#I feel like I must have told this but I’d slam the fuck out of kids all the time

[stopfunkinwmyheart]

It’s cool to think there are wrestling stat guy stans like how there is with baseball

[izzyy-stuff]

heyy izzy! i don’t think ive ever sent in a request to you before but i absolutely love your work so i thought i’d send something in. could you please do a roommate!taehyun fic where he accidentally walks in on you while you’re in the shower but then decides to join you which then ends up in him fucking you while you’re pressed against the cold shower wall and one leg pulled over his shoulder so he can hit deep :)

𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐇 & 𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐒𝐓𝐑𝐘 - 𝐊𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐇𝐘𝐔𝐍

roommate!taehyun x fem!reader

in which what originally was supposed to be just a quick shower to help him relax takes a different turn when he walks into the bathroom and sees you already in the shower, deciding to relieve his frustration differently than he originally intended to.

wc 2.5k

warnings shower sex, unprotected sex + creampie, vaginal fingering, tiny mention of nipple play, oral (f. receiving), overstimulation, pet names, softdom!taehyun, biting/marking

↪ izzy speaks... I can't believe tae had zero works until now... like that's insane. I'm glad I can finally show it to you though. The writing process for this was for someone reason extremely SLOW. Everyone thank serene for being my life saver again and helping me get through whatever writing block I was feeling while writing this.

Kang Taehyun must have been the safest choice for a roommate ever. 

Unlike the other guys in your friend group, he was calm and knew when to shut up. Taehyun could cook, making your life a lot easier when he offered to make dinner as often as he could, and he was outside the dorm most of the time, too. If he wasn’t in the library studying after his lessons ended, you would find him in the gym, keeping in shape. 

He barely went straight to your dorm after school, so you had learned to get comfortable during your alone time. From using your living room for studying and making a mess with your papers and study books all over the floor, which he would have usually pointed out and told you to keep a system, to walking around the apartment with just your underwear.

So it wasn’t unusual when you sat on the couch in your living room in just panties and an oversized shirt you found at the bottom of your closet while cleaning up last week. You were surprised when you found it, confident you’ve never bought nor worn that shirt. But as you put it on, pushing your thoughts aside as there was no possible way of it being someone else’s if it was in your closet, you realized it was more comfortable than the garments you knew you owned. 

You have gone over the math formula hundreds of times and still feel like you see it for the first time every time your eyes land on it again. It doesn’t make sense. No matter how long you stare at it, the numbers and signs seem foreign. 

You sigh, slamming the math book shut and spreading out on the couch as a sign of giving up. You would have to ask Taehyun about it after dinner. But for now, you had other things on your to-do list for the day. 

Put your and Taehyun’s clothes into the washing machine (AND THANK HIM FOR DOING IT LAST TIME!!) 

Wash up 

Learn math 

Call your mom

You mentally cross out math, pretending it never existed. Still, you know you will have to come back to it. To this day, you weren’t sure why you decided to take another math semester when you didn’t have to. You were naive when you listened to your parents and signed up for “the only important class you will need in the future.” You had to scoff every time now when you remembered your mother’s words, knowing you wouldn’t ever need the formulas you were learning. 

Sighing, you get up from the couch and look around the living room. Looking at it now, you understand why Taehyun always wants you to have your work organized. It was a mess. 

Your fingers run through your hair before you pick up a few of your books and put them aside in the corner of the table so that other people can still use it. It also reminds you that you should clean around the house with Taehyun soon. 

But for now, there was the current to-do list you had to go through. 

You grab Taehyun’s clothes basket from his room, as you did many times before, kicking the door behind you so it would close before continuing towards your shared bathroom. 

Having a shared bathroom might have been the only disadvantage of living with Taehyun. You both tried to search for a bigger place so you could each get your own, but once you saw the prices, you both decided it was only a petite inconvenience. 

It doesn’t take you long to sort out all of his and your clothes by colors, leaving Tae’s underwear in the basket for him to do later on his own. You don't mind doing his laundry, just like he doesn't mind doing yours, but there are still limits to what you are willing to do for him. Even though those lines sometimes seem blurry in your eyes.

You aren't sure when or how it happened, but lately, you've found yourself wanting to step over some of the lines you had set for yourself when you first decided to room with Taehyun.

Maybe it was because of how comfortable you got with each other after half a year of living together. Perhaps it was because Tae had become your best friend over the years you knew him. Or, more likely, it was actually because of the amount of times you had seen him shirtless.

“We are friends, Ma. You don’t have to worry about me getting pregnant or something just because I am rooming with a guy. And you have met him many times. You know how Tae is.” You remember the call you had with your mom after you moved in, rethinking all your words. You were so sure back then that nothing could ever happen between the two of you, but a small part of you always wished for something else. 

You snap out of your thoughts, pressing the start button on your washing machine with a sigh. You step over the pile of white clothing you had prepared for the next wash, getting to the shower. You pull down your panties and shirt, hanging them on the empty peg beside your towel. 

♡⸝⸝ 

Taehyun was too exhausted to go to the gym tonight. He had enough. From missing lunch because he lost track of time while reviewing for his upcoming exam to completely forgetting about an assignment due last night. He just wanted to go home and relax for a bit before he would have to fall into the endless circle of studying again. 

So when he got through the door of your shared apartment, his first thought was to shower and go to sleep. He didn’t think much of what you were doing as he took down his shoes. Honestly, that was what he was the least worried about. 

Taehyun shakes his head as his eyes land on your books on the table, but then a smile creeps up his lips. You did listen when he scolded you about making a mess, after all. 

He looks around the apartment, trying to find you with his eyes. Eventually, his sight lands on your room, assuming you didn’t hear him coming in and were busy with your studies, so you didn’t come out to greet him. It wouldn’t be the first time. 

He doesn’t even properly register the sound of the washing machine as he walks toward the bathroom. For the first time in a while, his mind is finally blank, making him relax as he opens the door. 

Neither of you really realizes what’s going on until you drop down your shampoo, your eyes wide as you quickly try to cover your naked body upon noticing your roommate in the room. 

Taehyun’s cheeks could be mistaken for a tomato as his eyes travel from the bottom of your body to your face, swallowing everything he wants to say before even opening his mouth, stuttering. “I– shit, fuck– uhm, sorry,” he blurts out quickly, turning around so he wouldn’t face you. He doesn’t leave, though. 

 You can’t hear your own breath, nor his, as you stare at his back, your mind, unlike Tae’s, clouded with thoughts. “I wanted to shower. I’m– I didn’t know you were in here,” he says, you think. You’re unsure if any of the words actually reach your ears or if it’s all just in your head. Maybe he is just a figment of your imagination, too. He isn’t real. He isn’t standing in the bathroom with his back turned to you. 

“I’ve been so out of it today I just– I’m not sure what I am saying, to be honest. I didn’t mean to, though–” 

You cut him off, your words echoing in his ears. Still, he doesn’t believe what he just heard. “What?” He asks, his boba eyes making you feel weak in the knees as he turns around to face you again. “You wanted to shower and relax your mind, right?” You repeat half your question, your hands slowly falling to your sides. Taehyun bites his bottom lip, fighting all his inner demons to keep his eyes on yours. “Want to join me then?” 

You’re not sure what happens next. It’s all blurry in your mind. But the next thing you know, Taehyun’s hands are all over your body, “helping you to wash up,” as he said, but you both know that’s not what it really is when his hand just so innocently squeezes your breast. 

Your breath shakes as you feel him groan against your shoulder, sending shivers through your body. You tilt your head to the side, biting your bottom lip to prevent a moan from escaping your lips as he kisses your collarbone, his cold fingers playing with your nipples as if he had touched them thousands of times before, as if he wasn’t afraid at all of the sudden intimacy. 

“Tae,” you breathe out, and he only hums in response, his lips on your neck. “Are you okay with this?” He asks carefully, making it almost impossible for you to tell him no. So you nod, whining when his fingers trace down from your chest to your legs, making their way to your clit. “You’re so wet,” he mumbles. 

“S-shut up,” your voice shakes as you try to grind against his fingers, muffling your moan when he removes his hand. Your pussy clenches around nothing when your name leaves his lips, his kisses moving lower on your back until you hear him kneel behind you. You swallow a lump in your throat when his hands wrap around your thighs, the water drops on your back sending shivers through your body. “Mind bending over for me, sweetheart?” 

It feels unreal. Your roommate’s head between your legs, eating you out as if you were supposed to be tonight’s dinner, was all a little too much. You weren’t sure how long you could last. “Wait– I’m–” you try to speak up but end up swallowing everything you wanted to say when his tongue gets replaced by his fingers. You gasp, your hand slowly sliding down on the bathroom tiles as you begin to lose strength. You don’t think he notices, or at least he doesn’t do anything about it. His fingers pump into you so effortlessly, too. Somehow, it feels like he has been in your cunt many times before. 

Your first orgasm of the night is on Taehyun’s fingers, preparing you for himself. “Doing so well,” he coos, slowly standing up. It takes no time for his lips to find your neck again, his thumb rubbing slow circles on your clit. “‘S too much,” you whine, turning your head around to see him. His boba eyes are soft, full of love even, you’d dare to say. 

“You’re so pretty,” he breathes out when his eyes land on yours, immediately kissing you. You fall into the kiss, turning around to face him. Taehyun takes a step forward, making you press your back against the wet tiles. The water dripping between the two of you doesn’t seem to bother him a bit as he wraps your leg around his waist. 

You are still kissing him when he aligns himself at your entrance, thrusting into you without a warning. You gasp, breaking the kiss. His lips chase after yours again, but you’re too busy trying to get used to him to kiss him back. “So good,” he praises you again, his mouth moving to your jaw and chin. You tilt your head to the side, trying to keep as quiet as possible as he thrusts into you again, starting slowly, with his eyes on yours to make sure you are okay. 

You nod to him instinctively, and he thrusts into you right away, this time faster, harsher. It doesn’t take long for him to set a comfortable speed, and you can feel all his stress in each thrust. “I needed this,” he mumbles. “Needed you.” 

It almost passes unnoticed by you, just some out-of-mind praises, but you catch onto it, and his words get stuck in your head. “N–Needed me?” Your question comes out as a broken moan, making him groan. “The whole day,” he agrees, only thrusting harder. “Everyone’s been getting on my nerves,” he explains. “Couldn’t wait to come home to you.” 

The ticklish feeling in your stomach makes you uneasy. You’re not sure if it’s another orgasm building up or just an after-effect of his words. Honestly, it might be both. But before you can think about it properly, another thrust comes in, with a few mumbles about how perfect you are before you feel his speed slowing down again, letting you know he is reaching his limit, too. 

It only takes a few more sloppy thrusts before he cums inside you, both of you too into the moment to realize he should pull out. Taehyun’s head falls onto your shoulder, but he doesn’t stop holding your leg up, assuring himself he still feels you on his body. “I’ve been waiting for this,” he breathes out, and before you can answer, you feel his teeth digging into the skin on your shoulder. 

You gasp, “What was that for?” He only hums in response, as if he had no idea what you were referring to. “A mark,” he finally mutters, making your eyes widen. “Wanted to mark you.” He says it so casually, while his hand slides between your bodies, circling your clit slowly again. You swallow a moan as his finger makes its way into your pussy again, feeling the mixture of his and your cum sliding down your thigh. You need another shower. 

You stay still for a bit, his head resting on your shoulder and your leg wrapped around his waist while your fingers play with his hair to assure him you are still there, not saying anything. 

You step out of the shower, wrapping a towel around yourself immediately. You keep your eyes on his naked body, rethinking your next moves. “I need your help with math,” you proclaim quietly like you normally would. “I’ll gladly help you,” he nods with a smile. So happy, and for what? He was never rude about it when you asked for his help, but it wasn’t like he would be excited, either. This time, however, he makes you question what’s going on in his mind. 

“Here,” he says, the same smile still on his lips as he hands you your shirt and panties. “I didn’t know you were already wearing my stuff, but I can’t say I would complain,” he teases you, and it all finally clicks. Of course, that’s why you didn’t remember owning the shirt. It wasn’t yours in the first place. “Uhm–” you panic, trying to find a good excuse, but it’s already too late because all Taehyun can think about is the adorable blush on your cheeks.

TXT ⋆✶ izzy's tags @beomiracles @seoulzie @adel222 @inkigayocamman @flowzel @love-be0m @virgo-and-libra @hwanghyunjinismybae @liaatiny @minaateez ✶⋆

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[satorusugurugurl]

Return to Me

Summary: When the blood and death of The Shibuya Incident are avoided, a reincarnated Fushiguro Toji has one goal in mind: to make it home to his late wife.

Pairing: Fushiguro Toji x AFAB!Reader

Warning: language, smut, unprotected sex, creampie, wall smex

Word Count: 1.4K

A/N Kinktober Day Two: Reincarnation! Toji, come find me. I’ll give you that Gluck-gluck 9000!! 😩

Toji couldn’t remember a lot, But he could remember his death. He had been assigned to kill the star plasma vessel and would have been greatly rewarded for it. While doing his job, he attempted to kill Gojo Satoru. He underestimated him, believing that he had gotten away with killing the strongest sorcerer of the modern age, much to his disbelief. He had not anticipated the seventeen-year-old being able to use the reverse curse technique. Healing himself while simultaneously unlocking his true power.

That same boy had killed Toji. He left behind his son and you, his wife, who would surely think he had run out on you.

If only he had a chance to take the time to explain what had truly happened. He had never intended to run out on you. He just met his untimely end; sometimes, the odds weren’t always in people's favor.

But fate seemed to give him another chance. He had been channeled into someone else’s body who had lost a battle against his soul. Some old hag demanded that he kill all the sorcerers. But when he had killed the old bitch, several veils that had been dropped around Shibuya were lifted. It seems as though whatever malicious plan they had must have been throttled.

Toji had an urge to find the strongest opponents to fight, but that urge died down as peace fell upon the city. Instead, another urge, a strong desire, overwhelmed him. He needed to find you.

With that singular thought, Toji was off, searching for you. Much to his relief, it didn’t take long to find you. You were still at the same house, the small garden in the front thriving with life. Life that he had been drawn to like a moth to the flame.

He approached the house with caution, peeking through the entry window. It looked the same, and he only spotted one pair of shoes, which hopefully meant you were alone. Not wanting to wait any longer, Toji knocked on the door as a clap of thunder sounded above him.

You blinked over your shoulder as you stirred into your teeth. Who could be knocking on your door this late? You weren’t expecting company, so with a sigh of half an annoyance at the prospect of being your neighbor and boredom; you moved across the floor. Nursing your mug at the door, you looked through the entry window and saw a tall man standing right in front of your door.

You cocked, a brow cracking the door open chest an inch, leaving the chain lock fastened securely. “Can I help you?” The stranger seemed to shiver as rain began pouring down. “Are you okay?” You asked, watching as he stepped closer to the door.

“Hey, Doll.”

Doll, the voice, the silhouette, it couldn’t be him! But as lightning flashed across the sky above, you saw his face, your late husband's face. The mug fell out of your hand, ceramic shattering as hot tea spread across the wooden floor, but you didn’t care. You were more concerned with throwing open the door. You wasted no time, stepping in, catching you, as you threw yourself into his arms, wrapping your legs around his waist as he slammed you against the nearest wall, kissing you with such force And needing your breath away.

“How?! How the fuck are you here?!” You guessed out as he hugged at the white sweater he wore. “Toji—”

“I always told you I’d find you,” he growled against your lips as he helped you out of your sweats. “I don’t go back on my word.” His lips over your collarbone as he pulled down his pants, his already hard cock leaking pre-cum was teasing your pussy, rubbing the weeping head over your slick folds before the slit caught against your clit. The sensation drew out a gas from you. “Fuck you still feel so good, Doll.”

“I missed you.” You moaned out as you fought against the sobs and tears that threatened to flow down your flushed cheeks. “I missed you so fucking much.”

“I don’t plan on leaving you for a very long time.” His teeth grazed over your sensitive skin as he dragged the head of his cock down to your tight entrance. “So let me make up for you all those years ago.”

“Please.” Your pleading was the only confirmation needed before he pushed inside of you with a hiss. “Hnngh!” as he stretched you in a way your toys and fingers could never compare to.

He moved to bury his face in the crook of your neck as he painted heavily. The feeling of being inside of your cunt again, hearing your moans, feeling your nails dragging down his bare back was a feeling he never wanted to forget. That’s how you both stood for a second, reveling in being joined again. A feeling you never thought you would get to experience again.

“Fuck—you’re so tight.” to voice was hot against your neck as you guessed out does he buck his hips forward inside of you. “So goddamn tight.”

“Fuck!” You cried out gentle thrusts, turned into harder ones. His cock hit the deep part of you, making your legs tremble with each drag of his thick length inside of you. “God, I missed you!”

“Yeah? You missed me, missed me and my fat thick cock?”

“Yes! You’re the best I’ve ever had, Toji!”

Pride swelled in his chest at your words, which only made him more eager to please you. He wanted to make up for all those times he had missed. Toji would pull all the way out of you before slamming back inside of you. Each thrust would brush against that sensitive, spongy spot inside of you before hitting your cervix with a force so hard your breath was stolen from your lungs.

You cried out, tilting your head back. “Ahnngh!” Your bones and the sound of your skin slapping me against my skin didn’t defend the sound of the pictures on your wall; shaking, falling to the ground, glass shattering your world, had shattered the second. Your husband came back to you. “T-Toji!”

The breathless tone of your voice and the feeling of your warm, wet walls hugging his thick length left Toji in pure bliss. He knew this was where he was meant to be. Right here with you, feeling you, tasting you. Toji didn’t want this to end; he wouldn’t let it end. His lips yours again, and a kiss that was staring, his tongue, forcing its way into your mouth, which you gladly welcome.

“Mhmm~!!” Moaned, gripping his shoulders as you roll your hips slowly against his. Squeezing around him until he shivered, breaking the kiss. “T-Toji, I-I’m—”

“I know.” he gritted out through clenched teeth. “Me too.”

Knowing you both were so close to that sweet release, your movements lost the familiar rhythm, replacing them with crazed lust and undying need. You clenched harder around him as he fucked into you harder, faster, desperate not to finish before you. But fuck, it was so hard; however, luckily for Toji, he knew your body, his wife’s body, even after all of these years apart.

He reached down, rubbing your clit in hard, fast circles. That was the final push you needed to send you into sweet orgasmic bliss. You screamed, gripping your husband growling like a wild animal as he lost himself in the feeling of you. And the way you came around him. The tight contractions and the way you screamed his name had ropes of cum shooting out your walls with his seed.

Wide eyes rolled back into your head at the familiar sensation you had missed. Decide, shivering as the book of his hips slowed until he was settled deep inside of you, his length softening as you both breathed heavily. It was only when you could no longer hear the pounding of your own heart in your ears that you pulled away your index fingers, slowly running down the scar on his lips.

Toji leaned into your touch, exhaling softly. “I’m home,” he announced as if he had just returned from a long trip. And on that rainy October evening to grind, kissing away a tear that streamed down your cheek.

“Welcome home.”

Forever Tag List:

@darkstarlight82 @pandoness @nealeart @simp-plague @sugurubabe @chilichopsticks @reap3erslov3 @wil10wthetree @msniks @lana18918

Kinktober Tag List:

@candy-s72

[itsangelll]

𝙵𝚛𝚘𝚖 𝚊 𝙳𝚒𝚜𝚝𝚊𝚗𝚌𝚎 ❦

A/n:WELL it’s been a bit since I’ve had a damn fic out and I’d sincerely like to apologise. I forgot I had tumblr for a while and I know I’m lazy with fics. BUT HERES THIS ONE!! Took me 3 months to finish it it’s insane guys but I hope you all enjoy!! 💋

pairings:Tom 2010 x f!reader

genre:smut

warnings:swearing fingering and squirting!!

Under 15 dni

please don’t steal or copy my works thank you.

You and Tom were at an after party with the humanoid album just released it made a huge difference, it was selling world wide. you were chatting with the band “Tom I’m gonna go grab a drink I’ll be back.” He nodded and continued chatting with the band barely paying any attention towards you.

You walk over to the bar nodding at the bartender “what can I get for you?” she asked “whatever I don’t mind.” A few seconds later you skulled your drink down to feel somewhat tispy to at least lighten up this party, you feel a tap on your shoulder you turn around and you were greeted with a handsome man.

“You want some company love?” he asked looking intrigued you look over at Tom seeing he’s still wrapped up in a conversation, so you nod “yeah sure have a seat”. He smiled and sat next to you “so how come your all alone?” “Oh I just went to grab a drink since my own boyfriend is too wrapped up in a conversation to talk to me.” skulling down another drink he nods.

“Well I must say you’re quite beautiful if I was dating you I’d make sure all my attention was on you.” you swat his arm playfully laughing. Tom looked over in your direction his expression darkened, his grip tightened on his glass it could shatter.

He excused himself from the group and made his way over to you. You and the guy from the bar were laughing your asses off till you felt a pair of arms grip your waist tightly, Tom lowered his head as he whispered “Go upstairs now.” you shook your head standing your ground, “I’m actually having a conversation with someone if your not fucking blind you can wait.”

Taking another sip of your drink you could cut the tension with a knife Tom pulled you up from the stool “I told you to get the fuck upstairs.” you ignored him and without another word, he pushed you foward forcing you upstairs you didn’t move still standing your ground. “Do I have to do everything my fucking self” he muttered he lifted you up off the ground and took you up the steps into a room slamming the door behind him.

He set you down gently on the ground his gaze burning into yours leaning against the wall “So you wanna explain to me what the fuck happened downstairs?” His voice raised you shrugged “Nothing happened someone wanted to keep me company so I let him am I not allowed to talk to other guys now?” a bit of attitude in your tone.

He scoffed “You sure nothing happened because you two looked pretty cozy from where I was sitting.” You rolled your eyes “You weren’t even paying attention to me anyways at least someone was.” Tom got off the wall and walked closer to you trapping you between his body and the wall. He gripped your chin firmly making you look up towards him his jaw clenched.

“You know I’m getting real fucking sick of your attitude towards me liebe I do everything for you and this is how I get treated?” His voice low and firm you stayed silent not knowing what to say, “Typical” you stared daggers at him “You know what fuck you tom if you payed some attention to me we wouldn’t even be arguing now.”

Tom absolutely snapped he grabbed you and threw you on the bed he towered over you crashing his lips onto yours in a hungry kiss “you’re such a fucking brat” he murmured against your lips then biting on your bottom lip. He grabbed your hips tightly, you whined against his lips desire coursing through your body.

He bit down on your lower lip before pulling away, his dark orbs boring into yours. His hands ripping of your shorts then your underwear throwing them somewhere in the room. “You know I’ve done everything for you and this is how I get treated?” Tom spoke, you couldn’t say much cause it was true you’ve been acting like a bitch these past few weeks.

He scoffed and lifted your chin up, his lips connecting with your neck. Before biting down harshly on the skin you hissed the pain coming through more than normal. His calloused fingers snaked its way down to your cunt before brutally plunging a finger deep into your hole (okay no.) you moaned your hands gripping the bed sheets.

Tom’s lips left your neck his forehead resting against yours, his finger still moving in and out of your cunt before slowly sliding a second finger in, then his thumb moving in harsh circles on your clit, “T-Tom it’s too much please.” your voice shaky “Hush you can take it you’ll be fine.” His voice sharp.

You moaned and writhed against him. His fingers not letting up carefully putting a third finger in and that fucking hurt his thumb moved even more harsh on your clit it becoming puffy and swollen. (no.) the knot in your stomach was getting tighter and your legs started shaking but Tom wasn’t letting up, he kept going at his harsh pace.

Within a few seconds you couldn’t take it anymore you hand clutched his jeans and you moaned his name loudly, squirting all over his fingers he moaned lowly at the sight of that. “Well well would you look at that.”

The smirk evident in his tone Tom removed his fingers out of your cunt grabbing a tissue to clean his fingers off, getting up from the bed and grabbing a towel to clean you up. (AWH AINT HE SWEET??) He pressed a kiss to your forehead and wrapped his arms around your waist. You blissfully fell asleep in his arms.

A/n:It was a bit rushed towards the end but I’m hoping that I can come out with more fics rather than every three months cause I’ll feel bad if I starve you guys :( but I hope you guys enjoys mwah mwah bye cuties <33

Taglist:

@itsmealaiah

@jadedchar

@chinoslefttoehair

@bambiwrites

@memzyyy

@tomsbbg

@tomksslut

@rottinglilys

[themultifandomgal]

Tommy Shelby- Been Lied To

This was a request. Hope you enjoy!

Not many people knew about Tommy Shelby’s first love Greta. Before the war, he believed she was the one, the one he would marry. Tommy promised to come home to her, and she promised she would be there waiting for him when his train gets in. However that promise was broken when Tommy returned home and he’s love wasn’t there to great him. His aunt Polly later told him that she had been ill for some time and Greta’s sister had been looking after her, but she eventually passed away. Little did any of them know the truth.

A 14 year old YN paces the length of her bedroom having thrown a book she shouldn’t of had on to her bed. The book was a diary, here mums diary, the woman she believed to be her aunt was actually her mother and she had been lied to her whole life!

Hearing the door downstairs open then close, YN sees red. Why did she have to be lied to? Why couldn’t she have been told the truth? Running downstairs she sees her ‘mum’

“Hi love I got some of those biscuits you like”

“Thanks mum, or should I say Auntie Kitty”

“YN love, what are you talking about?”

“I’m taking about your diary”

“What? Where did you find that?” mum shouts with wide eyes

“That doesn’t matter!” I yell back “you lied to me my whole life? Why?”

“YN…” mum sighs “I didn’t think I’d ever have the chance to have a child, then when your auntie Greta passed away after having you I thought….”

“You could have just told me. I would have still loved you like you were my mum. Who’s my dad?”

“That I will never tell you. You don’t want to get mixed up with them. Promise me you won’t go looking for him”

“How can I if you won’t tell me who he is!” YN shouts as she storms off upstairs slamming her bedroom door. Looking back at the diary she picks it up again and takes another look at the diary. Rereading YN notices some initials

15th February 1918

Dear Diary,

I’m afraid TS may find out the truth, but I can’t let him. He will ruin the girl with the Peaky Blinders. He questioned me today, said she looked like him and his family. Of course I told he he was stupid and that she is my daughter not his!

TS? Who was TS? He was a Peaky Blinder…. Then it hit YN. TS must stand for Tommy Shelby. Tommy Shelby is her father? Well there’s only one way to find out. Knowing that he was getting married to the old barmaid Grace, YN quickly leaves her room taking the diary with her. She runs downstairs and to the coat rack

“Where are you going?” Kitty asks

“Out!” YN shouts before slamming the bedroom door. Hoping she can get to the church before the wedding starts, YN runs as fast as she can until she seeing a group of men stood outside smoking

“YN?” Turning around she sees Finn Shelby, the youngest brother who she’s knows from school, well when he decided to attend “what are you doing here?”

“Erm” now she’s here she feels nervous, yes she’s angry at her mum, well auntie, but now she’s worried because she’s turned up on her possible dads wedding day. What if he wants nothing to do with her?

“Finn come on Toms waiting” Arthur says stomping out his cigarette

“I’ll be a minute” Finn shouts back “YN what’s wrong?”

“I don’t even know why I though coming here was going to be a good idea” YN says before biting her lip

“Finn!”

“I’m coming! YN what’s going on?”

“I think Tommy is my dad. Look” YN hands the diary over to Finn who takes a look at the diary entry that YN just read. Gingerly Finn reads the diary, his eyes widen at the end

“Shit. Ok you gotta speak to Tommy”

“But…”

“For fuck sake Finn what the fuck are you doing?” John now asks walking over to us

“This is YN, Tommys long lost daughter”

“What?” Finn then hands the diary to John to read

“Holy shit. Greta was your mum not kitty?” John says shocked “I know Tommy had his suspicions, but fuck why would she keep this from him? He had a right to know”

“Right are you guys coming or what because Tommy is getting impatient” Polly walks over with Ada

“Poll we think YN is Tommys daughter” the diary is then passed over to their aunt

“Today of all days, why?” Polly mutters “ok we will deal with this later, but right now we have a wedding. YN head home then….”

“I can’t, or more like I don’t want to. Mum, auntie kitty, fuck I don’t know what to call her now, knows I found the diary. She’s mad and won’t talk to me about this. She’ll just pretend that that diary doesn’t exist”

“Ok ok. Stand at the back of the church, don’t make a fuss. After the wedding we’ll head to Arrow House. We can talk then”

“Ok” YN gives in knowing this probably her best option.

Later on after the wedding Polly takes Yn to Tommys house. They all head into Tommys office, the whole family including Grace

“What are we in here for Poll” tommy sighs lighting up a cigarette

“Kitty lied. Greta was pregnant while you were away at war. YN is Gretas daughter, your daughter Thomas” Polly says throwing the diary onto the table. Tommy runs his hands over his face sitting down

“How do you know she is definitely his?” Grace asks

“Before I went to war Greta said she thought she was pregnant. When I came home Kitty said Greta wasn’t pregnant, but got sick and died”

“Come to think of it after you went away Greta disappeared. Said she was ill, I tried going over to check on her but Kitty wouldn’t let me in” Ada says

“Then all of a sudden Kitty has a daughter” Arthur says

“Did any of you notice a bump?”

“No, but pregnant or not she would have tried to hide it” Polly reply’s to John

“But she was still called names when she first came out with YN”

“So YN really is your daughter?” Grace asks looking at her husband

“I guess so” Tommy looks up at his family “everyone out, except YN. I think we need to talk”

That evening, YN and Tommy talk. Tommy tells YN about he mother, about what she was like and how he loved her. YN has to go home, but over the weeks and months, YN soon finds herself living with Tommy and Grace and their son. At first Grace is weary, but soon warms up the the young girl. For a while YN wanted nothing to do with Kitty, but after speaking to Polly and finding out that Kitty only wanted a child of her own and loved YN with all her heart, YN decided to make an effort with her aunt. But for YN her whole life changed that night all because she found a diary while looking for Irish Whiskey.

[onceuponapuffin]

Fanatic Intervention Part 17!!!

Okay, it's been a bit so quick recap: We just spent the evening at a dive bar singing karaoke and learning that 1) Jesus is a 13-year-old rich white kid with rich parents living in L.A. and 2) Muriel is missing. The Angel of Sardis gave us a lovely fishbowl (alcoholic drink since no one in this world has bothered to ask Reader's age because I have more room to play that way) as a reward for singing Taylor Swift (Shake it Off). We pick up our story The Morning After.

Also, since the poll about Sardis tied, I'm taking it to mean that everyone needs/wants more time with him to figure him out. Fortunately people also voted to bring him along, so we get to have LOTS OF THAT!! :D

Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 in G Major for anyone who's curious.

What music do you think Anathema likes??

Let's do this!!

Beginning || Previous || Next

**********************************

The next morning you sit at the table in the dining room of the massive Ritz hotel suite, staring into your coffee. You have a headache, and no one else seems to be faring too much better. If only it was just a hangover. A miracle from either Aziraphale or Crowley could fix a hangover, but there was no way that a miracle of any size could make your situation any less bleak.

Aziraphale, angel that he literally is, had thought to order in breakfast from the kitchens. You look from your coffee to the waiting plate of pancakes, eggs, and bacon, heaving a sigh. Jesus, if and when you find him, is an entitled teen. Muriel, friend and precious, is missing. Things are...well, it’s hard to feel happy or optimistic right now. Your companions aren’t faring much better as far as you can tell. Crowley is staring at his phone with a frown, the sound effects of Candy Crush drifting across the otherwise silent table. He’s playing at non-chalance, but you know Distraction As A Coping Mechanism when you see it. Aziraphale has barely touched his food, focusing more on alternating between stirring his tea, and sipping it only to add more sugar. The drink must be nearly syrup by now. Anathema keeps dangling her pendulum, pausing, then setting it down to re-cast her rune stones. You’ve noticed that they keep landing up the same way. Well, you need fuel in your system if you’re going to deal with all of this, so you reluctantly cut a slice of pancake with your fork and bring it to your mouth.

The silence stretches. Well, except for the ambiance; Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, pancake slice. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, pancake slice. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast, bacon – mixing it up a little. Candy Crush, spoon stir, runes cast

BAM!!!!

The door of the suite slams open, and there stands Sardis with his foot in the air.

He kicked the door down. What...on….earth…

“I FOUND HIM!” Sardis stomps into the suite toward the table, waving his phone in the air, “I FOUND HIM! I knew I’d seen his face somewhere, and I found him!!”

Crowley sits up straight for once in his life. “Who THE FUCK gave him a key?!”

You avert your gaze. The fishbowl was delicious, and he patted your head afterward and told you everything would be okay! Not your fault….entirely.

There isn’t much time for you to contemplate your guilt because Sardis has turned up the volume on his phone, and pressed play on a Tik Tok video. He turns his phone so that you all can see the screen. A boy with dirty-blonde hair is smiling out of it. His hair is longer in the middle and pouffed up with what is probably a standard-teenager’s worth of hair gel, and the sides are very short with...dollar signs shaved into them. It’s just a Tik Tok video, but you can smell the Axe body spray from here.

“Hey guys!” The smiling teen calls, waving at the camera. “It’s me, ya boy Jeremy. I’m bringing back my most popular series. That’s right! You asked, and I’m answering your prayers! Time to bring back Let’s See What I Can Get Away With Because I’m RICH.”

Your face twists in disgust, and you hear Anathema groan.

“I think we’ve seen quite enough,” Aziraphale says, speaking for you all.

“Are...are you sure that’s Jesus?” You ask. Honestly you’re hoping it’s a joke. You’re hoping beyond hope that this...this...caricature of a person is not the same person who you need to convince to help you save the world.

“Oh yeah,” Sardis replies, “That’s him. Right name and everything.”

“Wot? Jeremy?” asks Crowley with an edge of salty sarcasm.

“No,” Sardis says, “His true name. I know everyone’s, remember? It’s the right kid, you have my word on that.”

Truth be told, you’re still not exactly sure what his word is worth, but for now it’s a lead. You glance at Anathema, who shrugs.

“Fits the bill,” she admits, “All my readings have been...unsettlingly clear about the kind of kid we’re looking for, and I mean...” She gestures helplessly at the phone and the video that Sardis has, thankfully, paused. You blink, dumbstruck. Aziraphale said something last night about Heaven cutting corners. Apparently they had cut the corners so thoroughly they’d made a circle.

Great.

******************

Breakfast suddenly became easier after that. Maybe it was because Sardis was the only one who wasn’t completely despairing over everything, and maybe it was because he was suddenly helping himself to the plates of excess pancakes, bacon, and eggs. Suddenly, you noticed Aziraphale wave a finger and the food was hot again – trying to impress company, or be a good host, or both no doubt. You found that your appetite had suddenly returned, along with your need for caffeine. Even Crowley had grabbed some bacon now that, perhaps, there seemed a less likely chance of him having the choice if he waited any longer. Sardis did most of the talking, explaining that the shortest driving route would take 28 hours. Best to get started asap then.

“I am not listening to anymore of your….Us songs!” Crowley growls at you as soon as you get in the car.

“Not all of them are love songs!” You protest.

“No! No breakup songs either!”

“Fine, fair, but what about -”

“And especially no End-of-the-World songs!” He snarls. You’re pretty sure he’s halfway to hissing at you now. “We have enough of that to deal with assss is!” Ah, there it is.

Ever-so-gently, Aziraphale takes the phone out of your hand.

“Perhaps it’s about time someone else had a turn,” he says. Ah, so he’s finally gotten tired of humouring you and your taste in music. Well, it had to happen eventually.

Unfortunately, this means that you all end up listening to Brandenburg Concerto No 3 in G Major. Well, it could be worse, you figure. At least this song has movement to it, even if it does feel endless based on your musical standards. Crowley is driving and silent, Aziraphale is waving your phone around in the passenger’s seat like a conductor’s baton. The backseat is as follows – You, Sardis, and Anathema.

Yes, Sardis is there. Considering the way he found Jesus – or, Jeremy – so quickly, and the way he seems to be single-handedly keeping everyone’s morale afloat, it seemed a waste to leave him behind. Besides, both Crowley and Aziraphale had tried to make him leave, but he just….stayed. In the end, you pouted, they gave up, and now he’s sitting in the middle of the backseat, because you and Anathema have seniority.

Speaking of Anathema, you notice her very pointedly staring out the window. She looks...stiff. Maybe classical music isn’t her thing? Your suspicions are confirmed approximately nine minutes later when she practically jumps up from her seat and grabs the phone out of Aziraphale’s hand and presses stop. The music comes to a halt and silence fills the SUV. Aziraphale looks shocked and appalled.

“Anathema!” The angel exclaims after a moment. You can practically hear him clutching at his non-existent pearls. You can see him resisting the urge to clutch at his bowtie. “We weren’t even finished the Allegro!”

Anathema takes a deep breath. You’re able to count out a solid beat of ten before she speaks.

“I...am not...listening to classical concertos for 28 hours. I don’t care what key it’s in or how many allegros it’s got!”

Crowley snickers and snorts. “Concertos don’t work like that.” He says. You see Aziraphale gently pat the demon’s knee as if to say ‘that’s my man.’

“Well what would you rather?” Is what Aziraphale actually says, “More bebop?”

“Try me, and I’ll play death metal, I swear I will.”

“Um,” Sardis ventures cautiously, “Can I see that for a minute-- thank you.” He plucks the phone out of Anathema’s hand. After a minute or two of swiping, he taps the screen, and the car fills with songs from well-known musicals. Now, although this isn’t exactly to everyone’s taste, no one can find a good reason to outright hate it. No one can manage to find a good reason not to put up with it, and so by the time Music of the Night has melted into Seasons of Love, everyone has settled down and accepted that things aren’t actually all that bad.

“Impressive,” You mutter, basking in the semi-content vibe. Everyone is still a little on edge, but it feels less intense now.

Sardis smirks. “Six siblings,” he says to you with a small nudge.

“What happened to the others?” Anathema asks, tuning in to the conversation.

“Well,” Sardis sighs, “Of the seven of us - myself, Smyrna, Pergamum, Ephesus, Philadelphia, Thyatira, and Laodicea - Smyrna and Philly were the only ones who didn’t get hate mail. Smyrna was always super into the doctrine. She drank the kool-aid, as the humans here would say, and felt it her calling to ‘return home,’ as she put it. Bullshit, honestly. We weren’t born angels, we were made alongside the churches of Christ. ‘S one of the reasons why they don’t actually give a shit about us.”

“And why you worried that your miracles might get taken away,” You add, putting some of the pieces together. Sardis nods. “Wait, a minute,” You say, “You were made??”

Sardis laughs. “Alright Little Moth, you need to pick a lane here. Do you want to hear about my siblings or how I was born human?”

“You were BORN HUMAN?!” You are practically bouncing right now. What...how… “But you said that you can’t change your species!”

“I said your Miracle Enabler can’t change your species,” He replies with a twinkle in his eyes, “Not that it can’t be done. The seven of us were all born human. We made the first seven churches, so we were made guardians, lower angels. Like...lower than whatever the lowest type of angel you know of is. But we weren’t created as angels like your friends in the front seat.” Movement catches your peripheral vision, and you notice Crowley shifting a little in his seat. No doubt that’s a touchy subject that only Aziraphale is allowed to go anywhere near, but he says nothing. “So they all pretend we don’t exist, and look down on us whenever they need to deal with us. Sort of like we’re --”

“Oh, don’t worry,” You interject, “I read enough fantasy to understand the way magical societies view human-born magic users.” You can imagine that being An Angel of God would probably get old real fast if everyone who was supposed to welcome you actually hated you and made sure you knew it. Goodness knows it got to Aziraphale eventually, makes sense that a human-born angel (a huboan? You’ll work on it) would get sick of it a lot sooner.

“And that’s why I like you Little Moth,” Sardis says with a chuckle and a wink. “Anyway, so I know Smyrna went to Heaven. Philly stayed here. The two of us have always been really close, she stuck with me and we messaged and called and visited all the time until recently. I got some messages from her when the world went nuts during the first apocalypse, but I haven’t heard from her since. She stopped replying to my messages.”

Now it’s your turn to shift uncomfortably in your seat. Your eyes drop to your feet and start to fill with tears, so you change your view to the one outside your window.

“I can relate,” You say after a moment, holding back a sniffle and a sob. Deep breath. “Well, I’m glad you’re sticking with us.” You plaster a smile on your face and turn back to him. “Maybe we can find her.”

He smiles. “That’s what I’m hoping.” For a while, everyone is silent. After a few minutes, Anathema offers to put together a playlist with everyone’s favourite songs. The mood shifts considerably as the five of you spend the next few hours excitedly making musical suggestions.

It’s the best collection of music you’ve ever heard.

❤️ ❤️ ❤️ ❤️ 🖤

Beginning || Previous || Next

[scarabsinthestardust]

Tender // Ch. 4

MASTERLIST

word count: 2200+

CHAPTER WARNINGS: language; mentions of drinking/alcoholism; arguing/one-sided arguments; depression; anxiety; unspecified undiagnosed mental illness; tiny little spoiler for Better in the Morning, but nothing that will be a shock to readers that are caught up on it

The trouble with things going smoothly is that one tends to get complacent. They get comfortable and let their guard down. They make mistakes and people suffer for it, mostly the ones they never wanted to hurt in the first place.

Josh and I have been going strong for the last six months. We’ve not so much as bickered since the first argument. He’s somehow convinced me, on some uncertain level, that maybe I do deserve this happiness. The fear is still there, of course, but Josh has found a way to quell it, and suddenly I don’t feel like I’m drowning. He’s my spark, my ever-burning flame, and I think maybe I might be able to keep it from going out.

I never wanted kids, and that hasn’t changed, but watching Josh light up around them only increases my love for him. It’s no different with his new niece. He’s been fawning over Kya and Jake’s baby nonstop since she was born and has made it his life’s mission to ensure he’s the ‘favorite uncle.’ He talks about her constantly, and I’m surprisingly not put off by his incessant chattering these days. But I suppose all good things must come to an end.

We’re in his kitchen, cleaning up after dinner. Although I still have my own place, I find myself spending most of my time at his house. He’s talking a million miles a minute about his day, and his most recent visit to Kya’s. He tells me practically everything the baby did, which isn’t much considering she’s, well, a baby, but Josh is excited, so I let him have his moment. Then he says something that makes my heart stop.

“Jake said they’re probably gonna go to West Virginia soon to visit… uh, whoever you guys know up there. I thought maybe we could tag along, make it a whole family trip.”

“No. I’m not going to West Virginia.” Bile is rising in my throat at the thought, and I’m infuriated he would even suggest it.

He reaches out to touch my arm. “I mean, I’d be there with you the whole time. I think it’d be-“

“I said no.”

“I want to see where you grew up, and whatever happened out there, we can-“

The last remaining calm in me dissipates, and I snatch my arm from him, slamming my fist on the marble countertop so hard it shoots pain up to my elbow. “Drop it!”

He blinks at me in shock, and I pretend I don’t notice the way he flinches. I’ve never raised my voice like this toward him, but now the dam has broken, and I can’t stop. “Why can’t you ever just fucking leave shit alone?”

“Finn…” His voice is so small and soft that I almost feel bad. Almost.

“Stop. Fucking. Talking. For once in your life shut the fuck up. I don’t understand why you always have to keep pushing and pushing for shit you know nothing about! Maybe no one’s ever told you no, you’re so used to getting everything you want, but it doesn’t fucking work like that. And you don’t even understand one piece of what you’re prying for. So, stop acting like a spoiled fucking brat, and quit digging!”

I know he doesn’t deserve any of what I said, but the damage is already done. His eyes are filling with tears, and he takes a step away from me. His jaw tenses and he nods, refusing to look me in the eyes. “Fine. Okay.” He doesn’t argue, the first indication that I’ve truly hurt him, only turns away and disappears down the hallway.

My heart’s racing, my skin feels like it’s on fire, and I’m squeezing my fist so tightly my nails are digging into my palm. The house is too small; the walls might be closing in on me. I don’t hear anything, and Josh doesn’t come back out. I should go apologize, but it seems like such a daunting task that will only result in more confrontation, and will inevitably lead me to hurt him more. That’s the last thing I want to do, so I grab my keys, slam the door on the way out, get in my car, and drive.

I don’t have a destination, I just need to get away. It’s already dark; the bright oncoming headlights in the opposite lane make my eyes water. Or is it the guilt and anxiety? I very much wish I could go back and do things differently. Maybe it’s not too late to salvage my relationship with him, but I can’t return to him like this, when my mind is still mottled with rage. I don’t trust what I might do. Instead, I’ll do what I do best – run.

~

JOSHUA

When Josh told his twin he was coming over, Jake wasn’t expecting to find him with bloodshot eyes and splotchy, tear-stained cheeks. “Shit, what’s wrong?” Jake ushered him inside and directed his attention to Josh, concern painting his features.

“Finn and I got into a fight. And he didn’t come home. It’s been 24 hours. His phone’s going straight to voicemail. I checked his place, and I don’t think he’s been there either. What if something happened to him? What if-“

“Josh, calm down. I’m sure he’s fine.” Jake coaxed his brother to sit down on the couch. He gently reminded Josh to keep his voice down, so he doesn’t wake the baby. “Did he say anything before he left?”

“No. No, we argued… he was so pissed off so I tried to give him some space and he just left.” Josh didn’t want to elaborate on the details; he knew how Jake would react to Finn being the primary aggressor, and he didn’t want to make his boyfriend out to be the bad guy. He blamed himself for it anyways. “I don’t know what to do. I’m worried about him. And I checked the weather, there’s another storm coming through. What if he gets stuck out in it somewhere?”

Jake shook his head. “What are you talking about? He’s not a fucking dog, Josh. It’s just rain. He’ll figure it out.”

“No, he’s right to be worried.” Kya’s voice came from behind them; they didn’t hear her come around the corner until she spoke. “He’s always been terrified of storms. I don’t know why. He used to hide in the closet when we were kids, until it passed. But that also means he watches the weather like a hawk. I’m sure he’s found somewhere safe to hunker down until it passes.”

“Is this normal for him, to just disappear?” Josh’s eyes pleaded with her for some kind of reassurance.

Kya shrugged sadly. “He’s always been a little ghost-y, I guess. But I didn’t think he would just drop off without telling you. What… was it that bad of a fight?”

Josh swallowed as he fought back tears. “It… no, it was stupid. And I’m the one that upset him. I started it.”

Kya watched him carefully; there was something he wasn’t telling them. But she didn’t call him out on it. She figured if it was something serious, he would have said something. “He’ll come around,” she said. “He doesn’t handle confrontation well. I’m sure he just needs some time to cool off and clear his head. He’ll come back.” She didn’t let on that she was suddenly doubting her own words.

When Josh eventually returned home, dejected and depressed, he curled up on the couch under a soft throw blanket. He held his phone close and made sure the volume was turned up in case Finn did call him back. He wanted to stay up, wanted to wait just a little longer, but exhaustion won out and he soon drifted to sleep.

~

It’s barely dawn by the time I make it back to Josh’s house. His car is here. He’s probably asleep, which makes me falter. I don’t want to wake him up, but I know the longer I stay away, the harder it will be. I’ve rehearsed a hundred different conversations in my head, like memorizing a script that will change based on how Josh responds to each line. I’m honestly quite terrified. I considered just staying gone, but I know Josh well enough to know that kind of uncertainty would only hurt him more. If I’ve lost him, at least we’ll both know it.

I ring the doorbell. I know where he keeps the spare key, but I don’t feel like I’ve earned the right to use it. I don’t realize I’m holding my breath as I wait for a response. I’m surprised at how quickly he comes to the door, and I’m even more shocked when he throws his arms around me so hard I almost stumble backwards.

“Where the hell have you been? I was so worried about you. I thought… I thought something happened to you.”

He was worried? About me? I coax him inside so I can shut the door. I’m not keen on providing intel on our private lives to the neighbors. He sniffs and rubs his eyes with the back of his hand. When I finally get a good look at his face, my chest aches. He hasn’t slept; he looks exhausted. I know he’s been crying, and I hate that it’s my fault.

He allows me to lead him to the couch, but instead of sitting with him, I kneel on the floor in front of him. “I’m so sorry.” It seems like a good place to start. “I’m sorry for how I treated you. You didn’t deserve that, Josh. I lost my cool, that’s all on me. And… I understand if you want me to leave, if you don’t want this anymore.”

“Where did you go?” he asks quietly.

“Uh, Wichita.”

“Kansas? What the hell is in Kansas? Or… who?”

I’m mildly taken aback at the implication, but if the roles were reversed, I’d be thinking the same thing. “I promise you, it’s nothing like that. I didn’t plan to go to Wichita, I just ended up there. I…” I hesitate to tell him the whole truth. Hiding it is easier, and he may not ever forgive me. But maybe he’ll pity me instead, and that’s almost worse. “I messed up, though.” I pull my AA chip from my pocket and place it in his hand, careful to avoid his eyes. “I’m sorry. I know you’re probably disappointed in me. I found a meeting before I came back, but if you don’t want-“

“I don’t want you to leave.” He looks at the chip in his palm before holding it back out to me. “This doesn’t define you, Finn. You’re allowed to make mistakes.”

Mistakes get people killed. “You deserve better,” I admit. I’m giving him an out, an escape route, and the small piece of me that is still decent wants him to take it. I slip the chip back into my pocket, although it feels dirty now, contaminated somehow.

He’s staring down at the carpet, and I can see the wheels turning. “You weren’t drunk, though.”

“I got drunk. I went to a bar, and-“

“No, I mean before you left. You weren’t drunk when you screamed at me.”

“No,” I whisper. “I… I can’t go back there, Josh. You trying to convince me to, it… it triggered something in me, I guess. I can’t stand feeling like I don’t have a choice.”

“I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“I know you didn’t. I’m working on it, though. And I know it’s a lot to ask, but I promise if you give me another chance, I’ll do better. It won’t happen again.”

He stays quiet for a moment, sniffling as he considers my words. I’m still not confident that he’ll forgive me, and I brace myself for the worst. But instead, he leans forward, resting his arms on my shoulders and pulling me to him. “I’m sorry. Just please don’t leave. Let me help you,” he practically begs.

I give into his pleas, and we stay like this until he asks me to come to bed with him. “Will you just lay with me?” I hold him then, neither of us saying a word. His fingers absentmindedly trace my skin, just under the hem of my shirt. They trail along the small scar just above my right hip and I tense up involuntarily. The little patch of marred flesh is just a reminder, another in a long line of stories I will never tell him. He’s learned to quit asking about it, now.

I don’t think I really sleep. Josh eventually drifts off and I’m left alone. I don’t want to admit it, but my gut is telling me this is wrong. Something in me is screaming to get away from here, from him. Except it’s not because I’m in any kind of danger. It’s because I know he is. No matter how many promises I make, how many times he forgives me for the things I’ve done, or how much he pleads for me to stay with him, I will inevitably hurt him over and over again. There is no doubt in my mind that everything he’s tried to build in himself, I will bring it all crashing to the ground. I do love him, more than I’ve loved anyone this way. Some say if you love something, you need to let it go. But my love for him, and my own selfishness, is why I know I never will. I’ll hold onto him for as long as I can, even if all I do is drag him down with me to the pits of wherever the hell I end up.

///

@hollyco @fleetingjake @musicislove3389 @hailthegodsong @josh-iamyour-mama @katuschka

TAGLIST

Let me know if you want to be added!

[philaet0s]

Celebrity/Social Media AU Part 9

Previous part: Part 8

Next Part : Part 10

the last part of simon’s birthday :)

‼️explicit content‼️

Simon

He promptly presses me against that stupid glass panel and crashes his lips against mine. That’s better.

At the same time, he slips his hand down my pants again and resumes stroking my dick, though this time he pushes my trousers and underwear down first. Only enough for him to move his hand more easily.

I throw my head back, close my eyes, and let myself enjoy it. The callouses on his hands feel rougher –better– than usual. His lips are on my jaw and they’re warm, so warm.

I’m getting lost in his touch again when… “I want you to fuck me.”

I whine.

“Jesus fucking Christ, Baz. You can’t just say that. You’re going to kill me.”

He smirks, but it doesn’t look convincing. There’s something desperate in his eyes. “Fuck me, please.”

“Here?” I ask, looking around the room in confusion.

“It’s the middle of the night, it’s not like anyone’s going to come in.”

“Yes but… We don’t have… anything.”

Like a magician takes a rabbit out of a hat, he takes a small bottle of lube out of his pocket. What the fuck?

I snatch it from him.

“Where did you get a tiny bottle of lube?” And more importantly, how did I not feel it in his pocket?

“Hotel soap. I cleaned the bottle and put lube in it.”

“Hey, that’s smart.”

“Snow?”

“Yes?”

“Shut the fuck up and have sex with me.”

I burst out laughing. “Sure babe.”

In one swift motion, I switch our places, putting Baz against the wall –and the glass panel. Just as quickly, I grab his hips to make him turn around, so that I’m facing his back. I hear him unzip his jeans.

I get down on my knees and pull his trousers and pants down. I wish I could see his cock, see how hard it must be, but the view isn’t so bad on that side either.

I grab his arse with both hands, making his breathing hitch.

In that moment, I remember that he took a shower right before he told me he wanted to head out. He was planning to have sex in the studio. Fucking hell.

I lean forward and feel him tense when my breath brushes his skin.

“No time for that Snow, I said fuck me.”

“There’s always time for that,” I answer, cheekily, before licking him.

He arches into me. So much for ‘no time for that’.

He opens his legs a bit more, and I part his cheeks for better access. In just a minute or two, I have him chanting my name so beautifully. He’s rocking his hips into me, crushing my nose against his arse. I can hardly breathe, but I really don’t care.

I stop just when I feel him close to coming. Just like he did to me…

“Snow I swear to God if you don’t–”

“I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” I answer, as I stand back up.

“Well, get on with it, then. Jesus.”

I chuckle. I love him like this. Needy and impatient.

“Just a few more minutes,” I say in a soothing voice, before pressing a kiss to his shoulder. “Need to finger you first.”

He clicks his tongue.

“Be fucking quick about it.”

“You kiss me with that mouth?”

He looks over his shoulder just to glare at me. It makes me laugh, which only irritates me more.

Unfortunately, I’m just as horny as he is so I can’t tease him for too long. I coat my fingers in lube and press one of them inside of him. The spit that’s already there is definitely helping, and if I had to guess, I’d say he already stretched himself in the shower. I push another finger in after just a few back and forths.

I kiss his neck and shoulders all while I’m opening him up, whispering sweet nothings in between kisses. It makes the wait slightly more tolerable for us both.

I pour more lube on my hand to spread it on my cock, and then finally push in. We both groan.

“Fuck. Fuck, Simon, I missed you.”

“Missed you too.” I drag my cock out slowly, making him shiver, then slam back in. His body hits the wall. He moans. “Missed this.”

After that I try to stay gentle, the way he prefers, because I want to make him feel so fucking good, but I’m aching for more. I want to push him up against the wall with every thrust, to bury myself so deep inside him I can’t remember how it felt like not having him with me.

“Fuck. Yes. Oh my God, Simon. Harder. Harder.” He gasps.

Thank fucking God.

I hold his hips more tightly, and fuck him harder. My body is so hot I feel like my skin is on fire.

Baz is a mess. There’s nothing coherent coming out of his mouth anymore, only the most beautiful, wild sounds I’ve ever heard. His lips are parted and with each of his exhales, a circle of steam forms on the glass panel. His hands are searching for purpose, for something to grip, but the line between the wall and the window is almost completely seamless.

When I feel close, I move faster, deeper, harder, until my entire body tenses and I come inside him. My hands are shaking around his hips. He might bruise.

I don’t give myself time to rest. He hasn’t come yet.

He sobs when I take my dick out of him. “Shh, I’m going to take care of you, darling,” I whisper.

He nods. There are tears pooling at the corner of his eyes. God, he’s a sight. I want to burn his image into my memory.

No time to stare lovingly. I don’t want him desperate, I want him satisfied.

He’s like a ragdoll. I can move his body however I like, so I turn it around to have access to his cock. Once again, I drop down on my knees, and I put my mouth on him. His hands finally find the anchor they were looking for, his fingers closing around my curls as he whispers “Fuck, fuck, fuck” over and over again until he comes.

Only then do I let myself rest.

I swallow, and lean my head against his thigh to catch my breath.

“Feels like I haven’t breathed in half an hour,” I whisper.

Baz lets out a choked sound that I assume is his best attempt at chuckling. He’s trying to breathe too.

For a few minutes, we stay there in silence, until both our hearts are back to a normal rate.

“Is it because it’s been a while or was the sex particularly good?” he asks, amusement in his voice.

“Both?”

He hums. “Definitely both.”

…

When we get back to the other side of the studio, he clicks on a button. And this time I pay attention to what’s on the computer scene. My jaw drops.

“You were recording this whole time?”

He smirks.

[pipsipey17]

love and literature | chapter 1: never be the same.

professor!natasha romanoff x college student!reader

series masterlist | main masterlist

summary: you hate the subject and you hate the teacher. but don't worry, she hates you too.

contains: none as of now :>>

next chapter

Your grades were out today and you were nervous, especially for your grade in Russian Literature 2. You checked your card and you got a 2.0 to a 1.0 for your subjects which was no surprise to you at all but when your eyes landed at your grade for Russian Literature 2 you felt your anger slightly rise, it was 2.75 and it was also your lowest grade.

“What the hell? I did everything and this is the grade that I got?!” you exclaimed in anger. 

“Let me check mine,” Wanda said, then she checked her card and you saw that her grades ranged to 2.0 until even a 1.0, your eyes widened at her grade in Russian Literature 2, it was 1.5. 

“What the fuck? I knew it, she hates my guts for no goddamn reason. This is just unfair.” you groaned in annoyance then slumped onto your chair.

“Are you really sure you didn’t do anything to make her hate you?” Wanda asked. 

You shook your head and said, “None that I can think of.” Wanda then raised a brow at you, “Remember the time when you wanted to drop out of her class during the first day? Also the little stunt you pulled during her class?” she asked you. 

“What stunt? I just fell asleep in her class, that’s it.” 

“Well yeah, but still, it pretty much pissed her off even more.” Wanda said and you rolled your eyes in response, “But after that day she has been attacking me non-stop during her class even though I didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“Probably because you left a very bad impression on her.” Wanda replied. 

“There must be some mistake, do we seriously have Russian Literature 2 as an extra co-curricular?” you immediately said as you received your schedule for the second semester. 

“I heard that we have a new Russian Literature teacher though.” Wanda said. 

“Please, what’s only going to make me happy about that class is when I get to drop out of it.” 

“Oh come on, Russian Literature isn’t even that bad.” 

“Yeah right, says the person who gets a surprising grade of 1.25 from that class.” you said sarcastically, “I’m seriously going to drop out, I’ve had enough of this subject.” you continued then started walking towards your Russian Literature professor’s office. 

You slammed the door open then immediately approached the professor and said, “I’d like to drop out.” The woman sitting in front of you was busying herself on her laptop, her green eyes left the screen when you spoke. 

You made eye contact with the woman and you were immediately taken aback by her beauty. You never really thought that she could be attractive, her aura was screaming dominance and it was making you feel a bit small.

She raised an eyebrow at you and said, “What makes you think I’ll allow that?”  

“You will, because I already took this subject last semester-” the professor in front of you interrupted you, “I believe that you’re going to take Russian Literature 2 this semester correct?” She asked and you lightly nodded in response, “Well then Miss… whoever you are, if you do drop out this semester you will automatically fail and you’re going to be required to take this subject for your third semester, so whether you like it or not you’re required to take this subject. I’ll see you later in my class.” she concluded.

You wanted to say something or at least anything at this point but your mouth didn’t want to move at all, you just turned around and slammed the door shut behind you.

“So, what happened?” Wanda asked.

You huffed out in annoyance, “She said if I do drop out I’ll fail and be required to take the subject in my third semester.” 

“Told you it wasn’t going to work. I did hear from the others though that Miss Romanoff is pretty strict and intimidating so you definitely just ruined your chances of having a high grade for that class.” Wanda said and it made your brows furrow together.

It was time for your Russian Literature 2 class and you immediately tensed up when your professor spoke, “Good afternoon class, I am professor Romanoff and I will be your new Russian Literature teacher.” she said with confidence.

“You didn’t tell me that she was hot.” Wanda whispered to you.

“Seriously Wanda? You’re already ogling on our new teacher?”

“Says the one who’s into redheads.” then Wanda nudged your shoulder, “I know she’s definitely your type.” she teased. 

“Wanda, she’s literally the teacher who didn’t allow me to drop out of this fucking class.” 

“And most of all, I won’t tolerate any unnecessary noises while I’m talking.” you suddenly heard your professor which made you stop talking to Wanda. “Is that clear for the two ladies at the back?” she continued, “I know that one of you is not interested in this class so you are free to leave and not attend my classes but be sure to comply with all your activities.” then every single one of your classmates looked at the both of you. You bowed your head in humiliation but it was definitely pissing you off even more.

A few moments later you pushed your chair back and got up, “That’s it, I’m going to talk to her, I’d already have enough of her bullshit this quarter.” you then walked out of the library and went straight to her office. 

You were back in here again, the place where you first met your most hated professor who is undeniably gorgeous even for you, but all you felt for the woman right now was hate, after all the unnecessary humiliations you received from her throughout the quarter. 

You opened the door and were immediately greeted by the scent of lavender perfume, you stood in front of her desk and said, “I’d like to talk about my grade.” you directly said to her.

“And what about it, Miss Hill?” she asked. 

“I’d like to know why and how my grade became a 2.75 when I submitted and passed every single assignment.”

You swear you saw her smirk to herself before she said, “You did submit your assignments on time, but most of your answers were wrong in one of those and you failed almost every quiz and you even failed your midterm exam.” 

It made you stand still, you knew that you failed some of her quizzes but you were pretty sure that you passed the midterm exam and most of her assignments.  

“If that’s all you need to know why you have the grade that you have, I suggest you leave,” your professor said then she stood up and grabbed your chin with her thumb and pointer finger making you look directly at her green eyes, “I’ll see you tomorrow in class.” 

You immediately walked out of her office all hot and flustered, you took a deep breath and then grabbed your phone from your pocket to text Wanda that you were going home. 

~~~

“Hey, I’m home.” you said as you entered the home that you live in with your sister, Maria.

As you were placing your jacket on the coat hanger you noticed that there was someone else’s jacket, it wasn’t your sister’s that’s for sure. Then, it suddenly hit you, Maria said that her best friend was going to visit today and you had totally forgotten about it, making you mentally slap yourself.

You haven’t really met your sister’s best friend, she would sometimes tell you tiny bits about her best friend but other than that, you really don’t know her, not even her face, you only know that her name is Natasha, and the name just reminds you of that professor of yours.

Due to the fact that your parents had separated and you used to stay with your father in England while Maria stayed with your mother. When you told Maria that you were going to study college in America, she was thrilled, she even offered for you to move in with her and you happily accepted.   

“I’m in the kitchen!” you hear your sister yell, she’s probably cooking something you thought. 

You walked to the kitchen and saw that your sister was cooking what seems to be some pasta. She looked behind her and greeted you, “Hey sis,” then you approached her and hugged her.

“I’d like you to finally meet my best friend, Natasha.” your sister said as she gestured to the bar counter and you were immediately met with a very familiar fiery red hair also the very recognized emerald green orbs. Your eyes widened in shock after seeing who your sister’s best friend was. 

Her best friend was your goddamn Russian Literature professor.

[obsessedwithlute]

The Circle of Vengeance - Chapter One

Here's an angsty Guitarspear fanfic! Let's see how many chapters I can write of this before y'all get tired of my insanity! Chapter Summary: Lute makes a choice and Charlie loses her shit. Also push doors play their role as the eighth deadly sin.

Lute heard the news from Saint Peter. Sera had let it slip that Adam had been reborn- as a sinner. As a demon.

It couldn’t be right; there was no way Adam, her Adam, could possibly be in Hell.

Except that it was Adam, and that alone made it make sense.

But- she couldn’t think that. There had to be a mistake. God must have- No. No, it was impossible. God didn’t fuck up.

Well, this time he must have, because Adam didn’t deserve to be in Hell.

He’d killed people, but on Heaven’s orders, and he was the first man, for fuck’s sake. Didn’t that count for anything?

Lute needed to do something to fix this. She couldn’t discuss it with God, but Sera- she reported directly to Sera now, and the angel had decided they needed to have weekly meetings now. To make sure everything is running smoothly, was Sera’s excuse. The lieutenant knew the truth, though. To keep Lute in line.

Lute looked down at the spear she gripped tightly in her hands. The spear that had killed demons, earning her Adam’s favor and praise.

They’d never really defined their relationship. Boss and employee? Co-murderers? We’re totally just friends, but, like, I’d fuck you if you asked?

All of the above?

Lute made her way to Sera’s office, grinding her teeth together, hoping this would go over well.

She braced her hand on the cobalt doorknob and pulled it open.

The door was locked.

The fuck…?

Sera never locked her door. Not once in the many millennia of Lute’s existence had Sera ever locked her door.

Lute slammed her body against the door, mentally screaming at the damn thing to stop being so annoying, and it flung open.

Fuck, Lute, it’s a push door! Why do you keep forgetting that?

Every. Fucking. Time.

“Commander, there you are,” Sera said. She sat at a bronze desk, with two chairs made of the same material on opposite sides.

There used to be a third for Adam.

Lute clasped her hands behind her back and inclined her head. “Your Majesty.”

“Sit down, Commander, we need to speak about these incident reports,” the Queen of Heaven ordered.

Commander. Lute still hadn’t gotten used to that.

“Your Majesty, I actually have… a different matter of business that I feel must be discussed with you,” Lute said, lowering herself into the chair.

“Go ahead,” Sera told her, waving her hand.

“I heard about what happened to Adam,” Lute murmured. “I was wondering… if you knew why?”

Sera burst out laughing suddenly. “You don’t mean to tell me you’re surprised?”

“Well… I am, Your Majesty,” Lute said. “I am confused as to why someone in such a high, respected position as Adam would be allowed to…” “Become a sinner?” Sera finished. Lute winced. “It’s quite obvious. He has committed almost every sin there is. The confusing thing would have been if he’d wound up a winner!”

“But, Your Majesty… isn’t there anything we can do?” Lute asked.

“Do?” Sera repeated, her face twisted into a shocked expression.

“Yes, he is the First Man, there must be a way to… make an exception?” the lieutenant presumed.

“There are no exceptions,” Sera scoffed. “Adam said it himself, the rules are black and white.” “But-” “Lute, I am sorry that your fuckbuddy- boyfriend- whatever he was to you-”

“Boss,” Lute hissed.

“-Got himself cast down to hell. But unless you plan on taking the same path, I expect you to put that pretty little righteously sadistic smirk back on your face, remember your place, and make a plan with your Exorcists for how to exterminate the last of Hell, like you told me you wanted to.” Flames burned in Sera’s eyes.

“Your Majesty, please, there must be a way…” Lute begged, but it was to no avail.

“Do not question Heaven, abomination, or I may decide that you are no longer worthy of it!”

“Then fucking do it!” Lute screamed, her voice hoarse. “I know exactly how low you think of me, it’s only been a matter of time!”

“Oh, no, ‘Commander’,” Sera cooed. “You didn’t think I’d make it that easy for you, did you? I’m giving you a choice. You can never speak of Adam again or you can join him. What will it be, Lute? Adam or God?”

To anyone else, the answer would have been obvious. Her shitty boss or everything she existed for?

But Adam wasn’t just her shitty boss.

He was her motivation, and she was his. He was the person always pushing her to work hard, but also to lay back, to relax, to enjoy her existence for once. And she was always there for him, the nights when the memories of Eve and Lilith came back too strong and he would try to drown himself in alcohol. And Lute was always ready to give Adam an ass-kicking when he needed one.

But Lute had a purpose in Heaven. Yes, that purpose was killing, but it was still a reason to wake up in the morning and suffer through another of sweat and Sera and unruly Exorcists.

But killing Adam?

She’d mutilated Vaggie because she couldn’t do her job properly.

But could Lute do her job, now that Adam was a sinner? Now that she was biased? This was why they didn’t let winners become Exorcists. Over ninety-five percent of them had someone they cared about who was a goddamn sinner.

And sinners were trouble incarnate.

But what if just one exception could be made…?

Vaggie didn’t get an exception.

…But why should Lute not?

Lute was more diligent than Vaggie, more adept at her job than Vaggie, more worthy than Vaggie.

Right? So then why did Vaggie get to be with Charlie? Why did Vaggie get someone who loved her, even though she was an angel? Even though she was a murderer?

Everyone loved Vaggie and everyone hated Lute.

Except for Adam. Adam and Lute had always been on each other’s sides, even when one or both of them inevitably fucked up.

When Adam had broken into hell unauthorized to steal porn films and booze and generally shit on Lucifer’s good time, Lute had taken half the blame and shared Adam’s sentence.

When Lute had accidentally stabbed another Exorcist during the exterminations, Adam had defended her to Sera and used the “one out per century” the Seraphim had told him he could get due to his First Man title to get her charges dropped.

Adam would never want her to sacrifice everything in her life for him.

But Lute didn’t know if she could live with herself if she didn’t.

To never see Adam again except at the end of her spear, to never even have his name escape between her lips again… it sounded more like Hell than anything Lucifer could create.

To lust was a sin, to want more was a sin.

But Adam had lusted and bragged, boiled over and envied, and everything else in the book that for anyone else, would pretty much be an automatic slam of the pearly gates in their face.

Adam, you stupid fucking idiot, I miss you more than anything and I don’t want to lose you.

“Make your decision now, Lute. Adam. Or. God.”

In the movies, it came out as a scream of wrath and disgust and confidence.

In the movies, there were tears streaming down the character’s face as  

they spoke.

In the movies, there was no doubt in their eyes.

This was the opposite of a movie.

And Lute’s suddenly shaky voice was so quiet she could barely hear herself as she rasped, “Adam.”

—

Lute gripped her nails into a brick building, trying to keep herself upright and conscious. The blood from where her wings used to be was drying on her back. Sera had ripped her prosthetic arm off as well, and Lute missed that already too.

She had no time to sit around and weep. She’d made her choice; there was no undoing it. Now she had to find Adam.

Fuck, she missed that whiny little asshole.

She couldn’t exactly come up with a good plan of how to find him, though. Yell his name through the streets of hell like he was a lost puppy?

Somehow, Lute didn’t think that would yield the best results.

She pulled herself off of the wall and started walking down the streets of Hell, searching for Adam, ignoring the warm, sticky blood coating her body.

Her feet dragged down the pavement as she searched, wondering where the actual fuck he was and what he had gotten himself into this time.

“Lute?” a voice exclaimed behind.

She whirled around, hoping, pleading-

It was Charlie. No, please let her be hallucinating, anyone other than Vaggie’s girlfriend-

“The fuck are you doing here?” the princess demanded.

“What does it look like?” Lute asked in a condescending tone, gesturing to her missing wings and prosthesis.

“It looks like you got what you deserved,” Charlie hissed.

“Wow, demon princess, you’ve changed a lot since we last met. I kinda like it,” Lute remarked.

“You tried to kill Vaggie. Twice!” the demon screamed.

“Oh, yes, where is she, by the way? I thought you two were glued at the hip, how I never see one without the other!” Lute said, laughing a bit.

“Like I’m going to tell you that!” Charlie shouted.

“Do I look like I’m in any position to be fighting someone right now?” the angel said.

“Lute, I know you, you’re always in a position to fight everyone!”

“Aww, little princess doesn’t think she can take me in a duel?” Lute cooed.

“Little princess thinks she has something you want,” Charlie said, horns beginning to sprout from her head.

“And what would that be?” Lute asked nonchalantly.

A kick landed itself in Lute’s back, knocking her to the ground, out of breath.

The fuck..?

When she looked up, Vaggie was towering over her.

“Him.”

Vaggie turned, gesturing to the avian demon behind her. He was different, and dirtier, but it was undoubtedly Adam.

“How long have you-” Lute started, but Vaggie cut her off.

“About a month.”

Adam was bleeding, what had happened, what had they done to him? She had to protect him, she had to avenge him, what did they do-

Lute jumped up and whirled her dagger towards Vaggie, screaming something incoherent, but before she even got a chance to strike, she was surrounded by Vaggie on one side and Charlie- in her full demon form- on the other.

The princess looked ready to murder her.

Charlie’s hand pinned Lute to the ground, and her voice was bursting with Wrath as she hissed, “I won’t be killing you today. That would be a mercy. You tried to take Vaggie from me. I will do the same to you.” Charlie released her so quick, Lute didn’t have a second to fight before Vaggie stabbed her spear into Adam’s chest. Lute watched him gasp for air before collapsing to the ground.

Something came across Charlie’s eyes at that moment, likely satisfaction.

Lute crumpled, and again, the world went dark.

[nyssaswitch]

Chapter 11

Y/N’s POV

The doorbell rings, I make my way to the door and am greeted with a familiar face.

“Alex? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Y/N? Y/N! You have no idea how long I’ve been trying to get a hold of you.”

“Well maybe I didn’t want you to find me for a reason.”

“Oh, come on babe, I miss you.”

“Don’t call me babe.”

“Why are you being like this?”

“Like what? We’re over, I’ve told you this.”

“Please just come back to me.”

“No, we broke up for a reason.”

“I still want you.”

“Well I don’t” I say with an edge to my voice.

“Goodbye Alex”.

I shut the door, but Alex blocks it with his foot.

“I don’t think so, we’re talking about this now”.

“There is nothing to talk about”, I bite back.

“Are you here with another guy? Is that it?”

“What? No. And even if I was, it’s none of your business.”

He scoffs.

He takes a few steps forward “you know you still want me” he murmurs.

I back away anxiously.

He keeps inching forward until my back hits the wall.

“Why won’t you just admit it to yourself?”

He creeps forwards and suddenly smashes his lips against mine.

“Wha-”.

He continues, while his kisses slowly become more forceful.

“Alex, what has gotten into you?”

“Hmm I’ve missed this”.

Suddenly he slides his hand under my shirt, groping my breasts.

“No!” 

I try to wriggle free.

“Don’t play hard to get” he chuckles. You used to love this.

I angrily spit in his face.

“You bitch”. He slaps my face and grabs my neck and starts choking me.

I cough and kick him in the balls as hard as I can.

I break away from his grip and run away.

“Help!”, “help!”, “Pablo, Marc?” “Where are you guys?” “Where is everyone?”

“Don’t you run away from me” Alex grunts.

I run towards the bathroom and lock the door as quickly as I can.

I fall to the floor weeping.

“Y/N, Y/N, open up!”

I look for my phone, shit, I don’t have it on me.

“Go away”.

“Please I just wanna talk”.

“No I wail, you’ve already done enough”.

“What will it take for you to give me another chance?”

“I’d never take you back, not in a million years!”

“Don’t be like this.”

“I don’t know why you’re acting so distant.”

“Please Y/N, I”ll give you anything you want, please just open the door.”

“Please”

“Please”, his voice sounds more desperate.

“Y/N/!”

The doorknob starts to move.

Alex continues to slam his fists into the door.

“Goddammit, open up.”

“For fuck’s sake, just open up!”

“You can’t hide in there forever.”

He starts to kick the door.

Héctor’s POV

“Hey man, who are you? What the hell are you doing here?”

“Hey dude, stop.”

“Don’t touch me!”

“Woah, calm down, you can’t just barge in here like that.”

“I’m not intruding Y/N knows me, doesn’t she?”

“Y/N, tell him you know me.”

Y/N starts sobbing uncontrollably.

“Y/N, Y/N calm down, just tell me what’s going on.”

“Y/N? Please answer me.”

“Mate she clearly doesn’t wanna talk to you.”

“Why’s she in there sobbing? Huh?”  

“I don’t know, must be on her period.”

“You’re full of shit”.

“I’m so sick of you” Alex says.

Before I know it he lunges at me and I feel myseIf toppling over.

Oh, he’s asking for it.

“I don’t know who you are, but no one hurts Y/N”.

I walk towards him and start dealing out blow after blow, until he’s laying below me a whimpering mess.

“Please, please, just stop”.

“Shut up” I say as I punch him in the face.

I lean over and whisper into his ear “if you ever come close to her again, you”ll regret it”.

“Ye- yes”.

“Now scurry off”.

Alex starts limping towards the door, I shut I resolutely shut it behind me.

“Y/N?”

I can hear her sobbing.

“Please open up.”

Y/N starts crying even harder.

“Please, he’s gone, I promise”.

The lock slowly turns around and I see Y/N’s tear-stained face. Deflatedly she falls into my arms and starts sobbing uncontrollably.

“It’s okay, I’m here for you.”

I hold her closely against my chest and I can feel a wet spot starting to form on my shirt.

I don’t know what to say, what will make her stop crying. The only thing I know is that I feel the need to protect her.

We stand in front of the bathroom, while time seems to stand still.

I can hear some murmuring in the distance.

“Oh my god, what happened?”

“Héctor are you okay?”

“What’s going on?”

“Why’s Y/N crying?”

“Where were you guys?” I ask angrily.

“Outside? Why.”

“Why? Because Y/N was in the bathroom, crying her heart out and if it weren’t for me that creep would’ve pestered her for god knows how long.”

“Creep? What creep?”

“Some guy was bothering Y/N, she’d locked herself in the bathroom while he was trying to get in.”

“I’m not quite sure what transpired, she hasn’t talked to me yet.”

“What guy?” Gavi is fuming.

“Relax, I’ve already taken care of it.”

Gavi raises his eyebrow.

“I beat him to a pulp.”

“Good”, Gavi mutters.

“I’m really sorry we weren’t there, we were just outside and couldn’t hear anything.” Frenkie said.

“We never meant for this to happen.” Áron said.

“I know” I respond.

I try to break away from Y/N.

“No!” She shrieks.

“Please, please don’t leave me, she says, chest heaving.”

“I won’t I say quickly.” While embracing her.

“Please stay with me”. She mutters.

“Always.” I respond.

“What do you need?” I ask her.

“I’d like to lie down”.

“Of course”.

I take her to her bedroom, I wait standing in the doorframe, not wanting to intrude.

“Will you lay with me?” She asks with a small voice.

“Of course.”

Before I know it we’re laying down while Y/N nuzzles her head against my chest. I lean into her and slowly start stroking her hair.

“What happened with that guy back there? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“He, that was my ex, Alex.”

“Ex?”

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave me alone and appeared on Gavi’s doorstep out of nowhere.”

“Geez”.

“He wouldn’t leave and after I tried shutting him down multiple times he got physical.”

“Physical?”

“He touched me.”

“Like?”

“Yes,” she croaks and starts sobbing.

My chest tenses, that bastard.

“Don’t worry, I”ll make sure that he”ll never lay a finger on you ever again, I promise.”

“I was so scared, I tried screaming for help and no one came.”

“I’m so sorry, we were outside and coudn’t hear a thing, otherwise I would’ve come sooner.”

“I know, you don’t have to apologize.”

“I do, fuck Y/N I feel so bad for intervening that late.”

“Don’t be, at least you were there.”

“But I was too late, he already hurt you by the time I arrived. I can’t forgive myself. I hate seeing you like this. I hate that you made you feel this way.”

“You have no idea how grateful I am that you were there Héctor”.

“Still, you shouldn’t have had to lock yourself in the bathroom.”

“Héctor when will you stop?” She sighs.

“I”ll stop once I see his limp body on the floor”, I bite back.

Y/N looks up at me with doe eyes, I’m transfixed in her gaze.

She moves towards me and places a gentle kiss on my lips. I’m taken aback but quickly answer her by placing my hand on her cheek and kissing her back. I kiss her back hungrily. I’ve been waiting for her to do this since forever.

“There, I knew that’d shut you up”. She giggles.

“It did”, I grin.

“How’d you know?”

“I had an inkling.”

“You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this.”

“Really?”

Really.

“I’m glad you’re here.” She says.

Me too.

And all of a sudden I can’t stand it anymore, being this close to her, without shooting my shot.

I kiss her back eagerly and position my body so that I’m on top of her.

I pull back and look at her face, she looks at me serenely and I push back a couple of hairs that had gotten into her face.

“Do you want this?”

“Yes”.

“Are you sure? I mean you seemed pretty shaken up back there.”

“Stop talking”, she says.

I take off my shirt and continue my slow assault. I make my way to her neck leaving small kisses on it.

Then I take off her shirt, her bra until she’s bare naked in front of me.

“That’s not fair, you’re still wearing pants.”

“That’s true”, I say and I quickly take both my pants and undergarments off.

I’m already hard and seeing Y/N beneath me turns me on more than it should.

I push two fingers inside of her and she lets out a gasp.

“Ready?”

Ready.

I slide in and give her some time to adjust.

“Hmmf”.

“Are you okay?” I ask worriedly.

“Yes, it’s just”, she blushes.

I chuckle in understanding, “big”? I enquire.

“Yes.”

“Don’t worry babe, I”ll go slow.”

I start thrusting until I feel Y/N’s walls clenching around me.

“Fuck baby, you’re so tight.”

“Please Héctor, please keep going.”

“Of course,” I grin.

“Say my name again”.

“Héctor, oh god, Héctor, faster, faster.”

I speed up my movements, until I feel I’ve reached the edge.

“Babe I’m gonna cum, if you don’t want me to cum inside of you, you should tell me now.”

“No Héctor, I wanna feel all of you,” she whines.

“Okay doll”, I thrust into her a couple of times. The fifth thrust sends me over the edge and cum starts shooting out of my cock. It twitches a couple of times, before I calm down. I pull out.

“Fuck babe, you made me cum so hard.”

“You’re welcome.”

I place a kiss on top of her head.

“You know, I could go again.” She says.

“Your wish is my command,” I say, while I get ready for round two.

[that1emowitch]

Villain - Chapter 2: Welcome To Arkham Asylum

Summary:

The Rogue Gallery finds out Red Hood used to be Robin and now they all want revenge.

TW: Death, Violence, Flashbacks, Blood, and Swearing. lemme know if I missed anything!

Chapter links: Ch. 1, Ch. 2, Ch.3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch.6

I’m not sure how I ended up in the canteen— one of the guards must’ve dragged me here. I stare blankly at the gooey slop they call ‘lunch’ that’s been splattered on my plate, pushing it around slightly with a fork. I can vaguely hear the chaos around me, but it’s muffled, drowned out by the sound of my own heartbeat.

It’s as if my body’s trying to remind me, You’re alive.

I’m alive.

I’m alive and I’m in Akham with the man who killed me.

And I’m here because my— my Dad put me in here.

“Aargh!” I let out a muted scream, clawing at my head. Dad? I don’t have a fucking Dad! Not Willis, who only kept me around as a punching bag, and definitely not Bruce, who never even wanted me.

“They said you’d gone a little cray-cray, but I didn’t believe it ‘till I saw it,” A squeaky voice speaks up from right beside my ear.

My head snaps up, hands reaching for my gun holsters, when I realise they’re not there anymore. Instead of paying attention to the claustrophobic feeling I’m starting to get, I focus on the little man in front of me.

“Mad Hatter,” I say, trying to give my voice a threatening edge. “You’ve lost your hats.”

He scowls. “Damned guards wouldn’t even let a magician keep his hat. Look, Hood, I just got something to say to ya.”

“Well? Spill.”

“You know how the Joker is in solitary confinement and all, and isn’t allowed to take visitors?” He smiles wickedly, rubbing his hands together. “Well, we old-timers have still got ways to contact him.”

My jaw tightens. “Get to the point, old man.”

He cackles. “He told us a little something last night! And oh what a surprise we were in for!”

He moves to get closer to my face. 

“He told us a little secret about an old nemesis we all had.”

No… I quickly connect the dots, and I don’t like the picture it paints.

“He told us that the big bad Red Hood is that annoying little Robin that thwarted our plans for years!”

Oh— Oh shit— shit shit shit—

“Now, I’d just like to say,” Hatter continues, “I find I’m ready to let go of the past, and instead form a— how do you say it— partnership with the great Red Hood. But the others in here? Bane and Scarecrow and all? You’ll find they’re not quite as forgiving as I am. But I can—”

I slam my fist down right in front of him on the table. “I am not  teaming up with you, Hatter,” I say quietly but firmly.

“Oh?” Hatter steps back skittishly. “Well then, guess you’re on your own then. Have fun with the crowds, everyone wants your autograph ‘round here! Made a ton of enemies in your time, didn’t ya?”

I glance behind him to see a dozen familiar faces scowling in my direction, just waiting to rip me apart. Killer Croc, Mr Freeze, Scarecrow, Bane, Two-Face— Hell, the whole Rogues Gallery is here.

And they all want a pound of my flesh.

I stand up, my hands in a defensive position. The guards don’t look like they’ll help me, they must be used to fights like these happening every day. I can’t run, I’m stuck near corner tables.

I can see Bane running towards me, fists drawn, and Croc follows suit.

They’re going to kill me. There’s too many of them, only one of me, that too with no weapons. I’m gonna die here, in Arkham…

Why should I care? Does it really matter if I die here? A voice whispers in my head. No one cares. When you die they’ll be dancing on your grave. The little boy giving them os much trouble will finally be gone.

That’s when I feel the first punch hit my jaw, followed closely by a second on my stomach. Someone wraps their arms around my throat, cutting off my air supply, and a chair gets smashed in my head. I can hear taunts all around me, getting jumbled up together— Pathetic little Robin— finally get revenge— no more Batman to save you—

I don’t fight back.

I’m not even sure who’s hitting me now, but I sure as hell deserve it.

Don’t I?

Far in the distance, from between the bodies surrounding me, I see Hatter walking away. He turns back to take a look at my pathetic, bloody form, and I see him mouth five words before I pass out from the pain: “Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Hood!”

[jamesunderwater]

Word Search Game!

I was tagged by many of my lovely friends, so I decided to compile them all in one post. I wasn't able to find them all, but did my best. some of them are from published dtm snippets, which I noted, but everything else is from a WIP. thank you for the tags!! this was really fun.

@practicecourts Beach, office, wisecrack, dead, and bonus: proposition @kay-elle-cee grin, soft, heart, pain @uncertainwallflower quiet, reach, light, back @athenasparrow whisper, smirk, wall, lick

tagging: @deermessrs @basslineescapeact @mvnvgedmischief with the words ghost, bite/bit, groan, long

my answers below the cut cause this shit got long <333

Office (dead to me, published)

“All I’m saying is, we’ve been talking about breaking into McGonagall’s office all year and I’m a little disappointed that we’d waste this hallmark of our careers on-”

Dead (dead to me, unpublished)

“Nothing,” he deadpanned, because he didn’t know how to explain that he didn’t want to be acting this way at all, in fact wanted to be acting the opposite, but something in his body was shaking with anger and he didn’t know where to put it.

Proposition (dead to me, published)

“We could go work on it in the library instead, if you’d like? Or in the common room, if it’s not too crowded.” She looked back up at him, trying to gauge his intentions. Was he propositioning her, offering to be alone again so they could pick up where they left off? And if he was…did she mind?  Of course she minded. His whole nice boy routine was nauseating. If he wanted to fuck her again, he could just say so. 

Grin ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

James came out and slammed the door in excitement, his grin wide at the sight of them. “STAG PARTY!!!!!” He bellowed as way of introduction. The four of them screamed back, arms up, “STAG PARTY!!!!!” and for a single moment Sirius thought maybe this could feel normal, after all. 

Soft ("country roads fic")

I found out they were like me. Unwanted just because of who they were. I looked at Reggie, just fifteen, with the softest skin I’d ever seen, innocent eyes, eyes that were just asking for somebody to love him. And I felt all the rage I never could quite feel for myself—because what kind of monsters sent this kid out in the cold? Just because they’d gotten it wrong? Just because he told them the truth of who he was?  “Fuck them all,” I said to the sky. Sirius nodded beside me. “Fuck them all. We don’t need ‘em.” “Never did,” I agreed.

Heart ("country roads fic")

Fuck you! Turning on my heel, sharp and quick, kicking up dust as I bounded towards my mother, the cigarette smoke still sliding out of her lips. Fuck you, fuck Richard, fuck your stupid fuckin’ hair and your stupid fuckin’ nails and every fuckin’ thing about this place! I hope he has a heart attack while he’s mounting you and crushes you under his 250 pound lard of a body, how’s that for perverted? 

Pain (dead to me, unpublished)

He had to reach hard to grasp the knob, but as soon as he did there was an echo of voices: What do you think you’re doing?! They were frantic, a painful ringing in his ears; he heard the high tone of his mother, the gravel of Sirius, the low timber of his father.

Quiet (dead to me, unpublished)

His mother had been reading a book when he asked her—standing to the left of her favorite armchair, one of his small hands touching her arm. She took a very long time to answer him, so long that he patted her again. “Mum! Mum, can I have one?” He paused, then realized why she must have been quiet, “Can I have one, please?”

Reach (dead to me, unpublished)

He was toying with the snitch, letting it fly just out of reach before snatching it back again. Remus was reading his Herbology book, and Peter was flying around the pitch on James’s broom. The sun had just set, but they had the invisibility cloak to get them back into the castle unseen.

Light ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

He tried to convince himself that this was him being normal. This was him saying, see? We can be friends. But in another light he knew he looked like a tryhard, just begging for a full conversation. Just one fucking conversation where Remus didn’t disappear in the middle of it.

Back (brand new secret smut fic)

After, James felt extremely grateful that no one had been looking. Because what had started as their lips pressed softly together turned into one of them stepping closer, neither of them pulling away, both of them placing a hand on the other’s side, someone opening their mouth just so, the other slipping a tongue across their lip… And then they’d pulled back, stunned, a bit of James’ drink having spilt on the floor, neither of them breaking eye contact for what felt like an hour. 

Whisper (dead to me, unpublished)

He’d heard her conversation with McGonagall, of course, the flimsy curtains in the hospital wing doing nothing to block their voices. But he’d intended to keep her secret, having seen the look on her face when McGonagall left, the way she stared with empty eyes at the floor. He’d seen what a private thing this was for her, so sitting around while his peers whispered about the news, he wanted to tell them to shove off.

Smirk (dead to me, unpublished)

“Honestly, I’m glad for it,” he went on, looking away. “She’s a stubborn arse. Good luck with that.” He managed a true and proper smirk, which Sirius latched onto. Rolling his eyes, the other boy sighed. “It’s gonna be a nightmare.” 

Wall ("sad fic" or Is it Me for You?)

When he thought of Remus Lupin in a suit, in a room full of promises of forever, Sirius Black wanted to punch a wall.

Lick (brand new secret smut fic)

James did not know how anyone would say no to blank wordlessly requesting to take off their top, so he lifted his arms, and suddenly the jumper was gone, the cold air licking his chest. “Fuck,” blank whispered, running a hand up James’ chest, and James’ trousers had been tight before, but they were positively bursting at the seams now.

[aetherbound]

It’s been a week since I posted about turning off Discord notifications…and they’re still off. I feel somewhat better, but I keep fluctuating between barely functioning to having enough social energy to send a few texts over discord. Hopefully I can be more active again.

Thanks for being understanding, I love y’all <3

A wall of personal ranting text is under the cut, I just needed to let it out somewhere that isn’t my venting notes.

I worked 51 hours in two weeks and made $408. My half of the rent is $435. We’re okay, my partner makes good money to pay a few extra dollars, but he shouldn’t have to. I should be making more money, but I’m not. I don’t have enough leftover on any paycheck after bills and groceries to afford a car payment and car insurance.

And the best part is? I need a car to get a better job to make more money to pay on more important things. Right now my partner and his parents drive me to and from work, but I’m actively trying to get a license and car so I don’t have to rely on them. It seems impossible to buy a car with what I have left over from paychecks. I’d get laughed at if I said I could only put $20 down at a used car lot.

My managers are assholes and I’m told in a joking way “You suck.” “You’re slow.” “Shut up, no one wants to hear you talk.” I wish I was exaggerating and not quoting verbatim. Realistically, I’m not doing a bad job. My managers are just older men who like to use rude humor. My PTSD symptoms are still flaring up more often because they purposely slam things and laugh when I jump and cover my ears. On three separate occasions I’ve had to tell people NOT to use my deadname, and if it happens again I don’t know if I can keep calm and not scream.

In all my 24 years of living, of domestic violence, borderline homelessness and more horrors, I’ve only had 6 months of peace. Then that’s when the whole cancer fiasco started. I’m a year out from my last chemo infusion and my stress levels have been the same. Did I really just survive cancer to STILL be stressed? To go from a good job and shitty household to move into a better household and shitty job? My life is a fucking joke.

I’m waiting to hear back from a Filipino restaurant to see if their hours and pay are better, but I’m still looking at other places to work in case it doesn’t work out. I have an appointment next Tuesday to ask my doctor about getting medicated. Something to get my anxiety stabilized or something when I’m about to spiral into a panic attack.

Things will get better, when you’re at the bottom the only way is up. But I’m fucking exhausted man. I’m tired of coming home from work and feeling like I want to scream and break shit. I’m not a violent person, I’ve never even screamed at someone. I’ve not ever thrown things. When I’m angry, I just cry or be silent.

I just want things to be better before I completely break. I feel off, and that’s besides from my depersonalization/disassociation being heightened. I hate feeling irritable and numb. Maybe I’m being too sensitive and need to get over it.

But the sun will rise and so must I.

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, JANUARY 31, 1998 Well, no wonder they’ve been behaving next door with the exception of a little music on occasion. They were hoping to go to court with me and yes, they do suspect I threw the bottle, cuz they are trying to “have me served.” The first thing that went through my mind was that someone had to have seen me (but God only knows how), or that they were just so desperate to pin it on me anyway. Tom says you can tell in which direction a bottle was thrown by the way it scatters. Yeah, I thought about that, but I didn’t think the sick fucks would have brains enough to figure that one out. I think it was the cops who did, in which case I should’ve known better and shouldn’t have thrown the bottle. And of course, God just won’t let me get away with shit. I have no pity, guilt, remorse, or feelings of concern for these sick fucks whatsoever, but I am ashamed of myself for letting my husband down. This is one hell of a husband I’ve got who still loves me, and who says we’ll deal with whatever happens together when he could’ve turned his back on me. It is for him that I feel the shame, the guilt, and the remorse. As for the freeloaders, they fucked with me. I fucked back. Tom says “getting even” should mean that we do our best to better our lives, etc. Well, that goes without saying, but I meant it when I said that I give what I get. Tom says I just have to accept the fact that the world isn’t fair and that some people are gonna get away with things while others can’t. We agreed not to open the door to anyone, but we’re not gonna change our lives by hiding or making up stories. Like he said, if we get served, we get served. If we must go to court, we will. Meanwhile, we agreed I’d deny knowing a thing about it, but again, no stories. If they ask if there have been any problems with these people, I’ll tell them about the music. As Tom pointed out, due to the fact that I’m not alone with nothing, I couldn’t get a free lawyer, but if it came to court, I’m not gonna pay a lawyer to defend me over a thrown bottle. I’d just represent myself if it came to court.

I don’t know if they know yet that I haven’t been served, but there’s been a lot of door-slamming. Again, I don’t care if these people dropped dead and they can be happy, sad, rich or poor, but I guess I realized too late that the bottle was a bad idea. There were other things I could’ve done. Now I have to worry all the more, especially if I dodge court, that there’ll be more music problems and that they may even fuck with this house. Tom says that we’ll just have to live with whatever they do, but no way. I may have to pay for every little thing I do, but that doesn’t mean that they’re gonna get away with fucking with me. They can’t prove I threw that bottle. All they can do is suspect, but I disagree about us not being able to do anything if the letter we sent has a part in the music toning down. Even if it doesn’t, they still live in a house owned by the city and that’s a great advantage to us. Tom says maybe it’ll blow over, but that seems to be one stubborn bitch over there, so we’ll see. I asked God to please take it out on me. Meaning that Tom’s the one who works and whose name the house is in, so he could be the one to have to pay for this. In my little chat with God last night, I told him that if I must pay for what I’ve done, OK, but please let it be me to pay for it. I was the one who threw the bottle. Not Tom. I told him I didn’t want to go to court and have to have Tom pay for my actions, so please punish me. You know, 20 more pounds, continuing sterility, etc. Andy never had to go to court about the calls he made a few years ago to this customer and a detective said he’d have to, but he’s Andy. And God does favor Andy a bit more over me, even if there are others he loves even more than Andy. I’ve seen Andy get away with things I could only dream of getting away with. Scott never had to pay for his stealing his VCRs and I’d think that theft would be more serious than vandalism. Scott knew Andy was gonna have him served, so he didn’t answer his door, and they never went to court and Andy never saw his VCRs again. Again, though, that’s Scott and Andy. Not me. God’s standards for me are different.

Anyway, the court server left a card that said, “Jody, give me a call.”

Couldn’t even spell my name right. This card was face down on the ground, too, not taped to the door or in the mailbox slot. He came knocking again yesterday too, so who knows how many times he’ll keep trying?

FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1998 Yuck, the weekend’s almost here. I haven’t heard any dog or music yet. My guess is that the dog won’t come till around the same time the last dog did. Probably between May and July, they’ll get a dog. I thought about it and realized that the reason they may not want to get a dog now, is cuz that’d show they were afraid of their tormentor, and they wouldn’t want that! My guess is that there’s a 50/50 chance they’ll act up this weekend. If they suspect me, they might, cuz they’d want to see if yet a third outburst from them brought another letter/bottle a few days afterward. If they don’t suspect me, they may be quiet, seeing that they just had a get-together.

I wasn’t here yesterday at lunchtime to know if he was a problem coming and going. All I’ve heard so far are car doors. The day they pulled in and up to the bottle, from what I saw, it was his car, so I think that he, she, the little one, and the teenage boy found the bottle together. Yesterday, though, I think she came in by some ride, like usual, then he came in later.

Later…

Today was like old times singing, in a way. I was congested and had to clear my throat a lot. God and his fucking compensations, boy I’ll tell you! Isn’t the fact that my nose is no better enough? Or the fact that I’m sterile? Or fat? Speaking of that, I haven’t been as hungry the last couple of days, and could that, and the fact that I’ve lost a few pounds, and have a slight good feeling about it, mean I’m gonna lose weight? Probably not. At least, it’s something I couldn’t believe unless I did lose weight.

In case I forgot to say - Tom says we don’t have to put off moving till after his mother dies. We can get to a place suitable for us that’d only take 15-25 minutes to drive into the city.

Tom was telling me he had a death dream where we were discussing dying, and what we’d do during our time left. He also said I was a rhinoceros through all of it. Yeah, I’m sure that dream was triggered by the loss of Spunky. I had some strange dreams, too, where Ma bought the Harley Hotel I worked at the Enfield, Connecticut/Longmeadow, Mass. line. She had it moved out here too (his ma). His father was in the dream, too, playing the harmonica on a screen in a theater that was apparently added on, then he jumped out in person to say hello to Tom and I. There were other bits and pieces of dreams I remember too, and in one of them, I saw Spunky and an all-black GP.

Tammy called just to say hi. Just to say hi. I couldn’t believe it. She usually never would call unless something was wrong or if she needed something. She says all’s going great. I’m so happy for her. She deserves to be happy for once.

Haven’t heard from my folks yet on AOL, but I’m sure I will soon enough.

We may not do any recording till Monday, which I’d prefer. This would suit his schedule better and I’d be less stressed out and worried that the freeloader may bang in. So, all that could really be noisy then would be dogs and car doors.

I took Tweety outside (in his cage, of course) and put him on the patio for some fresh polluted air (all those snowbirds are here). He didn’t really like this arrangement, though, cuz he was cornered on all 4 corners and very nervous. He had me in front of him, a cat to his left, a pigeon behind him, and a rabbit to his right. Tweety’s still very shy. Even my pigeons, especially Measles, are braver and less afraid of me.

The teeth cleaning went swiftly enough, and she said my teeth were less stained. I have another cavity that has to be filled in two weeks. Meanwhile, they’re gonna take care of this nuisance of an impaction, too. They’re gonna pull the baby tooth, but how they’ll walk the adult tooth up front, we’re not sure yet. We have two choices. We can get this retainer type thing for about $800 or go with braces and that’d be just over a G. Our insurance, of course, we’ll pay at least half of it. Tom’s gonna look at the price charts, but I was thinking I’d probably go with the retainer. As he says, if it costs $400 it’s still worth it cuz it’ll be a one-time deal and then I’d never have to worry about this shit again. I can go days without it irritating me, but then it gets irritated and bugs the hell out of me. It’s hard to clean in between it, too, and it’s coming down more. So, if I did nothing, the baby tooth would more than likely get pushed out and then the teeth that’d be next to the gap it left, would shift and want to fill in that gap.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 29, 1998 Got up at 7:30, fed the animals, had my coffee, took my shower, had my daily sneezing fit, tied my hair in a knot at the nape of my neck (a knot on top of my head’s too heavy when it’s wet), and now I’m ready to update.

This is going to come as a sudden shock, but Spunky’s dead. I’ve never seen anything like it. He just practically up and died. I don’t know if God’s compensating me by taking his life so soon cuz of how long Piggy lived, or what, but we think he may have had a tumor. It could’ve burst and poisoned him, and one side of his tummy seemed pretty distended, but we just don’t know for sure. His duties never looked right and he did get awfully big real fast, so given this, and the way he was so unusually timid and starving when we got him, tells us that maybe something was wrong with him from the get-go. Tom buried him out back.

In other animal news, Patch had her babies, but it’s hard to tell how many with 3-4 litters all piled together. The oldest are just starting to sprout their fur and are becoming more mobile. A couple of Patch’s babies were stillborn and she was bleeding from her crotch. I had been worried about her, but she’s fine and much smaller now. She had been fat! Spot’s next to deliver and now it looks like Bandit may have kids, too. The only one that may not be pregnant, for reasons I just don’t know, is Tanner. It’s too bad that if one escaped pregnancy it was Tanner, cuz she’s the only tan-colored one. If she had had a litter, there may have been a wider variety of colors.

And now I’m 127. I knew I’d gain weight when I quit smoking but does this no longer have anything to do with that? How is it that I’m gaining 2 pounds a week now? What’s going on? Well, all I can do is wonder, but I have to just accept it. There’s nothing I can do about it. Even the bra my ma brought out that was slightly big on me fits perfectly now. Where are these tits coming from? It’s like they’re not even mine.

Tom brought some really neat hand cleaner back from Ma’s yesterday. Bobby had brought it over from the mall. He’s the one who works at a bookstore and brings Mom boxes of books that don’t sell. This gel kills germs in 30 seconds without water and smells really nice.

Tom said the only thing that really bugs him about Ma staying at Mary’s is cuz they’re slobs. Filthy slobs, not just cluttered, unorganized slobs. Their bathrooms and kitchen are caked with dirt.

Today I go get my teeth cleaned at 1 PM

Later…

Tom just got in from work and we were checking out the babies. There must be 20 of them! He’s got a point when he says that it may be a good thing Tanner isn’t having babies, or else I could end up with those ugly white mice. As each litter gets old enough to be separated from its mom, we’ll take the males out and put them in their own cage till the youngest males are old enough to go, too, then we’ll take them to the pet store.

Tom says he didn’t hear anything, but I could’ve sworn I heard freeloader music at around 1 PM, then we both thought we heard car doors a couple of hours earlier, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he were coming in for lunch again, but I don’t know. This was yesterday that I thought that it was a freeloader I heard, but today I won’t be here at lunchtime to know if he acts up.

Tom said that the reason he was gung-ho about doing some songs with me, is cuz this is something that’s fun and that we can control. We can’t just go to the doctor for a magic pregnancy pill, though, that’ll give us an instant child.

I went off on Tom a few days ago and I feel bad about it. He says he understands, but whether or not I’ve had him figured all wrong, I’m sorry for yelling at him and calling him names.

I was utterly shocked at his suggestion, too. He thinks we should see a doctor within the next 6 months and get the ball rolling. That way we can figure it into our moving plans.

OK, what’s new in Freeloader Land… I was sitting in the living room reading, so I heard them come in at 4:45 (no music). I heard several car doors over a period of an hour. Maybe a little more. I also heard voices. The voices I mainly heard were those of kids and of the boy who lives there. At least I think that’s who it was. These things not only look the same. They sound the same. All I know is that the voice sounded black, close, and not under 15 years old. I didn’t hear the bitch yelling like I thought I would. There were people out talking from the time they came in; till the time I went to bed at 6:00. I didn’t hear how long they stayed out gabbing, naturally, cuz of the fan/noise machine. I don’t know if they called the cops, but I sure did hear something weird and that was this strange ticking sound. It sounded like a car motor as well and if it was, it wasn’t their car. Their car doesn’t tick. I also wondered if it was the cops with something to see if they could test for evidence, but wouldn’t they take the glass, bag it up, and then bring it to a lab? Besides, what with the way cops tend to brush things off, I wouldn’t think they’d bother over a smashed bottle. They’ve got too many murders to solve and killers to catch.

So, so far, it doesn’t look like anything will come out of this, but I’m going to definitely lay off as far as the vandalism goes. If there’s anything I and these bent fucks have in common, it’s that stubbornness and that resistance to intimidation. We don’t run away from trouble. We face it. So, this is gonna piss these people off and maybe they’ll wonder about it and have to live with being paranoid when they’re away from the house, but this would never be enough to drive them out of there. Also, these people are very sick individuals and they could do something to this house on just pure speculation that I had anything to do with it. It would take violence or some ongoing thing, like me depriving them of their sleep, to drive them out of here. The sleep thing’s debatable, though. If they were that stubborn, they may try to legally do something about it if that place is worth their staying in to them.

So that should sum it up. No more vandalism, although I may be very noisy at night, depending on what they do. This could cause them to act up to see if it’s me. Meaning if they have the brains to realize that the last two outbursts of theirs brought mail and bottles, they may want to try to bait me. They may also have a camcorder trained on the side/front of their house right now.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 28, 1998 It seems I can’t get caught up with the writing these days! Anyway, I’m making spag, but I thought I’d update while it was cooking and while I had a plateful.

They haven’t come to the door as of yet about the bottle, but God’s begun his payback for me. I actually woke up at 11:30 last night wheezing. No, it wasn’t anything like old times and how I’d wheeze when I smoked, and one shot cleared it instantly, then I went back to bed.

Tom says it was cuz the weather’s been warmer and that traps in the pollution and that’s another reason we have to move. Speaking of that, he says things are looking even better for that, although it won’t be this year, cuz interest rates have dropped even lower.

Then two hours after falling back asleep, I awoke with those oh-so-familiar hunger pains, so I got up, grabbed a piece of bread and a few swallows of water, then crashed till I got up at 5:30. I got up and was so hungry that I had a small TV dinner right away. I never used to do that. For as far as I can remember, I didn’t eat the first few hours I’d be up. Now I wake up so hungry that I’ve got to have something. And even then, I may still be hungry. But like I said, I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that there’s nothing I can do about it. My weight’s gonna keep climbing a few pounds a week till it decides to stop, and God only knows when it’ll decide that. I may have gotten my way as far as being able to not pick up a cigarette, light it, and smoke it, but God owns my body for the most part. Always has, always will, so it’s his to do as he sees fit.

Andy finally called and asked to come over this Saturday to take a half-hour out to tell me what’s been going on with him. I told him that’d be OK, but is he gonna pester me in person now that he can’t get me by phone as much? A part of it is Laura. He wouldn’t be coming over in the first place if it wasn’t to get her money, but can’t he ever associate with someone he can trust? Even he says he has to “hide” things from her. How can he live like that? If I felt I had to hide my stuff from whoever I was living with, I’d have a real problem. And he’s talking about lowering himself to going out with Quinn again, too. He also says God’s answered all his prayers for this year so far. Well, I’m glad God answers all of some people’s prayers.

Later…

I can’t believe that Patch still hasn’t had her babies yet. Patch and Spot may be the only two left with babies, then we’ll have to segregate in a few weeks. I find it really unfair, though, that while we’ve been trying unsuccessfully for years to have a child of our own, these mice are having babies left and right. I sit here and just dream of a child and meanwhile, we’ve got to scurry like hell to keep more and more litters from coming. God, that’s insulting! That is just so incredibly insulting to know that God can find mice more deserving and more capable of having kids than I am.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 27, 1998 Ah, so we freeloaders are leaving for work now, instead of 7:00, huh? After they slammed me twice, I ran up front and saw it leave. It still isn’t coming in for lunch these days that I know of, but it just may have some glass to clean up when it comes in at the end of the day. I assume that the house is empty from now till around 4:00, but it’s OK if there’s someone in there. I can still go to the side of the house and hurl a bottle over the block wall and into their carport. So whether or not someone’s there, it’ll look like a drunk and or drunken potential burglar was stalking around. Whereas if something was thrown over in the middle of the night, it’d look more obvious that it’s me behind it and they can suspect me, but I don’t want them to know it’s me till after we’re gone, so they can’t fuck with our house. I don’t stand by all our windows 24/7, so if someone were to approach the house with bad intentions, I wouldn’t necessarily know it in time to stop them. Anyway, I’m not gonna hurl the bottle till around 10:00. No, I haven’t heard his music yet, but I know I will, so I may as well get this over with. I’ve been wanting to start carrying out some of my harassment/terror plans anyway, and I’m just so angry. I hate these motherfuckers, and it’s either this or my beating them up and Tom doesn’t want me to. A part of me is hoping that the bitch comes over to ask if I did it and maybe even threaten me too, so I can beat her ass and his too. Meaning that maybe they’ll give me a reason, and someone screaming in my face at my door seems reason enough. But this bottle and other things are well overdue. These people have thumbed their noses at me long enough. I mean, who the fuck do they think they are to come into this neighborhood like they own it and to harass me with their noise like they have? His music’s gonna come back and so is a dog. It may not be the same dog, but they’ll get one. Trust me.

I am absolutely blown away by the fact that Andy hasn’t called since I left him that message yesterday. This has to mean that something’s going on, but I’m sure he’ll call today. If he doesn’t, then something’s really wrong over there.

Tom brought the guys to the store yesterday and they lucked out. The store had no room for them cuz someone had just brought in tons of mice, but this employee who’s a mouse breeder took them. She says she’ll take them at any age. She breeds and trades mice with other breeders. It’s nice to know my mice will go with this woman to her home, rather than to wonder what became of them. In a few weeks, we’ll bring in the babies. She’s using my cage to transport the mice home, which she says we can pick up on Friday. I guess that’s when she’ll be working again, but I hope she doesn’t intend to keep the cage. You know me - can’t trust anyone. Tom says he doubts she’d want to get fired over a $12 cage. People are weird. You never know.

I changed the mice’s cages earlier since cedar is supposed to be bad for them. There are 16 babies currently.

A few days ago I had asked Tom if he’d want to do a simple arrangement to me singing a few songs, so I could maybe send tapes (if I wasn’t that disgusted with what I heard) to my folks, Tammy and Larry. He said he’d love to and was really gung-ho about it and to please pick out sheet music for a couple of songs (he reads better than I do and I play better by ear). I had forgotten all about it for a few days, but he reminded me in the message he left me before work, to pick out some songs for him to work on so we could do some stuff this weekend. He said he’s anxious about it and boy does he sound it! He’s way more anxious about that than the idea of seeing if a doctor could fix me. I mean, he could never be as anxious about the idea of us being able to have a child, as he could be about anything, meanwhile, he continues to put off, make excuses, and swear he does want a child, he isn’t afraid to go to a doctor, etc. He said the same old shit about getting a physical soon and hoping I will, too. I think that if he does get a physical, it’ll only be to encourage me to get one too, since it’s been a while for me. He says it’s best that we deal with my situation, though, cuz if we don’t, it’ll follow us wherever we go. True, but still, his actions and words don’t match, and we’ve got a double whammy on us here. We both have a problem. I’m sterile, and he won’t cum but once every 2-4 months. The first thing they’re gonna do is try to find out why he won’t cum much and get him to cum more. Then, I’ll have to go through all the shit of what’s wrong with me and what can/can’t be done, etc., and it’s a no-win situation here for sure. Nothing anyone can do can fix things so I can have a child. God’s just blocked every single avenue on me and has made it thoroughly impossible. I’d have a better chance at becoming president or an Olympic gymnast than I’d have of ever getting pregnant. God must really hate me and think I’m a hell of a wimp who can’t handle shit.

Later…

I threw the bottle at about 9:30 and my assumption was correct - there’s no one home, cuz I didn’t hear anyone come out to check around and there was no cruiser called over there. If he doesn’t come in for lunch, my guess is that it’ll be the bitch to discover the broken glass first (in the middle of the carport). I heard voices out back a little while ago, but that could’ve come from two yards down where they do daycare where the guard dogs are. Now all I have to do is hope that this doesn’t scare them into getting a dog, but like I said, they’ll get another one sooner or later. I also have to hope that they don’t automatically assume it’s me and fuck with this house or “have me served” as the bitch said she’d do if I shot her dog. I think it’s much more likely that she’ll come over here asking questions about it, but I won’t answer the door, so please God, don’t have Tom be awake if and when she comes to the door. Just like with the letter, I’d rather he not know about this now, cuz you know how paranoid he is and how anti-trouble he is. I also hope they weren’t on the brink of a breakup cuz this could end up keeping them together for a while longer, although they’ve been together an unusually long time, so they may not break up for 10 years.

Later…

Now this is a beautiful day we’re having. Larry and Tammy would be jealous for sure. It’s to be in the mid-70s today. In general, though, this is the coldest winter I’ve been here for. Even Tom agrees that it’s been a very cold winter. So, so far, that makes the winter of ‘97-‘98 the coldest for me and the summer of ‘92 the hottest.

We planted 6 cactuses that Ma gave us. Tom put chicken wire around them to keep Bunny from destroying them. I just don’t know how the hell that rabbit can chew up cactuses without the needles stabbing the hell out of him. I never would’ve dreamed that this rabbit could chew up cactuses.

I still haven’t heard from Andy! I can’t believe it. This is just totally amazing. If I don’t hear from him by tomorrow afternoon, I just may start to worry.

OK, gonna sign off for now and hopefully there’ll be no knocks at the door within the next few hours. They asked for trouble from me a long time ago. They got it now, though they should’ve had it much sooner than this.

MONDAY, JANUARY 26, 1998 I’m really in a shitty mood right now. It figures, huh? First, something’s going on even more fucked up and abnormal with my plumbing, I want to get the fuck out of this animalistic city, and my husband’s still too busy doing for others first, putting off our lives, and not seemingly interested in me one bit. I may have had an all-time low appetite, but just the thought of knowing that my husband doesn’t seem to want me in bed kind of stings a little.

Since the 21st I had a few measly little spots. Then last evening at 8:00, I had such cramps that I thought I finally had a full flow when all I had were a few good-sized spots (enough to prove my point about being sterile yet again, though). I still haven’t had a full flow, either, but maybe I will by the next time I get up. These are more than just little spots now and are bright red but are mostly stuff I’m wiping off and that’s not big enough in volume to hit my panty-liner.

Anyway, Tom was supposed to bring the males to the pet store and change the big guy’s cage, but what did he get tied up doing instead? Working on Mary’s car again. Can’t she see that he’s got to have a life too, and can’t she take care of her own damn car? Is this gonna be a regular thing here? Is she gonna have him work on her car every few weeks? What’s she gonna do when we move? I’m sure she’ll still call him for help and that’d be worse, cuz then he’d have longer to drive to get there, so that’d be more time doing stuff that we’d lose. If Dave and other family members were as smart as Tom, that’d be different, but instead, they have to come first. First off, I don’t think I’ll ever have the guts to go to a doctor just to be told they can’t help me have a child, but if I wanted to, I know I’m gonna have to wait till after Ma’s gone. It’s like she comes first, then I can maybe get on with my life. And I don’t care if this sounds selfish, cuz I have things I want and need to do, too. I’ve had it with this parent-care trip. In a sense, we had a boy and a girl. First we take care of daddy and now it’s mommy. Like I said, I’m sick of living for his parents and for his sister’s car. I have to put off what matters to me and let them be the #1 priority, like it or not.

I’m gonna go do some picture scanning for Bob. I got 9 of just me and one with Kim and I from when I moved into the Habitat building in S. Deerfield.

Later…

I called Andy and let him know that my schedule won’t be on nights when he comes to get the rent money, so it’s OK for him to go ahead and tell me about the convention/Quinn on the phone, which I’m sure will take 2-3 hours. I’ll just keep my hands tied up and maybe bang away at the computer. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be very happy to leave me 4 messages about it.

I just got slammed and ran up front so I could hear better as to how he left but didn’t see him. So the freeloader either just came out for a slam or he flew out of that driveway.

Speaking of freeloaders, I hear he was a very bad boy yesterday. Well, 3 of his low-life, rude, selfish pals were. Yeah, he and his fellow freeloading buddies are one and the same. I’m sure that if he asked them not to come banging in, they wouldn’t any more than he wouldn’t if he were asked not to. Very fortunately for them, I slept fine, or else we’d have a pack of dead freeloaders here for sure. You start fucking with my sleep, you die. Anyway, I got up at 8:30 for an hour, then went back to sleep till 10:00. Meanwhile, Tom left a message just before 4:00 saying he should’ve known better but it’s Super Bowl Sunday, so there are cars parked in the driveway and hopefully no one will play ball. 3 cars came in next door, all playing music. He said it wasn’t too loud, but annoying enough. Then he left another message at 7:30 before heading out for work, saying the game was over and he expected some shouting. Oh yeah, I’m sure they really carried on like assholes. Not like they would’ve if it was hot out, though. And of course, everyone had to go to the freeloader’s house. The freeloaders couldn’t go to their houses. I can’t believe they don’t do Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve at their house. They do everything else there.

So, I only got up to take an Ibuprofen and listen to his message, but then I went back into bed. However, I was instantly aware of a slight, but sure bass beat, which wouldn’t have woken me up, but that I knew would keep me from going back to sleep. That did it. That’s when I told myself, “Look. You can’t kill the people who made these stereos and that has prevented this from being the otherwise quiet residential neighborhood that it should be, but you can set these freeloaders straight for once and for all and let them know how it’s gonna be from now on. Let them know you will not tolerate being a part of their lives, parties, or music anymore and that they cannot and will not trespass and invade this house with their music. Even if you do have to beat them into submission to get the peace that’s your right, you were here first and if they don’t like it, then they’re just gonna have to leave. Somebody’s gotta teach these freeloaders that you can’t expect to not know someone exists, while they know you do. You just can’t do that.”

So, I get dressed and go out there and all that’s there is one maroon car in the driveway that I’ve seen before, then I see Daddy’s car parked out on the road. It wasn’t even them. It was some asshole visiting the other assholes across the street. So now they’re no longer the respectful people they seemed to have been and now I got two houses full of shit to deal with. And all the while this guy’s sitting in the car with it blaring, Dan, I think his name is, is just standing there with someone else gabbing away. I don’t know how the hell they could carry on a conversation, but nonetheless, I asked them to turn it down and they did, but here’s my question - how often is this boy gonna come around? It’s obvious now that this Dan boy does still live there and I don’t know if he’s a high school or college kid, but am I gonna be back to old times with these assholes again, too? What if they decide to form a band again? They may respect me enough to keep their practice volume down, cuz they’re not 100% rude and selfish like the freeloaders are, but then I’d have to listen to several cars bang in and out once a week or so.

Fuck this shit and this fucking animalistic city! But like Tom said, though, just one or two more Super Bowls and yeah, maybe he’s right about there being just two more years that we have to stay here. I just wish Mom and Mary’s car didn’t have to come first, but they do. And if God really wants us to continue being #2 and to continue having things set us back from getting things done and from living our lives, he will. I have a feeling that we could suddenly be the only two people left in this world, but still, somehow and some way, he’d find shit for Tom to do to take our time away from us so things could keep on being delayed, etc.

So, what’s the bad boy’s punishment gonna be for his bad little visitors letting their arrival be known? Well, since it wasn’t Mr. Fuck himself that banged in (I saw him leave without music yesterday before his boy pals came), I’ll spare them a bottle, but that’s only for now. As soon as he bangs in and I hear it or am told about it, that’s when they’ll get the bottle and so much more. Meanwhile, I went out at about 3:30 AM and banged right back by dropping the steel rod on the concrete patio that was supposed to be for the security door to latch into. I just hope to hell that God let them hear it and that he didn’t interfere, and one of the wonderful things about this is that they’d never in a million years give me the satisfaction of complaining about noise from me and letting me know that I did something that disturbs them. Shooting a dog is one thing, but they’d never call the cops on me for bothering them with noise. Not even if they were sure it was me making noise and that it was in the middle of the night. Someone else could, but I’d just deny knowing anything about it. Like I said, though, hopefully they’ll hear it and put two and two together and realize that music means noise late at night from over here, but I still doubt they heard it. And if they did, they wouldn’t have the mentality to make the connection even if they could physically see me making noise. I’m not worried about my making noise becoming too obvious, but if I throw a bottle, I’ll have to do whatever I can to make it look like some passing bum staggered over there drunk and dropped the bottle, cuz that’s physical evidence and more of a crime than disturbing the peace is.

Later…

Well, my period can’t seem to make up its mind. It seems like it’s struggling with either going into a full flow or stopping. If it stops, then that’d be the strangest period I’ve had in years what with the 3-day spotting trip I went on before it became a cross between heavy spotting and a light period. If I have a flow where I need a few big pads which is usually the case, then that’d make it more normal, except for the 3-day spot deal. Still, it’s enough to prove my point. I am sterile unless pre-cum really does impregnate a woman very rarely. So if a woman’s chances of getting pregnant by pre-cum are lower but still OK enough, then I’m as sterile as a doorknob.

Later…

Apparently, we did a good job of sexing the mice, cuz I haven’t seen any screwing going on. They don’t know it, but the guys will be on their journey to the pet store later today. Again, I wonder what their fate will be. It kind of reminds me of when I was off to Brattleboro, or Valleyhead, or wherever. Will they ever have a wheel again and have all this space? Will they ever climb tubes again? Will they be happy? Or will they wish they could return here? Animals adapt better than humans in cases like this, I’d think, so hopefully they’ll be OK if they stay out of some snake’s gut.

Tom says Mary’s car is all fixed but trust me - she’ll need something done again within a month. And of course, Tom’s gotta be the one to move Mom into Mary’s, while the rest of the family just sits on their asses. See this is one of God’s many ways that makes absolutely no fucking sense to me whatsoever. Why not take Ma, who’s done her time here, who’s lived her destiny and life, has nothing more to offer this world, and reunite her with Dad? As much as we’ll miss her, I’m sure she’d be much happier with dad. Then, as God would know, we’d be in the position to move, and God also knows that we want to move, then why won’t he let us have a kid? Why can’t I live for a child of my own? Why must I always live for someone outside of Tom and I as a couple? We’ve got the wrong life here that’s going. He should take her life and give us a life. That life, being the child that we’ve wanted for so long now. We haven’t lived our lives for us much at all (I hope to hell there’s more to my calling in life than what’s been destined for me so far), but Ma has. Her life is over, so why not let us have lives of our own with our own family? We’re in our 30s and 40s and not 70s. Well, I know I can never have a child, but two years do go by faster when you’re an adult and she’ll be gone and then we’ll move. People will still need Tom, I’ll still be sterile, but we’ll leave this congested city and there’ll be no Mormons or freeloaders a few feet away.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 25, 1998 I sure do have a lot of mouse updating to do but let me first get other things out of the way.

Still playing phone tag with Paula, who left a message saying she got my letter and knew we keep missing each other, but to try to get a hold of her. I’ll try in the morning, but if I call and get her on a Sunday, that means the kid’s gonna be there, unless this one’s been taken, too.

Got a letter from Bob, who really likes the different stationery that the new program we got can do. He wants more pictures of Kim and I.

No wonder Tom’s saying we can move in two years. He told me this before too, and it has to do with the fact that in two years is when we think his mother will die. With our share of the money she leaves, I guess we could move, but we’d rather she live. We’d rather she live and be healthy, but as sad as it is, that can never be again.

Tom told me about a wild dream Mary had. In the dream, Ma was told she had 4 months left to live and Mary asked her what she wanted to do with the time that was left. Ma said she wanted to go to Michigan to be with her sister. Then she also said, “Dad said he wants to go too, but I told him he can’t since he’s dead.” And Mary agreed he couldn’t go cuz he was dead. Then Ma said, “But he really wants to go bad. He says he’ll stay on the floor. But I told him no, he can’t, cuz he’s dead.” Then Mary said there were these “dead” mannequins that kept falling down all around her cuz they were trying to dance.

Pretty weird, huh? Tom says not to read anything into it. Oh, I won’t. I still strongly predict she’ll live to be 77.

Now for the mice news. First off, I may have miscounted. There may be 15 mice and not 16, but anyway, after all the calculations I’ve done, we should have about 30 lady mice if things go as we plan them. It’s a good thing we sexed/segregated them yesterday when we did, cuz right after we did, Ziggy and Cocoa had their babies. Between the both of them, there are about a dozen pinkies, as they’re also called, which is very appropriate since they’re just these little pink blobs. Males are also called bucks and females are also called does. So my mom, whose nickname is Doe, is nicknamed after mice. She’d be thrilled to know that. The soft, high-pitched squeaking sounds of the babies are so cute. We learned so much and I’ve really become quite the mouse expert, as well as the GP expert, etc. With what we now know, we can say that the original Gizzy that I trapped was definitely a male by how he acted.

More good news for me, and that’s that Tanner and Patch, my favorites of all the first sets of babies, are both females. Anyway, we’ve got 7 ready to go to Petco tomorrow and 8 ladies all by themselves, who can tend to the babies, and enjoy being free from being jumped all the time. It goes to show just how dishonest this store really is too, when their signs tried to claim they live for 5 years. Mice don’t live longer than GPs. More like 18 months, is the case with mice.

Boy, the guys are really depressed, I guess, what with not being able to screw like hell, cuz all they’ve been doing is sleeping. A part of me feels bad for these guys. They can resume their sex lives at the pet store if there are ladies in stock, but they’re not gonna have all this stuff. They’re not gonna have all these cages and tubes and wheels. Not unless someone like me or Mary gets them that’s really into all that stuff. They’re just gonna be thrown into a plain old little 5-10-gallon tank with nothing but water and food. There’ll be no tubes or wheels, which is unfortunate. They should at least be given a wheel. Then, they’ll have to deal with all the people and all the noise, and who knows if they’ll become snake food? Typically, that’s what they breed those ugly little white mice for, but you never can know what their fate will be. All they’ve known is where they are now, so hopefully they’ll go to someone who’ll love them and give them a good home.

Wow! Almost 24 hours have gone by without a call from Andy.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 24, 1998 According to Tom’s research, that guy really was way out of whack when he said mice don’t fuck for 5 months. More like 5 weeks, is the case, and they breed continuously like GPs do. So, every female is pregnant, unless God struck any of these ladies as sterile as he struck me. So I separated the sexes and I’ll have Tom double-check with me and make sure that I didn’t make any gender guessing mistakes. I’ll want to get rid of these males ASAP. Then, as soon as the litters are 2-3 weeks and done nursing and we can tell their sexes well enough, we’ll segregate them and off the males to the pet store when they’re old enough.

The good news is that this is more mice for me, now that I don’t have to worry about having a lot of mice that’ll smell, since the males will be out of the picture. According to what Tom read, only the males stink. This makes sense. Male BO is a hell of a lot more severe than female BO. A female would have to go several days without showering before she’d really stink unless she ran a marathon. A male could shower up, then sit down to read for a few hours, and then be stinking.

Later…

Well, it looks like I’m either gonna have to set Andy straight in a threatening kind of way, or just deal with his constant calls. He didn’t leave a message, but he tried calling twice yesterday and once just now. He said he met Randy who’s gross and he’ll tell me about it in person and he’s sorry he’s calling. Well, if he’s sorry he’s calling, then why’d he call? Why’s he such a selfish, pushy, opposite-doer? Why won’t he just give me a break? He has other friends.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 23, 1998 Heard a car door at 10:00 last night, but there have been no problems that I know of yet. By this summer, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had another dog.

I knew, upon going into this marriage, that our lives would revolve around his parents until they were both gone. It’ll be a while yet before we can decide what we want to do, if we want to do anything at all, about my little problem here, cuz we have to wait and see what’s gonna be going on with his ma. In the next few weeks, she’ll have a lot of appointments and testing. I don’t know if something wants us to wait till after she’s gone to deal with this, or what. I have mixed emotions about the whole thing. Like I said, I can understand taking care of such a sweet and generous lady (she offered to buy us a new heat/AC unit), but I feel like we’ve never been able to fully live our lives for ourselves and do what we want to do. I suppose I’ll always feel that way, though, no matter what. Nonetheless, she’s only got a few years left, but I’ve got 15-20 reasonable childbearing years left, not that that’s ever to be meant to be, as I said, but do I want to at least get tested? I just don’t know. It’s just so unfair. Haven’t I had enough problems without having to deal with this, too? People aren’t supposed to pay for nature. How can God do that to a woman? He’s made me such a defective, abnormal freak and I’m not gonna give in to any of it. If I let this work me to death, play on my emotions, etc., That’ll be giving him the reaction he wants. People are dead wrong when they say God doesn’t inflict pain. First I was hauled to Boston 100 times to work for a so-called normal ear, and in the midst of all this shit, I had to work for a so-called normal life, then I went through the shit with the asthma, getting the so-called ear canal that God was supposed to have given me for nothing, and now I’m supposed to go work for a normal reproductive system? I don’t know. I’ve had enough medically that I don’t know whether or not to undergo testing, do what Tom thinks is best, or just forget about it. If I begin this process, you’re talking about a 1-2-year ordeal with 20-40 appointments. I just don’t know if I want to put myself through a series of hell again for the 4th time. I consider the first time my trips to Boston, the second the asthma, the third the ear shit here, and it’d be series #4 if I went through fertility testing, etc. No one can make it so that I can have a child. So, knowing that that’s the bottom line, I don’t know if I should even exhaust and humiliate myself for no reason, while God gets a good laugh out of it. And what really happened with the two-week spotting I did in the summer of ‘96? Was that really a miscarriage? Questions and more questions! But never any answers and certainly never any solutions!

I guess God loves some of my mice more than me, cuz at least 5 of them are being allowed to be pregnant. Ziggy’s definitely pregnant and it looks like a few of the babies are, too. Patch, Bandit, and Cocoa look pregnant. I’m psyched to see more litters arrive, but what are we gonna do here? Get the males segregated as soon as they’re born? Or ditch some of the duller-looking ones and keep the population where it’s at? We just don’t know yet. I knew that dumb male that told me mice don’t become sexually active for 6 months had to be full of shit and I should’ve gone by what my gut told me, but it’s a little too late for that. Tom will do some research on AOL since he seems to be better at that than I am, and then we’ll decide. It’s my fault for not trusting my gut instinct and the vibe that said “liar” when the guy tried to BS me with the 6-month thing. Also, I should’ve realized the logical side of that at the time. Of course, pet store people are gonna tell you animals have babies later than they really do. That way they can hope that you’ll bring in the offspring so they can get free animals to sell and profit even more.

Ziggy’s gonna have her babies any time now (I wonder if she’ll have more than two this time?), so I tossed in computer tracking paper strips to use as nesting material. They love this stuff and it’s such a fun toy for them. They not only use it to nestle in, but they chew it and they love to run through and dive into piles of it. It was so cute watching Patch haul some strips up out of the aquarium and into the cage next to that one.

And again my vibes prove to be correct - no losing weight for me for sure, like I had said. It is not meant to be, and something up there really does want me heavy and I will keep gaining. I email Tom every so often for the hell of it and I told him I know he cares how I look (he said only sex is a mental thing for him) and that if he ever decides he doesn’t like how I look, I’ll see what I can do, but there are no guarantees that I could lose weight. That’s something some of us can’t fight/change. Anyway, it’s just a body. I can love him just the same, and I’m sure he will, too.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 22, 1998 I have quite a bit to write about. Most of it’s not too bad, but first, let me get Andy’s same old shit bitched about and over with.

I don’t know who’s worse of a rebellious opposite-doer. Him or Tom. Everything I tell him goes in one ear and out the other. He still knocks, rather than uses the doorbell when he comes over. I’ve told him a million times to ring the doorbell, but Andy’s gotta do what he wants to do. Same thing with the calls, of course.

He leaves me a message which could’ve waited a few days since we just left messages, and he says, “OK, I got something to say. I told Laura, I told Michelle and now I’m telling you, so please don’t be mad at me, but I got a date with Quinn tonight. He’s been really respectful to me lately, I still have feelings for him, and if I get hurt, I’ll get exactly what I deserve.”

So, then I leave him a message telling him that although I disagree with it, it’s his life, so why should I be mad at him? What I didn’t tell him, though, was that he was acting like a naïve teenager. It’s just a matter of time before the true Quinn returns and he will get hurt again by this sick fuck. I also implied that he’s selfish and can’t compromise by saying that he couldn’t have gotten the letter I sent, or else he wouldn’t call me again so soon. And yet again, I went through the 3 or so reasons why I only want messages every few days and a live chat once a week or so, etc.

Then he calls right back saying he’s sorry he’s so forgetful (which I doubt in this case) and tells me that he loved the letter, it was very dear to him and well written, it was the first real letter I’d written him in 15 years. Then he teased me about a spelling error I made since my spelling had gotten so good (I must not have used the computer’s spell checker). Anyway, I’m glad he loved the letter, but then what does he say in his next breath? He says, “Talk to you later!” and I’m like, no you won’t! You’ll talk to me in a few days. So, unless he sounds like he really needs to chat, I’m not gonna respond regularly to his messages. Maybe that’s the only way I’ll be able to get my point to sink in. I hope he doesn’t take it personally, it’s not that I don’t care, but he’s always there. He and his calls just won’t go away. He just doesn’t ease up on me. Maybe I should also not let him know how much it bugs me, cuz of how he is. He may not be as selfish as he used to be, but generally speaking, the more you tell him he’s doing something that bugs you, the more he’ll do it.

Now, onto a very nice talk Tom and I had. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter what he thought or did, cuz I’m sterile and unfixable. I reminded myself that back when his parents were having kids, there was no birth control, they screwed as normally and as regularly as any couple could, yet it took Mom two years to conceive David after Ray was born, then 5 years to conceive Mary, then two to conceive Tom, then 5 to conceive Steven. And it took my folks 12 years to catch me after having Larry and Tammy. Then I tried to remind myself that I swore I’d never get married and how I just couldn’t “see” that as ever happening, etc. However, the bottom line’s the same no matter what anyone else’s experiences have been, and that’s that I’m sterile, and I am bothered by Tom’s not believing/accepting this.

Earlier, he could tell something was up and I finally came out and told him my period’s beginning and that he could go right on with his denial, though. But then to my shock, he said that it was very sad I got my period, he just wanted to give me that one-in-a-million chance to be wrong, but he does believe me. He says he doesn’t believe I’m sterile to the degree that I believe I am, but that he understands that it’s more than likely the case. I was glad to hear him say this as it makes me feel like he’s more on my side and like I’m less alone with this shit. I just hope he means it and isn’t just saying so to please me. He seems sincere enough. I told him I understood the natural urge to deny and not accept something. I used to be a very stubborn and arrogant person in that respect, and he admitted he was stubborn about it.

Then he told me we couldn’t do anything for a few weeks cuz of his mom, but maybe we can do something before his mother dies and before we move, and I’ll now explain all this.

His mother’s doing awful. Blood consists of 3 things: white blood cells, red blood cells, and platelets. Well, platelets are what keep you from bleeding to death if you cut yourself and her platelets are virtually non-existent. We don’t know for sure if they can stabilize her condition, or if she’ll deteriorate, but we both feel she’ll live to around the turn of the century. Nonetheless, the next month or so is gonna be busy with her appointments and her moving into Mary’s.

As I told Tom, I think it’ll be better for everyone when mom’s with Mary, but I feel so helpless. I think we all do. This isn’t something that can be fixed. I also told him that if he felt it best to put off the testing till after she’s gone and after we’ve moved, that’s OK, cuz even though I wanted a kid yesterday, I’d still be young enough to have a child, but I still can’t ever “see” us with a child. Not in one year, or 5 years, or 10 years. I may have had very few dreams of this magnitude, but if God’s never let me have other dreams that were of this magnitude in the past, why should he start now? They may be able to answer my question of what’s wrong with me, but what’s really frustrating is that I may never know why. Did God do it punish me? Did he do it to protect me? Was it both? How could God do this to a woman? If God’s as loving as people claim, then is this the devil’s work? Anyway, I think the problem lies within my uterus and it’s cuz of the DES, but maybe we’ll find out it’s cuz of bad eggs, compliments of all the years people doped me up so they could control me into being what they wanted me to be.

I have so many theories and things I wonder, like, is this a test? If so, this is a hell of a test! Could God maybe intend to let us have a child after all, but not without a fight? Could he really want me to work for it and pay for it? His standards for me are higher than most others, after all. I wasn’t kidding when I said that the more normal and common something is, the harder I have to work for it. But love is supposed to be a normal thing and I didn’t have to work for that. I didn’t have to work for or pay to meet Tom. We just met. Although, most people aren’t loved. Not as loved as I am. Despite the things I’ve been suspicious of him for, whether I was right or not, no man’s as good and as loving as he is. I’m very blessed. Tom’s one in a million. So maybe I didn’t have to work or pay for him so much, in a sense, cuz he is so uncommon. I had thanked him for loving me even though I’m an abnormal, different, defective freak, and he said the same thing back, but believe me, he’s not even close. The only things that I’d say were different about him are his infrequent cumming and those screwy sandwiches he used to make with bologna, margarine, peanut butter and jelly.

I’m just so torn between wanting to fight for my dream and knowing I can’t fight God and win. I mean, I never have been able to in the past with something that meant this much to me. I guess it would, however, be best to seek as much closure to this issue as I can, and just let them test us and tell us to our faces just what the scoop is and if it’s hopeless or not, no matter what I think, feel or believe. I just don’t know if we’ll begin the process in a month or so, or in a few years. If it must be a few years, so be it then. I’d rather it not be, but if I’ve gone this long, it won’t kill me to go longer, even if this issue does play on my emotions on and off. I think our love is strong enough to go through with this together. I think we can both talk to these people and tell them the whole scoop, even if it’s something we’d rather not do. We’d rather have the normal sex and make the kid the natural way, but God’s just not gonna budge or make it easy for us if he makes it even possible at all.

At least I’ll always have Tom and will always love him no matter if we see a doctor or not or have a kid or not. It’s not that my life is bad but just incomplete, and it still breaks my heart to see the kids go to so many women who’ll just abort them or beat them to death.

Later…

God, that pest just does not give up!!! Andy said he had a great time with Quinn and now he can move on to the next relationship, he’s so different off drugs, he’ll tell me all about it in person, but by then he’ll have a million other things to tell me. Oh, I’m sure he will. And like this couldn’t wait? Geez! How can he have so much to tell me? All he does is work and gab on phones.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 21, 1998 Here we are already halfway through the week. This week’s going fast, thanks to the long damn weekend.

I just went out and made a dump in the recycle bin, which was empty, and boy was that loud! Especially with the glass bottles I dumped. Hope the shitheads enjoyed that, but I doubt it. I’m sure that as God would have it, no one heard it and if someone did, it wasn’t the freeloader. Still only hearing door slams from them.

I can’t wait till we move!!!

Tweety sure is chirping up a storm right now. It seems that noise makes him sing more. When I wash the dishes, or when the washer’s going, or when the fryer’s going, he really sings away.

I got some really nice cards from the HS today. Cats, dogs and ducks. I think I’ll use them for the next 5 things I don’t have cards for and that’d be Becky’s, Mom’s and Dad’s birthdays, and Mother’s and Father’s Day.

I guess Andy’s gonna do whatever he can do to get my attention and to get a conversation with me, although it’s not every day he runs off to Xena conventions. He left a message saying that he had a great time and would talk to me about it in person when he picks up Laura’s rent money, so I don’t have to deal with the phone and missing my smokes. So now he’s gonna come over more often and show up 2-4 hours later than we agreed on? Oh, brother!

I did not discuss what I wrote in last night’s entry with Tom. First off, there’s no point and it won’t change anything. Secondly, I’d rather let January come and go before I say he’s broken his promise and discuss it with him then. We got together before he left for work, but he just couldn’t get into it. I couldn’t really, either, but I did enjoy our time together just talking and cuddling, and that’s most important.

We’re both still having allergy problems and suspect it’s the mice, but soon, half of them will be gone. Then, we’ll decide what to do if they’re still a bother, but as we both agree, they’re so cute! Gotta pay for everything, though, but in the meantime, I’ll do a good dust and vacuum job in here.

Later…

I sure had the shit scared out of me earlier. Maybe I did wake the freeloader up and maybe God used the huge moth that was in here as a way to get me back for it. It just wouldn’t die, either. I kept spraying it with Raid, but the damn thing kept swirling around the room, and I lost sight of it. I haven’t seen it for hours, so hopefully it finally kicked the bucket.

Ziggy’s looking awfully chubby lately and I hope she’s not pregnant.

When I called Lisa to wish her a happy birthday, she said she did quit smoking. Tom says give her the benefit of the doubt, but I don’t know. I hope she’d never lie to me about that or anything. If it’s true that she did quit, I’m really happy for her and proud of her. I know how hard it is. Especially when you’re this young, stubborn, naïve kid who doesn’t think it’ll affect her.

Andy’s right back to his same old shit. He agrees he’ll cut his calling down, but what do I get? I get two messages on the same day.

Tom says that due to his being given such unpredictable hours at work, he’s gonna look for a new job within the bank. He said that now that his ma’s moving into Mary’s, he won’t have to worry about what hours he works. I’ve always wondered if his ma was a factor in our sex lives. If he can choose to get his job based on his mother, he can choose a sex life based on her, too. I wonder, though, if another reason he’s been afraid of a child is cuz of the time it’d take away from taking care of her, although he says he could take care of both. He feels obligated to take care of her cuz of all the years she’s taken care of him. I would feel the same way if I had had a mother like that, but sometimes I think he lives his life a little bit too much for her. I doubt, though, that her moving into Mary’s would change the sex. The sex is the sex, Tom is Tom, and Tom doesn’t want a child. If only he knew I was sterile, but he just doesn’t believe it. If he could know it, though, and not be afraid to accept it, he could relax more. He could at least have sex without worrying about his fears coming true.

That very subtle, yet obvious feeling has come on saying that my period is just a few days away. About 2-4 days away. So, whether or not pre-cum really can impregnate a woman well enough, I’m still sterile. I just know it. Every core of my woman’s intuition, my vibes, my feelings, my gut instinct, my 6th sense, my logic, belief, etc., tells me that. There is no doubt about it. I just don’t know if it’s cuz of bad eggs or cuz of the uterus, but I know it’s nothing as simple as clogged fallopian tubes.

This is a serious long shot, but I wonder if it’s at all possible that the dog not being there has any connection to the letter to the city? But then why’s he still in the picture? Maybe they came out in person to see her at a time when he wasn’t there and she claimed that he just visits. Meanwhile, they saw the dog and told her to get rid of it. Like I said, I doubt this, though, cuz then I’d surely hear about it. She’d be over here screaming or seeking revenge on me by dragging me into court. I still say that they didn’t like my yelling at them so early in the morning any more than I appreciated the music at any hour, but more so in the early morning, and so they got or borrowed the dog for my sake, then ditched it.

Later…

No naughty freeloader yet. I got up at 7 PM and saw the car out front and knew he wasn’t in for the night. I then went out to feed Bunny and the kittens and to chase off Mama Bitch and could smell food from over there and hear a voice, too. It was I female voice I’d heard before, but again, although a black voice is a loud voice, I couldn’t make out what was said. It wasn’t the bitch, though, and the person talking wasn’t so mad as she always is. But why would they open their windows on a chilly evening of 50-something degrees?

Then at 8 PM, he left quietly. Very quietly. In fact, the only way I knew he left was cuz of the motor starting, which I wouldn’t have heard if I weren’t in the living room with no fans or TV on. I didn’t even hear a car door. I guess they go to bed early cuz the lights were out at 9 PM. Well, they do leave early. At just after 9:00 I heard one car door parallel to the back room where I am now that wasn’t very loud at all, so I knew he pulled into the carport for the night, then wondered - maybe the door slamming is the bitch’s doing. Whenever the slamming goes on, it’s when there’s more than one asshole coming/going.

Anyway, as much as I can’t stand them and wish they’d get the fuck out of here, they’ve been behaving well enough not to deserve a bottle toss unless I gave them one for all the times they didn’t behave (but that’d take 1000 bottles and more). Another thing I wonder, though, is if a bottle would prompt them to get another dog for protective reasons.

Yesterday was the first day I went without any wine since I began having wine coolers every day.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 20, 1998 The fact that I can’t handle a kid and don’t deserve one is beside the point right now. The point is that this husband of mine has jerked me around about this kid shit from day one and I’m sick of it. I’m more than sick of it!

If I stood the slightest chance of being fixed, I can’t be cuz of his denial and refusal to cum much. He’s totally stolen even a one-in-a-million chance if there ever was one, and I meant it when I said I give what I get. His number one dream is to work at home and I’m gonna make sure he never has that. Never! He can’t just tell the fucking truth. Instead, when there’s something Tom doesn’t want to do or deal with, Tom denies it and makes excuses. What? Did he think his denial and his not doing anything to create a kid or fix me would make this all go away? He lied to me again. He told me he’d take the first step and make an appointment for a physical this month, but he hasn’t. Instead, he makes excuses about not having time, but he has time for other calls. If he wanted to make the appointment that bad, he’d set his alarm, get up and make it, then go back to bed if he had to. But he doesn’t want to see a doctor. And he can’t admit that, either. I also feel really angered and insulted over all the so-called remedies I’ve used for his so-called lack of cumming problem. He suggested I wear certain clothes, that we sleep together, that I quit smoking, and so much more since I’ve known him. I did almost everything he suggested I do to “fix” him and where is our sex life now? Right where it’s been since the summer of 96. Nothing I do is good enough for him. He’d rather lie, deny, and make excuses.

Here’s a classic example of how he won’t say no to something he doesn’t want to do. For nearly a year now, he’s agreed that he’d send my nieces letters and I remind him periodically, but does he do it? No. Instead of saying no, he says he’ll do it, but actions speak louder than words and when actions don’t go with someone’s words, that usually means that they’re liars. It could be cuz of fear or for some other reason, but it all comes down to the same thing and that’s not doing what you say you’re gonna fucking do! I’m tired of his not doing the things he says he’ll do and I’m tired of him, God, and this whole damn issue playing on my emotions.

MONDAY, JANUARY 19, 1998 Now that the long weekend’s just about over, and now that it’s later in the evening, I can relax enough to write. Plus, I’m alone now, cuz he’s gone to work, so I can concentrate better. I don’t concentrate well with others around even if they’re quiet and not right near me. The weekend went surprisingly, but pleasantly quiet. There were weekend stereos cruising through, but all next door gave me were some door slams. I’m still blessed with there being no dog over there, and the music has yet to become a problem again. If the door slamming’s as deliberate as I think it is, they may assume, but they don’t know for a fact, that the door slamming gets on my nerves too, so maybe, like I said before, they suspect me and don’t want to do anything that they know may provoke me into harming them or the house. Or maybe the door slams were cuz they heard us talking out back when he was working on the old washer and they wanted to be heard back. One of the door slams they gave me was so fucking loud, the house shook. Then later, at 10:40 PM, the shithead went out and slammed me a few more times, so I went out and pelted back and beat an old waterproof radio on the side of the house by their house a few times.

Later…

I felt a bit warm and dizzy there, so I stepped out for some cool air and you know what? Unless they’re in bed early, they might not even be home next door, cuz there are no lights on.

Anyway, Tom fixed the old washer and we washed the new, big comforter that won’t fit in our stackables. It was pretty funny what with the washer being out on the patio!

The weekend may have been peaceful enough as far as any neighbors go, but some stereo, that you could tell was miles away, was a real annoyance for a good hour or more from out back. It could’ve been worse, though, since it could only be heard out back, but what a sick world we live in - knowing that someone’s stereo from miles away can be a problem. They’re that bassy, and bass travels that well. And like I said, people would cruise up and down our street with those fucking things that are so goddamn common now. Another way I can tell if it’s a freeloader that just bassed in or out is by the motion sensor security light in the carport. Cuz of the soundproofing material that’s in the bedroom windows, I can’t tell if it’s on or not, but from the window in the back room, I can as long as the back room is not too lit up. In the daytime, I’d have to go to the side of the house to see if it was on.

In answer to why dad’s not getting his legs taken care of now since he’s in pain, it’s cuz they’re busy at the store, and it’s not a life or death situation.

I’ve been appreciative of the cut-down in calls from Andy, but since it’s been several days, and since I’d like to hear all about his trip to L.A. with Michelle to see Xena, I left him a message.

As for my weight, once again, you really can’t fight fate and win. Yes, I must be compensated. My losing weight is 100% hopeless. I’m just not meant to be thin again and nothing I do can change that. These metabolism pills I’ve got are a bunch of bull. They’re probably just sugar or some substance like that that fills the capsules. And I’m just too much of a wimp to stop eating altogether. So I’ll be fat, but at least I’ll be a fat person who can breathe. I’ll use the money I save on cigarettes to buy new clothes as I keep getting bigger, and I will keep getting bigger. I just know it like I know I’m sterile and meant to be forever childless. You might say that’s got some good in it, too, after all the shit I go through trying to handle the not smoking, as well as for other reasons.

Tom’s still doing and is always gonna do what he does best - deny I have a plumbing problem, so he doesn’t have to deal with it. It gets more and more obvious each year that he doesn’t want a kid, or to go to a fertility doctor, so his way of dealing with it - there’s not a problem. I understand his ways, though, cuz I was once that way myself. If something was going on that I didn’t like or didn’t want to deal with, I too would deny it or I’d play it down.

Tom’s been passing a few tests I’ve set up and again, I know when he’ll do what I say he’ll do, and when he’ll do the direct opposite of what I said he’ll do. Due to my saying things that implied I didn’t want to screw when I was mid-cycle, he made sure we did. And due to my saying he preferred sex the most right before and after my period, he made sure he didn’t touch me all weekend, which is close enough. It’s due on the 25th. I don’t know if my getting so fat has a play in it, although he does tell me I’m beautiful all the time, but part of it is cuz he doesn’t balance things well. He either has to work or screw, but he can’t mix business with pleasure. I see it to my benefit as time goes on, though. If it were new, or if one of us was gonna die soon, or if we had a shot at a kid, then I’d still be bitching about the part-time sex we have, but I know that he likes it this way deep down, too. He could’ve asked for it any day, but he didn’t, so that tells me that he must think full-time is too much too, and I also understand it’s not in his nature to have a high appetite and that he’s in his 40s.

Anyway, after all the questioning I’ve done in the past about sex and Tom, now I question sex and myself. Just what has happened to my appetite? I know we’re not a new couple, we’re infertile, etc., but I thought women got hornier into their 30s. It seems that for the last month, month and a half, my appetite’s been much lower. This isn’t a complaint, though, but merely an observation. I kind of like it this way, cuz he couldn’t keep up with me when I’d want it nearly every day and it seems that the lower my sex drive is, the lower my desire for a kid is, too.

I scanned all my favorite drawings (about 40) into the computer. Tom created a new directory for me to put them in there. It’s similar to my directories for Gloria and Norah pictures and for my journals.

I love this thing called Media Manager, which lets me view my drawings, pictures, etc., on little icons.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 1998 Today’s the day God killed my nephew a year ago. I just hope Larry and Sandy aren’t too depressed right now, but what can you expect?

Tom took the time to download this thing that lets me view and install/delete fonts, but it’s fucked up. It tried to tell me one wasn’t installed that really was installed. It wouldn’t let me delete any, either.

As hungry as I am, my diet’s working so far. I awoke at 118. Tom got an old-fashioned dial scale too, since digital ones fluctuate more. So, I know I can still begin the weight loss process by eating just a few bites, but the question is, will it keep going after I start eating again? Or will I just stay the same or gain the weight back? The trick is to manipulate the thyroid/metabolism enough to get it to learn to lose weight on its own and not worry about what I eat. Well, time will tell what’ll happen with it.

Later…

I realize now that Paula likes to play phone tag. I know she’s busy with that kid, but it’s become rather obvious, so I’ll just talk to her whenever I talk to her, but at least she doesn’t call me every day.

After listening to music, I looked out front and saw the car there. I said, damn! I didn’t get to hear how it came in. But I knew it wasn’t in for the night being parked up front, so I waited and heard him leave quietly a short while later. He hasn’t come in yet and I’m anxious to hear how that’ll be. I only heard one door shut softly, so he’s coming in by himself when he does come in.

Later…

I had some popcorn today and fried up some French fries. This is cuz I’ve been stuck, and I know the grease helps with that. Those fries put a couple of pounds back on me, though, so I really have to watch it. I cannot believe how hungry I am and the appetite to which I’ve become accustomed. Something up there really wants me to have my share of starving bouts as an adult. It nearly starved me off just for letting me come out here. I mean, I really had to pay for coming out here by not having food. And now I have to sit and suffer through hunger pangs or keep eating and keep gaining weight. The bitch of it is that I can’t see myself ever getting lucky enough to just happen to lose weight without even trying. I think I’m gonna have to really starve the shit out of myself in order to lose it. Then after I get done doing that, I better hope the weight doesn’t come right back on.

Like I said, something up there insists I pay for every little thing. I still have a bad feeling that there’s no beating it and that if I want to enjoy the ability to breathe, I have to get fat for it. The missing cigarettes should be enough compensation, though, but no, I have to pay dearly for every little thing.

We screwed yesterday and he didn’t cum like I thought he would cuz of the time of month, but then again, that’s something he rarely does anyway. He thinks that a woman ovulates a whole week, but it’s more like 1-2 days. No wonder he cums so little if that’s what he thinks! Well, at least it keeps the sheets clean.

The werewolf (Randy) did get in touch with Andy after all. He said all he got was a frame, but no picture. He thanked me for trying, though, and says he’s gonna mail him a picture. Why? Why not just meet the guy in person?

Later…

If he came in next door, I didn’t hear him.

Last night, I contemplated throwing a bottle over there. I mean, I really thought about it good and hard. I looked out front to make sure that RV wasn’t visible from the front (they still come to see the old man, but they haven’t brought that whiny, shrilly dog of theirs since my note, thank God!). It wasn’t visible, but it was from out back and I don’t need any witnesses. They sleep in this thing, and someone could come up front for something where there are no curtains drawn and see me hurling the bottle. Another problem that could come out of the bottle-throwing idea, if I threw it into the carport, is that I don’t want it to hit the car and look too obvious (like someone doesn’t like its stereo). If I were to walk out into the street to see how deep in the carport it was parked so I’d know where to aim, and was seen walking out there and looking, that’d seem awfully obvious, too, not that it could prove anything. I intend to wash that bottle and handle and throw it with plastic gloves on. So then there’ll be no saliva or prints. So, I thought about different things I could do, but then I realized that problems could come out of these things. I’m not gonna worry too much about them, cuz if I’ve got something I really want to do to them badly enough, I’ll do it. However, the first thing they’re gonna do if I throw a bottle is come over here either with or without the cops and ask if I did it. If they didn’t do that, then they’ll go around to the neighbors and ask if they saw anything. So, there are some potential problems if I do something and if I don’t do anything. I don’t want to not do anything and have them end up thinking that letter was a joke. I want them to take that letter very seriously and let them know someone means business. Maybe they have and that’s why they’ve been quiet up till now. Maybe they really don’t want to take the chance of provoking anyone around here, in case it’s me that sent it, and I know my name has crossed their sick, selfish little minds. Or maybe they don’t want to look bad themselves if they ever get in any legal battles. If I go with the late-night banging sprees, and if they hear them, that will look obvious too, and it could also drag others into it, too, and wake them up. This is between me and them only, so I may go a more destructive route, obvious or not.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 15, 1998 I called Larry, who has another cold, to wish him a happy birthday. The poor guy’s going through what I went through back there. Jen’s sick, too, but Sandy’s OK. He says they’re expecting 14” of snow and that it was a whole 23º! Wow! That’s actually pretty generous for January. But they just had their January thaw spell (a lot of people get sick now due to the temperature changes) and now it’ll refreeze itself again till spring. It’ll be close to 70º here today.

I can’t believe how much my sister and parents share with me these days. They used to tell me absolutely nothing that was going on with them and I know I said so in my first journals. My folks would talk to Tammy, but not to me. Tammy even told me how wonderful the sex is with this guy she’s seeing. She mentioned something about him measuring her Jewish nose and her measuring his Italian dick. Nobody’s dick is as big as my husband’s, and I told her so (I’m sure it’s true, too).

Mom also filled me in on her and Dad’s medical conditions, as I said earlier. I just asked her and am waiting for a reply as to why they’re waiting till the spring or summer to do something about my dad’s leg pain.

Ma said she’s been taking something called Synthroid for 8-10 years cuz of her thyroid. She said when it’s too low it can tire you down a lot and cause your hair to fall out. When it’s high, you’re overactive. And thyroids do control the metabolism which controls weight. However, some of what she said makes no sense. I’m still kind of hyper, yet my thyroid’s low and my metabolism is slow right now. I sure as hell aren’t tired a lot and my hair is not falling out either. Oh no, this hair’s still thick enough to fill in a few bald heads while leaving enough for me.

Yeah well, speaking of metabolism and weight, I’m now furious! Furious enough to do what I need to do now to finally get this fucking weight off of me. When I stepped on the scale and saw I was 125, I knew I was right when I said it’d just keep going and going and going if I don’t find a way to ward off fate. I’m tired of God and his compensations and his different standards, etc. I’m not gonna “pay” for my lungs back. Just cuz I can breathe now doesn’t mean I should have to get fat for it. So, I’m on a liquid diet. If I did it once, I can do it again. When I was 19, I didn’t eat for about 3 days. I just had liquids. It obviously did something to my thyroid/metabolism cuz I started losing weight the second day of not eating, then continued eating as I usually did, only to keep losing weight for the next year while I could resume eating as I usually did. I went from 140 something down to 100. Well, I may be 32 now and the hunger pains may be vicious, but I really think I can do this now and I’ve got to try my best. I really want to be thin again and able to wear most of my clothes again.

So I’ve basically made two personal decisions. I’m gonna lose weight and get back down around 100 lbs. And when I’m 35, I am gonna go to a doctor about my sterility. Not cuz I think something can be done to fix me or to make Tom cum more or to change God’s mind, but just cuz I want to know, out of curiosity, if I really do have a deformed uterus. I just want to know what it is that makes my plumbing not work.

I know another reason God stuck so many of other people’s kids on me and harassed me with their noise in the NHA and other places. What goes around comes around. My mom had to listen to plenty of my noise (till she’d slap me to silence), but he knew, though, that I’d never have my own kid to pay me back, so he went and used other people’s kids. That’s another sure sign of what’s meant to be and what isn’t.

Later…

God, I not only get the same stuffy nose I had when I smoked but my feet and hands still get so cold. That’s supposed to happen to smokers cuz their blood doesn’t circulate as well. Guess some of my body doesn’t realize I no longer smoke.

I had another hilarious idea as far as next door goes, but this one I’m not gonna do. Assuming they’re like most people, they wouldn’t be happy at all to see any mice in their place. I thought of dropping the male mice through their mailbox slot and into their house, but that’d be cruel to the mice. It’s still a funny thought and I bet she’d freak! He, on the other hand, is such a ditz that he probably wouldn’t even know what the fuck was happening.

I forgot to say that I don’t know how it came in yesterday. It may have come in while I was listening to music, so I can’t say for sure what went on.

I broke down and fried up two pork chops. Barely 40 minutes later, I was starving again. I’m just gonna have to tough it out, though.

Later…

I got my listening to music done and out of the way, so we’ll see how the freeloader comes in. I’d assume that if the dog isn’t back yet, it won’t be coming back at all (I hope!). That goes to prove my belief - that the dog was for me and that they never gave a shit about it. If I had a dog that I cared about that someone threatened to shoot, I’d either kill the person or get the dog in the house. They didn’t, so I think they made a deal with someone shortly after I yelled at them that July morning, to borrow the dog for a few months to harass me with it. Or they could’ve gotten it for free from some animal shelter, knowing they’d return it or dump it somewhere in the long run.

Got a letter from Bob. I dug how he said he was having trouble with a racist bitch of a guard and would like to shove his fists down her “throught.”

I got some animal cards with matching address labels from the Wildlife Federation and I also dug how they put “Phoenix Arizona, AZ” on the address.

God, how I dread this long MLK holiday weekend coming up! These assholes next door are literally MAKING me not like blacks. God, spare me, please! I’m sure his answer to that would be, yeah right! Like hell I’ll spare you their shit/noise! Let’s just say that once MLK’s Day gets here, I may not have the patience to slowly torture and toy with them. I may just want to kick their asses and get it over with.

I wish I could know for sure if they are gonna move in September. I think that if they don’t move by then, then we are stuck with them till we move unless I step up the action to drive them out of here sooner, but there’s also a huge advantage to being the first one out of here too, and I think it’s rather obvious what that is. Tom thinks we’ll be out of here in two years, but I think it’ll be 4.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 14, 1998 Jesus fucking Christ! You can’t even go out in this city without being screamed at! Just what I need when I’m still so tensed out from not smoking. I go to the library. That went OK. We get to Ross’s to pick me up slippers and hair ties, and there’s this fucking kid screaming at the top of his lungs a few feet away from me while we’re waiting in line. I came home so stressed out that I drank too much too fast and felt woozy and a bit nauseous. Fortunately, though, the effect didn’t last very long. Like I said, maybe a part of me is glad Tom’s in denial so that he doesn’t have to deal with what a doctor might be able to do, etc. The struggle with not smoking is hard enough right now that I’m just too overwhelmed to even think of kids. The missing cigarettes outweigh anything else and make everything else just not matter as much. I know Tom sure as hell won’t admit I’m sterile and decide he wants a kid and get down on his knees and beg me to see a doctor with him, so I’ll think about seeing a doctor myself after we move. I think that’d be a good time, cuz then I’ll be so used to missing my cigarettes and trust me, if I still miss them as much as I do, I always will. Also, it’s easier to move two people instead of 3 and if we had a kid in the picture, we wouldn’t be of any help to each other, cuz one of us would have to watch the damn thing. So, I’ll rethink the situation after we’ve moved, but that won’t mean that anything’s changed. I’ll still know a doctor can’t help me and that God said no to a kid. I cannot handle it and God knows it. But I would like to maybe know someday what makes me sterile. Is it a problem with the eggs? Or with the uterus as I think?

Speaking of the things this wimp can’t handle, I begged God to please make the ball player go away that came to play next door. He did, thankfully. Another rude, brazen kid just waltzed right up to the hoop as it was passing by and played for a few minutes. I got a good look at the hoop as we pulled out today and it is untangled, so someone did get the lock out of it as I suspected.

Sunday night is my tentative night for smashing a wine cooler bottle next door. I can’t say for sure that he’s back to his usual shit, but I’m sure he is and that it’ll be more than obvious that he is by the time the day’s out. Yesterday he had pulled in with no music and parked where I could see him up front. I knew he wasn’t in for the day yet since he was up front, and I heard 3 car doors (he doesn’t seem to blast off as much when he’s got the bitch and kid with him). I had to play fucking phone and favors with Andy again a little while later when I heard some music, but then when I looked out, the car was still there. Just a few minutes later, though, I heard voices and the car left, so that tells me that it could’ve been a passing car, but probably wasn’t. Then later, as I was waiting to fall asleep, I heard music 3 different times. Again - a passerby? Or the freeloader? One of those times was the freeloader, I’m sure. So now that we’re gonna be on one of his music harassment campaigns again, he’s gonna have to deal with my harassment campaign, too, and be made to wish he never moved in here. The reason I’ve decided on late Sunday night is cuz Tom will be at work, it’ll suit my schedule better, and it won’t look too obvious (this way I won’t be doing anything till the music’s been a problem again for nearly a week). Yes, I eventually want them to know it was me who terrorized them, but slowly. I want there to be some mystery and confusion for them while I toy with them before I jump out at them in whatever way I’m gonna do so. You see, nothing major’s gonna change over there till September. Meanwhile, that “major change” could be 3 more freeloaders moving in over there. So I have to start now with getting them to see that they’re not welcome here and that their living here is gonna create problems for them.

I just realized, though, that MLK Day’s Monday and that we’re in for a 3-day weekend. So Sunday night’s bottle tossing may have to wait. I know there’s gonna be some kind of shit from over there on Monday. Especially with him living here. Yeah well, they’ve got my shit to listen to, too. The bottle tossing isn’t my only idea of harassment, either. There are others, but I’ll get into it another time.

I thought I just heard some door slamming next door with no music, but I’ll be honest and say that due to these houses being so damn close, you just can’t always be sure who’s doing what.

Tom and I figured out how to sex the mice. It’s really pretty simple, but we’ll have the store people verify that we’ve brought them all males when we go to bring them in.

According to the email I received, both my folks are having physical problems. Ma’s dreading having to use needles for her diabetes, but it’s looking like she’ll have to. She’s got back, thyroid, cholesterol, and arthritis trouble too, and Dad has got to have a triple bypass done on his legs in the spring. It’s similar to open-heart surgery. He’s been having a lot of pain when he walks, and I guess this has to do with the arteries and blood vessels.

I hopefully set Andy straight once and for all about his calls and all that and I think he’s sensitive and understanding enough to my situation, and will back off and cut me some slack. He won’t be around from Saturday to Sunday, cuz he and Michelle are going to a Xena convention in Los Angeles. I was trying to write last night when the phone rang, and I saw it was Andy with yet another fucking call. I said to myself how I was so sick of his calls and favors, and the first thing I heard when I played back his message was, “Jodi, I need a favor.” He said he was afraid Laura would go into his phonebook and get my number and call me, wanting her rent money now for drugs. He said not to give her the money and that she won’t kick my ass or anything. I left him a message that I don’t want these druggies he’s associated with to have my number and that if she came to the door, I’d kick her ass. If he wants friends he can’t trust, fine, but I don’t want to get involved. Besides, we made an agreement a long time ago that we wouldn’t share friends. I also told him that I just cannot handle the daily calls and that I still associate smoking with phones.

So, he left a reply saying he was sorry to put me through Laura’s shit and that he won’t want the money till the end of the month as planned. He also said it “finally hit him” why I don’t like phones now that I “finally” said it. The cigarettes are just a part of it. Meanwhile, I’ve told him time and time again that I’ve outgrown my phoneaholic ways and that I can’t stand to sit still for very long like he does, on phones, while watching TV, etc. I told him not to take it personally and that it doesn’t mean I love him any less. It’s just the way I am, and I’d prefer messages every 3-4 days and a live chat once a week. Not messages and chats every day. And I also reminded him that this excludes emergencies. The only thing that could prevent us from talking if he really needed to talk bad would be if I were asleep or out. So, I thanked him for being supportive and understanding and I also filled him in on what’s up with my parents, Tammy and Lisa.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 13, 1998 Oh, that never-ending pain in the ass! Andy, who just can’t accept things that aren’t meant to be, leaves a message about how this Randy’s blown him off and the only thing he can think of is that he finally managed to download his picture and didn’t like what he saw. Well, I’m sorry for him, but what can I do? I told him yesterday that I really didn’t want to keep playing phone back and forth with him. I had things to do, and phones remind me more of smoking. But what does he do? Leaves me a long message to wake up to and says he’ll call me later as if nothing I said sunk in. Andy really does still have some of that old selfishness in him from back east.

Speaking of back east, poor Laura’s going through what I went through back there with him. I mean, I believe the things Andy’s told me about her and I know she’s no angel and neither was I, but he’s doing it again. They fight for a few days at a time and meanwhile, he’s on the phone bitching to me about his problems with her. He says he does go to her, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t discussed more of their problems with me, than with her.

What doesn’t remain the same, though, is that both of us couldn’t imagine living alone again, when for years, we swore we could never live with anyone. So, when he’s mad at her, he wants her out and to live alone again, but when he’s not mad, he likes the company of a roommate.

Later…

I have bad news pertaining to Tammy and that household, but for once, I actually have some very good news, too!

First, though, Tom and I discussed getting the materials to make my own journals, so I can really use and enjoy this graphics program.

Also, I guess the cock quit coming in for lunch lately, but here we go with God’s balancing act. There’s some dog across the street, about 3 houses diagonally from us, that just won’t shut up. Backyards come around to the fronts of houses out here, too, if you know what I mean. It can come from the back and up to the side of a house and be heard in front, too. That’s why any dog next door that’s obnoxious out back, is all the more obnoxious when it’s on the side, wedged in between the few feet that are between our house and theirs.

Now for the bad news. To begin with, well, I had thought a child would really help ensure I didn’t give in to the many urges to smoke that I still have, but since that can never be, I had hoped for another reason to keep going with it. Better health is enough of a reason, but the more, the merrier. Then I found out that Lisa started smoking 5 months ago. She said she was afraid I’d be ashamed of her for this and that I’d tell her mother. No, I’m not ashamed and won’t tell, I told her, but I am disappointed. I hate to see her have to go through what I went through, which I told her all about. I reminded her how we promised not to commit suicide if our lives got that tough, and I asked her to please not smoke with me and give me more reason to not go back to it myself. She said she would, as hard as it is and as much as she’ll miss them, but I agree with Tom. Initially, she won’t quit, but hopefully she will in time if she sees I’m still not smoking. She said she kind of likes them. Yeah, I kind of liked them too, and I was hooked after just the first cigarette too, but she just doesn’t get it. Just like I thought cigarettes wouldn’t hurt me and that if they did, I’d have to be really old, she doesn’t realize how much they can and will hurt an asthmatic. I started smoking at her age, too, and by the time I hit my early 20s, is when the trouble began. If she keeps smoking, she’s not gonna be able to sit down and enjoy singing without having to clear her throat a lot, either.

At Tom’s suggestion, I called Dad yesterday to see if he could give me any tips since I still have urges a lot. As a child, I hated being lectured by him, but now, I could use all the reminders as to why I shouldn’t smoke. He said everyone’s different as far as how long and frequent urges are, but that the bottom line is willpower and that no one should smoke.

Now here’s the good news in Tammy’s life. Good news for once! And I’m so happy for her. I haven’t heard her sound this happy in years. Maybe never at all. She is divorcing that self-absorbed, negative husband of hers and is seeing someone new and wonderful, she says. I don’t know if she fell in love with this guy Mark enough to know she wanted to be with him and that’s what prompted her to finally move on and ditch Bill, or if she ditched Bill, then realized her love for Mark. Tammy’s never lived alone, and she could never live without a man, so I’d bet it was her falling for Mark that made her dump Bill, but more power to her.

I think that the mistake she made marrying Dick was cuz she was young, naïve, and desperate to get out of the house and the mistake she made marrying Bill was cuz Ma pressured her so she could get her and Lisa out of the house. Ma’s favorite pastime was to get rid of her kids any way she could.

Anyway, she says this 47-year-old Italian guy that owns his own business, really treats her well both in and out of bed. She told me that with Bill, there was no foreplay and the sex was over in no time, but with Mark, she’s got the foreplay, etc. She says she can really talk to him and that he really listens and is into what she’s into, but Bill never cared about her interests. This is so true, too, cuz on my visits to them when I lived back there, Bill never asked me about my life (not that I had much of one to discuss) and he never seemed to give a damn about the things that mattered to me.

Mark and his wife Mary, who died a few months ago of cancer, knew both Tammy and Bill. I forget if they all met through Tammy’s job working with terminally ill cancer people, or if they knew each other before she started that work. Anyway, Bill doesn’t know they’re lovers. She’s staying at the house and she’s changed the locks, too. Hopefully, Bill won’t be allowed visitation rights, but with people being so into biology, versus what’s best for kids, I’d doubt that he’d be ordered to stay away from them.

Another wonderful thing about this guy is that Tammy says he’s good with the kids and really cares about them, too, whereas Bill and most guys could care less. He and Mary had two kids who are 18 and 21 and Mary had a few kids with her first husband. The neat thing about this is that Tammy’s described him a lot like I’d describe Tom, and you know how wonderful Tom is to me, with the exception of his not coming clean about wanting a kid, and his sloppy, disorganized manner. I’d constantly wish that Tammy could have a husband like mine and I always believed that she’d envy me had she known Tom like I do. Not anymore! I hope that this really is the right guy after all this time, and I get the feeling it is. I’m really happy for her, cuz she deserves happiness for once! If I remember anything else she told me about Mark, I’ll write it in.

MONDAY, JANUARY 12, 1998 Andy, Andy, Andy! Him and his calls and his favors! Well, his favors aren’t nearly as frequent as his calls, but he really bugs me. He really bugs me! He’s on my nerves constantly, but he just doesn’t get it!

I scanned and sent a picture of him to this guy he could just meet in person if he really wanted to know what he looks like. Then he left a message asking me to rescan it for him cuz the dude couldn’t open the damn picture. So I scanned and sent it again and left the guy step-by-step instructions for viewing the picture. Then I had to play phone with him some more. You know, from now on, I’m not gonna check my messages when I first wake up. It’s too overwhelming to have to sit there and listen to 5-10 minutes of his babbling when I first get up. These are the things that should make me grateful that I don’t have a child smothering me right when I first get up, then all day long, too.

That’s a debatable subject as far as pre-cum impregnating a fertile woman. We screwed 3 days in a row. The days that are the most likely for a woman to conceive if she can. So, if I was OK, some would say I should be pregnant, some would say I shouldn’t be. It depends on who you believe. Some say that all it takes is one and pre-cum is enough to do the trick. Especially if there’s a few days’ worth of it. Others say it’s not enough and there wouldn’t be millions of sperm if just a few could make it. Well, whatever. The bottom line’s still the same - it isn’t meant to be whether I was fertile or not, whether he came or not, whether he came a lot or not.

It’s been the quietest it’s ever been next door with him there. There’s been no dog, no music, not even as much door slamming. Maybe the letter really did scare them into laying low-key and quiet so as not to provoke anyone. I love the peace they’ve been giving me, but now that I’ve got so much anger worked up due to the two years’ worth of shit they’ve given me in intervals (although sending the letter’s eliminated some of the anger), I kind of wish they’d give me an excuse to act up on my end cuz I’ve got so many things planned for them. In time, though. They’ll go back to their usual shit, at least music-wise, soon enough. Then I’ll be there to make them wish they’d never moved in there. They’re gonna really think they’ve got a crazed, hate stalker on their ass once I put my ideas into action! The first thing I thought I’d start with once the music cues me in, is to throw one of my wine cooler bottles over the block wall into their carport, or at the house itself, in the middle of the night. With my luck, they’ll sleep through it and not even come to investigate, but we’ll see. I’m gonna be provoked into action soon enough, so I’ll let you know what I do first, although I still wouldn’t be surprised if I kicked someone’s ass over there when Tom wasn’t around.

Still learning and having fun with the different cards, stationery, banner, envelope, programs and so much more. Andy really loved the Gloria border I made. Yup, I can print a bunch of tiny pictures of her for a border. I may do up these to cut out and glue into my written journals.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 11, 1998 Boy, is it foggy out there. I can barely make out the nearest houses. It rained on and off all day yesterday.

I attached that scan of my hair I had made to my folk’s email as a joke. I got a reply back saying that was a cute picture, they know how those things work and are busy with business and doctors. I asked about the doctors, but who knows if I’ll get a response to that one? We’ll see.

Andy also wanted me to scan and send a picture of him to this guy he met on the meeting line. Of course, I know it’s another loser, but I’m amazed someone who’d call this thing would have a computer. So, I scanned and sent it and Andy said I could let him know if he was his type if he sends a picture back of himself.

I had a block on my email, blocking out mail from anyone who wasn’t an AOL member, but that’d mean I couldn’t get a reply from someone Andy wanted me to send mail to who wasn’t an AOL user. So, I typed in only those I selected to get an email from. A part of me wishes I never told Andy about AOL and the scanner, cuz now he’s gonna bug me to send this and that.

Yesterday turned out to be a very pleasant day. I only hope God doesn’t compensate me for it by having today be an uncool day cuz that’s how it usually works.

I did some more experimenting/learning with the graphics thing and made Tom up a calendar for this month. Every month I’ll make one up with a different border. I gave him basketballs this time.

I also made a really pretty ballerina banner that’s almost as long as I am.

The mice are so cute when they get all playful. They jump up and down and run around just like the pig and rabbit.

According to Tom, he’s seen some wild orgies and threesomes going on. He says that he doubts they’re actually screwing unless some of them are gay since one would screw one and then the one doing the screwing in the first place would get screwed. I suppose that if some humans can be attracted to the same sex, that rule could apply to animals, too, but I just hope that guy’s right and that in February all the boys will be gone and I won’t have any pregnant females. If I do, though, I’ll just bring them those batches, too.

White Feet is in the window now. The cats sit on the pool pump to keep warm. Tom forgot to turn off the pilot light after draining the pool so its flat surface is warm.

I was nervous as all hell about this, and wouldn’t have initiated sex if he didn’t, but I did get brave enough to screw with him twice yesterday. I got what I expected, and I didn’t get what I expected. I expected him to take advantage of his fears and tease me by not getting in there. He got in there, but as I did expect, he didn’t cum. He tried to tell me he did “a little” and that there was more in the way of feeling than juice. Of course, though, I know a guy can’t cum without letting out some juice, but still, it was fun and I hope his games and God’s interferences (although God did try!) can be a thing of the past. I just want to move on now. I accept I can’t have a child, am OK with it now, and am prepared to deal with it, but I don’t want Tom or God to insult me with a freaky sex life, either. Even though yesterday didn’t turn out to be Tom’s fun and games in bed, I’m still reluctant to screw today too, cuz like I said, things have a way of making up for themselves and I don’t want today to be the day that he decides not to go in there. I was shocked that I could get up, run to the bathroom to throw some KY down there for some dryness, return to bed, then resume screwing. In the past, he’d be so distracted by that, that he’d have to “clear his mind” and start all over again. He said things change and people progress, but I still see the fears/excuses. So that’s why I can go out of my way to not smoke, get a new bed, do this, do that, and it doesn’t really change things all that much, cuz the bottom line is his fear and wanting to tease. Nothing I can do can help with that. If our sex lives had started off with us using birth control, that’d be different. Then we wouldn’t have had the freaky sex nearly as much.

He says that not smoking has made a difference for the better right away, but it’s mostly a gradual thing that occurs over time. Yeah. Whatever. I don’t want no more shit. That’s all. He’s obviously never gonna come clean, so if I don’t mention a child and all that, he gladly won’t, and then this is the only way we can move on. I know the truth and that’s what counts. And also, his wants are more important to me than my wants, so even if I still really wanted a kid as bad, his not wanting one and his not wanting to go to a doctor is more important. So, I’ll try to keep the subject a closed chapter as best I can cuz I want him to be happy and as we all know, people won’t always say what’ll make them happy, cuz when someone loves you, they’re more self-conscious about what they tell you.

Later…

Except for the barking dogs that prevented me from even eating a bagel in peace in my own damn kitchen, it’s a damp, cold, dead-quiet day out there. Personally, I wish it could be like this every day till we move. Especially as long as we have the sickos for neighbors. However, I’m also sick of being cold and if they really wanted to irk me with noise, they’d find a way. So far, though, it’s been a quiet weekend. Is this cuz they assume the letter was from me and are just biding their time? Or are they assuming it’s from me and hoping to catch me doing something else? I hope that they are hoping to catch me doing something else (which they won’t do), cuz this would mean they’d have to behave. It wouldn’t look good for them to drag me into court complaining that I did whatever, all the while they’ve been harassing and bugging me with music, etc.

Well, the toys may be gone, the dog may gone, the music may be quiet at this time, and the cops may have been there, but they’re not breaking up or moving. I just know it. My gut tells me that if there’s to be a significant change of any kind over there again while we’re here, it’s not happening till around September.

Another thing we did yesterday that I forgot to mention, is that we played around more with those push molds. We used clay and plastic to mold roses, bunnies, and teddy bears.

We screwed earlier and today was a repeat of yesterday - got inside/didn’t cum. At least he’s a lot braver than he was last month. Last month he wouldn’t even stick it in there.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 9, 1998 It’s time for me to be all stressed out. The weekend’s here. According to Tom, the car’s been moving again. In other words, the asshole’s still there, as I figured, and will be up to his usual shit in just a matter of time.

I’ve been so busy that I haven’t written much lately, so I hope I can remember to cover all that’s been going on.

Andy got led on and blown off by yet another guy. It’s just not meant to be for him. He enjoyed Stevie cruising on the web and visiting with me.

Tom got a bottle of Metabolics and like I said, if this doesn’t work, nothing will. He said he talked to someone there and since it’s from a health store, it shouldn’t have any side effects. We didn’t see anything written about that, anyway. The person there said this is their most popular brand that I’ve got and should see results in two weeks.

Tom also got his new glasses. They’re a lot nicer. He wears contacts more often, though.

Now for my frustrating, yet wonderful new toy. Tom got a print studio program that lets you do so much in the way of graphic art. The things you can do with it amazes me. The possibilities are endless. I can make my own stationery by adding some kind of border design (including pictures of Gloria and Norah to border with), or by making a background page that I type over. And the thing I love about this printer is that the ink doesn’t get lighter and lighter till it dies like a dot matrix with ribbons does. It stays the same sharp colors till the ink runs out of its cartridges.

I’ll be getting a wire-bound unruled journal for sure, so I can insert clipart and graphics into my text and type over pages with designs on them.

The clipart and pictures this thing contains are amazing. There are so many. Everything from artwork to live images. There’s every subject imaginable, too - animals, food, textiles, floral, icons, woods, metals, fun designs, plants, etc.

It even has a card-making program and I made some really cool cards of a few different sizes that fold differently from one another. In a way they look just like something you’d buy in a store, only the paper’s not as heavy or as glossy. They have glossy paper you can get for inkjets that print pictures out of say, Gloria, Norah, anyone, in an even more realistic and higher photographic quality.

I made tons of samples up for Tom that I did to practice with and learn with. I also made up a card for his ma. It’s got pretty scenery on the front, ducks on the back, with a brief message saying that I made it special for her.

Tom was right when he said I’d like it for letters, but not for journals. The word processor it has is really one fucked up program. It’d be very hard for me to describe why that is. You’d have to know a little about computers and know the different programs I’m talking about, but it’s bad. It does have a spell checker, but you can’t tell what line you’re on, selecting is a bitch, you can’t change fonts, sizes or colors easily, and the page doesn’t move as you type.

Later…

I saw that they’re up next door, cuz I saw a light on 15 minutes ago. I guess the freeloaders mainly leave at 7 AM. I’m waiting to hear how he leaves. It’s when he comes in for lunch that’d give me an idea of what he’s up to at the moment, but I’ll be asleep through it. I don’t think this weekend will be a problem as far as any parties cuz they’re out of season. The company, outside chats that last more than a minute or two, and bopping around the carport, won’t escalate till it warms up. And you can only have so many birthdays. There wouldn’t have even been a party all winter if it hadn’t been for him being around (the kid’s party).

I still can’t believe the dog’s gone! I just can’t believe it! She must’ve got caught with it. I can’t imagine she’d give it up voluntarily. I don’t miss that thing barking for 2-3 hours a day and sometimes more, but how’s this gonna affect the music situation if this dog stays away and isn’t replaced by another dog?

I wish these fucking freeloaders would just move on. I may not get anyone any better over there, but still, they’ve been 3 feet away from me for too long. They’ve got to go. I just don’t want them there anymore. I was here first and I’m saying it’s time for them to move on. So, as soon as they act up and I know about it, I’ll make them wish they never moved in there. As I said before, there’s something I could do about the music quickly, but it may just be worth my time and effort to slowly terrorize them. If I began harassing them on February 1st, for example, I’ll have them out of here by June 1st. I drove those Mormons out of here. I mean, I know a part of their moving probably had to do with the city, with a house that was too small for them, and other things, but I think I was a part of their moving. I didn’t mean to drive them away; I just didn’t want their kids screaming 3 feet away from me. I would take that and a dog over the music, but I’d rather not have to deal with anything as far as other people’s noise. I’ve had enough of it. Someday, though. Someday we’ll be out of here and won’t live where we and the neighbors could reach out from our windows and practically be holding hands. When you live where your bedroom is closer to the neighbor’s driveway than your own, that really sucks.

Later…

El cocko left just after 7:30. It didn’t play any music. It didn’t even slam its door that hard. Just someone saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

I decided that since Tom’s so against me doing anything violent or scaring someone to their face, I’d compromise with him. I won’t deck them, but I will be heard, too. God may see to it that they don’t hear me, but I will do everything in my power to not only be heard when I hear them (when I hear a lot more of them than what I just heard, obviously), I’ll make them want to move. Haven’t heard those sounds coming from their yard, so I’d guess that those scraping sounds I heard were the dog nosing and pawing its bowl around. It did sound like it could’ve been plastic scraping concrete after all. I’m surprised he’s still parking in the carport at this time of year with the dog gone, but then again, I’m not. It’s easier to see someone that may mess with your beloved car stereo when they’re in the carport, versus just outside of it. After that letter, I doubt he’ll park outside the carport much.

I realized something that this letter could’ve ensured, unfortunately, and that’s their staying together. She may use this as an excuse to keep him under her wing and he may want to play big, tough man and stay with her cuz of this. Anyway, enough freeloader talk for now.

What the fuck was that? I just heard this really loud bang that was even louder than their damn car doors, but I can’t blame this one on them when they’ve already left. Maybe it was a big truck, but all I hear right now is the guard dogs. Thank you, God, for not having me be asleep for this big bang!

Speaking of God and noise, though, he sure does have a way of balancing things out. It makes me wonder - if we move to where it’s remote, will he give me other problems, like having me be bothered by some unknown source of noise that Tom and I won’t be able to identify? Or will I just start waking up a lot for no reason? Not that I’ve had a problem sleeping around here cuz 97% of the time I’ve been here I slept just fine. It’s the disturbances I get when I’m up that are the issue, but that’s better than having my sleep be an issue like it was in the NHA. If these freeloaders ever stole my sleep, I would kick their asses in a heartbeat.

This winter, so far, has produced less of other stereos blaring by. I’m sure God figured he’d spare me the drive-by stereos this winter, knowing that the stress of Mr. Fuck next door would compensate for it and any shit I may get from him.

Tom’s passing his test with flying colors. What I mean by “passing” is that he’s doing just what I knew he’d do. Not that this was a lie on my part, but I made it clear to him enough that I wanted to just accept fate and move on, so to speak, and I figured he’d take that to his advantage. I had told him that if having a kid meant that much to him, he could let me know and ask me to make a doctor’s appointment. I know he thinks I’m fertile, but he had said he was gonna take the beginning steps and get a physical “just in case” once we got our new medical cards (our insurance is now Intergroup), but he hasn’t made a move yet to make an appointment. He’s had the time, too, but he hasn’t read their brochures or anything. That’s some motivated guy! He really wants that kid!

Anyway, since you either have kids or life, I really appreciate my sterility/freedom when we get new programs like this graphics thing that provide hours of fun that I couldn’t have had with a child. I also have nothing to worry about as far as our getting together this weekend (prime time) so he can have an attack of amnesia and forget how to fuck me. I’ve dropped enough hints about how many things need to be done this weekend, so I don’t think the scaredy-cat will bother. He knows I’m uncomfortable about it, too. He hasn’t said so, but I just know, and I know where his true feelings lie, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to forget about sex till next week. Unless he really wants to play games and tease me. Also, my schedule’s gonna be on nights, and he’ll probably be working on Mary’s car. Mary always needs work done on her car.

Paula left a message last night, but once again, we’re playing phone tag.

Andy left 3 goddamn messages Wednesday, tried calling twice yesterday, so I’m sure I’ll get 2-3 messages today of the same old.

I called to see what was going on with Tammy and she was on her way to her second home - the doctor’s office.

God, these freeloaders have really scarred me, so to speak, with their fucking bass. Just like the NHA scarred me with other sounds. If I hear anything, like a big truck that resembles a bassy sound, I totally tense up. Thanks, freeloaders. Thanks a fucking lot! Well, hopefully the nasty, hateful things I said in my letter to them will make the lasting impression on them that they’ve made on me. Speaking of lasting impressions, though, as much as they’ve stressed me out and made my life miserable on and off, when we move, I won’t remain so scarred as I did after leaving the NHA. After leaving the NHA, there were still similar sounds and the same sounds that triggered that old familiar tension in me and that brought me right back there in my mind. But when we leave here, there’ll be no kids, bass, dogs, slamming, banging, screaming, and all that shit that I had to live with, to remind me and to stress me out.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 7, 1998 I am waiting for Andy to arrive. He’ll be late, as usual, but he has to leave by 10:30 when I get Tom up, cuz we have to go to the store. We’re looking into something they’ve got that’s supposed to speed up your metabolism. I’m now 122 pounds and it’s getting hard to just accept my weight as it is. Unfortunately, though, I have a distinct feeling that something up there does not want me to lose weight. Therefore, if this doesn’t work, nothing will, and I’ll really be forced to just deal with being fat.

Later…

Andy miraculously showed up when I completed my last sentence. He’s on the Internet now.

Anyway, I hope I can find a way to speed up my metabolism, cuz that’s the key to weight loss/gain. People think it’s all diet and exercise. A good diet will keep you healthier and exercise will keep you more fit, but that’s not where it’s at for me right now.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 6, 1998 Tom scanned a picture of me which he cut to fit in one of his little picture frames that my folks sent. He put it on his monitor.

David and Evie sent me an email that I didn’t get cuz I have a block on mail from those who aren’t AOL members. They’re gonna resend it to Tom, who’ll forward it to me. I think it’s Evie who sent me an email. She’s home alone all day with two kids and probably feels she has no life. We have nothing in common, though, so I don’t know what I’d write about when replying to her, but I’ll think of something.

Something insists I deal with junk mail for sure. There’s no escaping it. First it was just mail from other AOL members and now AOL itself is sending it. Are they ever gonna set up junk mail controls for themselves? Of course not! They’re so fucking annoying, though, cuz every time I go into something, I have to wait for this form to come up for some bullshit item they’re selling, be it encyclopedias on CD-ROM, etc.

It is freezing out there! I just went to empty the recyclables and it’s cold. It had only been getting down to around 55º but I’m sure it’ll get close to 40º out there tonight.

My TV dinner’s just about ready, so I’ll return after.

Later…

It’s a good thing I have an eye for detail. When we went to the hardware store a while ago, I saw a light identical to the one that Tom put up in the back room. Now those two old, ugly ceiling lights/fans are gone and now there are two nice-looking fluorescent lights. These ones, though, aren’t too bright.

The new king-size comforter we got is nice and I love how it’s colorful, but I could never get it into this small washer to wash. Tom says that the old one’s easy to fix and that it’s the same problem we’ve had before, so he knows how to fix it. So, we’ll just run a hose to it when we want to use it in the garage where it’s at now, drain it in a tub, then dump it out back. This way I can do big things like that. He doesn’t have to worry about a hookup to where there’s hot water either cuz we can wash things like a comforter and curtains in cold water.

The mice’s cage is in 5 sections, so to speak. There are the 3 Play City cages, the maze, and the aquarium. I created a new setup that both of us really like. I cleared some of my stuff off my little worktable and ran a tube down from the house that sits on top of the aquarium, to the maze that now sits on my worktable. So as I write by hand, the mice are just a few inches away. Some of them are, anyway.

Everyone’s making babies around here (except for us, of course) and we’re gonna have to get rid of that bitch of a mother cat somehow someday soon. She’s gonna have more kittens for sure, cuz Daddy Cat’s been hanging around like crazy. Tom says he hopes that Mama Cat will leave when she gets pregnant. Not a chance. Naturally, she’ll stay where the food is and where she already knows she’s safe. I still wonder about these mice, too.

Tom and I have been getting along better lately. I tell you, it’s cuz we haven’t had much sex and cuz we haven’t discussed this child we can never have that he doesn’t want. As soon as that’s the topic of discussion and as soon as there’s more sex than once a week or so, there goes the fights. Sex and relationships really don’t mix too much better than oil and water.

MONDAY, JANUARY 5, 1998 I just did some singing and now I’m back to write some more.

I hope to hell the guy at the pet store knew what he was talking about when he said that mice don’t become sexually active till 6 months, cuz I’ve been seeing a lot of screwing. I hope it’s just a case of instinct taking them through the motions like with a puppy dog and nothing that’s reproducing. If it is, though, we’ll just do what Tom said and take in boxes of mice. Lots of mice.

Later…

I ended up scanning some pictures for Kim and Bob, too.

I’ve decided that if I don’t hear from Anne and Harry in the next few months, I’ll do what I did with Shelly and write no more. Remember, I don’t want any 1-sided relationships of any kind.

I asked Tom if Ma was getting cold feet about moving cuz I thought by now she’d be in with Mary and have the house up for sale. Tom told me that she’s decided on March 1st to be moved and I guess that’s when she’ll place the house up for sale, too. I hope to hell it doesn’t take a year to sell. Then poor Tom will have to mow it and have the responsibility of that house for even longer.

As soon as that house sells, though, God will fill Tom’s time with other stuff. I really believe that he’s always wanted us to screw part-time and not have much time together for another reason, along with the ones I’ve already mentioned. He (God) that is. Well, due to us not being able to see each other much or screw much - it makes it more special when we do. However, things have changed as far as the sex goes. We seem to be the opposite of what we were towards the beginning of our relationship. Now he seems to want sex more than me. Thankfully, it’s not that his appetite’s that much higher than it was, but the sex has really “died” for me, so to speak. The only reasons for it that I can think of are that it isn’t new anymore (we’re not newlyweds), and all the shit/teasing he’s pulled.

If I could have my way, I’d never screw again during prime time, as sterile as I am! I don’t ever want to be the source of his teasing, lying games ever again! I’m going to make an excuse to get out of sex from the 9th to the 11th or so, and he knows it. I can tell he knows that I’m gonna want to bail out of bed then and I’m afraid he’s gonna try to lure me to him at that time so he can play with me yet again. And suddenly “forget” how to get inside me. And act as if he’s never fucked a woman before in his life. But I see right through Tom S. I see the real fun in it for him. And the fear, too. I asked myself time and time again - why’d he cum the 5-7 or so times he came during prime time? That’s the one and only thing that contradicts my belief of his being too scared/not wanting a child. The only thing that comes to mind is that he took the chance to see if he could create a cover for the truth.

Later…

Tom and I went to the store earlier so I could pick up the next few months’ worth of birthday cards, although there are no March birthdays. For January, I got cards for Larry and Lisa. For February, I got cards for Jen, Sandy, and Andy.

While I was at the store, I also got a couple of refrigerator magnets with cactus/desert scenes. They also had scorpions embedded in round plastic domes, not that I’d ever get one. David and Evie had plenty, though. Some construction work that was going on near where they live stirred them up and they were finding them in their drawers in their clothes and everywhere. Evie wanted to move. Instead, though, they got a scorpion expert to come out and exterminate them.

God and his fucking compensations, I swear! Now that I can breathe, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t fucking sneeze! Tom and I both think we’re allergic to the stinky mice, but they’re worth it.

Anyway, some days may be easier than others, but I still miss my cigarettes every day. It’s still a lot like trading in one misery for another. You either smoke and suffer from lung trouble and pay the cost of it, or you quit and suffer the cravings and the weight gain.

Remember how I said that now that the holidays are over, and as we get closer to Ma’s house being sold, God would give Tom other jobs? Well, he’s trying. A crazy woman that Evelyn knows called looking for Tom to tutor her on some project she’s working on. She said she had surgery and wondered if the anesthesia killed her brain. She reminds me so much of Ellie and Ma’s crazy sister Margaret. Ma has a lot of half and whole sisters. There’s Opal, Geneva (Neva), Evelyn, Margaret, and Betty, who’s passed away, as well as a few others I’m sure I’m forgetting. Nonetheless, Tom told the liar who said she called only once when she really called twice according to the caller ID box, that he was too busy.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 4, 1998 I hear noises every now and then outside and am like, is it the cats or the freeloaders? You never know with the freeloaders, who are mostly night people. Tom says, though, that the car hasn’t been moved. Then I either saw wrong when I thought I saw it out front, or he parked it in the same exact spot. If that car’s still there either way, then they obviously aren’t broken up. If he isn’t there and isn’t driving something else, then where are he and the dog? It shocks the shit out of me that I haven’t heard the dog or the music, but I know it’s just a matter of time. Especially when it comes to the music. I wonder if the beast could’ve turned on and attacked him and laid his ass in the hospital, or if he could be in jail? We heard a car door or two in the early evening, then a short while later, we heard a kid cry and car doors again.

Well, the cats are definitely making noise now. I can hear them banging on the back door. I open the door and offer to let them in for a while, but they either just stand there and stare at me, or come in and walk around for a few minutes, then they’re all anxious to split.

Tweety chirps on and off, but there’s something about running water. He really loves to chirp to the sound of that. Also, I was playing a CD by Linda earlier and singing along and there was just one song, out of the 5 or so I played, that Tweety must’ve really liked, cuz it’s the only one he sang to.

The kittens love to sit outside the back room window and swat at bugs that are drawn to the light that’s just inside it.

Anyway, Tom says my singing was excellent as usual but better in the way that it’s clearer. Yeah, I definitely don’t have to clear my throat every other line anymore, but it’s still rather nasally.

Later…

Boy, have I been having fun with the new scanner! Tom showed me a few little tricks to make scanning, enhancing photos, and printing them, much easier. I showed him a thing or two myself. Things I stumbled upon while exploring/experimenting with the program.

We scanned and printed out a larger version of a couple of small pictures I had of Gloria, and even a journal cover of mine, too! I want to have a picture of the cover of each of my written journals at the head of each of their typed versions but I’ve got to wait till I update my old word processor first. Tom thinks Mary can get us a copy from where she works.

I also scanned several photos of Tom and me for Paula, Larry, and Anne & Harry. I even sent a couple to Tammy. I am amazed at the quality of what they printed! They’re almost as good as the original photograph.

I was dead wrong about Andy’s new roommate Gary. He is not a druggie. According to him, all he does is smoke cigarettes. I was shocked.

It figures - we pump more water out of the pool and what does it do? It rains.

I was right on what I saw after all. Tom said he saw the car in the same spot, only it was parked facing the street. Yeah, I knew the fuck was there. He was gone all day and asked if I slept OK since he knows how they can be with slamming car doors. I slept fine fortunately for them and won’t do anything more to them till they make their next move with their noise. They haven’t been heard yet, but one of us will hear the music any day now. But I don’t know what I feel more of - shocked or thrilled, that the dog’s still not back yet!!

FRIDAY, JANUARY 2, 1998 Phoenix, AZ Age 32

I better get writing before I get any more backed up.

The last few days have brought us pleasant daytime weather. Even warm weather. Before that, it was chilly in the day and freezing at night, but that will return for another month and a half or so.

So far, I’m doing well with my New Year’s resolution. As I said, there is knowing you can’t change something, and then there’s learning to live with that fact. So, I’m bound and determined to have this be the year that I learn to live with and accept the things that just cannot be changed. If I try not to let things get me down and eat at me, maybe I can have a happier and even more productive life.

Now let me get the neighborhood animals out of the way first. I had worried that the freeloaders would be a part of our New Year’s Day, but guess who decided to be a part of it instead? Someone I haven’t heard from in years - the lonely, wanna-be-heard-and-noticed college boys across the street. It wasn’t by them playing music in their little band they used to form but by their car stereo. Leave it to them to have a car with this kind of stereo. However, God was on my side with this one as he was when I told them to shut their band up. I asked once to turn it down and they did so. They didn’t have selective memory loss and not give a shit and blast it again a few hours later.

So far I haven’t heard the freeloaders, but Martin Luther King Day is later this month, so I know I’ll hear them on MLK Day. That brings me to another part of my new year’s resolution and that is that 1998 will not include their shit and their noise. As soon as he steps out of line with the music, I’m either gonna put him in his place and beat him into utter fear of fucking with me, or I’ll terrorize the shit out of them and drive them out of here. I was here first, and I don’t want these freeloaders to be an on-and-off part of my life anymore.

Every time I think I’ve got a handle on just what they’re up to next door, they throw me a curveball. I don’t know if the pigs had anything to do with me, with him, or what, but they can’t be broken up. Not with the way his car sat there for days and how they were talking earlier. I’d say that yes, there was no one there on New Year’s Eve and the night before, but they’ve been back since yesterday. I know the car has finally moved, cuz it was out front when I heard the mad bitch. Amazingly, the dog hasn’t returned yet, but anytime now I’m sure it will. His music hasn’t been a problem yet, but like I said, when it is, I’ll either put a final end to it, or I’ll dish back some shit of my own and really play with them like they were toys. It might be fun to make their lives a living hell and be their worst nightmare. However, kicking his ass would be a quicker solution.

I haven’t been a member of Gloria’s fan club in years now, but they’re still sending stuff. There was a holiday postcard with her photocopied handwriting that said she designed the front of it on her computer. A boring design it was, and her handwriting’s sloppier than mine.

Tom set up the VCR/computer so I could capture more Norah pictures than just the one I’ve been using all along, for my random screensaver/wallpaper collection. This was a lot of fun to do.

We got a new color inkjet printer and a color flatbed scanner, and I love them! I re-printed my old Norah pictures and some of Gloria’s and they’re so much better! They’re almost of photographic quality for sure. The scanner’s pretty sophisticated and now I can just scan any drawings for my folks or for Tammy and attach copies with my email to them, or print out copies for Larry, but there’s a catch. So far, I’ve been teaching myself how to use the stuff. The printer’s pretty easy, but there’s so much entailed within the scanner and each procedure seemed to take forever. I scanned in an old, small picture of Gloria. Then I tried to enhance the quality, but it took forever. I’ll have to ask Tom some questions about this, but boy did I shock the shit out of myself last night! I did things I can’t believe I did on my own without being taught.

I had taken a break from my video captions project, then went back to it later, and forgot to put them into my wallpaper file. So, it took me a while to find them, which I amazingly did. Then I had to figure out how to cut/paste them into my wallpaper file, then dither all the colors. I couldn’t believe I figured all this out myself! I’m sure if I kept poking at the scanner’s program I could learn more, but I’d rather wait for Tom for now.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 1, 1998 Tom just got back in from working on Eileen’s daughter’s computer and what did he get for it? Cupcakes. Just cupcakes. He says Eileen will make it up to him, but I just knew it. I knew that as soon as that house sold the users would come crawling out of the woodwork again. Not that I’m not glad the house sold, but if I had business pals, I’d expect to be paid up front.

Tom said my doll could come on Tuesday since mailmen typically don’t deliver packages on Monday, unless they’re first class, cuz they have a higher volume of regular mail those days. It seems I spend more time waiting for dolls than I do enjoying them.

Tom read in an ad in a magazine, that John Saul’s Blackstone Chronicles was a TV miniseries. It was? Since when?

Last night’s movie was great, and no one was pregnant or gave birth! I couldn’t believe it.

I heard not one stereo blast by all weekend. I was shocked. I really thought Halloween would bring out those bangers.

OK, here’s our freeloader’s behavior report - first off, no one was dumb enough to knock on our door last night, and there were a lot of people out this year. I saw more adults out there than kids, too.

There was no music all weekend. At 6:30 yesterday evening, I came out of the bedroom where the fan had been blaring and where we were lying together reading and talking, and I saw the white car out front. I figured they were out making their rounds, although Tom said he doubted they trick or treated in this neighborhood. Yeah, that’d make sense. I’m sure they have enough enemies around here. It looks like they did, though, unless they came out of their house and not from the streets at 8:00. All I know is that I suddenly heard a car door that I knew was next door and was thinking, the car’s leaving. That was easy enough. Then the reality of how they operate came through again and I told myself, they’re not gonna just leave. You know them. They want to be heard. Especially by you. They’ve got to slam some doors, honk some horns, and do some yelling before they leave. You know that. So, there weren’t any honks, but there was a good 5-10 minutes of door slamming and yelling. That bitch was furious about something and was yelling at what sounded like some other woman.

Today, Tom reported a small white car that he’d never seen before came to get the bitch at 7:30 and then brought her back later. She must’ve snuck out unnoticed at some point, cuz at 3:00 I saw the white car, the bitch, and a black boy that looked too young to be the one I spoke to when I threatened to shoot the dog. It jumped up and swung off the basketball hoop, which I hopelessly prayed would break while it was doing so, then they both disappeared from view, and the car left. It didn’t look like the bitch or boy left in this car, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

I think I figured out why that bitch goes to church. Well, it obviously isn’t because she’s so kind and believes in being all nice and loving and wonderful and non-selfish and all that good stuff. The church may preach hate against gays and against those who are different than them, but they do give to and pity the poor. That small white car could’ve been from the church she goes to and I’ll bet you the only reason she goes to church is to see what she can get.

I asked Tom if he felt that there’d have been nothing we could do about the music if they were owners and not renters at risk of losing the house, short of beating the shit out of them, and he said no. People can still complain and people still get citations for breaking the law. Yeah, but I think going about it the legal way would’ve been much harder, and taking illegal action would’ve been much more necessary.

When I see Bill, I see a bit more sense and maturity there, so I’d think, I’d hope that he’d try talking some sense into his daughter and her cronies, and say, “If all they want is for your noise to be kept out of their home, give it to them. That’s no big deal, and it’s a reasonable request, so just shut up and leave these people alone. They didn’t do anything to you to start all this and to deserve it. It was only after you so selfishly and rudely ignored their reasonable request that they fought back. They gave you enough chances to quiet down before going to the city and I’m sure they didn’t want to and I’m sure they didn’t want trouble any more than most people, but when you shit, you get shit on. You get treated how you treat folks.”

She’s just lucky I didn’t severely maim her that day she took her tantrum on my doorstep, and Mikey’s lucky, too. If it weren’t for Tom, I’d have beaten the shit out of them a long time ago. No doubt about it. So they have him to thank.

Speaking of good ole Mikey, I haven’t seen him. When he moved out late ‘96 - early ‘97 he’d still come around on weekends, but I haven’t seen his car in weeks. Does he pick her up in the mornings? Bring her back at night?

Tom still believes that they’ll stay as good as they have been till we move and that we’ll go first. If they’ve got to say hello with the music every 3 months, fine, but they don’t have a choice but to be as they have been. He still feels June’s a likely time for us to move, but admits that anything could come up to stall us. If something can come up to delay it, it will. My June vibe’s weakened and now I’m wondering about August. I do strongly vibe that that was our last Halloween here, so that’s good.

Damn, bitch! You really get out and about on Sundays, don’t you? I just heard a car door, looked out and saw Bill’s car, then someone was reaching into the backseat, then they shut the back door, then Bill left. I assume this someone was the bitch, even though it’s dark now. I could tell by the aggressive manner in which her shadow moved and by how hard she slammed doors. Anyway, I’m sure she’s tucked in for the night now. And in just 12 hours she’ll have to leave for quite a while again. Yuck! I can tell she’s not the homebody type.

If there are two things I could ask this bitch, one thing would be, are you ever in a good mood? Secondly, do you always have your hair in a ponytail tucked under at the nape of your neck? I only saw it down once.

Now for my best news. I’m so proud of myself, too! I didn’t eat a damn thing yesterday. Just a good 500 calories worth of drinks. I felt OK, too. Just a little weak and shaky in the heart, but my fast-beating heart was probably due to having to be woken up too soon. I had Tom wake me up with caffeine coffee since I’d have slept all day otherwise. After I’d had a TV dinner and had been up a few hours, I felt fine.

I still don’t know what I’m gonna do about the eating, though. Do I want to go hungry and stay around the same weight? (I woke up 4 pounds lighter today at 113) or do I want to satisfy my hunger and get God only knows how big?

Tom and I didn’t end up screwing yesterday, but we spent time together, so that was nice. We made an attempt today, but he was too tired, so he’s napping now and I’ll be getting him up in 20 minutes. He has to go into work at 8:00.

Tom’s decided he’s gonna do the roof.

Later…

Jesus fucking Christ! Is that bitch’s day gonna end yet? Doesn’t she have to go to bed early and get up early? I guess she snuck out unnoticed again, cuz I was just distracted from proofreading when I heard yelling. A boy of about 8 years of age was yelling, and I could hear an adult voice, too. Only the freeloaders could be out screaming at the top of their lungs at 8:00 on a chilly night. So I went and spied out of the music room window and sure enough, the voices were coming from there. Somebody was bringing that bitch back, but I couldn’t see any vehicle. Just its headlights as it pulled out. Joebitch, Joebitch, Joebitch! If you can’t get my attention with music, you do it with screaming, huh? Yes bitch, I know you’re there. I know you’re there, OK?

Later…

Nighty night, bitch. Yeah, it’s lights out over there now.

[poemgirl22]

Next Chapter

You seem to neglect the way you treated me

Maybe you push it to the back of your mind to help you get to sleep.

But for whatever reason you fail to recollect

The times you left me all alone in our bed.

And starting conversations with you at dinner while we’d eat

Was like trying to pull teeth, it became exhausting

So I’d stop talking altogether

I got so tired of trying to make us better.

Did I really not do enough or are you just talking about yourself?

Was I really freeloading? You must be thinking of someone else.

I gave and I gave and when I couldn’t I still gave more.

All what for? To be standing in front of a slamming door?

You manipulate the story to make everyone feel sorry for you.

You spin it and flip it until it becomes your truth.

I’m sure the sympathy is endless, coming your way.

Sure I’ll play the part you tell them all I play.

You want me to be a bitch? I’ll become it

I face the truth head on while you’re too busy running from it

Oh you want to tell them how I lied through my teeth?

But do they know about all of the shit that you did to me

Prior to my lie, which quite frankly you deserved.

Did you tell them how you left me and immediately slept with her?

Did you tell them about how you made my own mother cry?

When all she ever did was include you in that family of mine?

Did you tell them how you insulted me and my weight?

You questioned my intentions, brought up every one of my mistakes?

Told me to my face how I amounted to nothing.

After 3 years down the drain of me trying to be nothing but loving.

So fuck you and your bullshit I’ve finally had enough.

I told them all the truth, something you never would have done.

You wanna lay it all out there? Good. So will I.

I’m glad this chapters done with. I’m glad you’re out of my damn life.