

It’s the sharp sound of someone clearing their throat that tears us apart.

Louis stands there, just a few feet away, frozen mid-step. His expression is pure shock—wide eyes, parted lips, like he walked in on a scene he never expected to see. 

That fragile little bubble Harry and I had created shatters on impact. The high vanishes. The warmth drains from my skin. All that’s left is a dizzying rush of panic and humiliation.

I shove Harry back, hand flying to my mouth as I absorb what happened. Louis’ eyes dart between the two of us, but he doesn’t turn away. Harry isn’t even looking at Louis anymore, instead staring at me. For a minute, nobody speaks. The silence is deafening, louder than any words.

“Oh my god,” I whisper, more to myself than anyone else. I spin around, no longer able to stand either of their gazes. 

Fumbling with the keycard, my fingers refuse to cooperate. I nearly drop it—twice—before finally jamming it into the slot. Once the light turns green, I bolt into the hotel room.The faint click of the door sounds as Harry follows.

Inside, I can’t stop pacing. My hands tangle in my hair, tugging, twisting, trying to ground myself. The aftershock of the kiss still burned on my lips, but it was smothered now—drowned out by the look on Louis face.

What did I do?

When Austin and I first went public, I thought I was ready. I braced myself for the storm. Told myself I could handle the noise, that it came with the territory.

But nothing could have prepared me.

His fans tore me apart, piece by piece. They picked at my appearance like it was up for debate—my clothes, my body, my smile. I wasn’t pretty enough, cool enough, famous enough. They didn’t see me as a person, just a placeholder. A temporary distraction from the fantasy they had built around him.

Every comment chipped away at me. Gold-digger. Attention-seeker. Social climber. I stayed up for hours, reading the posts, watching people reduce me to a cautionary tale. There were nights I cried myself to sleep, my phone clutched in my hand, trying to understand what I had done wrong besides love someone out loud. Eventually, I gave up. Deleted everything. Went private. 

And now, it was all rushing back—like muscle memory. That old, sick feeling in my stomach. The whisper of shame just waiting to become a scream. I could already see the headlines, the comment threads, the posts made by strangers who knew nothing about me.

"What a whore. Guess one boyband member wasn’t enough."

"First Austin, now Harry? She’s making her way through the lineup, huh?"

"She’s not even that hot. Just proves average girls will do anything for fame."

They’d call me a slut, a user, a manipulator. They’d say I was desperate, clingy, pathetic. The world would turn what had been a moment of fire and emotion into something ugly, transactional. They always did. 

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck,” I hiss, every word like a slap. My lungs felt tight, chest heaving as panic set in.

How could I be so stupid? 

Harry lingered by the door, watching me with careful eyes. He steps forward cautiously, unsure of how I was going to react. “Hey…” he murmurs, soft and sweet, as if that could fix it. “Don’t worry. Louis isn’t going to tell anyone.”

He reaches for me, warm fingers brushing my upper arm before I tear away. He’s still caught up in that moment, wrapped up in endorphins and excitement. His eyes are bright with possibilities and he’s looking at me like he can find a future in my eyes. 

He didn’t understand.

Of course he didn’t.

“I know he’s not,” I snap, sharper than I meant to. My eyes are narrow as I look up to him.

Harry recoils slightly, caught off guard. “Okay…” He blinks, confused. “So… what’s the problem, then?”

Men—they never had to understand. I’d learned that the hard way. From the moment I was old enough to be noticed, I realized they lived by a different set of rules. A different world entirely.

Their mistakes were forgiven. Their desires, celebrated. A guy could hook up with half the industry and be labeled charming; a heartbreaker, a player, someone impossible not to fall for. Women? We were chewed up and spit out. Branded desperate, trashy, easy. Our value shrank with every kiss, every glance, every rumor.

And in Hollywood, that double standard only grew.

Every selfish decision wrapped in glossy PR, every controversy turned into a redemption arc. The entitlement expanded, supported by thousands of adoring fans. The media outlets that chastised Harry’s decisions would spend the same breath worshipping him. 

But girls like me didn’t get grace. We didn’t get the benefit of the doubt.

These are the thoughts that are running through my head when I finally speak again.

“The problem,” I turn to face him fully, my voice detached, “is that it happened.”

His face changes instantly, the warmth evaporating. His brows twitch downward, eyes darken, lips parting like I’d just punched the air out of him. There was a pang in my heart at the sight of his despair, rippling through me like a bullet.

“What?”

“It was a mistake,” I force the words out, unable to watch his face as I do. “We shouldn’t have done it.”

For a split second, I hope he fights me on it, tells me that what I felt during that kiss was not a mistake. But even if he did, where would that leave us? Maybe if we were different people in a different place at a different time, but we weren’t. No matter how I felt, I had to think about the bigger picture: our lives, our careers.

“A mistake?” he echoes, as if he didn’t catch me the first time. He’s giving me the chance to take it back, to tell him it meant something to me. 

I kept going. I had to. “Yes. A mistake. We got caught up. I just broke up with Austin, and you and I—” I wave a hand vaguely between us, before looking away again “—we were riding a high. The moment got the best of us. It happens.”

When I look back up, the softness in his features is gone. Replaced with something colder. Guarded. 

“Come on, Harry,” I say, trying to sound reasonable, even as my voice wobbled. I was trying to convince him as much as I was trying to convince myself. “You know how this would look. Austin and I were just public. This… if anyone found out, the internet would eat me alive.”

He didn’t respond. Just stared.

“I mean, you know how people are. How you are. I can’t be seen as just… another name on your list.”

The second it left my mouth, I regretted it. It was a low blow, to bring up the whisperings that surrounded him. The person he had shown me today was completely different, nothing like the one they painted in public. I hadn’t expected him to be like this. I couldn’t deny the fluttering in my stomach, or the way we’d been stealing glances for weeks now. 

Harry’s jaw clenches. The silence stretches, taut and dangerous. I tug at my roots, frustration biting behind my eyes.

“You know what I meant,” I mutter, backtracking without actually apologizing. “It’s just… too complicated.”

“You’re right.” He nods, slow and robotic. “It was a mistake.” His voice was straight frost. Icy enough to pierce me.

Before I could say anything else—before I could try to salvage the wreckage—he turns and walks out, leaving nothing but silence. It shakes me to my core. I sink onto my bed, barely able to breathe, struggling to make sense of the last hour. In the quiet, I can finally face what had been burning beneath the surface for days. It was painful to admit, even to myself, that I had spent a lifetime waiting for the kiss. And now for it to come when I can’t have it, when I can’t have him, it was devastating.

An hour slips by unnoticed before I pull myself upright again. And then, without giving myself the chance to overthink or regret, I find myself moving down the hall.

Harper opens the door after the second knock. The look in my eyes stops her cold. The sadness she finds there is unfamiliar. Not the usual storm of frustration or heartache I’ve brought to her doorstep before. This is quieter, like something inside me cracked open and bled dry.

❀

For the first week, I let myself believe Harry had moved on. Naively, stupidly, I clung to the idea that maybe he’d accepted things for what they were and decided to let it go. We weren’t back to normal, not really. But he showed up. He sang his parts, rehearsed when asked, kept his comments minimal and his glances even less. I told myself that counted for something.

Then we got to Boston.

It was early afternoon, the arena still half-dark as the tech crew worked around us. Soundcheck was already underway. The boys were scattered across the stage—Niall in his usual corner, tuning his guitar, occasionally strumming out a chord that resounded through the empty arena. Austin stood near center stage, crouched by the mic stand, muttering something to the sound guy about the reverb being off again.

Everything looked routine. It should’ve felt routine.

“Where’s Harry?” I ask aloud, not really directing it at anyone in particular. My eyes dart over to Louis and immediately away again. I hadn’t said more than a few words to him since last week, since that moment. The only other person who knew was Harper. I’d told her everything the same day, needing to get it out before it crushed me. She said I did the right thing. Or, at the very least, that she understood why I did it.

The guys exchanged uneasy glances as tension filled the air, but no one answered me.

They didn’t need to.

A few seconds later, Harry stumbled onto the stage, legs barely keeping up with his body, narrowly missing a cymbal stand as he flailed forward. The instant he got within ten feet, the smell hit me. Whiskey. Sharp, sour, unmistakable. His eyes were glassy, unfocused like the crooked grin he wore. My blood ran cold even as my chest went hot, heart thudding like a warning bell.

My face gave nothing away, but inside, every nerve end was ablaze. I could feel every pair of eyes in the room settle on us as I walked up to him and grabbed his wrist, yanking him off stage before anyone could witness more than they already had.

He didn’t resist, feet dragging a half-beat behind mine. We barely made it past the curtain before I spun around on him.

“Are you drunk right now?” I spat, keeping my voice low, but not gentle. The way he swayed on his feet was answer enough, but I needed to hear him say it.

He leans in too close, his breath hitting my face, thick with alcohol and defiance. “Yeah,” he slurs, not even pretending to be sorry. If anything, it sounded like a dare. Like he wanted me to do something about it.

I exhale sharply, turning away so I wouldn’t scream in his face. My hands shook as I grabbed a bottle of water from the cooler and shoved it into his chest.

“Chug this. Then go take a fucking shower. You reek of booze.”

He took it with a smirk, stumbling toward the dressing rooms. But just as he reached the door, he paused, turning halfway back toward me.

“Sorry,” he drawls, eyes glittering with something dark. His sweet voice failed to hide the bitterness hidden beneath. “You know how I am.”

I suck in a deep breath as he disappears behind the door, tilting my head back towards the sky. The damage had already been done, and now he was going to make me live with the consequences. 

He hadn’t let anything go. Not even close. 

-

taglist: @indierockgirrl @behindmygreyeyes @sassamanda77

[freckleslikestars]

March 6th

a look at some of Mulder and Scully’s anniversaries throughout the years, spanning from mid-Season One to post-Season Eleven

I wote this for the philefest zine and then completely forgot about it until right now.

2411 words, read here on AO3

March 6th 1994

She arrives, as usual, ten minutes early, a sweet smile and her hand tucked behind her back as she places two disposable coffee cups on the desk and drops her briefcase to the chair that’s unofficially become hers, ‘gotcha something.’

The twinkling mirth in her eyes is infectious, and he kicks his feet from where they’re resting on the edge of his desk and leans forward, elbows on the desk, ‘oh yeah?’ He’d called her in on a Sunday to go over their travel plans to Tennessee, and given that, he was mildly surprised that she was in such a good mood.

‘Mm-hm,’ she pulls her hand from behind her back, revealing a cupcake with a single candle in it. After a quick rummage in her pocket, she pulls out a disposable lighter and sparks a flame to life, ‘ta-da,’ her soft murmur, suddenly shy as she presents the little confection to him.

‘My birthday’s in October, Scully.’

‘Yeah, I, um...’ she swallows, clears her throat. ‘Today’s the- it’s March 6th. It’s been a year since I joined you on the X-Files. I figured...’ she shrugs and sighs, ‘I dunno, it’s stupid.’

‘No,’ Mulder shakes his head rapidly, smiling disarmingly, ‘no, it’s not stupid,’ he thinks about the box on his bookshelf at home that he’d agonised over whether to give her as he wrapped it the night before. ‘May I?’ he points at the candle, and she nods, clearing her throat again after he blows it out. ‘I, uh, I think I’ve got a knife here somewhere; we can split it?’

‘Sure,’ she ducks her chin, hiding her smile, as she passes it over.

On closer inspection, a grey fondant alien face tops the buttercream, and he grins up at her as he hands over her half, ‘happy first anniversary, Scully.’

March 6th 1995

He’d almost lost her. She’d been taken, and he almost hadn’t been able to get her back, and for three months, he’d been wracked with guilt and lost without her. But she was alive. She was still right there by his side, and he could see the determination that lined her face as she stuck by him, refusing to budge, refusing to leave him.

Their first year together was tame in comparison to the insanity that had befallen the two of them in their second year as partners, and he wonders idly if it was only going to get worse. He can’t imagine anything worse than sacrificing his sister for her.

He’s bought a cake, just a little one, from the grocery store round the corner from his apartment, and he’s stuck two candles wonkily in it. It’s less personal than the little alien cupcake Scully bought last year, but the store didn’t have anything more appropriate, and he knew how much Scully loved chocolate and how she wouldn’t have chosen it herself for some misguided belief that she needed to maintain her figure. So a decadent chocolate cake for six with wonky candles is what it’s going to be.

Her face lights up when she walks in and sees it, her grin widening further when she looks up at the shy smile on his face.

‘I think it’s your turn to blow them out this year,’ Mulder says as he strikes a match and lights the candles.

She nods as she sits down, blows them out and props her chin in her hand as she gazes longingly at the cake, ‘Mulder, do you think we’ll still be doing this next year? In five years’ time? Ten?’

He grins and cuts into the cake, daubing chocolate frosting on her nose before handing her a slice, ‘I think, Scully, that we’ll be doing this for another thirty years. Minimum. You’re not gonna get rid of me that quickly.’

March 6th 1998

‘We’ve got a detective coming in to talk to us about a dead drug dealer at ten,’ he says as she pushes through the door, a tray of cupcakes balanced in her hands. She’d been up most of the night trying to bake them, her mom on the phone as guidance. It was chemistry and physics, things she excelled at, but somehow baking was not her forte, and it had taken three attempts to get them right. But her mother’s pink lemonade cupcake recipe was always a crowd-pleaser, pink frosting and all, and she had wanted to do something special.

Five years. Five years in his basement office, chasing unbelievable things. Five years of missing time and abductions and cancer and sisters. Five years of surviving. That was something worth celebrating.

She nods in acknowledgement, depositing the tray on the desk and whipping out a pack of candles from her pocket, ‘well, that gives us two hours to enjoy cake, then.’

‘They look...good,’ he hesitates, and she rolls her eyes.

‘They’re rustic, okay. I’m not the most...artistic. Next year I’ll get my mother to make them.’

‘No, really, they look great. I’m sure they taste delicious.’

She smiles, lighting the candles, ‘I should hope so. I’ve been looking forward to this.’ They’d skipped cake last year, her appetite waning and neither of them in the mood to celebrate. With a flourish, she presents the candles to him, waiting for him to blow them out, and frowns when he hesitates.

‘I think you should be the one to blow them out. You missed your turn last year.’

She gives a small nod and breathes in, extinguishing the five flames in quick succession.

‘I, uh, I got you something,’ he says, clearing his throat and rummaging through his desk drawer.

‘Mulder, you didn’t have to get me anything.’

‘Actually, I got it for you a long time ago, but it never felt like the right time,’ he shrugs, pulling it out with a quiet ‘a-hah.’ He hands the box over, nervously biting his lip as she delicately opens it. ‘It’s, uh, it’s a snow globe.’

‘I can see that.’

‘It’s got a UFO in.’

‘Yeah. Yeah, it does,’ she smiles softly. She shakes it, watching glitter swirl around the little cartoony spaceship. ‘Thank you, Mulder, I love it. Happy five years.’

‘Happy five years, Scully.’

March 8th 2003

She’d been working the graveyard shift in a bar two towns over from the motel they were staying at that month, bringing in what little cash she could to fund their constant running, and time had started slipping. Neither of them had looked at a calendar in more than a month, her birthday having gone unnoticed and unrecognised, and it was only because he’d grabbed a paper from the motel reception that he even noted the date. So, whilst she was sleeping the day away, the curtains drawn and the rattly heater struggling to take the late-winter chill off the room, he donned his coat and baseball cap and headed out to the nearest store.

With gas station cookies and a disposable lighter, he perches on the edge of the bed and gently shakes her awake, brushes the back of his forefinger across her cheekbone when she stirs, ‘hey, Beautiful.’

‘Mmm, time is it?’

‘Just gone noon,’ he murmurs, smiling when she groans and rolls away, ‘it’s March, Baby.’

‘March?’

‘Yeah. We missed our anniversary.’

She buries her face in the coarse motel pillow, mumbling, ‘our anniversary was months ago, Mulder.’

He gives a sad chuff, nodding at the other anniversary they missed, ‘no, not that one. The day you came in and turned my life upside-down. We’re a couple of days late, but...’ She drags herself up, rubs her eyes and smiles blearily at him, cupping his scruffy cheek. ‘I couldn’t get cake or candles, but I got cookies, and you can blow this out,’ he flicks the lighter on, holding it out for her to blow out, and she gives a quiet chuckle.

‘Ten years, huh?’

‘Ten whole years. Happy anniversary, Baby.’

March 6th 2013

It’s dark out when she phones, and he’s been staring at the ceiling for an indefinite amount of time. He’s numb, unable to muster the energy to lie convincingly when she asks how he is; if he’s eating properly and getting enough sleep. He tries to feel something when he hears her sniffing and stifling a sob, tries to summon enough emotion to make his voice not sound flat when he tells her he misses her.

It’s not until he looks at the phone screen when she hangs up that he realises it’s twenty years since they met.

March 6th 2018

Her hair’s short again, almost the length it was twenty-five years ago, and though the laugh lines and the crease that permanently furrows her brow these days have deepened, her eyes still hold that same disbelieving mirth they twinkled with that first day as she held her hand out for him to shake.

‘You’re staring,’ she says, peering over the top of the case file she’s studying.

‘Am I?’

‘Mm-hm,’ she nods over at his laptop, ‘that expenditure report was due with Skinner yesterday – lingering over it isn’t going to help your case any.’

‘What makes you think I haven’t finished it?’

She smirks, ‘because I know you, and I know how much you hate expenditures. And because I’ve heard you type no more than ten words in the last two hours?’

He nods, still not taking his eyes off her, and shuts the lid of his laptop, ‘did you ever think, all those years ago, that we’d still be down here a quarter of a century later, filing motel and gas receipts?’

‘Honestly?’ he nods, and she sighs, shakes her head, ‘I don’t think I ever allowed myself that fantasy. We’ve overcome so much; the fact we’re even still talking is a miracle some days.’

He nods contemplatively and stands up, idly noticing the crack of his knees and creek of his spine, and holds his hand out to her, ‘come on, Scully. There’s cake waiting for us at home.’

March 6th 2023

He lets her sleep in, turns her alarm off and leaves under cover of darkness, intercepts Sammi as she comes barrelling across the landing towards their bedroom, ‘woah, Kid, not today. Mommy’s sleeping in.’

‘She sick?’

He chuffs a laugh as he swings her up onto his shoulders, shaking his head as he lopes downstairs with her, ‘no, it’s just a special day today.’

‘Like Christmas?’

‘Not quite, Honey,’ he sits her on the kitchen counter and gets to work making pancakes, ‘today’s our anniversary.’

The pre-schooler mulls that over, her sleep-mussed curls bouncing as she tilts her head in contemplation, ‘what’s an anibersary?’

‘An anniversary is when we celebrate a special day in our lives – your birthday is an anniversary.’

‘My birthday’s in October.’

‘It sure is, Kid, like mine,’ he nods, ruffles her hair as he passes her a tumbler of milk, ‘but today is special, ‘cause we’re celebrating the day Mommy and I met.’

‘Was it a looooong time ago?’

‘It was. A super long time ago.’

‘How long?’

He smiles and starts flipping the pancakes, ‘you guess.’

‘Ummm, I don’t know. Three years ago.’

‘Three years ago? Nope. Shall we work it out together?’

‘Yeah,’ she bounces on the counter, and for a moment, he marvels at the little being he and Scully created, all life and energy and fluffy pyjamas with rubber duckies on.

‘Okay, well, how old are you?’

‘I’m four.’

‘Okay, so we have to have known each other for more than four years. And do you remember what Mommy said about how long it takes to make a baby?’

‘Nearly a whole year!’

‘Yeah, that’s right. So let’s round up to five years. What else do you know?’

‘Umm...’ she sticks her thumb in her mouth as her brow furrows, and he gently removes it before pointing to the picture of Jackson holding her on the fridge, ‘Jack-Jack!’

‘Yeah, you’re brother. So, do you remember how old Jackson is?’ she shakes her head and he smiles, ‘that’s okay. He’s twenty-one – nearly twenty-two. So we add a year onto that and we get...?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘Good job. So, Mommy and I have definitely known one another for at least twenty-three years-‘

‘That’s a really long time.’

‘It is, but I’ll tell you a secret – it’s been even longer than that.’

‘How much longer?’

‘Seven years longer. Can you do that math there? What’s twenty-three plus seven?’

She counts on her fingers, her jaw dropping when she comes to an answer, ‘you’ve known Mommy for thirty years?’

‘Mm-hm. And meeting her was the best thing that ever happened to me.’

‘Even better than chocolate cake?’

He barks a laugh, stacking the pancakes onto a plate and sticking a candle in the top, ‘even better than chocolate cake.’

~  X  ~

She wakes to a wet kiss on the nose and musical giggles, her daughter’s wide blue eyes pressed close to her own, ‘whatcha doing, Baby?’

‘It’s your anibersary.’

‘Mm, it is. Do you know what that means?’

‘It means Daddy’s got you a surprise,’ she whispers, and Scully cranes her neck to look over at Mulder sat at the end of the bed, giving him a coy smirk.

‘Oh, yeah? Daddy’s good at surprises.’

‘It’s pancakes.’

‘Pancakes?’

‘Uh-huh,’ Sammi sits up, dragging Scully to sitting, too, clapping her hands when Mulder presents the breakfast tray, complete with pancakes, hot tea and a flickering birthday candle. ‘Can I blow it out, Mommy?’

‘Sure, Baby,’ she smiles over at Mulder as their daughter huffs at the flame, mouthing ‘I love you’ at him.

‘I’m gonna get her dressed in a minute, then Jackson’s coming over to take her to school and bring her back later for dinner, which leaves the whole day just to ourselves.’

‘The whole day, huh?’ she spears a small triangle of pancake with her fork and holds it out for Sammi to take, finger-combing the tangles from the soft, downy hair of her baby bird.

‘The whole day, no interruptions, to do anything your heart desires.’

‘Whatever shall we do?’

‘Oh, I’m sure we’ll think of something,’ he grins, his smile softening as he watches his girls sharing their syrupy breakfast, thinking back all those years ago, trying to remember if he knew – if he had even an inkling – that day she walked into his office in a too-big suit, just how important she was going to be to him.

tagging @today-in-fic

[sparks9793]

I may or may not have followed up on that idea from Sunday cause the BF was busy tonight 🤭

November 11  

There’s a lot to do in terms of work today. With the impending snow storm on the way, he’s pretty sure his flight to LA will have to wait for at least a day, if not more. The BNA airport is old so when there’s a big storm, there’s a high probability that the lights will go out and it takes hours of maintenance to revive the building.  

He has an interview for a new gig in a few days. It’s a big artist and Taylor wants to be the one to lead her creative process, cause the curly haired man knows, they could be great together. He’s been prepping meticulously for it and has a team to help him get ready for the interview with fresh ideas. Nearly every day since she contacted him, he’s met with either Carlos, Dan or Zac at eleven o’clock to go over the key points of this new album’s vision, what he'd change from her previous work if he was her producer and how they’d put his plans into action.  

The curly haired man’s phone goes off when he’s just getting into his key notes for today’s call with Carlos.  

Hayley arrives at his home studio at ten thirty and sheepishly places a long black gently in front of him. “I know. I’m pushing it with the time. I can tell you’re in a sour mood.”  

Taylor’s feeling a little nervous and trying to avoid caffeine, but he knows how hard it must have been for her to get the coffee, especially with the weather outside. She still has some snow in her blonde hair. He takes the coffee and sip it, appearing disinterested.  

“Did you get me a donut or muffin?”  

“No” Hayley says, grinning, as she pulls out a bag and tosses it onto his desk. Two strawberry donuts.   

“Hmm. Good enough. Sit down.”  

Hayley sits down, fixing her sweater as she does. She crosses her leg over the other comfortably and then rests her hands in her lap. Whenever Taylor sees her, the curly haired man likes to note the differences from the last time he’d seen her. Her under eye circles are still very prominent.  

Blonde hair is still drying from her morning shower, face clean of makeup. Her clothes are neatly pressed, a spark in her eye. He feels proud just from looking at her and Taylor hopes she feels the same looking at him.  

“I’m alright. Got a court meeting tomorrow about dividing our assets. It’s a bit annoying now.” The tiny blonde hesitates suddenly and then leans forward, placing her laced hands on the desk. “I actually wanted to talk to you about something I’ve been thinking about for a while. I know you don’t have a lot of time, but I’m occupied tomorrow so I’m just going to fit it in now.”  

“Sure. Everything okay?”  

“Yeah. Yeah, no, everything’s good.”  

“Alright. What is it?”  

Hayley opens her mouth and inhales, but then stops. She bites her bottom lip turning it a deep shade of pink. Taylor knows her well enough to be able to tell when she’s stressed and her discomfort oddly eases his thoughts of not being able to read her anymore.  

“I wanted to ask you last time, but I guess we were a little busy” she starts, glancing down at her bare fingers. “You can totally say no because I understand how weird this is and I don’t want you to feel pressured because I’m your friend, but I also want you to consider it, alright?”  

The curly haired man puts the coffee down and reaches for the donuts, taking a big bite. “Sounds good.”  

“Alright, well.” Now she looks uneasy. Takes a deep shaky breath before speaking. “I was wondering if it would be okay to stay with you for a little bit.”  

Taylor swallows the donut so quickly, it goes down the wrong pipe and he coughs a bit and it gives Hayley a look of concerned, her whole face full of worry. With tears in his eyes, he croaks, “Is the little bitch kicking you out of your own house?”  

Her eyebrows shoot up and her mouth curves into a small smile. “What? No. It’s not that. He’s almost fully moved out actually. I haven’t seen him in a while. It’s just that, well, the house is meant for two or three people, you know? So now that he’s not there and Alf’s been staying with mom, it’s just big and empty. And I’m barely there except to sleep. I just… I don’t know. I don’t really want to be alone right now.”  

There’s a deep pink blush over her cheeks, giving her a healthy glow on Hayley’s otherwise pale skin. Her summer freckles are long gone now, but the new color looks lovely on her. “I don’t mind” Taylor finds himself saying, “if you stay at mine for a bit. But it’s a little cramped now that I turned the downstair rooms into my studio, don’t know if there’s enough space for all your clothes”  

“I don’t mind that” Hayley says quickly, sitting up a bit straighter. “It’s not the clothes I’m worried about. I can work around it, it’s fine. I guess I’m more concerned about…”  

“Staying with me” Taylor finishes, putting the donut down. He wipes his hands on a napkin, but chooses to do it under the desk because his fingers are trembling.  

“Yeah” Hayley says sheepishly, toying with the ends of her hair. “I don’t want it to be weird. But I also don’t want to be alone and I’d rather be with someone I know than be alone.”  

This is one of the many times that the curly haired man realizes he doesn’t fully know how Hayley’s been handling the divorce, only because he’s never been through one. Taylor’s been through break ups, the worst one being with the person sitting in front of him, but never a divorce. After all those years and vows and sacrifices. It’s beginning to dawn on him just how lonely a divorce must be. He’d rejected her and the last thing he want is for Hayley to feel unloved.  

Cause she isn’t. In fact, Taylor right here, loves her more than life.  

And not only that, but he knows Hayley’s nature after being with her for so long. Under the hard exterior, she’s a soft soul. Feels hurt deeply.  

Hayley assumes the silence is a sign of discomfort. Immediately, her green eyes widen. “Like I said, you don’t have to agree T. You can even take a day or two to think about it. I’m not…I’m not forcing you. And I know that this is really weird because you’re… you, Taylor. We have history and I’m not trying to open any stitches or do anything to hurt you. And-and you can totally tell me if I’m disrespecting boundaries because I’ve done that in the past without realizing. I just want to be comfortable and I want you to be comfortable, so be completely honest with me. It won’t make me upset or angry or anything, yeah?”  

Fuck, she’s freaking out. he can see the vein in her forehead bulging from lack of air. She begins moving her left leg up and down and it prompts him to do the same.  

“That’s not the problem, Hayles” he tells her sincerely. “I don’t mind you staying with me. I think my concerns are the same as yours, that we’ve lived together before and we’re not exactly dating anymore so what if it’s awkward?”  

“I promise I will stay out of your way and not bug you when you’re working and leave you alone. Like I said, I’m barely at my own place, go the GDY office most days, so I don’t think I’ll be at yours much anyways except to sleep.” She takes a deep, shaky breath. “I’ll pay you rent, T”  

Taylor shakes his head, offering her a smile. “I’m not worried about rent. You don’t have to do that.”  

“Yeah, but if I’m using your house, it’s the least I can do.”  

“You can buy the groceries.”  

“Sure, I can totally–” Hayley pauses, inhaling slowly. “Are you agreeing to this?”  

Having Hayley as a roommate again? He can do that. It’ll only be for a little bit. He can keep himself off of her. I’m agreeing to this, isn’t he? This is a bad idea, but she’s looking at him  like that . Like the first time she really considered they should move in together when they had been dating. Such hopefulness in her eyes. Such excitement and nervousness.  

How could Taylor ever say no to Hayley when she’s looking at him like she’s completely dependent on him? He selfishly wants her to be dependent on him for things like these, but it’s irresponsible of him when the curly haired man’s struggling to take care of himself. Should he be selfish for once and refuse her? Or should they give it a try?  

In the end, the only selfishness that proves to be triumphant is when he thinks about Hayley’s close proximity to him. And the curly haired man  loves the idea of being physically close with her again.  

“Yes” he answers, reaching for his donut again. “We can make this work.”  

Instant relief breaks out onto her pretty face. Her smile is wide and she runs a hand through her blonde hair. “Thank you, T. I promise I won’t get in your way, okay?”  

“I don’t mind” Taylor insists sincerely, wishing his heart would stop acting like it’s about to stop. “I hope your living habits have changed from before.”  

Hayley stands up and shakes her head with a cheeky smile. “They haven’t. At all. You’re a lifesaver.”  

“Don’t come tonight though. I’ve gotta clean up.”  And freak out privately.  “How about the day after tomorrow?”  

“That’s perfect” she breathes, leaning over the desk to press a quick kiss to his cheek. She glances down at her watch at the same time Taylor’s phone’s alarm begins to ring, signaling that he has to call Carlos for their meeting soon. “Thank you. I’ll leave you to your meeting now, but seriously. I owe you a bunch. Bye!”  

And with that, Hayley’s out of the studio and Taylor’s taking a bite out of his donut once more. This is fine, he thinks to himself. Everything is going to go smoothly.  

The curly haired man feels the weight of her lips on his cheek throughout the hour-long meeting. He is a very selfish man, indeed.  

(What do we think?)

[chasing-chimeras]

WIP Wednesday/Seven Sentence Sunday(?)

i've been tagged in a bunch of these over the past month or so, but have been completely burnt out and struggling to write anything. this scene (the first major lydia scene in green zone) is one that's been causing me trouble for a bit, but something sparked at 5am on a random wednesday and here we are.

thanks for the tags, i appreciate all of you guys so much: @ksbbb @mmoosen @wolfboy88 @kingofangst @outcastpack 🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

“Can I sit?” The question is surprising. Theo has partially expected her to apologize, say she had the wrong room, and flee from his presence as fast and far as possible. He can’t think of any reason for the two of them to talk and she’s just about the last survivor from Beacon Hills that he’d anticipate wanting to talk to him.

“Sure,” he says with cautious uncertainty. Why? He doesn’t ask.

She perches on the bench opposite of where he’s laying, half-dressed and disheveled. He’s suddenly self-conscious and concerned what she makes of his appearance; completely ridiculous considering that society has fallen apart, but Lydia’s softly keen stare has a way of unsettling superficial insecurities.

“It was unanimous,” she informs, crossing her legs and nonchalantly folding one arm over the other.

Theo glances at her in his periphery, but maintains his composure.

“I think Liam was coming to tell you, but he’s popular today and I knew that you’d be curious…” Her stare is discerning and observant, but not necessarily probing. Theo can feel the concern radiating off of her but she makes no attempt to pry. “You should know that you’re safe here. Your friend—Tracy—gave her testimony to the sheriff, in private, and they handed out the sentence a few minutes later.”

She doesn’t go into detail, but Theo knows that they expelled him without supplies. He’d gotten the information out of Liam last night, despite the younger boy’s initial hesitance. There had been anger in his voice when he spat out the words, like dirt in his mouth, and Theo knew that he wanted more. More pain…more satisfaction. The same sentiment is absent in Lydia’s voice.

She doesn’t sound angry, or repulsed by the concept of Donovan, and there’s no demand for violence in her relaxed posture. Not like the others. Liam, Tracy, Boyd, Erica, Isaac—they’ve all been simmering, barely concealing the yearning for vengeance behind gritted-teeth.

“I’m sorry,” she says, softly but with a passion that burns gently.

Clenching his jaw, Theo nods in acknowledgement. It doesn’t mean anything. Apologies from people who share no responsibility are empty, but the sentiment seems to matter—to them.

“I’m sorry that no one asked you what you wanted. This wasn’t theirs to do.”

Theo hesitates, brow furrowing and eyes meeting Lydia’s in confusion. She’s sorry…that they didn’t…

“Thanks.”

Her mouth twists, somberly.

Suddenly, a twitch of irritation reverberates in Theo’s throat. It’s not her place to be like this. It shouldn’t be her, it should be—

“Why?” He asks, sharply. I don’t know you. I’ve never spoken to you.

Lydia holds his gaze, steadily but with a natural ease. Her lips move and sound comes out, but Theo’s comprehension is delayed by the inscrutability of her words.

“I was eighteen. A freshman at MIT.”

Understanding rests on her end, then pulses through the space between them. Layers of assumptions are stripped away, carved off of Lydia Martin’s appearance and Theo sees her for the first time. What he’d mistaken for fragile naivety is revealed in a flash to be a veneer, disguising the poised strength that has seen her through horror and violence. She somehow sits comfortably in her skin, despite it all…and Theo envies that.

“I was ten. At Eichen.” Confession slips from his lips.

Lydia allows the truth of it to settle around them before speaking.

“And now we’re here.”

tagging (everyone who tagged me again, because it's been a week!) and also: @theoceanismyinkwell @rd-eternity @thiamsxbitch @dinkelmehl @hemlocksandfoxgloves @raekensarcher @equallyloyalandlethal @transdunbar @trpiaep19 @stitchkiss

[clearwillow]

WIP Wednesday

I shared this with patrons on Sunday, but I haven't shared any wips here in a while. So...yeah. It has no name yet, and I'm already three chapters in, so what follows will probably be adjusted cause writing out of order isn't my friend.

She had gotten older. It was a dumb observation, but it was a fact, and so had he. Neither of them had the softness in their cheeks like they had when they were traveling. Her hair was shorter, now falling just past her shoulders. He’d taken to trimming his over the years, and it wasn’t as long and scraggly as it used to be at the ends. He’d always gotten looks about the length but he refused to cut it short.

There was something else within Kagome that showed she’d aged – the look in her eyes. She didn’t have any visible signs of wrinkles like Kaede had, she was too young for that still. He had pretended not to notice the shift back when they walked away from battles, but it was clear as day. The gentleness and compassion that Kagome displayed so prominently once was now shielded by years of experiences.

Of disappointments.

“You look good,” he spoke at last, swallowing the lump in his throat. He didn’t know what he expected to happen when they did find each other again, and this tense air between them was suffocating.

Kagome nodded, her lips smiling more than her eyes. It scared the shit out of him. “You do too,” she replied. “If it wasn’t for the length of your hair I almost wouldn’t have recognized you.”

He knew it was an attempt at a joke and forced a laugh. “Y-yeah, heh… gotta hide the obvious these days…”

“Whatever you’re using, it’s effective? I couldn’t even tell you weren’t really human.”

Inuyasha raised his hand and pulled back the sleeve of his left arm, displaying the inked design on his forearm. “It’s a new trick the kitsune have been developing,” he explained. “When I’m in any territory that is marked safe, I look like I usually do. And everywhere else, I look like I do on the new moon. I still have my strength and my senses. Since it’s using human tools, I have to go back and get it touched up every few months.”

Without thinking, Kagome reached out and brushed her fingertips across his exposed skin. It was like electricity running through him with the featherlight touch, and suddenly he wanted nothing more than to pull her close and never let go. She picked up on the spark between them, jerking her hand away quickly. “S-sorry. I shouldn’t be so familiar. It’s been a long time…”

“Don’t –”

“Inuyasha…”

“Don’t… don’t feel like you need to be a stranger with me, Kagome.” The words came out barely above a whisper, almost pleading. “I’ve waited a long time to find you again. Please don’t put more distance between us.”

Kagome’s shoulders dropped and she sighed. “That’s the thing. You never once said ‘please’ to me before the well closed. You always demanded. I’m having trouble catching up to who you are now when all I remember is the boy I knew.”

“That you know,” he corrected. “I’m still me. Do you want me to go start a fight with your grandpa? Let him cover me with sutras that won’t work?”

She shook her head. “Grandpa passed years ago. If you want someone to cover you with sutras, you’ll have to wait until I’m helping at the shrine’s next event. Those will work, so you might want to reconsider that offer.”

His face fell. It was sad enough to hear that the spry old man he used to argue with was now gone, but it was even worse finding out that he hadn’t been there for her when it happened. Her grandpa was the last connection she had to her late father, and even though she never let on she missed her other parent, he knew. “I’m sorry, Kagome.”

“It was peaceful,” she offered. “Grandpa told us months before that he had a feeling that he’d be seeing his family again. Spent the remainder of his time getting us set up to manage the shrine without him. I was taking an exam when it happened. Mama called me after the testing ended to tell me. He’d laid down for a nap and just…”

The lone sniffle was enough to break his resolve. Inuyasha pulled Kagome against him in a hug, listening as she let out shuddering breaths to calm herself before she began to sob. Holding her against him felt right. He simply held her like he should have done years before when she hadn’t been able to keep herself composed. When she needed him with her.

Kagome didn’t push him away. She held onto his jacket, letting her head rest against his chest for a moment. “I’m sorry,” she mumbled. “I thought I’d gotten past it, but…”

“You haven’t had to break the news to a lot of people since it happened, have you?” he asked sadly.

“No…no, I…I haven’t…”

Inuyasha was the one to pull back, but only slightly. “I think…there’s a lot that we have to talk about, Kagome. How do you feel about meeting together over dinner?”

[redeemedbytheking]

this is kinda random but I saw Josh Gad on tiktok and it got me wondering, do you think LeFou and Belle keep in touch as time goes on or do they just say hi if they happened to see one another and that's kind of it?

lovely Q!!! so, my personal post-canon world for lefou is that he and stanley end up falling for each other and moving to another village to start fresh and live a life together. that doesn’t happen right away though.

i don’t think belle and lefou ever really spoke much. she obviously wasn’t a fan of gaston, and given that lefou was his lackey, they probably didn’t really interact much. however, after all the shit goes down, i think lefou does find a moment, maybe even at that celebration ball (which i hc takes place a week after the curse lifting), to apologize to belle for following gaston’s footsteps all those years. he should’ve stood up for what was right and he’s sorry for being a coward when she and her father needed the support more than ever.

belle, of course, forgives him entirely. she knows (and has known for a while) that it was very clear what gaston and lefou’s relationship was like, and she understands his influence was strong and that lefou did have a good heart deep down. i think they became friendly after that, but didn’t have much reason to interact. lefou went to pick up the pieces of his life in villeneuve, and belle was courting her beloved. whenever she did stay in the village during this period, she’d definitely stop and say hi to lefou if they happened to cross paths. just to check in on how he’s doing. i think by this point he’s found acquaintanceship with stanley, and probably attraction, but because of how shaken he was from everything that happened with gaston, i think he’d be pretty guarded about having any kind of relationship with anyone at first.

(and for the record, i don’t ship gafou. no hate, i just don’t ship it! i think lefou definitely very clearly was into gaston, but i don’t think gaston felt that way about him. gaston just needed someone to worship him, and lefou was perfect. and obviously the entire thing was unhealthy and toxic anyway, so it’s all for the best. but anyway, i just mean that lefou would be afraid to let anyone close into his life again, since it all went so terribly with gaston.)

all this to say, besides maybe sharing some pleasantries and hey! maybe even a pint or two at the pub, i don’t think belle and lefou would interact much. she’d definitely be glad to get to know him though, considering he was living in gaston’s shadow the entire time she knew of him, but i don’t think they’d become besties particularly.

by the time belle had married adam and they’d returned from their honeymoon, i think something had sparked between lefou and stanley and they were talking about leaving town to start fresh somewhere. i don��t think lefou would feel inclined to tell belle in particular that he was leaving, especially considering she’s The Queen now, he knows she’s got a busy life. but eventually at some point (not too much time having passed), belle, maurice, and père robert are having dinner together on a sunday, which they often do, and belle suddenly thinks to ask what lefou is up to. feels like she hasn’t seen or heard from him in a while. and père robert reports that lefou and stanley moved away together. he says that he seemed happy, and also a lot more confident than anyone had ever seen in him before.

belle was content to learn this, and they toasted to lefou and his happiness before continuing their lovely dinner. we all wish lefou and stanley a very pleasant evening 🫶🎩

[cocoavanille]

Soukoku professors AU where Dazai teaches literature and Chuuya runs a poetry course part-time, being a professional songwriter for some huge artists but it's not something he talks about so Dazai is clueless at first.

They talk from time to time, but not much – Dazai is always surrounded by his students and when he steals a minute alone he listens to music or naps. Chuuya is out the building as soon as his job is done.

Once their colleagues and major students make them film a dance trend, trying to get at their nerves (it's a common knowledge that these two don't like each other – on paper at least). But Dazai and Chuuya suddenly catch a vibe and work wonders with the dance. The video is snatched, chemistry? Unmatched.

Chuuya chuckles when they watch the end result, Dazai meets his gaze. So he's not the only one who didn't want the dance to end? Interesting.

Chuuya has never been the focus of his attention before, but after this evening he does some research. It seems half of his favourite new songs where he loves the lyrics specifically are written by no other than Chuuya Nakahara. It's not that he thought he's a bad lyricist before – he audited his course last year – but never has he thought there's such a range. Interest transforms into something else during two months he observes and studies his target.

Month three is when he starts to feel a little dazed by their brief but fun short interactions. Ranpo smiles about something he can't pinpoint.

– Spit it out already.

– You like him.

Dazai pauses, coffee in hand. Blinks. Turns to his friend with a question mark across his face.

– Chuuya Nakahara, you're definitely into him, one way or another. Figure out which one.

Dazai frowns, staring at the figure quickly dissolving among others in the corridor. He's not into him, just... Just what? Huh. Time to write down his thoughts it seems.

Nakahara Chuuya, 27 years old – observations. Has his own sense of style that is coherent with personality, fast to anger but cools down just as easily if the situation doesn't escalate. Rides a bike (fucking showoff), plays the keys (see? Showoff). Good reflexes, attractive smile, even more attractive voice.

That voice... Dazai kept him talking for ten minutes last week just to turn off his head, basking in low, slightly hoarse bliss.

Likes his nabe a little spicy, drinks black coffee or flat white (on occasion with maple syrup), big on wine and pretty hats. (Stupid, honestly, why hide such a gorgeous hair colour?)

Dazai wants to run his fingers through his hair, maybe grab them a little, pull his head back or closer to his. Kiss him maybe. Just once, to check how it feels – he's probably just his current hyperfixation.

Yes, that's it, and now he can go to sleep.

There's a catch to this theory, however – hyperfixations make him restless, alert, overthinking.

Whenever he thinks of Chuuya he feels a strange mingling sense of warmth and safety in his body.

He invites him for coffee on Sunday. They talk a lot, finally able to be more personal outside of job setting. Chuuya scoffs at his joke, but then laughs at him being dead serious. It's strange – how sweet can being cursed at feel when rude words are substitute for "you're attractive and I'm scared". Dazai reads him like a book, but there's a second catch – it goes both ways.

Before they depart after talking a stroll in the park, sun already gone from the sky, Chuuya kisses him. Light peck on the lips, innocent, short. Totally enough for him to short-circuit.

– See you on Wednesday, want me to bring you something sweet to match that bitter coffee of yours?

– You bake?

He guesses and hits the nail on the head. Chuuya shrugs.

– Only when I'm inspired.

– So I'm the muse then?

Dazai smiles, making eye contact. Sparks above water, warm wind, desire in the twitch of his own fingers. Chuuya looks almost hesitant for a second, then pulls himself together.

– Don't flatter yourself, it's the evening. And your perfume. Good night, be safe on way home.

Why is it uncultured to ask someone to have sex on the first date? Stupid social rules.

Dazai closes the door to his apartment and smirks, looking at the drawer with perfume collection. So his lazy profile is correct, he picked the exact scent. Experiment successfull.

Someone's a little bit of an adrenaline junkie it seems, and he thought bike was for the aesthetics, as if! That, however, makes the case a lot more interesting.

| Chuuya |

Thanks for the company today. Free on friday evening? I know a nice place. And stop playing nice, your half-assed act of a proper teacher is appalling. Poor students – unlike them, I actually read your award-winning books.

Dazai whistles, re-reading the message. Bold. He likes that.

| You |

If it's not followed by your bedroom I'm not interested. There, me being appalling.

| Chuuya |

Takeout, nice scenic spot and then my bedroom. I'll pick you up at 20:30.

| You |

Deal. Thinking of bringing a bottle of something that rivals your beauty in taste, but doubt I'll find any...

| Chuuya |

Sweet-talk me some more and I'll make it thursday.

Dazai laughs, then sends a short video of his hand playing with a pen. He did, in fact, notice how much Chuuya likes his hands.

| Chuuya |

Nevermind your creepy observation skills. If that's an invitation, it's a yes.

Dazai writes the address. To hell with social rules.

[olderjodijournals]

Sunday, August 1, 2010

Maliheh returned last night and twice this morning to my blog. I guess she really is interested in the story! Especially since I messaged her on FB to say I might put the intro in my blog. But once again, is she interested because she thinks it’s cool, or because she wants to screw me?

I re-read the synopsis for my last book and realized something was wrong. Then it hit me that I didn’t say anything that’d explain how it got its title – duh! – so I edited the very last sentence.

The cyst on my ovary was acting up last night but is better today. Just when I thought I was done with this problem too, as it’s been months since it’s bothered me.

Later…

I’ve written about my life and I continue to do so. Sad times, fun times, bad times, happy times, mad times, scary times, funny times… but would most people take it to the internet as I have? Probably not, so if reading some really personal and sometimes heavy-duty shit isn’t for you, then this entry will probably kill you. Just warning you up front, cuz when it rains in my journal, it really pours. I have no shame, no fear, and no guilt as far as putting my life online. I simply tell it like it is and go with the flow. I just don’t know why. Perhaps it amuses me. Or maybe I just don’t give a shit.

Sometimes I long for what my husband cannot give me. He can’t be as attractive in my eyes as that Italian guard I’m totally in lust with. He can’t give me the kind of sex I’d like to have. He can only give me himself and be who he is. I’ve been to many places and have done many things, and I love Tom for loving me as I am. It takes a tough, tolerant and very special person to do so.

But sometimes I feel like I’ve missed out on some things. I experience all kinds of love, lust, attraction, sex and adventures in my imagination and in my stories which I’ll never actually know firsthand, and I ask myself – does everyone go through this? Does everyone else settle for a mate even if they aren’t literally settling? Does everyone else feel that they’ve gone through life missing out on some things?

I know that if I could suddenly have this guard, the lust would eventually wear off, like playing the same song over and over makes it less appealing with time. But sometimes I just want to play the damn song in the first place till it loses its shine, but I know I never will.

It’s easier to meet people these days, and I know I could meet people if I wanted to. But what are the odds of them turning me on? I mean really turning me on? It’s not like I feel the “spark” with just anyone, but just a few select people here and there, so meeting someone would be like buying a lottery ticket. The odds of getting a winner just aren’t that great. Then there’s the fact that other than Tom, I tend to get people who are either stupid, obsessive or just plain crazy. A little craziness is fine. It livens things up a bit. But there’s crazy and then there’s crazy! If it were just for sex it wouldn’t matter as much, but still, I don’t need any obsessive whack jobs in my life to any degree, and it seems all the women I was with were one extreme or another. Either they got obsessed with me and wanted to smother the hell out of me, or they’d one-night-stand me and dump me.

People in general – gay, straight, male or female, are usually one extreme or another when it comes to me and they either hate me or they love me. Few people seem to just like me. I capture someone’s heart and I deeply intrigue and interest them till they can barely get enough of me, or I send them screaming in the opposite direction, determined never to even think of me again in their life.

But I will miss the fantasy-only excitement of realizing I have a crush on someone. Then realizing they have a crush on me. Then getting to know each other. Then having amazing sex. Hey, at least I got as far as step #3 with Officer Johnson a decade ago, LOL. She tried to keep me alone in the end there, but when Misha was moved over to M Dorm, mine was the only cell with a spare bed at the time. Otherwise, I’m sure we’d have had at least some fun. I still don’t know what captivated me so much about her. She wasn’t my usual type. She was a very butchy redhead with a face full of acne, but as I’ve said before, I loved all 5-foot, 10-inch, 200 pounds of that girl. Everyone did. She was so friendly and had so much charisma about her. Oh, the shit she and the few other guards that liked me let me get away with while I was at that jail!

Not knowing her first name, I was never able to find her. I sure have wondered about her over the years, despite her letting me down in the end and learning that she was transferred to a men’s jail for flirting with too many inmates at Estrella.

Who were you and where are you now, Officer R. D. Johnson?

Who knows, maybe I’ll come back in another life and do the things I didn’t get to do in this one. Maybe I’ll be oh-so ordinary instead of the fluke that I am that can basically only do what most people can’t and can’t do what most people can. Maybe I’ll be of average height and I’ll work a typical 9-5 job. I might even be straight and have a couple of kids, though I don’t know about the kids. I’ll drive without an ounce of fear and I’ll have tons of great sex. I won’t have a deformed ear or any kind of sleep disorder.

I won’t be able to sing, I’ll be a lousy dancer, and quite unteachable when it comes to foreign languages. Like most people, I won’t have a clue as to how to write a story and will have your typical all-American shitty grammar and spelling. And hey, why would I even think of having ADHD?

Yeah, maybe. Just maybe I’ll be so damn ordinary and so damn boring that boring will almost take on a whole new meaning.

“But that’s what I love about you,” Tom’s always told me. “The fact that you’re so unique, smart and talented…”

smiles, then laughs I think I’ll go work on my story some more and then maybe pick out another language to learn, cuz there ain’t NOTHING ordinary about this crazy bitch!

Monday, August 2, 2010

It’s looking like we won’t have internet access this Thursday. We’ve been having all kinds of problems lately with pages being really slow to load, connections cutting out, etc., so we decided to drop the phone part of the package since we never use it and it’s usually full of static when we do anyway. We’re hoping this will fix the problem, because the last time they made a major change to it, it sped up the connection big time. The good news is that instead of paying $60 a month, all we have to pay is $14 for a year since they’re having a promotional thing going on now, which is no doubt due to their losing so many customers thanks to their shitty service.

I wasn’t going to mention this, but then said why not? Last month I sent Charlotte a letter of condolence when I learned through Andy that her son died. I was a little disappointed not to have received a quick card or letter of acknowledgment in return, but then I realized that in her present state of mind, responding to letters is the least of her concerns. To lose a husband and then a son has got to be heartbreaking for her.

Tuesday, August 3, 2010

I jogged and dieted off a few pounds and now I’m eating sugar cookies. Smart, huh?

After not hearing from Marie for a while I was delighted to get an email from her this morning. She knows that no matter who she meets along the way and even if we never see each other I’ll always be her girl. And that hottie will always rock my world in some way or another.

Why can’t Jesse quit being a pest or turn into a gorgeous woman and at least serve some eye candy while he’s at it? He didn’t come down today, but his buzzing about on the ATV got a bit distracting. Tom was out earlier and said he was weeding. “It’s two-thirds of the way through fuego season and he’s still weeding? Wouldn’t it be faster with the bulldozer?” I said. That’s when he told me the bullshitter was at someone else’s land that he’s been working on. It’s gonna take a while to do an 8-acre parcel of land, even if all he has to do is the drive and the area around his house. The drive is hundreds of feet, though, LOL.

Wednesday, August 4, 2010

Maliheh hit my blog at 7am my time, and again at 10am my time. The only thing I don’t like about this geomap is that it only shows the same person’s last hit for the same date. So if I don’t get up until noon to check and see that she came in at 10am, that doesn’t mean she wasn’t in at 6am as well.

Just how is it she manages to check me out so often? Is she on unemployment also?

Despite having a pair of well-muscled legs, I have such skinny little ankles. So I’m going to have to add an additional hole in the strap of my wedge sandals.

Amazingly I didn’t gain any weight from yesterday’s cookie fest. Gotta run tomorrow, though my hip has been bothering me again. I thought exercising my joints would help more, but I actually woke up in pain last night – argh!

Why is it that Maliheh, guinea pigs and vacations are a regular thing in my dreams lately, LOL? I don’t know where I was, but in real life, I would never want to vacation alone. In the dream, I was at this place that was sort of like an adult camp where they had all kinds of activities and entertainment. I toted my pet rat around with me who kept turning into a guinea pig. I had to slap it to turn it back into a rat (Tom found this part hilarious).

We’re losing a lot of money this week, though Tom assures me it’s nothing we can’t deal with. If anything, this forced vacation (though my rat never turns into a guinea pig and Maliheh is nowhere in sight), simply allows for more writing time.

Now here's a big fat holy shit, followed by a big fat yay! Caligays have been kicking ass! They won round #1 in federal court and a judge overturned the ban enacted in Karmafornia. Wow, there are some good judges after all.

Friday, August 6, 2010

Tom and I kind of felt like kids being “grounded” what with not being able to go online at all yesterday. Instead, we did other things during our “punishment.” He fixed the oldest sound machine, we got some DVDs out of the shed we’re going to send to Paula next week along with a few other things. I almost never play games, yet I played Jezzball for a while, one of those old, ancient and virtually colorless computer games. I didn’t work on my current book, but I proofread my last one. It should be out on its test run in less than a week, but not posted here. If you want, send me a private message with your email and I will float a copy your way.

I love my MyOpera blog site so much that I’m not sure I really want to bother launching my own site unless they kick me off. Since I don’t expect to make much money from book sales since I’m not famous, why not just stay there? This is the only site I’ve come across so far that doesn’t have a million and one glitches. Ah, but all good things come to an end, so I assume things will eventually change. Oh well, I’ll just enjoy them while they last and not decide anything either way when it comes to my own site.

Wednesday night I had the worst chest pains ever. It was the first time I actually had to stop what I was doing and lay down, which did seem to help. I’ve had some today too, though nothing that’s prevented me from carrying on with life as usual. I still say it’s not my heart, but if I die of a heart attack, it won’t be without patching things up with my sister first.

Yes, you really did read that last sentence correctly. It wasn’t my keyboard or my mind going crazy. When I went to check my mail I saw she left a message for me at the old diary site. My first thought was, “Oh no, oh no, oh no, not again.”

But wait…don’t assume the worst before you check out what she has to say, I told myself. And besides, the message had her real email address on it and wasn’t sent from a bogus email addy.

So I go over there and instead of reminding me how poor I am with my all-I-got-in-life dingy trailer and how I should be forever funny-farmed, there was a very sweet and sincere message waiting for me instead. She basically said that while the past can’t be undone, she really does love me and hopes we can go forward and be sisters again.

So I thought about it while Tom was in the shower, and when he got out I asked for his opinion on the matter, even though I’d already made up my mind as to what I was going to do about it. He said it was up to me. I figured he would say that, but that’s part of why I love my hubby so much no matter how many women I may be hot for on the side. Guy lets me do my own thing without fail.

Deciding I should try to start being a little more forgiving – after all, humans weren’t created to be perfect – and realizing that holding onto the past or any ill feelings wouldn’t do any good, I sent big sis a direct email and let her know that I left the diary site because of all the tech issues. I also told her that I agree; the past can’t be changed or undone, and while I wasn’t sure about full-blown buddies since we’re so different, there was nothing wrong with an occasional hello. I also told her to have a rockin’ birthday later on this month.

It’s true too, that we are very different. My family’s pretty liberal. They don’t want to go around trying to ungay the gays or anything like that. They don’t have a problem with women choosing what to do with their own lives/bodies/fetuses. But I could probably count all we have in common on one hand. We don’t look, act, or share the same interests. She’s tall, I’m short. She converted from Judaism to Christianity. I converted from nothing to nothing. I am a singer/musician/dancer turned contest enterer/writer/artificial intelligence worker. She was basically a mom who later went into the healthcare business caring for the elderly. At least I think that’s what she did. So other than being able to swear like a drunk trucker when pissed, we haven’t much in common. I’m sure I’ll always call her by the nickname (drama queen) I gave her a while back, too.

I have thought of her often throughout the years. The talks we shared, the way we’d laugh over stupid silly jokes, and how she’d always look out for me and be the protective big sister that she was. If you messed with me, you were messing with her, and that could be a very bad idea.

But in her reply, she said she thinks we may have more in common than I think, and that it’s hard for her to grasp that she’ll be 53 cuz she acts like a kid. She also plays more games than Becky and Sarah, who tell her she needs to get a life cuz she talks to her animals.

Nothing wrong with that. I talk to my rat all the time. I tell him to hurry up and croak since he was never much fun for a rat. I only kept him because Tom wanted to. His tumor’s bigger than he is, just about, and he is very old for a rat, so I think he’ll listen to me soon enough and move onto the next plane, whatever that may be for a rat not nearly as sociable, friendly and smart as most of them are.

Her message brought a smile to my face, even if a part of me hates to say so. Yeah, you put a smile on my face, bitch!

I got a kick out of how often Maliheh went looking for me. Especially since I came on with an “I’m back and will do a real entry later this afternoon or evening” message at around 11am my time. She’s been looking for me every hour ever since! I’m flattered she can’t wait to see what I have to say next, regardless of whether or not her intentions are good.

As suspected, my sister made her Facebook profile public and so I friended her. She doesn’t look as bad as I thought she might. She and the girls are heavy, though, except for Lisa.

There’s more to update on, but I’ll do it later. Gotta get to work now at my main job, get writing, get on with language studies, etc.

Saturday, August 7, 2010

As suspected, Maliheh checked out my blog at 11pm my time. When more than a few hours passed without her checking in, I figured she’d gone out somewhere like she appeared to last Friday night as well. Last Friday night she also didn’t check in until 11pm.

Hmm…out clubbing? With a lady?

Andy had a 3-minute date last night, unfortunately. He went to meet this guy he’d started falling in love with that he had dumped for drugs, who called insisting he’d cleaned up his act. Yet Andy found him drunk out of his mind.

Not sure why my vanilla lip gloss tastes like licorice, but I like it.

It totally figures that back when I have a piece of shit for a printer, I have tons of people to send letters to. But now that I won this $700 color laser printer, there’s no one to write to since everyone’s now doing email or prefers to be called. Other than occasional letters to Rosa, the printer rarely gets used.

The connection is much more stable, but it’s satellite slow for a DSL line. But that’s the best we can get living out in the country. I’m just glad it will be so cheap for the next year.

The propane people are coming next week. We’re going to fill up the tank which should cost around $200.

I began the second chapter of the Maliheh/Joni story, went back and read some of what I already posted, and found that something was bugging me. I couldn’t put a finger on it at first, but I knew something was wrong. Come on, I told myself, what’s wrong with this picture? Then it hit me that it was a bit of a coincidence for Maliheh and Joni to meet up again on account of Joni of all people, who happens to be called in for this special job all the way from California. The odds of that seem rather unlikely since there are others with her skills. And so I decided I would have Joni know someone in the company that recommended her, and Joni felt it would be a good excuse to visit old friends while she was at it.

This is why I hesitate to post story excerpts before they’re complete. Even the best of writers edit their books several times before they have the finished product.

Work will be slow today, so I will tackle more of Chapter 2.

Tammy and I are now Facebook buds. Her kids look terrible, too. Lisa looks ok, but Becky and Sarah are huge and plain-faced. Tammy’s still huge too, of course. I see what they mean about obesity getting to be such an epidemic that even young people are heavy. A lot of us have had heavy spells when we were young, but there’s just no comparison to what’s going on these days. They don’t have fat spells. They simply are fat.

What a punishment on Bill to have to live with the embarrassment of having two fat daughters. After all, he once taunted Lisa for her weight, yet funny how she’s the only one that’s thin. So to have the two that he actually fathered be fat is karma, in a sense, though true karma would be seeing that he himself got fat as hell.

I’m really surprised she hasn’t checked out my blog. The link to it is right in front of her face.

My hair is now just above my waist, but that’s only when it’s pulled straight. Couple more years and I’ll be sitting on it again.

Later…

Tom is making some Barfaroni, the rat now appears to be completely blind, and I’m thinking it’d definitely be best not to post my book until it’s 100% complete. Sorry, but you’ll just have to be patient and wait till the end of the year.

I went and fixed that “odd coincidence” and had the software company Joni works for be based in NorCal. So that’s her reason for having to go to MA.

The internet connection continues to be miserably slow. Molto lento! There is obviously a loose connection in the wires by one of the poles around here, but they refuse to spend the money to send someone out to fix it. So Tom’s going to keep on complaining, hoping that sooner or later they’ll get sick of it and do something about it. I wish they would get some competition in this area! Once they do, they’re not going to be able to ignore people who can just switch companies.

Sunday, August 8, 2010

Maliheh still checks my journal every few hours, but Tammy hasn’t. I’m surprised. Maybe she’s not interested, or maybe she’s afraid of what she may read.

When I got up today around noon, I quickly checked my email and blog like I usually do before showering, eating and working out. I don’t usually do much computer-wise till I’ve been up 2-3 hours.

So when I checked my blog you can bet I was surprised to find a zillion friend requests, messages and photo comments! It actually started late last night before I crashed. I wondered what in the world was going on, and I guess the start of my story is a real hit so far, according to some people, LOL, that my blog was featured in the community section. I guess this was sometime yesterday, and that’s the reason for the spike in friends, visitors, comments and messages, though there doesn’t seem to be much more than usual in the way of blog comments.

One girl who read my blog sent a message with her email addy saying she’d like to take me up on my offer to email stories. Only I accidentally deleted the message with her email addy, so I’ll have to wait till she gets back to me. Meanwhile, if I haven’t yet responded to some of you, I will soon. I promise!

I had to laugh at all the comments on my photos, both older and current, telling me how sweet, hot, cute and sexy I am. LOL, thanks but I do not think so! What was even funnier was when someone asked who “Joy” was, saying she was so sweet. Joy is actually a 24” porcelain doll, LOL! 

Last night our internet connection was so bad I couldn’t stay connected for longer than a few minutes at a time, but Tom said it’s been stable all day. Watch, now that I’m up and about it’ll crap out on me again. It’s me it wants to pick on.

Let’s see… what else? I guess that’s it for now. I will be working on stories and may or may not be back later.

Later…

I thought Jesse would be home on a Sunday night, but based on all the barking I hear going on up there right now, he’s not. Why have a place to live if you’re never going to live in it? Seriously, this guy is never home! But I know God only allowed us to break the home-all-the-time neighbor trip we were on for 14 years simply because this is the only case we’ve had to deal with where having the neighbor not be home means more noise for us. He’s not always quiet when he’s home, since he is out and about engine-gunning often enough, but he’s dead quiet compared to our past neighbors. If he were as noisy as our past neighbors, believe me, he’d be home all the time. He’s been out of work again, but I know he’ll be back full-time just as soon as it cools down enough to bring out the worst in the barking since the colder it is, the more they bark.

The sad thing is knowing that we couldn’t just move away from it even if we could afford to move. We’d only get the same shit elsewhere. If someone shot these dogs, he’d go out and get new dogs the next day that would also be left outdoors to create the same chaos.

When oh when am I ever going to get used to it? Maybe I should turn the sound machines off once we’re back to the all-day barking fits and then try to adapt and learn to work and carry on as usual despite the racket. I am, after all, able to tune out the frogs when they get going like crazy during the rainy season. It’s unlikely I’ll ever leave the West where most dogs aren’t allowed indoors, so I’ve got to get used to it. I’ve just got to.

So is Maliheh going to return to my blog today? She must be tied up because she hasn’t been to it since just after 1pm. She seems to sleep from 2am - 10am her time, so I guess I’ve got a couple of hours left to wait and see.

Is she ever going to say anything to me? Accept my friend invite? I wonder this, though I highly doubt it. And I really wonder what she thinks of my journal and her little story. Even my pictures. I wonder about her and her life too, though I’m still not sure why. Just what is my obsession with this girl? She was nothing but a mean, cold-hearted bitch to me in the end.

Eileen and Alison have checked out my blog today, and Mitch and I swapped some messages, too.

Monday, August 9, 2010

Pounded away like crazy at the keyboard last night and almost finished chapter 2. Almost, but not quite.

Anyway, Tom and I are doing our usual things and waiting, waiting and waiting for what never seems to happen. We live, but life passes us by. Make that, we exist. We don’t live, we just exist. Will we ever get to return to the land of the living? Hmm… each month I get more doubtful.

“Just go out to the shed, grab the bag of charcoal, seal yourself up in the bedroom, light the charcoal in as many pots as you need to fit them in, and you’ll be gone to sleep forever,” I tell myself. “No more worries, no more nothing. And no one will care.”

But then again, Tom would care, Andy already lost a friend to suicide, Maliheh wouldn’t get her story, and so I guess if I’m going to go bye-bye I should wait till I have more of an excuse than being stuck in a rut and an annoying toothache that won’t quit, shouldn’t I? Besides, it’s still summer! Ah, but it’s already beginning to cool down. Instead of being in the 90s, we’re now in the 80s. As I was falling asleep at the crack of dawn I was actually a bit chilly and fell asleep giving myself one of those useless well-if-you’d-just-stayed-in-the-desert-or-gotten-your-ass-over-to-Florida-you-wouldn’t-be-chilly-in-August-of-all-months lectures.

So I guess that’s it for now from the fucked up and the fucked over in life, and now it’s off to Storyland. At least things actually happen over there.

Later…

Wow, Maliheh’s managed to stay out of my journal for almost 6 hours now. It’s coming up on her bedtime, so she may check in one last time within the next half hour. She was in 12 hours ago, too.

Marie is so all or nothing that it’s almost asinine. She is who she is, but if you’re not willing to give her your undivided attention practically every second that you’re awake, she doesn’t want anything to do with you. That appears to be the case with her anyway since she unfriended me on Facebook and MySpace and has ignored my last two email messages. I still sent her my story, which is now 100% complete, as I said I would. In the end, I’d guess that only Tom, Mitch and Alison will read it, though I did send a copy to Maliheh, too. I think, though, that the only story Maliheh’s interested in is the one with her in it, LOL. She should be. It’s going to be good.

Tuesday, August 10, 2010

God was kind enough to spare my sleep today and not have the propane people show up until after I got up. Even if the rumbling of the truck didn’t wake me up, the smell sure would have. It was disgusting! Especially with the cooler on, but it pumped it back out in just a few minutes.

I woke up at 1pm and tried to get up then, but couldn’t. So I didn’t get up till 2:30. When I checked my email there was a message from Eileen saying she was on her way to Province Town and would be receiving two new grandkids next March. Yay for her!

Marie is so all or nothing that I haven’t heard from her. At least I think that’s why I haven’t heard from her. I hope that’s it and that she’s moved on to someone new and that the reason for the lack of contact isn’t because anything is wrong. Marie will always be special to me and I will never regret the few months we had together in cyberspace, even if she drove me batty at times. But that’s the thing with Marie; she’s either obsessed with you and wants your undivided attention every minute you’re awake, or she would rather not bother at all. The constant emails and following me around from site to site were really getting to be a bit much for me. Twenty years ago it would’ve been kind of fun. I was more eager and persistent (even Maliheh said that, LOL) back then because I had nothing better to do. Today I have a husband and a full plate of responsibilities and hobbies, unlike before. But she couldn’t seem to understand and accept that I couldn’t spend my whole day, every single day, swapping email messages with her or talking on the phone. So wherever she is, I hope that she has found someone who can give her what she wants and needs and that she is happy.

Andy’s still unlucky in love as ever, the poor guy. He dumped this guy for drugs and drinking that recently called him insisting he’s cleaned up his act, yet Andy could tell right away he was high.

Other than internet problems more persistent than I ever was way back when, I’ve got to head off to work and then I will get on with my story. Might post the next chunk later or tomorrow. We’ll see. Before I go out for today’s run I’ll be running through my language exercises. I studied Italian, then found it a bit of a challenge to make the sudden switch back to Spanish, then did drills in German immediately following that. It’s fun, but a tremendous amount of work!

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

I’m dieting, I’m exercising, yet the scale is still going up – WTF? I’m up to 133 pounds. I guess my days of keeping the weight off are coming to an end. I figured they wouldn’t last forever since I’m not naturally thin. Oh well, it was fun while it lasted.

Paula’s package will be going out tomorrow, but as I told her, don’t expect any more. Songs are getting hard to find for free so I urged her to have Justin get her signed up with iTunes or something like that.

Later…

I decided I should follow Tom’s diet more closely, which isn’t really a diet, as he says, but the way he’s going to eat for the rest of his life. He not only cut his calories but also allows himself to eat the same amount of calories each time he eats so as not to stretch his belly out and worsen the hunger. He said if I can get through the first couple of months, I’ll be used to it, though he thinks I look ok as I am.

He’s now lost 40 pounds and I want to lose 31 pounds which would put me to 100, though I would settle for 110-115, even if 100 is most preferred.

Of all the times Tom has to be asleep, it just has to be when I go and discover this thing you download that supposedly lets you view private Facebook profiles. And it’s free and legal, too. I could probably download it myself and figure it out, but I’d rather wait for him. It just figures I have to be on nights now! Especially with my parents’ 60-something anniversary being today and my wanting to call them. I think I’ll still get up early enough to call them, though.

Anyway, with my shit luck, Facebook Eagle, as they call it, won’t work or will be a bust, but I’m looking forward to finding out! 

Thursday, August 12, 2010

Sure enough, Facebook Eagle doesn’t let you view private accounts in secret. I figured it was too good to be true. Especially for being free and legal. You still have to notify the person. But why bother when you can just send them a friend request?

Tammy finally checked out my journal, along with Maliheh, and my parents have been married 59 years. I tried to call them, but thanks to our shitty connection, Dad said I was breaking up, and so I said I’d get back to them. Dad seemed really worried about us being affected by fires, but California’s pretty much always on fire, LOL. Mother Nature and arsonists do a fine job of seeing to that. There have been no fires around here, but as I told him, “Relax, Dad. Half the state’s on fire just about every single day.”

Speaking of connections, Tom finally got them to realize there’s a problem and they’ll be out next Wednesday. It’s a long time to lose even more money and not be able to list things on eBay, but you know something up there loves to interfere with us making money every chance it gets.

I’m glad my stats chart didn’t scare Maliheh off, but I realize there’s always a chance she didn’t get the email about it. It’s unlikely, but it is possible. That much I have no way of verifying. Even so, I thought I would complain in my blog about the stats “disappearing.”

I just hope she and Tammy could read the damn thing. They were down last night for a couple of hours and Andy said my blog is fun to read, but it was hard to read with the floral background.

But the background should be solid white! I checked today and all seems to be working the way it should be. I hope they don’t have regular problems. Part of why I switched to them was for the reliability.

I just wonder what Maliheh’s game is. She either wants me to think it’s her communicating with me, or she’s got something else in mind, and the only thing I can think of is the revenge theory where she’s hoping for an excuse for vengeance. But why has she blocked me on MySpace but not Facebook?

As I’ve said before, I’m proofreading old journals. And right now I’m in Arizona in 1993, living next to Andy in my little 400-square-foot studio apartment with a bitch next store who couldn’t shut up. Oh, the pranks we used to pull together, and I don’t mean just on the phone! When our birthdays would come around, we’d go to all the Denny’s we could and collect free desserts. Once, I was one waitress’s total nightmare when I shoved an open, upside-down bottle of ketchup into some uneaten food, along with our cigarette butts, since we both smoked back then. We’d loosen salt shakers and do all kinds of shit.

One night Andy and I went to a restaurant called Mother Tucker’s, which we, of course, called Mother Fuckers. Supposedly, he had a coupon and we were going to split a steak and shrimp dinner. We ended up having to wait forever for cold, uncooked food, and we walked out with me hitting on the gorgeous hostess. I don’t remember hitting on the hostess, though, or even what she looked like.

The closest I come these days to being a “prankster” is that I sometimes play with scammers and spammers that show up in my inbox. I’ll reply with the link to my journal, some journal/story excerpts, and things like that. In fact, I just got another “Dear Friend” message with someone wanting me to cash a bogus check for them, and my reply was, “If any other student contacted me right now and said they were attracted to me or told me anything else I promised not to write about, they might as well be telling me they liked the color of my shirt for all I would care.”

Friday, August 13, 2010

Ever since my blog was featured, I’ve been getting nearly half a dozen friend requests a day. I don’t mind clicking the accept button and being “friends” with anyone who doesn’t annoy or offend me, but I still have to wonder why some people would want to be friends with someone they both never met and never talked to before. Do they just want to “collect” friends or something?

I get a lot of requests in the middle of the night from Asia being that it’s daytime over there when it’s nighttime here. So in just the few months I’ve been here I have around 70 friends, but only 41 on Facebook, which took forever to accumulate in the years I’ve been a member there. I think I’m still only in the 30s on MySpace. I’ve never friended anyone there, but Gloria. I let them come to me, and most seem to be local business owners and bands.

I still wish Marie the best, but the more I read back on our cyber lives together, for lack of better words, the more I’m glad she’s moved on. She wasn’t just an obsessive, overwhelming pest, but so immature and childish as well. I won’t miss the stress she put me through. I hate to say anything bad against those who are bipolar. It’s not their fault any more than it’s my fault for having ADHD or my mother’s fault for having breast cancer, but they are just so hard to deal with! They’ll take you on the rollercoaster ride from hell and really leave you winded in the end! It’s not her fault she was abused either. But I will always love Marie and hope for the best for her. I know what it’s like to have abuse make you do things you might not ordinarily do. Not to shift blame or excuse myself from the way I hounded Maliheh on the phone, but I have to wonder – would I have done so to such a degree if my childhood had been different?

I know I’ve said it before, but I’m sorry about driving Maliheh crazy years ago, and I do hope she’ll find it in her heart to one day forgive me if she hasn’t already. And for falsely accusing her of harassing me online.

Boy, California really has been the “state of reunion” for me when I think of all the people I’m back in touch with that I never thought I would be – my parents, my sister, Andy, Maliheh, Rosa, Eileen… anyone else I’m forgetting? Yeah, probably. But that’s ok.

Anyway, my period’s due Monday so I’m dragging real bad here. Not even two cups of caffeinated coffee have perked me up.

Later…

“First we lose 10 acres and a brand new 2100-square-foot house in the desert, and now we lose 2.5 acres and a chance to build our own home in the woods!” I sobbed miserably as I pelted the flimsy metal shed with the biggest rocks I could toss.

“Sweetie,” said Tom, “why are you destroying things?”

I turned to him incredulously. “Do you really want someone to get what was supposed to be ours?! What we paid for?!”

“Jodi, it’s 2004. I promise you we’ll do it right next time and within a decade. There’s a home for us. There really is. Three times the charm.”

“Oh, fuck that fucking bullshit, Tom!”

More rocks went flying. Sheets of metal came tumbling down. The sound was deafening.

“Don’t hit the truck. It’s all we’ve got left.”

“I’m nowhere near the truck, and I don’t need any reminders that despite all our hard work and the money we lost that all we have left is a piece of shit of a truck, a few personal possessions, and a dumpy old motel room to return to. In the city. In the fucking city we’ll never escape!

A rush of movement somewhere in the stand of ponderosa pines behind us made us turn and glance in that direction.

“Not bears, I hope,” said Tom. “Wouldn’t want to be their dinner.”

“Ooh, lions and tigers and bears, oh my! Actually, they’d be doing me a favor by turning me into their dinner. What better purpose do I have in this fucked up world anyway, but to lose one thing after another and suffer one heartache after another? Hey, Jason, you out there?!” I turned to shout into the woods at the side of the clearing we stood in. “Michael Myers?! Come and get me! I have nothing to live for. I’m just a fucking loser destined to fuck up and lose all her life.”

“Sweetie, come on.”

“Where? Back to a cold, dingy motel room? Sorry, sir, but I’m in no hurry.”

I swooped down for more rocks that lay between the scattered patches of snow and started battering old “Gertrude,” the name I picked out for our old, ugly RV. I thought that an ugly RV deserved an ugly name.

“The rats will take it over before anyone comes up here, finds it, and considers taking it, not that I expect they would since they didn’t take the nicer one someone else abandoned on the parcel adjacent to us.”

I pushed over our clothesline and stomped on it.

“Come on, part of this was our fault for buying the land sight unseen. If we’d checked it out first, then maybe we’d have realized we’d be on a volcanic mountain that’s way too rocky to build on. You saw me try to start digging for the septic. There’s just no way. Not even with an ice pick and all the other tools I used.”

I collapsed onto an old tree stump of a dead tree the forest rangers had long since sawed away in hopes of preventing forest fires and burst into tears. “Why?” I cried. “Why does God hate us so much? What have we done?”

My husband was at a loss for words that chilly autumn day, back in Oregon. And so was I other than to continually ask why.

Just another PMS-induced memory, I guess, of some of the sad times in our lives. wipes tears from cheeks

Well, I can’t swear to it, but I see a little light spot in the satellite image I’m checking out. I think that’s our little RV, ugly, old Gert, still sitting up there and probably home to the local rats. This was where we were going to live until we built our two-story dome house. It was supposed to be about 1600 square feet. I would have hated the cold and snow at 5300’ in elevation, but it was still another dream lost, and oh - I’m just crying too hard to go on right now.

Saturday, August 14, 2010

Went out for my run just after 7pm. It was still kind of hot for running (in the 80s), but I managed to run a few miles. I should add the part of the driveway - until you reach the fork - into my running path. It’s an extra challenge to get up the driveway, then it’s kind of fun coming back down since gravity more or less pulls you down. You just have to be careful not to slip on the gravel that’s how steep that part is. You can see the trailer’s roof from there. Anyway, I’m down a couple of pounds, and later I’ll do my round of ab crunches.

Someone said my sparkly background wasn’t that noticeable, though it could be her browser. It should be very noticeable, but since it may not be for some people, I put a regular picture back on and will include a picture with each entry, some of which are animated.

I wonder if Tammy could view my blog the day MyOpera was down?

On Friday Tom got a call asking him if he’d be ok with having things “ready” in case they want to do a background check on him for a job. He said sure, and then last night I had a dream he was on his way to work. The only thing that shoots my hope of it being a dream premonition is that he was leaving in an elevator of a big hotel. And the hotel wasn’t quite right. In the so-called restaurant which looked like a dingy old diner, I was fixing myself a bowl of cereal for breakfast after he left, then went over to check out the day’s “jobs” written on a huge dry-erase board. They had jobs for artistic people, jobs to help the cops, mechanical-type jobs, etc. I said something like, “Well, I hate pigs and I’m not the mechanical type, but I am kind of artsy and will be on days for a while. So I guess I’ll go do some drawings.”

Maliheh is still a very faithful follower, checking me out multiple times a day. She usually makes her first check just after 7am my time. I’m definitely one of the first things she does when she gets up, LOL! She came in earlier than usual, though, on Friday at just after 5am my time.

I still wonder about her probably a little more than I should. What is it about that mean, cold bitch that draws me so? And what’s going through her mind? Is she plotting against me? Hoping for something in particular? Does she still see me as a cockroach that oughta be squashed? Or is she, through reading and learning about me, slowly opening up her mind and her heart to me, little by little, inch by inch? Right now my guess is still that I’ll never hear from her, she hates me with a passion and is only interested in my journal for what I might have to say about her. She might even hope for a chance to sue me for it, too. But time will tell.

I considered sending Tammy a birthday message for her birthday on the 16th, then decided against it. Tammy is simply no one I care to be buddies with. I’m ok with no longer being enemies, but looking from the outside in, as if we weren’t sisters, I just don’t like Tammy B. Period. And I don’t want to be buds with the brood either.

Once burned, I’m the victim. Twice burned, I’m the fool. And I don’t want to give her a chance to sic the pigs on me the next time she gets pissed at me, even if she doesn’t have our physical address and there’s no one to call these days that would give it to her. I also don’t know that I want to be buds with anyone who doesn’t “get” me. It isn’t just that we’re different, but she’d just laugh at you if you tried to tell her one is born gay or bi just like one is born straight. And I can just imagine her reaction if I tried to explain my sleep disorder to her. Like I said before, I probably wouldn’t get it myself if I didn’t have it.

Our connection is holding on by a bare thread, so it’s hit or miss as to whether or not I will successfully be able to copy this entry in from Word. Wednesday’s a long way away!

Hope to get back on with my story tonight and my language studies, if I can get myself to stop goofing off and downloading tons of these really cool blog graphics, LOL.

Sunday, August 15, 2010

Did something I never thought I’d do and sent my brother’s daughter a message on MySpace. She would be in her late 20s today. I would’ve sent one directly to him or his wife, but they don’t appear to have accounts on MySpace or Facebook. I simply said that despite our past differences, I do think of them, wish them well, and sometimes miss laughing at Larry when he would be freezing his ass off during the winter. He used to love it when I’d give him a dose of that psychotic laughter of mine!

I don’t expect a reply and personally, I don’t know that I want one. Like I said about Tammy, we don’t need to have a relationship, but I’m all for moving on and dropping the enemy status. I was very angry with him for years for coming between family members and for basically being a hypocrite by saying he didn’t want to get involved, yet sticking his nose in people’s business anyway and condemning others for doing the same thing. I felt like I was back in high school playing the so-called he said/she said game. But I also realize that not only can the death of your own son make you do things you might not ordinarily do, and while it may be ok for each of us to disagree on things, it’s pointless to go on harboring such hate and anger. They don’t have to like me, accept me, or want me to be part of their lives. I just wanted to send a friendly hello through cyberspace is all.

And now I want to thank Maliheh for inspiring me to write the book I’m writing. I wasn’t going to work on it earlier, but then I thought of her and that motivated me to get off my ass and get typing away. Normally I write for me and for me only. But this time around I’m writing for her as well, and so that got me going with a good chunk of chapter 3.

Sure enough, Paula didn’t have the decency to take two minutes of her time to send an email about the package she should’ve received yesterday. Yet she has no problem sending messages when she wants something. Then again it’s always possible that she didn’t make it to her PO Box yesterday, so we’ll see.

For the longest time, I’ve been going on and on about how rough it is to be poor. But then I got to thinking about it and realized that since I’ve gotten my shopping sprees out of my system (and I sure did shop like crazy during the years we had money), I really have become a rather low-maintenance woman. Sure, there are a few things I could use around here. A new office chair would be nice. But I realize that as long as we can pay for our necessities, life on the poor side ain’t so bad. I know we’ll always be poor and that I will go through the bulk of my life uninsured and worrying about the car breaking down, for example, since we don’t make enough money to save anything, but other than that, I don’t need to have a lot of money. If anything, money would only get me fat, LOL, because I’d be tempted to splurge on all kinds of stuff, not just in grocery stores, but in restaurants as well. So while PCH is still welcome to float a few million our way, not having money isn’t the end of the world.

Monday, August 16, 2010

So Tammy’s 53 today. Why is everyone 53 all of a sudden? Tom’s 53, Tammy’s 53, and so is the star of my story.

I started getting friended by spammers like crazy on Facebook, so I temporarily switched from allowing anyone to friend me to friends of friends only. Hopefully, this will stop it. Do I think it’s connected to Maliheh or the black bitch? Nah, probably not. This was a promotional sort of thing that’s quite common.

Andy also sent pictures of some of the buildings on Locust St. in Springfield, MA, right by where I used to live, that have been condemned as inhabitable for humans. Those buildings are definitely old.

Wish I had more to say, but I don’t.

Tuesday, August 17, 2010

My message to Jennifer is still marked as unread, so who knows if she even has the same email address or bothers to go on MySpace these days? Her account is private and I can’t see her last login date. I used to be able to see it, and she did go months without checking in, so who knows?

Maliheh was late checking out my blog yesterday and didn’t get in till around noon my time. Her last check was 9pm. Again – why, why, why??? What’s on her mind? What are her intentions? To hope to “get” me? To be friends? Or is it just plain old curiosity on her part, and if so, is she as curious about me as she is about what I say about her?

I thought Tammy would check into my blog yesterday to see if I mentioned her birthday, but she didn’t. Someone in Lenox, MA, checked in from Topix Forums where I left the link in the comments section of the news article on VH being shut down. Since most of the students were from out of town or state, it wouldn’t surprise me if it was a staffer.

It’s been too quiet in the mornings for Jesse to be working lately. The dogs came to see me when I was hanging out sheets the other morning. It was so cute. Whiskey definitely likes me better than Brandy does.

Andy said that for a few days, my blog was “blurry” as he would scroll down through the entries, but all is fine now. How did we go from “much of the day” as Will had said to “a few days?” Were different blogs screwed up worse than others? I just hope this doesn’t become a regular thing, but so far I’d say they’re more stable than the other site. It was nearly every day that I was having problems over there. The site was down, messages weren’t getting to me, I couldn’t send messages, I couldn’t update my profile, pages took forever to load…

Andy also said he likes how I keep changing the background and that I am too artistic to leave it the same and that change is good.

When is there ever going to be any change in our lives?????!!!!!! I still worry and wonder – will we survive the rest of the year? Will I live to see my 45th birthday in December? Is our dream home really just a dream?

I wish everyone had 20” monitors like I do. My Formspring background looks awesome! A pair of “moving” eyes that fits in perfectly at the sides of the questions. Yet when I checked it out on my laptop, the left eye was cut off on the right side and the right eye was cut off on the left side.

Our own connection issues are still going on, but hopefully we’ll only have one more day of having to deal with it since they’ll be out Wednesday to fix things. So if I’m not around on Wednesday, that’s why. It stopped cutting in and out like crazy for two days but remained very slow. But then Tom said it was in and out all day yesterday.

Guess I’ll spend the remainder of the night working on my story and languages. I probably won’t post any more story excerpts this week.

Later…

Andy’s getting on my nerves again insisting we’re not doing all we can to help ourselves get jobs. And once again, California simply isn’t Massachusetts. He’s gotten jobs online before, so if we’re meant to survive this economy in the first place, he’ll do it again.

I do agree that it’s a youth’s market out there like he says, and that Tom should consider dying his hair. It’s like you have to be perfect. You can’t be old, you can’t be fat, you can’t be ugly, you can’t be short, you can’t be female – you can’t be shit! And non-whites get first dibs on everything these days. They’ll hire a black person who’s half as qualified as a white person, and when it comes to two potential white people – the youngest, skinniest one always wins. This world is so fucked up and unfair.

I love the guy and I know he means well, but why spend the gas money to drive around in a car with a broken AC to collect bottles like he suggests for half of what we can make online in the cool comfort of home? I’m glad he enjoys doing this himself, though.

I figured out how to recall friend requests on Facebook. I took hold of the mouse and said to myself, “Ok, girl. If you wanted to be friends you’d have accepted my invite by now. Right?” Then I started to cancel it and my hand suddenly froze on the mouse. Why was it so hard for me to click that X and cancel it out? Just one simple little click of the mouse was all it would’ve taken. “Come on, you can do it,” I tried coaxing myself. But I couldn’t. For some reason, I just couldn’t break the connection. I’d rather she be the one to do it if she wants to, though I still haven’t figured out why. I’m never going to see this person again, and for one who isn’t much of a people person to begin with, she sure has become like this strange sort of magnet with a hold on me.

Seriously, I hate people in general. I really do. It takes a lot to impress me and little to lose me. And I used to be – or so I thought – the least forgiving person on the planet. Never forgive, never forget, never move on. I basically strived to live by these rules. But it’s like Maliheh’s changed things somehow. Andy’s back in my life, not that he did anything wrong which I needed to forgive him for. And now my sister’s a Facebook friend. I still can’t believe it every time I see her picture on my friend list, and I’m still not sure that’s a good thing just yet, but even so, it’s like I’ve reached this new turning point in my life upon contacting Maliheh and I don’t know what it means just yet.

I still don’t even know what’s on Maliheh’s mind for sure. I believe it’s her I’ve been communicating with, but I still don’t know her true intentions if she has any at all. Maybe she feels the same – drawn to me, curious about me, and wondering what the hell she’s doing by being friendly enough to communicate with me and to have suggested the story since Maliheh always struck me as also being very unforgiving. Or maybe she still hates my guts and hopes I get hit by a car, I just don’t know. All I know is that I couldn’t bring myself to let go and break the so-called “connection.” I don’t get it. I just don’t get it. Could it be that despite never seeing each other again I’m still attracted to her? Hmm… I guess it’s possible. If she looks this hot in her 50s, I can totally see why I was drooling all over her in her 30s. She’s that good-looking! Maybe I didn’t want to admit it at first, but she really is a true beauty. She has a beautiful face, my dream hair, and a great body. Who wouldn’t be attracted to her? Yet it doesn’t seem like enough for me to not be able to cancel the damn friend request, but oh well. She’ll wear off in time.

Wednesday, August 18, 2010

Thought I’d squeeze in an entry before they come to turn us off since it’s only after 3am, and they sure as hell ain’t coming this early.

Yesterday I noticed my tweets from Twitter weren’t present on the sidebar and found it was turned off when I went to check my settings. So this site isn’t perfect after all. I turned them back on and hopefully they’ll stay on.

Decided to post my German scores on Twitter and Facebook (and maybe impress Maliheh, LOL), then jump back to the French course before the Chinese course.

Thursday, August 19, 2010

Now that we’re back online and up to speed I have quite a bit to catch up on, so this entry’s going to be a quickie. It’s so wonderful to be able to zip around the web once again! It’s not like cable, but it’s no longer slower than satellite either. Before I couldn’t play the radio, couldn’t do much work, couldn’t stream videos, and if I was lucky enough not to get kicked offline altogether, pages would take forever to load. I’m just glad they took care of the problem because we couldn’t live here otherwise.

Tom’s not up yet, so I don’t yet know exactly what the problem was, but we both suspected a leaning pine tree towards the foot of the drive that was leaning on the wire. The drive is hundreds of feet long with lots of twists and turns. Near this leaning tree, the driveway is at its steepest. So steep that it’s paved to keep the rain from washing it out. What a workout it was walking up and down that part! But fun, too. I felt every muscle from my calves, hamstrings, and quads, right up on to my ass, working like crazy. I doubt my parents could’ve done it.

Jesse and the dogs came down for a few minutes to check the pipes and tell us that he once tried to get them to cut a tree that was interfering with the wires, but the lazies wouldn’t do anything till it actually snapped the wire. Brilliant, huh? He said if we could get them to take down the leaning tree, he’d be happy to come by and drag it away.

Brandy ran up and greeted me, then shyly moved on while Whiskey happily let me rub his belly.

Jesse then said something about having to get a tire balanced, and he later passed us along the drive as he and the dogs were leaving. They probably would’ve been quiet had they stayed back since it was getting hot by then, but I was glad to see them go. Jesse probably didn’t want the dogs scaring the internet workers anyway if they showed up while he was out.

They didn’t show up until 3:00, and by then I’d been up 16 hours and needed to sleep. I expected to get woken up along the way, but I didn’t. I just woke up to pee around 7:00 and was surprised when Tom said they were still working on it but had gone out to get gas. So since no one came inside that I know of, it probably was the tree that was the problem. I’ll find out for sure in a few hours. Although it would’ve cost us $100, the easiest problem to have had would’ve been a bad modem. Instead, I’ll eventually be spending the money we saved on a new keyboard and microphone adapter. I’m sick of these keys sticking and not being able to do the speech part of my language lessons since I’m running Windows on an iMac. It’s just that I hate OSX with a passion! Worst operating system ever. I refuse to use anything other than Windows.

Why they’re suddenly sending me Spanish lessons to review on the language site is beyond me. Shouldn’t native Spanish speakers review those no matter how much Spanish a non-native may have learned?

They finally got their own shit together on the language site after having tons of tech issues themselves, and so I could finally enroll in the Esperanto course I’ve been wanting to check out. The sound files aren’t as good as those of the major languages, but it’s not nearly as horrid as the Catalan was. I also like this language a lot so far! It seems even easier than Spanish because there’s not much in the way of gender words which makes for grammar that can be harder than in English. I like how they put “mal” in front of words to make them have the opposite meaning: alta – tall, malalta – short. So Esperanto will be language #7 for me – woo-hoo! I’m really excited about it. I don’t know why I’m such a language fanatic, but at least I have something fun to look forward to despite being stuck in the usual rut.

Things have been running smoothly for the last couple of weeks, and while I’m enjoying it immensely, it also worries me because I know the shit’s going to hit the fan any minute now and God will once again have His fun tormenting me with some kind of stressful situation. It’s bad enough that I don’t know if we’re going to survive the year, but would rather not have to deal with any shit until the end comes, if it’s coming. Yet we just can’t seem to get ahead in life, and when we do, we get kicked back. Sometimes I’m not sure I want to own a place again. Sure it would be nice for various reasons, but wouldn’t God find a way to take that place, too?

Paula sent an email confirming that she got the package and loves it, so that’s nice. She said she was glad to have a friend in me and hopes to visit someday. I’d like that cuz I sure as hell ain’t going back to New England. I haven’t been back since I first left it 18 years ago, so why go back now?

Ok, so maybe this entry wasn’t a quickie after all. But now I’ll definitely be off to catch up on things, which means the next part of my story may be delayed a bit.

Sharyn checked out my blog today. At least I think it was her. Someone from New York came in from Facebook, and while anything’s possible, the odds of it being someone else seems unlikely since my FB page isn’t as exposed and in people’s faces as my tweets are, for ex. Besides, I’ve been posting more things to FB lately, and that shows up on your friends’ activity feeds. The language scores and blog posts would be more attention-grabbing than just an occasional comment on someone else’s posts which was all I’d mainly post for a while.

Later…

I wasn’t going to do another entry today, then said why not? We just got back from the grocery store, and I even splurged a little on some Chinese take-out. Why not? We’re going to be forever poor anyway. It is damn good, too. Especially their fried chicken. Something about the batter that’s just totally awesome.

It’s hot and dry out there just the way I like it.

Earlier I felt like I was coming down with a cold and found I had a temp of 99.1, but I think whatever it is is going away. It better! I almost never get sick. Besides, I haven’t been around any sick people.

The problem didn’t turn out to be the tree, but a bad section of wire instead. First they called him to say they’d have to send a crew out tomorrow, but then at 6:00, a guy called saying he was at the foot of the drive. He was here for nearly two hours replacing the line. I was really starting to think we’d never get them to come out here! But now our connection is faster than in all the time we’ve lived here and we don’t have to move. Before, if one of us wanted to watch a movie, it’d slow the other one down. But now we can both watch movies on our computers! I don’t watch movies very often, but it’s nice to know I can do that now if I wanted to.

I’ve been making up for lost time at the job site. We decided not to list anything on eBay today so we can get caught up on work and things we haven’t been able to do online in a while.

I might not pick up with my current story till next week, but Alison tweeted that she’s on chapter 8 of my last book and loving it so far. Especially the journal parts.

Friday, August 20, 2010

I miss winning. I really, really miss winning! I won more than usual, and those who know me or have read my bio know why. Unless they don’t believe in psychics. But if they do, then they’ll know why I not only used to win things like crazy but how I killed the cold I had starting to set in yesterday, too.

Every few days I’d win something. Sometimes it was little piddly stuff, sometimes it was big stuff – guitars, trips, designer clothes, cruises, thousands of dollars – you name it, I won it. But then the economy went to hell and it all came to a stop after winning the two giant iMacs and the color laser printer. And so here I sit, former winner and former psychic.

Wait. Former psychic, my ass! I said to myself when my throat was sore and my fever was climbing. I will not be sick. I will NOT! I refuse! I absolutely, totally refuse to be sick. I’m just gonna have to work my magic again just like old times, which really isn’t all that “magical” if you learn what to do.

“Hop to it!” I demanded of myself, and made myself comfy in bed while I put myself in a trance and concentrated on all the right things this particular spell required. Ten minutes later my throat was fine and my fever was gone. That was 12 hours ago.

During the last 12 years or so I have learned a lot of psychic techniques, for lack of better words. I can’t move objects or tell you what you had for dinner last night, or if you’re going to be in a car accident, win the lottery or anything like that, but I can influence things. I’ve made people like me that I’ve had crushes on or at least notice me somewhat. Like Liz the gorgeous cashier in Oregon and Randy the jolly old mailman who wasn’t that old. I’ve made myself win things I shouldn’t have won, I’ve cured illnesses, I’ve “jinx-written” things into happening, I’ve “rigged” scratch tickets, I’ve made ill those I’ve gotten mad at just by being mad at them, even if I didn’t want them to fall ill or get hurt in any way. It became so developed that I couldn’t help the effects my moods and emotions would have, which could be just as much of a curse as it could be a blessing. The better my mood, the more good things would happen. The worse my mood, the more bad things would happen. Only it was much more extreme for me and it went far beyond the usual good attitude causing good things/bad attitude causing bad things. And because the economy was so bad and got us so down, I just couldn’t keep the positive, happy mood going in order to cause the desired domino effect it would normally have. I was sad, I was mad, I was stressed, I was scared… and so bad things kept happening. I still believe there is a God or some other outer force working against us, yes, but I have yet to figure out a way to balance things back out to where they used to be. The longer life sucks, the harder it is to keep your chin up. And if you’re an influencer like me, you’re going to find that you’re a bit of a “nasty influence” on yourself.

The only things I still have which are considered on the psychic side are dream premonitions, and the ability to keep colds away. I’ve only had a few since 1997. It took me a while to figure out how to keep them away from Tom, but eventually I did, and even from Paula. Paula called me right as a cold was starting to set in and I told her I didn’t think I could help her from across the country. But she urged me to try and I did. A few hours later she was as good as new.

I was going to write about the dreams I had involving Maliheh and a few others I used to know, but I’ll do it later. Right now I want to take my next Esperanto lesson before I write some more and polish what skills of mine as a psychic I have that have gotten a wee bit rusty. And I will! Starting with a pair of scratch tickets later on today if Tom can grab some while he’s out. I used to make every 3 out of 4 tickets win. Why not do it again? It just may take a while before I can hit the 50 and 100-dollar winners.

The Influencer is coming back! Oh, yes she is!

Later…

Yesterday I got a 95% on my German lesson and 100% on my Esperanto lesson. Today it was the other way around and I got 100% in German and 95% in Esperanto.

Current overall scores:

25% through Esperanto 101 with a score of 98%.

74% through German 101 with a score of 96%.

Ok, on with the dreams, one of which I woke up relieved from, the other feeling a bit creeped out and curious as to what it could mean if anything.

In the first dream, I was in a motel. What a surprise, huh? I swear I’ve had more hotel/motel dreams than anyone else on the planet! I was alone, sitting just outside the door watching movies on a giant movie screen that was set up in the parking lot. Others were out and about, also sitting outside their rooms watching movies. I caught a glimpse of a man walking by and realized with alarm that he could’ve quickly slipped into my room and ripped me off.

I got up and went into the room, not happy to see the inner door to the hallway open. A couple of young girls I seemed to know that were around age 10 were in the room. One had a jump rope, the other a hula-hoop. I glanced at the dresser and did not see my purse. Panic started to well up inside me till I realized it was on the bed. I breathed a great sigh of relief to see my money was still inside of it, too.

“Ok, girls,” I said, “you have to leave now so I can watch the next movie that’s going on in a few minutes.”

They said ok and wished me a happy birthday for some reason.

I was truly relieved too, when I woke up from this dream. Had the purse or the money been missing it would’ve been a sure sign of trouble ahead!

Saturday, August 21, 2010

Marilena, a friend on Facebook who lives in Italy and knows very little English, said to stop by and see her if we ever make it on the trip to Italy I won before it expires in 2014. She’s near one of the trip’s designations, so I’ll let her know when and if we’re ever on the way. The truth is that I doubt I’ll even live to turn 45, but oh well. I gotta die someday anyway, don’t I? I’d just prefer carbon monoxide poisoning over Maliheh’s rigged chicken sandwich.

I’m probably going to put my language lessons on hold till we can get the adapter that’ll allow me to use my mike in Windows. I could jump over to OSX, but that’d be a real pain. We’re going to order one online, if we don’t find a suitable one at Walmart, with the Swag Bucks certificates he won.

If I do put my lessons off for a week or so I’ll probably jump back to my story and try to get chapter 3 finished this weekend. The faster I work on it, the more I’ll have done if life really is going to see to it that my name soon ends up on Legacy. I also don’t want to rush things too much and end up fucking things up. That’s how you end up sending black people to tanning salons, LOL.

Later…

After correcting an error in my last entry (I wrote that Marilena was near one of the Italy trip’s designations when it should’ve been destinations), I happily annoyed Tom with speaking different languages. He didn’t mind too much, though, when I told him in Spanish I was going to make some coffee, then answered a question of his in Portuguese. Then I told him that a rabbit ran by in Italian, and answered another question in German. I only know a few phrases in Esperanto as of yet. I even signed a little and threw some French at him, though I can’t speak nearly as much of that from thin air as I can understand what I read of it.

As Andy pointed out, McDonald’s is always hiring. Ah, but now they won’t even consider you if you don’t have fast-food experience. That’s ok. I already know we’re not going to make it. That’s getting more obvious by the day. I’m just going to try to enjoy what life I have left to live in the meantime… unless this one thing I can’t talk about works out and saves us.

We’re both dyeing our hair tomorrow – his light brown, mine dark blond.

I’m doing laundry now, but as soon as he gets back from the store and settles down to do some programming, I’ll try to focus on some writing.

Sunday, August 22, 2010

Wow, Maliheh must be getting impatient, LOL, because she checks out my journal 3 or 4 times a day, she pretty much knows what schedule I’m on (I’m off to a late start today), and has been checking my journal every hour for updates. Man, I still wish to hell I knew what she was thinking! Is she over the past? Wanting to screw me? Does she like the story? Will she ever contact me or accept the friend invite?

Brandy went off (I think it was Brandy) before sunup, and Whiskey went off at 7am. Was Jesse even home last night? I know he went out at 6pm last night, but did he ever return? At age 54, I doubt he’s seeing anyone, but if he were, why not bring her here to what is a big beautiful house? Let me guess… God would rather he go to her so I can listen to the dogs, right? Bet He’d have her come here for damn sure if they would blast music for hours and hours that we could hear down here.

I got up to find the bedroom at 70º and the living room at 65º. That is totally freezing to me! And it’s not even September yet. The unseasonably cool weather we’ve had for the last couple of days is to end soon and we’re to be back at 100º - yes! But why oh why am I so damn sensitive to cold? I hate it when the place is under 77º except for when I’m sleeping or working out! I love having it between 77º and 82º in here. I hate to have to be bundled up in robes and to wear long sleeves that get caught on things and restrict my movements. It’s making me think of Florida more and more, though I know that if we make it, we’d never have the money to move there, and if we did, I wouldn’t have the guts to make the move after having each long-distance move I’ve made get more and more disastrous. Living on the edge of poverty really restricts your options, but instead of getting all pissed off about it, I’m trying to learn to accept that some things are just meant to be and there’s only so much we can do to change them. If we’re not meant to have money so as to be held back in life, nothing we do is going to change things. Not much anyway.

I was teasing Tom yesterday and we were laughing and joking about some things which helped take my mind off of things. “Love how they say it targets only the grays,” I said as I was reading the box of hair dye he bought for himself. “You’re gonna really be under target,” I added, and he laughed.

Then when I took a break from writing to give my mind a rest from so much thinking, I went into the living room and said, “Writing a book is such hard work. No matter how good you may be at it, the editing takes forever. I feel like I’ve written dozens of pages, but I’ve only written a few.”

I headed back into my little office to write some more when he comes out of the bathroom and says, “I wanted to pull a few brown hairs to later compare with the dyed ones, but I can’t find any to pull.”

I laughed my ass off and assured him there were a few in back I could pull for him. “But then I won’t have any left to compare with,” and we were cracking up again. It was so fucking funny!

We were also remembering the time the refrigerator door fell off in old Gert. It happened right as Tom was crashing and had the sheet over his head. I was startled and squealed out in panic as it fell off, but what was so hilarious (though it wasn’t the least bit hilarious at the time) was seeing how fast he struggled to get that sheet off his head. It must’ve taken him at least 5 seconds to get untangled from the sheet, and of course he was like, “Calm down, it’s no big deal.” But I wouldn’t hear it. I went right into my why-does-God-hate-us? mode.

He started to haul the refrigerator door outside and I yelled, “What are you doing going out in the dark? Are you out of your mind? Get back in here!” And after I reminded him we were in the middle of the forest – a northwestern pine forest - with no one around for miles but bears and other deadly goodies, he said he doubted any bears would get him. “Maybe just a mountain lion instead, right?” I said.

“But where do I put the thing?” he asked, and I told him to put it on top of the rat’s cage for all I cared, but we were NOT going outside.

Something was really out to get him one day. We went into the city (K-Falls) for pizza, went back out to the land, and he puked. Then he was working on adjusting the satellite dish that was on back of the RV when the wrench slipped from his hand and bonked him just under the eye. So he had to walk around with a black eye, looking like he got punched out for a week.

Oh, what fun and disastrous times we had in the Pacific Northwest until circumstances forced us to abandon old ugly Gert and the land. Oh well. It was too fucking cold anyway. It was in the 30s there last night.

Later…

They made me a translator on livemocha.com. That Spanish submission I had to review the other day wasn’t a mistake after all. Because my score in Spanish is so high, they made me Community English and Spanish teacher and now translator as well. The only thing is that I do enough for free, and all they give you are “mocha points.” Big deal! I care more about cash than showing off achievements.

I really wish people would quit sending me their speaking lessons with TVs blaring in the background. Use your fucking heads, people!

My first attempt to “psych” a bingo scratch ticket into winning was a bust. beats head But I was one number away from a $5 winner on 2 of the 4 games. You get a second chance to win online, too. Tom said that since I was never 100% on these things anyway, we’ll soon try one more time on another ticket.

sighs And I still say that I lost that ability upon moving here, though I don’t know why. At least I can still keep the colds away and have the dream premonitions even if some of them aren’t good.

Monday, August 23, 2010

I’m sitting here with my hair all gunked up with hair dye, not looking forward to the long half-hour ahead of me. I didn’t want to put my glasses on and get dye on the frames, nor did I want to sit staring blindly into space. So I magnified the hell out of the screen so I could type. People with ADHD don’t do well sitting still with nothing to do.

It’s going to be over 100º tomorrow and the next day – yay!

Jesse (and probably his kid) were annoying for a while on the dirt bike, but otherwise, I enjoyed my 3-mile run today. It was the easiest it’s been in a while, so now I have to speed up or run longer. I think I prefer the speed. I’m running around 5 to 6 MPH.

Since Tom doesn’t exercise much other than when he’s out working on the land or doing inside projects, and since I prefer running to biking, we decided to throw the bike outside on the deck.

Tom received a couple of calls regarding jobs. While they do seem encouraging, I hate to get my hopes up after all this time of nothing happening. For now, we remain a pair of “accomplished losers.” Accomplished losers with so much to offer the world, but unable to find just who to offer it to.

My Facebook friend in Italy, Marilena, said that if we don’t make it to Italy she’ll come see us instead. That’d be nice. She seems like a really nice lady. I guess she’s married with kids and doesn’t know very much English, but has always wanted to visit the U.S. Yeah, come on over. We’re all fat here, our computers come first, and we wouldn’t dare think of helping a stranger in need. :)

My German teacher and I are now friends on the language site, who happens to be extremely good-looking. Makes learning more fun. :) Her name is Nane and I look forward to working with her. She has dark hair and eyes and is older. I’ve always liked older women for some reason. I can’t really think of anyone I was attracted to who was my age or younger.

Tuesday, August 24, 2010

Nane, my oh-so-attractive German teacher corrected my last German lesson, but never checked out my journal or caught up with me on Facebook. But hey, why should anyone I find attractive want to associate with me unless they’re crazy like Marie?

Yesterday I won two instant wins in a row for Carl’s Jr. breakfast coupons! The influencer is back! Sure hope she is anyway.

Looks like Maliheh’s buddy in Kansas just checked out the steamy sex scene I just posted, though she’s only listed as being in the U.S. this time. As soon as I saw they came from Facebook, I figured there was a connection. But trying to hide behind a proxy (although Tom says they’re not necessarily doing so) didn’t help them, since all I had to do was point at the newest dot on the map to figure out where they were.

Wednesday, August 25, 2010

Signing in today at a scorching 107º. This is definitely the hottest day since moving into this place! I feel bad for the dogs. Most people out west wouldn’t take their dogs outdoors no matter how hot or cold it got. We’re going to drop down to the 70s by the weekend at which time I’m sure Jesse will make quite a racket, then it’s going to come up again. I wonder how much longer he’s going to be out of work. I’m sure he’ll be back in time for the weather to be cool enough for the dogs to start barking their asses off which they prefer to do in the cooler weather.

Got caught up on Formspring questions which I’m now sending to Twitter and Facebook, did some online work, cleaned the bathroom, went out for burgers and fries, and will soon begin chapter 6 of my book.

Now my story has two votes, so I see, while the journal has one.

For some reason, the satellite images of this area on Google Maps are the closest and clearest ever. And they’re pretty recent too, as you can see the ugly strips of fake grass by the trailer, our car, our shed, his place, etc. Too bad I wasn’t out running that day, LOL. If I thought the pile of crap he has down here is ugly enough, he has a ton of crap all over the back of the land. Fortunately, we can’t see it here. Neither can he or his neighbors as there are too many trees surrounding it. It’s so cockish, though. It really is.

We checked our old places in Oregon and Arizona, but they don’t have such detailed images on their maps yet. Mitch (Paul) says they’re scary and that you can see his mother’s birdbath in the backyard.

Nane and I swapped a couple of messages on the language site. She had the same problem with her microphone at first, too. My adapter should arrive tomorrow or the next day so she and I can get back to work – ooh! Like I said, having a good-looking teacher helps make learning more fun since German is kind of an ugly language. Gotta learn it, though, as every language I learn helps with other things.

Last night I dreamt that Tom, Maliheh and I were all watching a movie one night in a ground-floor apartment. We seemed to be on the end of a strip of little apartments. It almost looked like the NHA. Tom and Maliheh were sitting in recliners and I was sitting on the floor sort of between them.

“Anyone want some popcorn or hot chocolate?” I asked during a commercial.

Tom looked over at Maliheh and said, “Need anything from our little waitress?”

“Yeah, but I don’t tip,” Maliheh answered.

I laughed and Tom and Maliheh exchanged amused smiles. Then Tom suddenly looked worried and said, “There’s someone outside.”

It was as if he knew there was trouble, and so he bolted from his chair and ran out the front door. I jumped into my flip-flops and followed. Seeing no one in sight, I ran into the apartment next door which the front door was wide open. Immediately I knew something bad must’ve happened. The place was trashed and there was a bloody trail leading to the back door which was also wide open. I didn’t see a soul in sight and began to call out Tom’s name in a panic, even though I knew I shouldn’t be leaving fingerprints, hairs or anything else of mine at a probable crime scene.

“Jodi, get back here! NOW!” I heard Maliheh shout from out front.

“But Tom’s not answering. He’s in the woods in back. Something’s wrong!” I cried as I followed Maliheh back into our place where she shut and locked the doors.

“We have to call the police!” I said.

“I’ve already called them,” she said. “Just get down.”

“Down where?”

“On the floor. Now!”

And then I woke up before we could find Tom.

Too bad I didn’t first contact Maliheh just one day sooner than I did. I would’ve been her birthday present, LOL, as I just learned that her birthday is May 13th. So’s Mike M’s.

I decided to let Alison in on the Maliheh thing in an email. I was curious about her opinion on what she thinks may be going through Maliheh’s mind. Next comes Mitch and Tom, but not just yet as far as Tom’s concerned. He’s as paranoid as I am a worrywart, so I don’t want him getting all worried that I’m doing anything to draw in the bacon.

Later…

LOL, Maliheh’s getting impatient for the next part of the story. I didn’t get around to posting anything new today. She checked more often and later, too. Her last check was at nearly 3am her time. Can’t sleep, huh? LOL

Thursday, August 26, 2010

I noticed a missing word in a sentence in the last part of the story and so I added it in. I also put a sentence in quotes that shouldn’t have been in quotes and corrected a word in the steamy dream scene. beats head How do I keep missing these things? I mean, I know a lot of work goes into writing a book and that it’s no easy task, but after going through one silent read-through and one electronic read-through, you’d think I’d catch more of these things. Argh!

Maliheh’s getting pretty anxious for the next part of the story, seeing that she’s already been in at least 4 times today, LOL. I never would’ve believed in a million years she’d be back in my life, even though she’s not really, and she’ll never contact me unless I “make” her. I think I’ll go make her say hello on my blog right now. It’s been a few days.

Got my first visit from someone in NJ from the old diary site. Since I’m still on the favorites page there’s no way to know if they specifically looked for me over there or if they linked in through the favorites page.

I want my damn adapter so I can learn more of my beautiful teacher’s ugly language! If it doesn’t arrive at the mail place today, then tomorrow for sure.

Now that I’ve gotten enough other work done, it’s time to tackle chapter 6. I hope to have at least some of it posted by around 9pm.

Later…

There’s no way I can finish chapter 6 today. It’s just too much work and taking much longer than expected. Part of this is because I’m referring to past journals where I mention Maliheh. I’m not sure yet if I’m going to use some of the actual excerpts or just work them into the story in other ways, but when I was reading through from the second half of 1991 to the beginning of 1992, a couple of surprises jumped out at me.

I wrote that I sent Maliheh a “prank” letter in February of 1992. But I never had her address! I also have no recollection whatsoever of writing/sending the letter. In the whacky letter, I would have mixed lines from songs and shit like that so it was really confusing.

I also may’ve falsely accused her of returning the prank calls. Maybe at least some of them had nothing to do with her. According to what I read, a guy called me in November and hit on me. They also mentioned that I’d had a breakdown the other night and was at the Northampton crisis center which was true. I had been. I spoke to the crisis center people by phone a few times each month during the 10 months I lived in S. Deerfield. The bar’s parking lot was within view of the crisis center and so I had assumed that Maliheh and some friends were at the bar that night and saw me. I do stand out and don’t exactly have many look-alikes.

The same guy called back two months later in January. Only problem is that I had a different phone number! They cut my service for a while because I had a huge phone bill, and when they reconnected me it was with a different number.

That leaves two possibilities – that all or at least some of the calls were either connected to Kim and Mark, or to a crisis worker.

Reading back on some of this shit I see that yes, I was one mixed-up, immature person, alright, but I also understand how and why the accumulative effects of the experiences I had in life could cause one to lash out the way I did, right or wrong. I don’t expect others to understand me and I’m not trying to make excuses for what I did. I also realize that I will never truly be forgiven for what I did, simply because most people don’t forgive. They may talk about it and agree that it seems like a nice concept, but I know it’s not real life for the most part. This doesn’t mean that I myself am going to switch back into non-forgiving mode, even if I probably should.

I still don’t hold a grudge either way for the calls (if she was behind them) or for upsetting me with any disagreements we had after all these years. The past is the past. Had she robbed me or beaten me or tried to kill me, that would be different. That I would never and could never forgive. Yet despite being fucked over a million times worse by a few others in life, she has remained just as memorable as them in my mind. Strange, huh? I wonder if she’d be less memorable had she not been someone I was attracted to.

Friday, August 27, 2010

Tom went on a job interview at a temp place in Grass Valley. The job is for manufacturing video equipment. I asked if he thought he got the job, but he said they were very hard to read so he doesn’t know. They said they’d make their decision soon. Instead of discussing much about the job, though, they asked him about himself, including whether or not he has a computer. He told them he has an iMac and before that, he used to build his own computers. Calls and interviews are nice, but he needs to be hired!

Alison and Kim are my top cyber pals along with Mitch and Dorian, even if I don’t hear much from them guys lately (along with my special buddy).

I hope my heart doesn’t go weirding out on me again. Yesterday I had palpitations every few minutes! It was really annoying. And today it’s beating a little fast and hard.

I don’t know why, but I only slept for 5 hours and so I’m tired today. Chapter 6 really burned me out so I’ll probably take a break and not work on my story till next week. Tomorrow we’re picking up my microphone and so I’ll be busy with my German and Esperanto lessons!

Later…

OMG, OMG, OMG!!! Yes, I have what is the best news after 22 long, stressful, frustrating months! Tom got a job!!! dances with delight Yes, he really, really got a job!!! shouts for joy We won’t know the details until next Monday, though, because we missed her call. The cell phone won’t ring inside the trailer cuz of the metal walls and trim. She called right before closing time and when he went outside to call her back when he saw there was a message, she was gone. She simply said, “I have some good news for you. Call me back.” He left a message that he’d call back Monday morning.

Although it’s only a temp place and he may or may not be hired on permanently, the sense of relief and happiness is sooooo nice and it’s sooooo overdue! Watch out, OLS, the influencer is coming back and she’s gonna kick ass! Gonna start raking in those wins again like crazy! You know how it works for psychics of my kind – the better the mood, the more good things happen. And it’s in a much more extreme way than with most people. You can’t win all I used to win without being at least somewhat psychic!

Watch, I said to Tom, now that you’ve got this job, other offers will come crawling out of the woodwork. He said he was just about to say the same thing. It was so fucking funny! It felt so good to really laugh, and then we laughed harder when he said that he’s still gotta put in 3 applications tomorrow for his unemployment form. Depending on the hours and pay we may still get unemployment checks for a while. Don’t know yet.

Someday we’re gonna buy a house and really go home! Oh, yes we are. We’re gonna take back what we lost and this time I ain’t letting nothing tear us down again. Like Maliheh said to Joni in the story, “I’m taking and I ain’t never giving back what I take!”

I don’t know why I didn’t see it in my dreams, but you know me, it’s usually the bad things that I have dream premonitions about.

I will continue to work at home with the online job and the writing. Right now I’m too excited to write anymore or work on my story. twirls with delight I’m just gonna listen to music or watch movies. And hope my heart stops beating funny. Got a bit of chest pain too, but nothing serious.

Oh, shit! Now I’ll be taking on all the chores again now that he’ll be working, LOL! What a nice problem to have, huh? Woo-hoo!!!

In other news, there’s a new twist in the Maliheh case. Sort of. At 8:30 ET I got a Hope Mills hit. One hour later I got hit by Fayetteville. Same providers, different IPs. Hmm… maybe the Hope Mills visitor wasn’t her after all. It definitely wasn’t a case of her modem resetting and assigning a new IP# cuz the Fayetteville one is the same as always. I think that with the story heating up, she’s just more anxious to share it with friends, LOL. I’m getting a lot more hits from people in states she’s lived in before or that she’s got friends in, like Missouri and Kansas. And they don’t seem to mind that I know it, too.

I also have a regular visitor from a university in Ohio. They would come in once every week or two, but now they too, are coming in more often.

Saturday, August 28, 2010

It’s after midnight here and we had to shut windows tonight, which sucks, and probably will tomorrow night, too.

We were talking about the job and Tom said that if he really did get it, then the stress will be off of me and onto him since he’ll have the pressure of trying to do the best job possible, though I’m sure he’ll dazzle and amaze them with his smarts and abilities. He wants to get us insured as soon as possible so I can get my heart checked out. That’s ok, I’ll pass up Dr. Cardio for the dentist. :) Still, I got a kick out of the stress being shifted from me to him part. Ah, that’s a nice breath of fresh air! I could get very used to breathing it, too. :)

Later…

Had a little scare that woke me up an hour into my sleep where I woke up coughing. My throat was burning and I had trouble swallowing. I guess I burped up some stomach acid – yuck!

Got up at 1:30 and had a busy first few hours. I ran a few miles, got a 100% on my next Esperanto lesson, reviewed some English and Spanish submissions, then changed the rat’s cage. See what I mean when I say I do what most people don’t, LOL?

You know you moved to the wrong place when you’ve got all your windows shut during an August afternoon. It did later make it up to 83º in here and I’m letting it get as warm as possible because it’s to drop to 53º tonight. I don’t think it’ll go over 83º, though, as it’s already almost 6:00.

Maliheh’s got me bookmarked now. :) Before she would jump in from FB.

I was just about to demolish my Facebook account when a friend reminded me that they like to see my language lesson scores posted there (yeah, wait till they start dropping as the lessons get harder), and other friends have no other means of getting a hold of me when they want to. I also like the “connection” to Maliheh, even if there isn’t really any connection. If I wanted a private account, then you bet I’d get out of there! But for now, I’ll leave things alone, even if a part of me will probably always consider leaving Facebook, MySpace and Formspring. Part of my artificial intelligence work requires me to have these kinds of accounts, and sometimes I enter sweeps that are connected to them too, which is another reason to keep them open.

With Tom working I’ll be “eligible” to win more. “You know how it works,” I told him. “The rich get richer and the poor get poorer.” We may not be poor or rich, but the concept is the same; the more money you have, the more it seems you get, and vice versa. The only time I won big when we really needed money was when I psyched out that 9 grand in the motel.

Anyway, Tom set up my microphone for me and now I’m back in training. “Where have you been? I’ve missed you,” my German buddy told me on LiveMocha. LOL, I’d say I’ve been missing her a little more than she’s been missing me. And tonight I’m sure I’ll give her a good laugh with the speaking exercise of the next German lesson, though she’ll probably be in bed if she’s like most people blessed with the ability to keep a normal schedule. It’s 8 or 9 hours later in Germany.

My Esperanto teacher is just some guy named Panta. I can’t imagine being called Panta, LOL. I should go see if ole Panta Claus has reviewed my lesson yet.

To answer other questions – yes, learning languages takes regularity to ground things in and to retain them. I study for at least a few minutes almost every day. Sometimes I do whatever language I’m in the mood to do, other times I have set plans. And yes, one will help with the other, but they also confuse and override each other. It seems that when I speak a sentence, my voice wants to throw in the words of whatever language I think of them first. So sometimes my Spanish sentences are sprinkled with Italian, and sometimes it’s the other way around.

Might work on my story tonight, but probably won’t post anything.

Sunday, August 29, 2010

Those in Istanbul-Shit, Ghana-rea and India really seem to like me, LOL, based on all the friend requests I’ve been getting from there lately. I might look for a way to turn off the photo comments, though, as I get tired of the same old, same old. I don’t mean to seem rude or unappreciative, but yes, I know the desert is hot, I know I was cute at 4 years old, and I know I usually have insanely long hair!

Nane only corrected my written submission and not my spoken one. In other words, I probably sounded so horrible she didn’t know what to say about it, LOL. I just can’t seem to get some of the tenses straight (rot, rote, roten, ein, eine) and so I sent her a message asking if there was some tip she could give me that would simplify things for me.

I was going to remove any reference to my finding her attractive in case she makes it over to my blog (the link is on my profile page) and doesn’t like the idea of it, but what’s she gonna do – fly over here and shoot me for it?

No one’s reviewed my Esperanto yet, but my Italian-speaking reviews were very good. I’m currently 38% through Esperanto 101 with a score of 99%, and 95% through German 101 but with a score of just 82%. My last lesson was a killer! The speaking part was easier, though. Still, how is it that I’ve made Student of the Week in German every week since enrolling in the course a couple of months ago? Esperanto I can see kicking ass in because it’s so easy. But German is not.

Tom got another scratch ticket and I did my thing and concentrated really hard on “zapping” it with happy, positive winning energy. This one was a crossword ticket. I ended up one letter short of a HUGE winner! How frustrating yet encouraging!

Tom said that maybe he actually has to be working before I’m in a good enough frame of mind to “rig” tickets. Yeah, let’s just hope he will be real soon too, when he calls the office tomorrow.

A few days before he went on the interview I had a dream where I told him that a major change was on the way. I wonder if that was a job premonition I didn’t see at the time. I wrote the dream off as meaningless. I’ve occasionally had dream premonitions without knowing right away that they were actual premonitions.

Mitch finished his book The Changeling! Next, he’s going to go over my last book and read the start of my current book to give me an idea of what he thinks so far.

Other than me and two of my cyberbuds being stalked and annoyed by a crazy woman in Texas, all is fine. I went out running, and soon I shall be transporting myself to the whacky world of Maliheh and Joni. Speaking of Maliheh she didn’t show up in Dreamland last night. Amazing, huh? I kind of missed her, even if it means being chased by her at times, because I know I can always wake up if she catches me. :) Then again, I don’t always mind being captured, depending on whoever’s doing the capturing. :)

She was looking for me on MyOpera this evening and into the evening, but all she got to see were my fake comments, along with a few from Alison and Kim. She’s jumping in from Facebook again too, now that I mentioned I would stick around there for those that have no other means of getting ahold of me if they want to. I also like to post blogs and language lesson scores there.

Paula sent a message that was both sweet and funny despite how unbelievably poorly written it was, LOL. “You’re my best friend, I love you, I miss you, I’m dating a sexy guy, I’m moving to a 1-bedroom, here’s my new number, call me.”

Something like that anyway. She changes numbers faster than I change undies, but as I told her, I’ll call her when I get a chance. Probably next week.

Okay, time to head to class and then Never Never Land!

Later…

My latest exchange with Nane has got me thinking about this influencing thing again, alright. :) I told Nane that the grammar had me so confused that I was ready to beat my head in the wall despite having a knack for languages, and she said don’t do that, LOL! LM isn’t the way to go in her opinion because it doesn’t teach any grammar, and I so totally agree. I’ve always been an anti-full immersion method.

Nane was not only kind enough to give me half a dozen or so links to sites that may help with the grammar part of the German but accepted my email addy after I told her I was a “liberal” person who liked learning about different languages and cultures (at least that was half-true). She replied saying, “Ok, ratgirl. :) it will be a chance to brush up on my English as well. :). :)

This put a grin on my face. Yes, Nane, I’ll be happy to brush your English up for you anytime. Anytime! One does tend to learn faster when they’ve got a crush on their teacher, and so I’m sure my German will start advancing rather quickly.

I sent her picture to Mitch. He agrees she looks fortyish and that she’s a hottie.

Anyway, the links provide a whole lot of helpful info, and so as not to seem pushy, and because I’m getting tired anyway, I’ll wait a day or so after I go through them some more and then message her on LM if she doesn’t beat me to an email first.

Then again, would I really have much influence on her if I was single and she lived nearby? Hmm… I don’t know about that one.

Later…

“No, no, no, don’t wake up!” I started to tell myself this afternoon as I slowly started coming awake. “If you do, you may find that this morning was just a dream. Play it safe. Stay asleep.” But that wasn’t possible, of course, and I quickly realized that no, that morning was no dream. I smiled widely as I replayed it through my mind, stretched and yawned. Then I remembered Nane and her links and I smiled even wider as I got up out of bed.

It was just before 9am this morning. He came in from being outside on the cell phone. Then he told me about it and I walked into the bedroom intending to do something on the computer but instead of doing that I collapsed in a heap of relief and tears on the bed and cried steadily for a good 10 minutes or so knowing that 22 long, miserable, stressful, depressing – and sometimes scary – months have finally come screeching to a halt! It’s over. Just like that, it’s over.

The sense of relief that comes with stepping out of the gloom we were in for so long and into the light to return to the land of the living is both amazing and wonderful. I have been crying tears of joy on and off and zipping up and down the place grinning like a mad idiot. We have survived the storm! I’m so ecstatic that if I were a drinker I’d be getting totally smashed right now! Wish I had tons of scratch tickets now. I know I’d win most of them for sure with the way I’m flying! I have been laughing and crying, laughing and crying, back and forth and back and forth, and right now the screen is blurring up on me. But it’s so nice to cry tears of joy and relief instead of stress and depression!

Now that it’s official I can give some details. He’ll be working days. The pay is much more than we expected at $12/hr.! We thought he’d get $8 - $10, and anything would have been fine, but to get what we’ll be getting which is plenty adequate for us, is awesome! Our rent is low for California and we don’t pay for water or electricity.

The only negs are that it’s a half-hour drive and is just a temp job. I think he’ll impress them enough with his smarts and capabilities to get hired on, though, which should be in 3-6 months at which time we’ll be insured, believe it or not. I need these teeth ripped out and dentures put in sooo badly! The enamel is just so soft and is really going to hell. It’s a hereditary thing that pretty much happens to everyone in the family.

Even though I have total confidence in him, I’ve been teasing him about the stress now being on him. I told him that after 22 months of it being on me, he could have it, LOL! He knew things would be rough while we were basically what amounted to forced welfare bums, but I really thought we weren’t going to make it at times. You know I’m a pessimist.

It’s going to be nice having the place to myself more often, too. Like I said, no matter how well you may get along with someone – and Tom and I never fight – it’s still nice to get some alone time beyond when he’s asleep or just out running errands.

He’ll be getting up at 4am (same time as Jesse if Jesse ever gets back to work himself). Speaking of Jesse, I wonder if he’s been out of town. The dogs went off all night long last night, and Tom never heard the motorcycle today. His truck is up there, though, and someone must be there now because it’s quiet. Anyway, he’ll leave around 5:00, then start work an hour later, then leave at 2:30.

He went to the temp company’s office yesterday to fill out all the paperwork and to have his pay transferred to the card.

From now on I’ve got to start writing down all my dreams, no matter how silly, strange or trivial they may seem. A couple of days ago I dreamt we had just moved to what seemed to be another rental. While the rental seemed bigger and more modern, I hated the snow. There was a dusting of snow all around us, and my dream self was bummed at the thought of having to deal with that regularly, yet it was obvious it was for a good cause and that other things were going well. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Well, we’re 1000’ in elevation while it turns out that the place he’s going to actually be working at is 2500’ in elevation. Weird, really weird.

So does this mean we’ll move? I don’t think so, even though Tom said there were tons of remote places along the way. I don’t want to go back to that shit. The one or two days a year we get a dusting down here at the Sierra Nevada foothills is more than enough for someone who can’t stand snow, and so unless we found a hell of a deal, I don’t see the point in bothering when we’re just going to buy a place in a couple of years. I don’t know where our forever home will be, but we’re going. Oh, yes we are! stops to wipe happy tears Meanwhile, even though the dogs drive me crazy at times, why move to a place that would only be just as noisy or worse? And while bigger, newer and nicer is always great, we don’t want to spend that much extra money between now and buying the house. Except for occasional perfumes which I’m addicted to, I don’t want to spend much money on things we don’t need until we get home. But this is it! Sure looks that way anyway. We have found the yellow brick road. All we have to do now is just follow it. For now, though, it’s nice to know that moving is much more of an option for us if we ever do decide to move.

Laughing, I asked him if he thought he’d slip and fall on the ice up there in the winter like he used to do in Oregon. I never fell once. Not with my balance. Remember, I was a dancer and I also skated a lot as a kid.

I thank God for finally answering my prayers, even though I don’t know why it took Him nearly two years to do it. Guess there really is a time and a place for everything.

I told Andy, Mitch and Eileen the good news in an email, and once we find out even more, I’ll call Mom and Dad. He doesn’t know exactly what his job will entail just yet.

I’m still buzzing with so much excitement that I might not be able to concentrate on my story tonight (sorry boss!) but I have my work cut out for me thanks to Nane. :) So I better get to it soon!

Ah, to be able to wake up without that damn dark cloud hanging over us and without that phone never ringing. Woo-hoo!!! Every day I’d wake up and the first question on my mind would be whether or not we were going to survive. Our unemployment was set to expire soon, and the pressure to beat the clock was getting really nerve-wracking. I’d try to enjoy the moment, then it’d hit me that we were on our last extension and time was fast running out.

Tic-toc, tic-toc…

I’d try to concentrate on my story or other things and try to live for the moment, then, you’re on the last tier.

Tic-toc, tic-toc…

Trying to study languages, then, less than 60 days to go.

Tic-toc, tic-toc…

Cleaning the house, then, will it really be as easy as you’ve heard to die by carbon monoxide poisoning?

Tic-toc, tic-toc…

Time’s up…

WE WIN!!!

Posted by Jodi at 2:24 AM No comments:   

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Those in Istanbul-Shit, Ghana-rea, and India really seem to like me, LOL, based on all the friend requests I’ve been getting from there lately. I might look for a way to turn off the photo comments, though, as I get tired of the same old, same old. I don’t mean to seem rude or unappreciative, but yes, I know the desert is hot, I know I was cute at 4 years old, and I know I usually have insanely long hair!

Nane only corrected my written submission and not my spoken one. In other words, I probably sounded so horrible she didn’t know what to say about it, LOL. I just can’t seem to get some of the tenses straight (rot, rote, roten, ein, eine) and so I sent her a message asking if there was some tip she could give me that would simplify things for me.

I was going to remove any reference to my finding her attractive in case she makes it over to my blog (the link is on my profile page) and doesn’t like the idea of it, but what’s she gonna do – fly over here and shoot me for it?

No one’s reviewed my Esperanto yet, but my Italian-speaking reviews were very good. I’m currently 38% through Esperanto 101 with a score of 99%, and 95% through German 101 but with a score of just 82%. My last lesson was a killer! The speaking part was easier, though. Still, how is it that I’ve made Student of the Week in German every week since enrolling in the course a couple of months ago? Esperanto I can see kicking ass in because it’s so easy. But German is not.

Tom got another scratch ticket and I did my thing and concentrated really hard on “zapping” it with happy, positive winning energy. This one was a crossword ticket. I ended up one letter short of a HUGE winner! How frustrating yet encouraging!

Tom said that maybe he actually has to be working before I’m in a good enough frame of mind to “rig” tickets. Yeah, let’s just hope he will be real soon too, when he calls the office tomorrow.

A few days before he went on the interview I had a dream where I told him that a major change was on the way. I wonder if that was a job premonition I didn’t see at the time. I wrote the dream off as meaningless. I’ve occasionally had dream premonitions without knowing right away that they were actual premonitions.

Mitch finished his book The Changeling! Next, he’s going to go over my last book and read the start of my current book to give me an idea of what he thinks so far.

Other than me and two of my cyberbuds being stalked and annoyed by a crazy woman in Texas, all is fine. I went out running, and soon I shall be transporting myself to the whacky world of Maliheh and Joni. Speaking of Maliheh she didn’t show up in Dreamland last night. Amazing, huh? I kind of missed her, even if it means being chased by her at times because I know I can always wake up if she catches me. :) Then again, I don’t always mind being captured, depending on whoever’s doing the capturing. :)

She was looking for me on MyOpera this evening and into the evening, but all she got to see were my fake comments, along with a few from Alison and Kim. She’s jumping in from Facebook again too, now that I mentioned I would stick around there for those that have no other means of getting ahold of me if they want to. I also like to post blogs and language lesson scores there.

I decided to say I have “reason” to suspect an impersonator at this point and that I doubt the comments from Maliheh are really from her so as to hopefully up my chances of us being friends in the future. As it is she may already suspect that I’m the one who left the comments to begin with.

Paula sent a message that was both sweet and funny despite how unbelievably poorly written it was, LOL. “You’re my best friend, I love you, I miss you, I’m dating a sexy guy, I’m moving to a 1-bedroom, here’s my new number, call me.”

Something like that anyway. She changes numbers faster than I change undies, but as I told her, I’ll call her when I get a chance. Probably next week.

Okay, time to head to class and then Never Never Land!

Later…

My latest exchange with Nane has got me thinking about this influencing thing again, alright. :) I told Nane that the grammar had me so confused that I was ready to beat my head in the wall despite having a knack for languages, and she said don’t do that, LOL! LM isn’t the way to go in her opinion because it doesn’t teach any grammar, and I so totally agree. I’ve always been an anti-full immersion method.

Nane was not only kind enough to give me half a dozen or so links to sites that may help with the grammar part of the German but accepted my email addy after I told her I was a “liberal” person who liked learning about different languages and cultures (at least that was half-true). She replied saying, “Ok, ratgirl. :) it will be a chance to brush up on my English as well. :). :)

This put a grin on my face. Yes, Nane, I’ll be happy to brush your English up for you anytime. Anytime! One does tend to learn faster when they’ve got a crush on their teacher, and so I’m sure my German will start advancing rather quickly.

I sent her picture to Mitch. He agrees she looks fortyish and that she’s a hottie.

Anyway, the links provide a whole lot of helpful info, and so as not to seem pushy, and because I’m getting tired anyway, I’ll wait a day or so after I go through them some more and then message her on LM if she doesn’t beat me to an email first.

Then again, would I really have much influence on her if I was single and she lived nearby? Hmm… I don’t know about that one.

Later…

“No, no, no, don’t wake up!” I started to tell myself this afternoon as I slowly started coming awake. “If you do, you may find that this morning was just a dream. Play it safe. Stay asleep.” But that wasn’t possible, of course, and I quickly realized that no, that morning was no dream. I smiled widely as I replayed it through my mind, stretched and yawned. Then I remembered Nane and her links and I smiled even wider as I got up out of bed.

It was just before 9am this morning. He came in from being outside on the cell phone. Then he told me about it and I walked into the bedroom intending to do something on the computer but instead of doing that I collapsed in a heap of relief and tears on the bed and cried steadily for a good 10 minutes or so knowing that 22 long, miserable, stressful, depressing – and sometimes scary – months have finally come screeching to a halt! It’s over. Just like that, it’s over.

The sense of relief that comes with stepping out of the gloom we were in for so long and into the light to return to the land of the living is both amazing and wonderful. I have been crying tears of joy on and off and zipping up and down the place grinning like a mad idiot. We have survived the storm! I’m so ecstatic that if I were a drinker I’d be getting totally smashed right now! Wish I had tons of scratch tickets now. I know I’d win most of them for sure with the way I’m flying! I have been laughing and crying, laughing and crying, back and forth and back and forth, and right now the screen is blurring up on me. But it’s so nice to cry tears of joy and relief instead of stress and depression!

Now that it’s official I can give some details. He’ll be working days. The pay is much more than we expected at $12/hr.! We thought he’d get $8 - $10, and anything would have been fine, but to get what we’ll be getting which is plenty adequate for us, is awesome! Our rent is low for California and we don’t pay for water or electricity.

The only negs are that it’s a half-hour drive and is just a temp job. I think he’ll impress them enough with his smarts and capabilities to get hired on, though, which should be in 3-6 months at which time we’ll be insured, believe it or not. I need these teeth ripped out and dentures put in sooo badly! The enamel is just so soft and is really going to hell. It’s a hereditary thing that pretty much happens to everyone in the family.

Even though I have total confidence in him, I’ve been teasing him about the stress now being on him. I told him that after 22 months of it being on me, he could have it, LOL! He knew things would be rough while we were basically what amounted to forced welfare bums, but I really thought we weren’t going to make it at times. You know I’m a pessimist.

It’s going to be nice having the place to myself more often, too. Like I said, no matter how well you may get along with someone – and Tom and I never fight – it’s still nice to get some alone time beyond when he’s asleep or just out running errands.

He’ll be getting up at 4am (same time as Jesse if Jesse ever gets back to work himself). Speaking of Jesse, I wonder if he’s been out of town. The dogs went off all night long last night, and Tom never heard the motorcycle today. His truck is up there, though, and someone must be there now because it’s quiet. Anyway, he’ll leave around 5:00, then start work an hour later, then leave at 2:30.

He went to the temp company’s office yesterday to fill out all the paperwork and to have his pay transferred to the card.

From now on I’ve got to start writing down all my dreams, no matter how silly, strange or trivial they may seem. A couple of days ago I dreamt we had just moved to what seemed to be another rental. While the rental seemed bigger and more modern, I hated the snow. There was a dusting of snow all around us, and my dream self was bummed at the thought of having to deal with that regularly, yet it was obvious it was for a good cause and that other things were going well. I didn’t think anything of it at the time. Well, we’re 1000’ in elevation while it turns out that the place he’s going to actually be working at is 2500’ in elevation. Weird, really weird.

So does this mean we’ll move? I don’t think so, even though Tom said there were tons of remote places along the way. I don’t want to go back to that shit. The one or two days a year we get a dusting down here at the Sierra Nevada foothills is more than enough for someone who can’t stand snow, and so unless we found a hell of a deal, I don’t see the point in bothering when we’re just going to buy a place in a couple of years. I don’t know where our forever home will be, but we’re going. Oh, yes we are! stops to wipe happy tears Meanwhile, even though the dogs drive me crazy at times, why move to a place that would only be just as noisy or worse? And while bigger, newer and nicer is always great, we don’t want to spend that much extra money between now and buying the house. Except for occasional perfumes which I’m addicted to, I don’t want to spend much money on things we don’t need until we get home. But this is it! Sure looks that way anyway. We have found the yellow brick road. All we have to do now is just follow it. For now, though, it’s nice to know that moving is much more of an option for us if we ever do decide to move.

Laughing, I asked him if he thought he’d slip and fall on the ice up there in the winter like he used to do in Oregon. I never fell once. Not with my balance. Remember, I was a dancer and I also skated a lot as a kid.

I thank God for finally answering my prayers, even though I don’t know why it took Him nearly two years to do it. Guess there really is a time and a place for everything.

I told Andy, Mitch and Eileen the good news in an email, and once we find out even more, I’ll call Mom and Dad. He doesn’t know exactly what his job will entail just yet.

I’m still buzzing with so much excitement that I might not be able to concentrate on my story tonight (sorry boss!) but I have my work cut out for me thanks to Nane. :) So I better get to it soon!

Ah, to be able to wake up without that damn dark cloud hanging over us and without that phone never ringing. Woo-hoo!!! Every day I’d wake up and the first question on my mind would be whether or not we were going to survive. Our unemployment was set to expire soon, and the pressure to beat the clock was getting really nerve-wracking. I’d try to enjoy the moment, then it’d hit me that we were on our last extension and time was fast running out.

Tic-toc, tic-toc…

I’d try to concentrate on my story or other things and try to live for the moment, then, you’re on the last tier.

Tic-toc, tic-toc…

Trying to study languages, then, less than 60 days to go.

Tic-toc, tic-toc…

Cleaning the house, then, will it really be as easy as you’ve heard to die by carbon monoxide poisoning?

Tic-toc, tic-toc…

Time’s up…

WE WIN!!!

Tuesday, August 31, 2010

I sometimes wish the planet weren’t so big and that it was as easy to meet cyber friends in person as they are online. How nice it would be to run over to Wales and meet Mitch, then hop on over to Germany and maybe meet my new friend Nane and practice our German/English, then drop down to Italy to meet Marilena, though that one just might happen someday. And of course I’d run to my folks in Florida every so often, and meet Alison and Kim right here in the good ole United States of Screw-Ups.

Tom went to bed and if it ever gets below 80º out there I’ll go out for my run. It might not make it down there before it gets dark, so I’ll just have to deal with it. It’s better than being cold. It got down to 71º in here this morning and it was freezing to me! I don’t know why I’m so damn sensitive to cold yet can take the heat very well. I’m so glad it’s to be close to 100º all week.

Tom’s first day of work went well. He’s in the testing area for now. He said it was kind of weird that they have no security or anything in the building, but Grass Valley isn’t like Rocklin either. He also thought it odd that they don’t have any kind of quality assurance department.

We called my folks and gave them the good news. They were thrilled for us as were Eileen and Mitch. Dad joked at first and asked if he was going to be governor of California, LOL. I told them I started my 7th language and asked Dad to guess what it was after telling him it began with an e. He guessed Egyptian, LOL. He pointed out that good things happen in threes. He got the job, so next, he’ll be hired on and then the Beanie Babies will sell which he said he thinks we were doing wrong. He said we should have listed one for $1.99 + $4.99 shipping instead of 99¢ + $5.99 shipping. Actually, we’re going to try some large lots.

I agree with him, though, that Tom will get hired on. Where most people either hate or love me, everybody likes Tom, LOL.

Tom also called Jesse to let him know we’ll pay the rent in full on Saturday and about the job.

I will be in training tonight and will try to get some work done on the book as well. I was just buzzing with so much excitement last night that I was too keyed up to do much writing. Seriously, I was like a little kid on Chanukah! Some people have been asking me about my work, but sorry, I’m not allowed to discuss it.

I am really stupid at times! Nane said she tried to add me on Facebook, but that I didn’t accept friends. I had totally forgotten about turning that off – duh! Spambots were after me, so I turned it off. I let her know I turned it back on, but haven’t heard from her yet. I’d say this pretty much wipes out any lingering thoughts of deactivating my account, though. :)

It hit me that my disabling the friend invite thing may’ve prevented Maliheh from accepting my invite. If that’s the case, well, it’s off now.

She oughta get a kick out of how I accidentally capitalized the word boy on one of my Esperanto lessons, as I told Nane. Since she caps all the nouns in her language, and since I’ve had that on my mind so much, I accidentally went noun-capping in the wrong language, LOL. I’ve put the German on hold for now until I study more of the grammar aspect of it.

Why is it that I set up my microphone specifically for German and Esperanto speaking exercises just to have no one review them? Instead, all anyone’s done is tell me my Italian sounds great, LOL.

My logic still doesn’t think so, but my dreams keep suggesting we may be moving to another rental, in which case I told Tom to be prepared as it’s getting to be too many dreams at this point. I had a two-in-one last night. We’d just moved to some old dumpy rental which didn’t exactly seem very remote. I went to tell Tom something from another room and he told me he was on the phone. Before he hung up, I heard him say, “Sure. A thousand dollars will do it.”

I will finish the dream after my run. It’s not cooling down, but the sun is setting and I’d rather not wait for the skunks and other nocturnal goodies that rule these woods to come out and join me, even if these woods are a lot safer than the ones in Oregon.

catches breath Ok, I got my run out of the way. It’s gorgeous out now. I checked the weather back up in Oregon and was reminded of just how much colder they are than New England. Them poor Klammers nearly froze last night, LOL.

And now on with the dream. After he hung up the phone and told me we had a grand on the way, I asked what for, and he said the company he works for wants us to move closer to them and would be willing to pay us to do so.

In reality, Tom laughed at that one, saying that’s not how it usually works, but as I reminded him, it’s not so much the details of the dream that matters as the overall message. And the more repetitious the dreams, the more likely they are to be telling me something. If Jesse were to lose this place, as much as I doubt it, then we’d have no choice but to move. For now, we’re preparing for the possibility and are going to start saving as fast as we can. I would feel much more secure with a month of rent saved, plus enough for a backup vehicle should this one crap out in a way we couldn’t afford to fix. If we had engine failure right now, we’d be positively screwed.

Later…

Maliheh’s back to visiting me through Facebook instead of through a bookmark, and I still have yet to hear from Nane. Starting to think I’m not going to either. Let me guess – she’s not crazy enough, right? And God had those spam botters bug me so I would turn off the friend invite, forget about it, and lose any chance of being buddies with her, right?

Hmm… should I just move on and forget her? Or should I spill the beans and let her know I’m attracted to her if I don’t hear from her for a couple more weeks, knowing I’d have nothing to lose anyway? I admit I do like surprising people at times, so just maybe I will. I’m curious as to what her reaction might be, though I doubt I’ll get any at all. Ok, Nane, you’ll hear from me one last time in a couple of weeks, LOL.

I realize that she could just be a very busy person, but IDK. Marie was pretty busy a lot of the time too, yet she sure found time to keep in touch.

And of course I still wonder if Maliheh will ever accept the friend invite or contact me, though I’d say it’s safe to assume she won’t. She may be a mean bitch, but she’s not crazy.