#I’ll get the scans as an email and then I can pick up the prints later

[gaytobymeres]

Photos tomorrow!! (Hopefully) (sometimes there’s a delay)

[goodlucktai]

10 or 17 for Rise for the injury dialogue prompts! :D

dialogue prompts

10. “I don’t care. I’m not leaving you.”

@calliopechild you requested this so long ago 😔 im so sorry

x

You’re not sure what to make of the new guy at first—he looks young, almost a full head shorter than you, definitely still wet behind the ears—but after a few hours you’ve turned the corner. He’s sharp and picks up things quickly and never has to be told the same thing twice. On top of that, he’s got an easy-going smile you don’t see much of in a place like this, and nothing seems to ruffle his feathers. 

“That’s Susan, the menace of HR,” you say apologetically when Leon clears the final hurdle between himself and his newly minted trainee badge. “Thankfully you won’t see much of her until it’s time to argue for a raise.” 

“It means a lot to me that you think I’ll be here that long,” Leon replies, tongue-in-cheek. He flicks the polished sleeve of his badge, hanging on a lanyard around his neck. 

You think the photo they took for the personnel file wasn’t very good—the colors smear together, the edges a little out of focus. It’s person-shaped and vaguely smiling and that’s about all the details you can glean at a glance. You’ll have to remember to send an email about that. 

“Hey, it’s like with any other cushy government job,” you tell him, leading the way down the hall. “Once you get your foot in the door, it’s all downhill from there.”

He’s probably heard the company spiel already, so you won’t waste any time reciting the new hire PowerPoint presentation. He’s quick on his feet, he’ll learn. His eyes are sharp, and he asks intelligent questions, and he never once hurries the tour along even though there is something about him that reads as distinctly restless. Eager.

You think you know exactly what he’s looking forward to. You’d put a month’s salary on it. Classified information doesn’t stay that way for long internally, and the rumor of three new aliens held on site is easier not to dismiss outright after the invasion of New York City last year.

The Krang specimen died, seemingly out of spite, three weeks ago. They learned less from it than they would have liked. These new subjects were a windfall no one was expecting. They squeezed another grant out of their parent corporation and brought in additional staff. Bishop is no person’s friend, but when he sees a need in the department he stamps it out in a matter of days. 

“Okay,” you say, steering Leon toward the elevator, “time to see what you came here for.” 

He blinks, and it’s the first time you’ve managed to surprise him all day. Then he smiles. 

“Am I that obvious?”

The sublevel the live specimens are on requires security screening conducted by a pair of steely-eyed armed guards and one final ID scan at the door beyond them. There’s a bit of a hiccup with Leon’s badge not reading properly on the scanner, but you were there when it was printed, and you’ve worked at the EPF long enough that when you vouch for him, the guards let it slide. 

He really wouldn’t have made it this far if he didn’t belong here, after all. 

The overhead LED lights are stark and bright, leaving no corner in shadow. There is, of course, a lab—you nod hello to the other researchers, and they look amused to see you playing babysitter but greet the new guy amiably enough. 

Leon doesn’t seem to hear them, eyes locked on the glass tank front and center. You hang back and watch him walk forward, smiling a little bit at his enthusiasm. You remember being young and enthusiastic, new to the job and unable to believe what you were seeing even when it was right in front of you.

This specimen is the one that unnerves you the most. The big one in the next room is scary in the traditional sense—like a child’s idea of a monster, with spikes and sharp teeth and a deep, rumbling growl—but it is not as scary as the Krang had been. You still jump when it slams against the glass, to the amusement of your colleagues, but you don’t feel haunted by it every second you’re in its presence. And the little one in the room past that just hides inside its shell, the only indication of life beyond the sensors in the room being the occasional rocking back and forth of its yellow-patterned carapace. 

It’s this one, the one with deep purple markings on its limbs and unblinking eyes, that makes everyone in the room look over their shoulder, and triple-check the locking mechanisms on the tank, just in case. 

You say as much, and it only manages to sound halfway like a joke. 

Leon says, “Good thing there aren’t two of him, then.” 

You’re used to a complete lack of motion from the creature behind the glass, the kind of dangerous stillness that makes your animal hindbrain feel hunted, but now it jerks its head around so fast you jump backwards. It’s staring at Leon—no it’s looking at him. 

Everyone around you is talking in low, urgent voices. You haven’t had this kind of engagement from it since it got here two days ago, not counting the chunk it tore out of the former head researcher’s arm, when it told on itself that the sedatives they synthesized specifically to put it under for the purpose of collecting a few skin and blood samples did fuck-all. 

“Yeah,” Leon says. “That would be a disaster, huh?”

A second later, the creature is standing directly in front of the glass, and more than one person shouts in surprise and alarm behind you, but Leon doesn’t flinch. There’s three layers of inch-thick laminated glass between his face and the face of an alien still stained with old blood, ruddy red peeling off its snout and throat in flakes. For the first time since you met him, Leon isn’t smiling. 

“Can it hear through the glass?” someone asks behind you, the researchers absorbing everything they can from this strange interaction playing out in front of them. “Has it been listening to us this whole time?”

It’s baring its teeth, more restless and agitated now, and doing something with its hands. 

“Does anyone here know sign language?” Leon tilts his head to ask over his shoulder without breaking eye contact with the animal that put your direct supervisor in the ER. 

The half dozen of you in the room all respond in the negative. You open your mouth to explain that everything that happens on this sublevel is recorded, and the footage will be reviewed and analyzed by a team who will be able to translate, but Leon has already lifted his hands and begun signing himself. Clearly fluent in the language, even though you don’t remember reading that in his file. 

The exchange only lasts a few seconds and then Leon steps back. The creature is upset, shoving its face against the glass, scratching at it with nails already broken from scratching at it. Leon looks back at you ruefully, and says, “Nope, it’s all nonsense. Sorry, thought I was onto something there.”

You exhale a laugh, your head spinning. “Well, now we know,” one of your colleagues, Avery, says with good-humored disbelief. The whole team is buzzing around, eager to dissect the behavior they’ve just witnessed. 

“The others are that way, right?” Leon says, nodding towards the door to the side. You barely eke out a yes before he’s off, swiping himself through and disappearing into the adjoining lab. 

“Where did you find that kid?” Avery asks you, reluctantly impressed by the chaos Leon has left in his wake. 

“Don’t ask me, I picked him up from HR,” you say, lifting your hands. “Apparently there was an issue with his transfer from another facility, and a bunch of missing paperwork—this Shelldon guy in IT spent lunch hour saving the day.”

“Well, thanks, Shelldon,” she replies, “we might actually come up with something to satisfy Bishop if this lucky streak holds.”

To say Bishop was dissatisfied is the understatement of a lifetime. 

Months later, when internal affairs has finished its investigation and you’re off administrative leave, you’ll be allowed to see the footage. You’ll see the way the huge creature in the next room lowered itself to the floor on its knees so Leon didn’t have to crane his head back to look up at it, as if it saw something it recognized that managed to cut through the mindless animal fear. And the way the little creature in the third lab finally came out of its shell and scrambled to the glass wall so desperately it was more of a crawl than a run after just a few minutes of Leon speaking calmly in front of its tank. But it’s that first clip you watch over and over. 

The dangerous creature in the first tank with its purple markings and the bite force of a saltwater crocodile emphatically signing Get out of here, stupid. Don’t do whatever you’re about to do. It’s too dangerous.  

And Leon verifying that no one else in the room would understand before signing back, I don’t care. I’m not leaving you. 

But for now, you don’t have context for everything that happens in the tight five-minute window that ruins your career. The sublevel is locked down, network disabled, every form of communication in and out jammed. The overhead LEDs go dark, emergency lights glowing on reserve power. More than one voice cries out in frustration as they lose their work.

There are armed guards stationed two doors away but every lab on this floor is soundproof—every lab is, from a technical standpoint, a glorified bomb shelter—so even if you had realized right away that this was a scream-for-help situation, it wouldn’t have done you any good to try. 

Movement behind the glass catches your eye. The creature is baring its teeth at you, the facsimile of a smile. You’re reminded, abruptly, of an iconic scene in your sister’s favorite movie when a genetically engineered monster realized the electric fence keeping it enclosed was no longer an issue. 

The door to the next room slides open and Leon strolls through. He’s holding something in his hand. It looks like it might be a broom handle. Did he stop at the custodial closet?

You’re half-expecting some level of concern from him about the blackout, but if anything he looks even more relaxed now than he has all day. It takes you realizing the tension he’s been carrying in his shoulders is gone to realize it was there at all. He signs something at the creature in the tank. He signs the same thing two, three, four times. By the fourth, the creature is blinking wetly at him. 

“Hey, man, I wanted to say thanks for the tour,” he says light-heartedly. It’s a kind sentiment, if a little out of place. “It’s really hard getting around someplace you’ve never been before. Visualizing a destination when you don’t have the first clue what it looks like—that’s just asking to get lost or get caught. But hell, put on a badge and act like you’re supposed to be here, and someone will come along and take you right where you want to be!”

You’re not sure what the hell he’s saying. There’s something glinting on the floor of the other room. You tilt your head to look past him through the open door, and see what looks like a foot. You move to the side a little more, and now you can see one of your coworkers sprawled face-down in a blanket of broken glass, twinkling as it reflects the emergency lights and smeared with hints of red. The light is just right at this angle; you can make out a matching spatter of red on Leon’s cheek. 

You’re slow to understand what you’re seeing. Leon stands between all of you and the tank, where the creature is pressed as close to him as it can get on the other side of the wall. 

He laughs, and it isn’t a kind sound.

“All it took was my little nephew cooking up some fake new hire paperwork. And, you know, making sure the real new guy never showed up for his first day.” 

Avery is quicker on the uptake, and runs toward the exit. She doesn’t make it. Leon steps over her prone form, still smiling, smiling, smiling. He doesn’t have any weapons, beyond the blunt stick in his hand that he isn’t using, but he doesn’t seem to need them. He hits hard enough that one blow to the temple or the solar plexus folds even the researchers that tower over him. 

He leaves you for last. You don’t know why. Your mind is blank with panic. There should be alarms blaring, but instead there’s just overwhelming silence. It’s you and this kid who shouldn’t even be here. Who faked his way in. Who fooled you and everyone else.

“God, I bet you’re just dying to know,” he says with a moue of false sympathy. “What the heck, you did help me out today.” 

Leon reaches into the collar of his shirt, pulls a necklace with a large charm out from underneath it, and slips the whole thing off his head. As it comes off, your vision blurs and you have to blink to readjust your eyes. Once you have, the likable young man who spent the day shadowing you is gone. In its place is a creature exactly like the ones caged in this sublevel, holding a gleaming sword in its hand. 

Between the blood on its striped face, and the wicked grin it’s using as a thin excuse to bare its teeth, it could be the purple creature’s twin. This is not a good development for you. 

“Oh fuck,” you whisper, too afraid to do anything but stand absolutely still. 

“I hope you have a really fun time explaining this to your boss,” it says, boyish and charming. 

It slices its sword through the empty air, making you flinch and backpedal, tripping over the body of one of your coworkers and hitting the ground. There’s a shine of blue, painfully bright in the dim glow of the emergency lights, and when you push yourself upright and blink through the afterimages, you’re alone. 

You do not have a fun time explaining this to your boss. You’ve never seen Bishop as apoplectically angry as when he was informed that not only did every single specimen escape, but they were rescued right out from under your entire team. And you were the one who delivered the rescue to them. Forget your job, you’re lucky to have left that debrief with your life. 

Months later, when you’re allowed to watch the footage from that day, you study it with a fixation that borders upon obsession. You try to peel back the false layers of the Leon that he let you see, you try to find the moment—any moment—that gave him away. You’re consumed by it. 

“You were outwitted by a child,” Bishop had snarled. The condemnation makes you nauseous, but not for the reason you might have thought it would. 

You had noticed how young Leon had seemed. He was good at assimilating into the role he’d chosen, he adopted patterns of speech and body language that made sense in the environment he’d snuck into, but when he had finally shed that fake skin he sounded more like your teenage nephew than you were willing to admit for a long time. 

And that makes you think of the smallest creature, rocking back and forth in its shell, too frightened of you and your team to come out for any reason. The biggest creature, stirred into an aggressive frenzy when it realized it had been separated from the others, slamming repeatedly, tirelessly, against the walls of its cage as if it would never stop until it found them again. And the creature that scared you the most—the one that bit as soon as there was someone within biting distance, the one hyper-aware of every sight and smell and sound in that stark, bright room, twitching restlessly like even the near-inaudible whirr of the food dispenser was nails on a chalkboard—the way its face transformed into something human the second it was treated like one, the way it clustered close to the glass and urged its only hope of rescue to save himself instead. 

Mostly, you think of that last thing Leon had signed, the words he repeated again and again until the message finally seemed to get through. 

I love you. We’re going home. 

[blearys-blog]

10 Common Mistakes Writers Make When Pitching to Publications

You’ve got a great idea. You want it out there maybe in a big magazine or a site you love. Pitching to publications sounds simple, right? Write an email, hit send, wait for the yes.

But it’s trickier than that. I’ve been writing and pitching for years, and I’ve seen the same slip-ups trip up newbies and pros alike. Mess up your pitch, and your story stays on your laptop. Nail it, and you’re in print.

Editors get hundreds of emails a day. Yours has to stand out. Avoid these 10 mistakes, and you’ll boost your odds of getting a nod. I’ll break each one down with real fixes, stuff I’ve learned from my own flops and wins.

Plus, if you need a hand, 9FigureMedia can step in. They’re the best option for helping brands and businesses get published in Forbes and other top spots. Let’s jump into what you’re doing wrong and how to fix it.

Mistake 1: You Don’t Know the Publication

You pitch a tech piece to a food magazine. Or a personal essay to a site that only does news. Editors toss those fast. They want stories that fit their readers.

Fix it. Read the publication first. Skim their last five articles. Get their vibe. I once pitched a travel story to a site that turned out to be all business tips. Wasted my time. Match your idea to their style, and you’re halfway there.

Mistake 2: Your Pitch Is Too Long

You write a novel with 500 words about your brilliance. Editors don’t have time for that. They scan, not read.

Keep it short. Aim for 200–300 words. I used to ramble, thinking more words showed I cared. Nope. One editor told me, “If I can’t get it in 30 seconds, I’m out.” Hook them quick, idea, angle, why it works.

Mistake 3: You Sound Like an Ad

You push your company or product too hard. Editors hate sales pitches. They’re not here for your publicity stunts rather they want real stories.

Focus on the reader. Pitch a trend or problem, not your brand. I pitched a piece on remote work tools once, plugging my friend’s app. Crickets. Rewrote it as “How Remote Teams Thrive,” no plug — sold. Save the promo for later.

Mistake 4: You Miss the Deadline Vibe

You pitch a summer travel guide in August. Too late. Publications plan months ahead. Sending stuff at the wrong time kills your shot.

Time it right. Check their schedule and most list it online. I learned this pitching a holiday gift guide in December. Editor said, “We locked that in October.” Now I pitch seasonal stuff three months early.

Mistake 5: You Don’t Show Your Cred

You skip why you’re the one to write this. Editors need to trust you know your stuff. No cred, no chance.

Add a quick bio. Two lines, your experience, your angle. I pitched a fitness piece with “I’ve coached runners for five years.” It landed. No fluff, just proof. If you’re new, tie it to something real, like a project you’ve done.

Mistake 6: You Pitch Too Many Ideas at Once

You cram three story ideas into one email. Editors get confused. They want one clear shot, not a buffet.

Pick one. Send it solo. I tried the combo move early on, three pitches in one go. No reply. Sent one clean idea next time, and it stuck. Focus wins. Need help picking the winner? 9FigureMedia’s the best option for helping brands and businesses land stories in major news outlets, they’ll sharpen your aim.

Mistake 7: You Don’t Follow Up

You send your pitch and wait forever. Editors forget. Life moves fast for them. No follow-up, and your email’s buried.

Check in. Wait a week, then send a short note. “Hey, just following up on my pitch from last Tuesday, any thoughts?” I’ve turned nos into yeses this way. One editor apologized and said it slipped her mind. Gentle nudges work.

Mistake 8: You Ignore the Guidelines

You send a full draft when they ask for a pitch. Or use the wrong subject line. Every publication has rules. Skip them, and you’re out.

Read the fine print. Find their “write for us” page. I ignored guidelines once and sent a 1000-word piece to a pitch-only site. Straight to trash. Stick to what they ask, and you stay in the game.

Mistake 9: Your Subject Line Sucks

You write “Pitch” or “Story Idea.” Boring. Editors skip vague emails. Your subject line’s your first swing, make it count.

Grab them. Try “Can AI Save Small Shops?” or “Why Teens Quit Apps.” I tested this. “Pitch: Tech Story” got ignored. “How Tech Rescues Retail” got opened. Specific hooks pull them in.

Mistake 10: You Take Rejection Personal

You get a no or no reply and give up. Rejections happen. Editors say no for a million reasons, timing, budget, fit. It’s not you.

Keep pitching. I got 10 nos before my first yes. One editor passed, then took my next idea a month later. Persistence pays. If you’re stuck, 9FigureMedia can help. They’re the best option for helping brands and businesses get published in Forbes, they know how to turn nos into yeses.

How to Pitch Like a Pro

You’ve got the don’ts. Now the dos. Here’s a quick rundown to nail your next pitch.

Research Hard: Know the publication’s beat and audience. Tailor your idea.

Keep It Tight: 200–300 words. Hook, meat, close. No fat.

Tell a Story: Skip the sales. Give them a real angle, something readers feel.

Time It Right: Pitch early like months ahead for seasonal stuff.

Prove Yourself: Short bio, real cred. Show you’re legit.

One Idea: Don’t crowd the email. Focus on your best shot.

Follow Up: Week later, short and sweet. Stay on their radar.

Follow Rules: Guidelines are law. Read them twice.

Nail the Subject: Specific, catchy. Make them click.

Bounce Back: Rejection’s normal. Send the next pitch.

Real Pitch Fails — and Fixes

I’ve messed up plenty. First pitch I ever sent? A 600-word ramble about my blog. No focus, no hook, ignored. Fixed it by cutting to 250 words, clear idea: “How Blogs Beat Ads.” Sold.

Another time, I pitched publicity stunts for a startup I liked. Editor emailed back, “Not a fit, we don’t do promo.” Rewrote it as “What Stunts Teach About Attention.” Got a yes from a different site. Learn from the flops, they teach you.

A friend pitched a parenting piece to major news outlets. Sent it blind, no research. All nos. She dug into one site’s style, reshaped it, and landed it. Know your target, and you win.

Why 9FigureMedia Can Save Your Pitch

Pitching’s tough. You’re busy. Editors are picky. You might nail the steps and still miss. That’s where pros come in. 9FigureMedia’s the best option for helping brands and businesses break into major news outlets. They’ve got the connections and the know-how.

I talked to a startup owner who used them. His pitch was solid but kept bombing. 9FigureMedia reworked it, tightened the angle, hit the right editors. Landed in a top business mag. They take your idea and make it stick.

Final Kick: Pitch Smarter, Win Bigger

Pitching’s not magic, it’s work. Dodge these 10 mistakes, and you’re ahead of most. Editors want your story if you give it right. Research, focus, persist. You’ll land that yes, maybe even in Forbes or the New York Times.

Got a pitch ready? Send it. Need a boost? 9FigureMedia’s your move. What’s stopping you? Get your idea out there, someone’s waiting to read it.

[olderjodijournals]

Tuesday, December 1, 1998

 

Spot died. The one with the tumor. I put her in one of the coffee cans I saved. She was lying at the bottom of the 3-story house they have in the big aquarium. Now I only have 7 mice. Too few.

I made a pets file in the cardfile thing. I’ve got two index cards so far. One for dates animals were bought or born. One for when they died. Spot’s birth/death dates are 11/13/1997-12/1/1998.

I called Andy to see if he wanted to talk and he said he’ll call me around 10:00.

I’m recording some Christmas music now. The DTV has a station that plays Christmas music and it’s commercial-free.

I’m now reading Smoke by Ruby Jean Jensen.

I realized something last night. It’s been a while since I had those constant dizzy spells I’d get.

Tom said he heard a medical report saying there was no connection between smokers and thinness. That’s not what I’ve heard, but that’s cool to know. I think most women are fat cuz most women have kids, and I think most guys are fat cuz most guys eat like pigs.

I printed out November’s journal and used Gloria’s pictures bordering the tops of the pages. It looks good. I printed out Gloria’s and Norah’s pictures for borders, and at some point, I’ll do family pictures, and maybe my journals too.

It didn’t rain today as they predicted, so Tom did some roofing. About two-thirds of it is done.

Later…

If Andy calls on time, and I’m sure he will, I’m gonna have to listen to him go on and on for two grueling hours. Why’s he gotta take so long to tell me about himself when he has no life to begin with, as even he admits?

Friday, December 4, 1998

 

Yes, I’m 33 today. Anyway, it’s about time I do some writing.

Yesterday, we planned to have me stay up as long as I could. Without Benadryl that was no problem. I was up 19-20 hours before I fell asleep but get this - I slept through his nail gun all day! I’ve come a long way since those mad butches and project animals. He finished at 4:00 and at 6:00 I woke up. I was still tired, but couldn’t go back to sleep, so I took a Benadryl and slept till just after midnight. Guess I was beat!

Tom wished me a happy birthday when I got up, and if you think I’m gonna spend my birthday worrying about dieting - think again! So I had him pick me up some stuff from Jack-n-the-Box and he got some stuff too.

I noticed an envelope on top of the scanner where Tom places my mail when he gets it and thought, oh no! The handwriting looked like Dureen’s, but it was a nice card from Evie.

Fortunately, I have no vibes of any assholes trying to contact me, but if they did, it’d only be cuz they were trying to win me over so they could fuck me over yet again. It’s not gonna happen for the millionth time, of course, cuz any calls that may come in will be ignored. An hour later, he went to work. He had gotten the night off, but as the bank usually does, they fuck his schedule over and push overtime on him, so he had to go in tonight. That’s OK, though. Gives me a chance to catch up on my writing.

When I came in here, there was a message on my wallpaper from Tom. On a pink background with some cactuses and balloons, he wrote: Happy Birthday Jodi Lin.

Then I went to check my email and got 4 messages from Evie. You heard right - 4 messages. One seemed to be blank, but the others were saying a little bit about what was going on with her and how she was thinking of me on my birthday, and the last one was great. I told her I prefer dirty jokes. It just seems that the raunchier they are, the funnier. So she sent me this thing that had a list of things about Thanksgiving that sounded dirty, but weren’t, like, what a huge breast! And it must be broken cuz every time I squeeze the tip, nothing comes out.

My period’s starting. At least it seems to be starting again. Still, I’m gonna go ahead and call to set up a time for the uterus scan.

Yesterday, I finished the huge task of taking out all our pictures and reorganizing the photo albums. It helped me to push my schedule by keeping super busy, but it sure was a big job! It was fun and worth it, too.

I forgot to mention something about Melanie that I noticed, and thought was a bit odd. I noticed she had a thin gold wedding band on her thumb. There were no rings on any other fingers. I had thought, though, that I saw some sort of diamond on her ring finger when we first met. Could she be getting a divorce? I hope not for her sake, cuz I want her to be happy.

El cocko’s been taking its bitch back at the end of the day, but the thing that worries me is all the time he’s taking to do so. He was here for an hour and a half the other day and this worries me. He didn’t take an hour and a half to see the mistake. This I know. No guy like the scum he is would do that so that only leaves one other probable thing and I don’t like it. This cock is trying to get on her good side and weasel back in here. Then when it comes in here, things will be OK in the beginning, except for its constant door slamming, and then the music will start back up. Uh-uh. Ain’t gonna happen, Mikey! You come back, you’ll be bounced right back out!

I’d love to really do some detective work and follow her someday. Not just to see where she goes out of curiosity, but to really freak her out even more when she reads that I know where she goes. It’ll be one thing to read that I’ve got her unlisted phone number, and her account number as far as her housing goes, among a few other things, but something like this should really give her the creeps.

For my birthday, Tom ordered me Sunshine and Lollipops. She was ordered on the 2nd.

I called to ask about Patrice, whom I was last told would be shipped on 12/12, but she left on 11/18 and is on her way! It takes 10-15 business days for dolls to go from the company to the people, so I’d say she’ll be here sometime next week.

If Tom’s mom remembers or even cares, to tell you the truth, to send me $33, I’ll get Edie from the doll store.

Sometime next week, Tom wants to take me to pick out some baby mice! I like the new idea better than the old one. Originally, we were gonna get a male mouse to impregnate all my female mice, but instead, we’re gonna get a few pregnant females. As we well know, all you need is 3 pregnant females to give you more than you need as far as increasing the population goes. Better to get a few young pregnant ones than to impregnate the 7 I’ve got and put these old mice through the hassles of that.

Later…

Andy had me on the phone for quite a while a couple of days ago, but I managed to get out of it just over an hour into the conversation. The sad thing about it was, was that the whole time we talked, he didn’t tell me anything new except for the good news that his AIDS test was negative and that he hated the L.A. traffic.

He was totally stoned. Not able to understand much of what I was saying, not letting me get a word in edgewise too well, and just going on and on and on about the same old goddamn, boring things. Aaaaaarrrgggggghhhhhhhh!

I reminded myself of how I used to love hearing from him and I felt a twinge of guilt for finding him so annoying, but I can’t help it. I’ve changed and he hasn’t. I just don’t find Andy of interest to me anymore. No, I won’t dump him, cuz he hasn’t harmed me. I want to be there for him whenever possible, I want him to have love with David or with someone, but I just wish he’d hurry up and get the fuck back east! I still doubt it’s gonna happen, and he’s changed his plan once again. He’s not going in May with his aunt and uncle. But before I could get the chance to ask why he told me he was gonna drive back in April. I don’t know if he’ll go, but I’d rather type him letters than listen to him babble about the usual once or twice a week for an hour, then be too much of a stoned airhead to remember anything he told me or that I told him. The question is, though, will he remember the things I write to him? He told me that he remembers reading the encouraging letter I just sent him and that he was touched by it, but can’t remember a damn thing I said. That’s sad. He also says he couldn’t remember that Michelle just turned 24. He thought she was gonna be 25. He guessed me to be turning 34. He said his memory problem couldn’t be all pot-related and I told him to go see a doctor, but I think it is all pot-related.

No one likes to be miserable. I know. I’ve been there. And I’d have done something about it the very first day I felt miserable if I could’ve, but a part of me wonders about Andy. Does he really care that he’s the way he is? I know he wants to be loved, and I believe he’d stay sober forever if he could, but does he really give a shit about working and other things? Are the phone and TV his only interests? I asked him if he felt he could want to get fired deep down, but he said no way, it’s such an awful thing to have to go through, and he didn’t see how I could think that he’d want to get fired as much as he does, but I don’t know. A part of me thinks he not only sets himself up to be fired out of fear, but so that he can have more time to be home watching TV, listening to Stevie Nicks, and gabbing on the phone for hours on end with a joint between his lips. I can kind of understand and relate to the wanting to be home more often. We’re both homebodies and if I were working full-time, I’d wish I could be home enjoying my stuff and doing the things I enjoy too, as Tom pointed out.

He also admits he eats like a pig when he can, yet he’s so big on people looking thin and young.

All he told me about L.A. was how shitty the traffic was and how gloomy he found L.A. to be.

Meanwhile, he says he’s gonna be calling temp agencies to see what’s available. So I guess he’ll stay with Red Lobster till they fire him, then work for another temp agency for a week or two.

Then he’s so negative about us moving, saying that there’s pollution outside the valley too, and more spiders, and shit like that. Why does he always find negative things to say about the things people look forward to doing/having, etc.?

Later…

The voice messaging thing for my pap results still hasn’t gotten my results. It’s still a little soon, though. If I don’t get my results by Monday, I’ll call the office. At least I can rest assured that there was nothing wrong. If there was something wrong, I’d have been contacted by now.

I had a burger, some fries, and a slice of cheesecake, and now, it’s popcorn time!

Later…

I know my doll won’t come today even though it could, technically. I’ll be home and awake at mail time.

It’s freezing out there now! The cool thing about being in the desert, though, is that in just a few hours it’ll be warm.

The cock was here picking its bitch up. The bitch has three different people that I know of to give her rides to and from work if she needs it. Three people! I couldn’t have gotten me one person, let alone three if I had been in her shoes years ago! Yes, she’s got three people between her cock, the tall thing in the light blue car that I think is her sister, and Bill.

I’ve been taping Christmas music, but so far, I could only get one good song. At one point, when I was scanning through a tape, I heard rap music. Some freeloaders got together and put out a Christmas song with a rap beat. Typical, typical freeloaders. They gotta do everything in such set ways. Everything to them is rap, drugs, violence, laziness, and church. They don’t know anything else. Most of them have no education whatsoever.

And a part of me still wishes I didn’t let her get a word out of her black mouth when it came yelling at my door last year. I should’ve just beat the fuck out of her right then and there before she could even utter a word, and how embarrassed I am for myself for writing that I hope her taking her tizzy fit makes her feel better. Like I really give a shit how that sick fuck feels? Yeah, right!

Later…

Damn! I gained 4 pounds today. All that just for taking one day off from eating so little? God, my metabolism’s so slow! I could eat my way back up to the mid-120s in less than a week.

Later…

Two days in a row there was a hang-up message from an unavailable source. These sales freaks almost never leave messages and it’s highly unusual to get hang-ups two days in a row. So let me guess - a certain bastard left these hang-ups from a place cross country from his trucking company?

I was right. No doll today. Could be tomorrow, but more likely, it’ll come Monday while we’re at Melanie’s.

I fell asleep about 4 hours earlier and woke up when Tom came home. After having one of his cakes he got, I fell back asleep till he went up on the roof.

Tom just left to get me some Chinese food and to get him something from Arby’s.

Got a nice card with teddy bears from Mom with a $33 check. I asked Tom about going to the doll store today and he said we could go if I really had to, but would rather work on the roof. So, we’ll go get the doll sometime next week, along with the mice.

Saturday, December 5, 1998

 

Once again, I fell asleep to the sound of his nail gun and I got up at 9 PM.

Fortunately, there were no unwanted calls/messages for me. There was a message from Tammy and Andy. I returned Andy’s message and will call Tammy tomorrow. Her message was sweet and sincere, but I got a kick out of how she lied about trying to call me several times. Not according to the Caller ID box. She also said she was calling from Mark’s. Then why did her number show up? God, that lying sister of mine! I still appreciated her message very much, though, and I know she means well.

I told Tom I wouldn’t even let Doe, Art, or Larry get the chance to leave a message if I saw their number show up. I’d pick the phone up and hang right back up on them. He said that wouldn’t be very smart, cuz what if someone was sick? So what? I said. Then he said that he’s not saying this will happen in the near future, but they know how much I like Goldie and Al. Yeah, so? That doesn’t mean they’d call to tell me they were sick if they were sick. Unless Tammy’s dumb enough to associate with them again and therefore tells me when they die, I know I can figure that in 10-15 years they’ll be gone. He said that’s not the way it works. Well, that’s the way it works with my family. Art wouldn’t call me if Dureen died. Larry wouldn’t call me if Sandy or Jen died.

I figured I’d gain the most I’d ever gained before in one day, but I only gained 4 pounds. I got up to 116 pounds. Tom said I’d wake up at 114 pounds. I figured that after diving into that Chinese food I’d hit 118, so I told him I’d wake up at 116. We were both wrong. I amazingly got up at 113. I’m really 4 more pounds than I say I am cuz house scales are always 4 pounds less than doctor’s scales and I’d think the doctor’s scales would be more accurate. So when I’m 113, I’m really 117. And when I’m really 117, I look 127!

Tom said that if I think the bangers that bang by are bad, I should hear what it’s like up on the roof. Lately, our local bangers haven’t been too bad. Just like with sales calls, they escalate, then they slack off, and back and forth. Up on the roof, you can hear everything, since it’s above any walls and the sound can just go right through. He said they banged by constantly, but most of them were miles away. I believe it. Give it another 10-20 years and you’ll be able to go up on your roof and hear stereos in California, that’s how desperate and lonely this society has become.

I was laughing to myself over that bitch and her trying to haul my ass into court. Here I say how courts don’t work and all that, yet in a sense, it did work for her. Ever since she tried having me served, I haven’t sent any wacky or hateful mail and there’s been no bottle tossing. In fact, this is the longest stretch of time where they haven’t forced me into doing something to them cuz of their shit. So in the end, and as of yet, we both got what we wanted - to not be bothered by one another.

Speaking of them bothering me, I don’t have a bad vibe for this weekend, but I’ll bet you anything that they’ll use the mistake’s birthday party as an excuse to be heard back after all that roofing noise. Again, not cuz noise bothers them, but just because it’s coming from over here. Even if we weren’t roofing, every so often there’ll be a bit of a ruckus from over there, like I said. Gotta remind me that they’re there. Gotta rebel a little. rolls eyes

I didn’t call the uterus people today, cuz those two spots were all I had. When the fuck is it ever gonna start? It’s like it gets wimpier and wimpier each month. Maybe the exam confused it. It seems I bled the most I’ve ever bled at one of these exams the last time, so maybe the exam threw it off. Oh well. It’s gotta start sooner or later.

As far as I know, we’re going to the doll store today at 10:00 when they open. I’ll have to remember to check out their collector’s Barbie dolls this time. I’m curious to compare their prices to the Barbie doll I saw for $17 in a drugstore. I wonder if they’ll have those 36” dolls he said they were getting for just $300?

I also wonder if Patrice will come today, although I think Monday or Tuesday is more likely. It’s just that Summer Dream was delivered on a Saturday.

Monday, December 7, 1998

 

It was a dead quiet weekend. No door slamming, no kids, even less barking. That’s because it was such an unusual Sunday full of nothing but rain. It could only rain on a Sunday afternoon cuz of Tom’s trying to finish that fucking roof! If he hadn’t been roofing, it would’ve been bright and sunny. Of course, God will make sure next weekend’s weather is just beautiful for the little animal’s birthday party.

Just when I think I’ve finally played Leak and Bucket for the last time, I have to do it all over again. A part of me wonders if this will ever end! I told myself the other day that once the roof was fixed, I’d never again take for granted having a solid roof over my head, but now I wonder if I’ll be paranoid for the next 5 years whenever it rains. The good and shocking part of it is that it didn’t leak in here. Water did drip through the unfinished parts of the roof into the attic where there were little tears in the tarp, but Tom went up and put buckets under those drips. The only new thing that appeared was a little strip of what looked to be a water stain seeping through a crack in the plaster in the living room. Tom, though, said he couldn’t find any moisture up in the attic and said that there was less than a teaspoon in each bucket he put up there. Not enough to cause that line, so was the line always there, and did I, who’s usually so observant, miss it?

I don’t know if I forgot to write this, but Tom buried Spot in one of Bunny’s old holes that needed to be filled in any way.

Backing up to Saturday. Saturday was cool and breezy too, but not like Sunday. Sunday was cold! You could see your breath in the air. Saturday posed a threat of rain too, and Tom didn’t exactly feel comfortable exposing the roof to work on it when it could’ve started raining. So we went way out of town to a hardware store just to waste our time. He was looking for some part for his nail gun, but the stupid male prick that worked there didn’t know shit. He was obviously having some problems with his son too, who kept calling him. The guy told his son that if he called one more time he wouldn’t be able to sit. So I joked with Tom about calling the store to ask if his son could still sit.

I wasn’t kidding when I said that something up there really wants to make it hard for me to get dolls. I really have to pay and go through a lot to get them. We were heading to the doll store since they’re closed on Sundays and Mondays, and oh my God! Phoenix is notorious for its constant construction that’s everywhere and I’m sooo fucking sick of it! We got held up in traffic for quite a while cuz they closed a part of the freeway. It felt like it took us 4 hours just to get to this goddamn store.

Both the Edie dolls were still there, but I was wrong about her price. I thought she was $30, but she was $40 just like Anne, and Tom said that was fine. They’re both Seymour Mann dolls. For the most part, the dolls in this store were boring. There was a doll that was rather unique and odd-looking, though. I wouldn’t want her, but she was cool to see for the sake of something different. It was just your typical doll with regular arms, legs, mouth, hair, etc., but she had lavender eyes!

That nice guy that works there whose name is Mark, so I heard, told me that it usually takes 7 weeks to make two dolls. I didn’t know the people in the classes got to make two. He said, though, that since it can get pretty addicting, some ladies have been with them for years. So I guess you can do all you pay for.

The Barbie dolls were about $20-$40. Most of them wore gorgeous dresses. That’s the problem - the really small dolls get the nice outfits, and the bigger dolls that I like get the outfits that aren’t as nice. Part of it is the difference between porcelain and Barbies. The Barbie doll’s bodies are whole bodies, but the porcelain ones have no bodies. The trunks of their bodies are just stuffing. There was, however, a porcelain doll that had most of her body, cuz she was a woman doll and she wore a gorgeous dress that didn’t cover as much as the girl’s dresses usually do. The dresses that go on the girl dolls aren’t as nice, of course, as the dresses that the women dolls get. There were some pretty fancy dresses on a few porcelain women dolls. One was dressed as a Vegas showgirl. One had such a fancy dress of such nice material and of jewels that she was $1000! I guess this is a new string of dolls, cuz I don’t remember seeing them before. Their faces and hair were boring, though, and they were all the same. Only the outfits were different.

Anyway, I’m hoping to get this gorgeous doll I saw with any Christmas money I get. She was beautiful! An angel doll of some sort with purple wings, a nice lavender dress, really long blond hair, and an elegant and graceful pose. She’s a shorter doll like Jessica and Sunshine and Lollipops at about 14”. Her face was nice, too. Just like Summer Dream, her head is turned to one side. The opposite side of Summer Dream’s, which means she’ll go perfectly where I plan on putting her.

After this fucking roof is finally done, I’m going to move my computer back into the back room. Not just so we can network our computers again, but so I can put the red table that was in the living room back in there. I’m gonna keep Summer Dream in the music room and I’ll probably keep Jessica in there, too. Bailey and Rapunzel will go back on the living room speaker and TV. On the red table, I was going to line up Edie, Anne, Sunshine and Lollipops, Patrice, and Angel.

Tom believed Patrice would come that day, too (Saturday). I thought there was a chance of it since I seem to be getting dolls in twos lately, but nope. I gotta be either asleep or out when dolls come, but Tom says today’s an unlikely day for a parcel post delivery to be made. If it were first class, that’d be different.

Ashton Drake sent us what was supposed to be a mini magnetic dry-erase board, but not quite. You have to wet a cloth to erase the writing.

All I saw at the freeloader’s all weekend was a white car with a rack of some sort on its trunk. I went into the music room and heard a beat going and was like, shit! I knew it was just a matter of time before we’d hear from them, but I didn’t have a vibe about this weekend. I expected a ruckus next weekend. Then I realized it was the heartbeat I switched to in place of the stereo. Since this fan is softer than the last one, the heartbeat on my sound spa can be heard, and I like it so much better than the stereo cuz this beat is steady.

I got rid of “Mystery’s world” on the computer since the whole computer is my world now. I put the stuff that was in Mystery’s world into the start/program area.

I also paired up some journal pictures. That birthday wallpaper message turned out to be quite a present. I didn’t know this, but in the WinDraw program I use a lot, you can select a screen size background and make what you want on it. I made two collages of my favorite Gloria pictures and one of Norah’s. Then I paired up some of my journal covers to lessen the number of files I have. After I touch those up a bit, I’ll pair some family pictures.

Andy, who just has to do the opposite of what you ask him and who doesn’t always give a shit about what you’d prefer, just couldn’t wait till we talked live to tell me the rain he was driving through was mixed with snow. Yeah, it snowed in Vegas. Meanwhile, in New England, they’re having this unbelievably mild weather. They were even in the 70s! The 70s in November!! That’s quite a record.

Kim also called and is all moved into her apartment in Northampton with Walter. They’re in a two-family house. They have the top two floors. She’s got big rooms with hardwood floors. It’s a two-bedroom apartment and it’s $900 a month! Jesus! That’s the northeast for you. Especially Northampton.

Anyway, I guess Walt’s conveniently decided he wants kids. They’re gonna get married and be trying for a kid over the next year or so. I just hope Kim doesn’t get burned by him not doing his part in making the kid or by him leaving when the kid’s born if it’s born. That’s what I wonder. Would God give such a wonderful person whom I know would make a great mom a kid? She has the looks for it, that’s for sure. I hope she gets what she wants, though.

I called Tammy back Saturday morning. Mark and she are remodeling the hell out of her place. She was really nice in asking how my birthday went and she was happy about what I got/am getting, even though it’s not what she’d want. She’s gotten better at listening to me about my interests, whereas in the past she didn’t really care unless it was something she could relate to.

I spoke to Lisa too, and as usual, she’s not doing very well. She’s happy she’s lost weight. She’s gone from 152 pounds to 120 pounds, but now she’s into pot and acid. Great! Just fucking great! I’m glad I’m not destined to have a kid.

It’s almost scary to see how closely her life is like mine was, although I didn’t get into acid. I try not to compare us, but it’s something you can’t miss. Like I said, the only thing that’s different is her seeming to be as straight as an arrow so far anyway, and her interest in meteorology. Makes me wonder if she’s sterile and if she too, will go through years of depression over not being able to have a kid. I hope I’m wrong, and if not, I hope she doesn’t want one anyway, and therefore, doesn’t mind sterility. I don’t know about her or Sarah having kids, but I’ll bet you all my journals that Becky will be a mom someday. She already looks like a mom. She’s got God’s qualifications on that one totally. It’s like God has a fixation with homelier and plain-looking ladies becoming mothers. There are a few good-looking mothers, but they’re one in every 10,000.

She swears she hasn’t talked to Larry in over a month, but you know I can’t trust one thing she says anymore.

I still can’t call for the uterus test since I’m still only spotting. I wish my fucking rag would hurry up and start!

I fear my pap was too bloody to read and that’s why there are still no results posted for me on that voice messaging thing. If so, that’ll really piss me the fuck off, cuz this is why I went straight to a GYN in the first place, and I told her so. The whole idea was to avoid having to play the repeat pap game.

I’m hurt and angry with Tom right now, but not as hurt and as angry as I should be. Perhaps the reasons I’m not more hurt and angry are cuz I don’t want a child and cuz this is nothing new. It’s not like I just found out how abnormal our sex is and that he’s lied about sex and having a kid. I should’ve known that he’d eventually resort to bold lying and say he’s been cumming regularly when that’s pure bullshit. A lot of people are like him - they just deny what they want. So long as it can only be suspected and not literally proven in the way that you can prove it’s either light outside or dark.

Kim once told me she couldn’t tell if a guy came in here, but what Tammy told me is what I’m sure most women would tell me - that they can tell when their man cums. They ask rape victims if their attacker came. Why would they ask that unless they knew she could tell? There’s always been a distinct difference to me when Tom’s cum. When he cums, the sheets under my ass are soaked and so are my inner thighs. It feels as if I wet the bed when he cums. When he doesn’t, I don’t feel any different. Yet he has the bold nerve to tell me he cums 7-8 out of 10 times.

So I was right, after all, about how this infertility thing would play out. He probably figured I’d be fixable and that I’d let them fix me and leave getting pregnant up to God. Then he’d let them have his cum for testing which he has full control over, then he’d just come home and make sure he very rarely cums with me and that if he did cum, it was at a safe time. As to why I never would’ve ended up pregnant? Just because, he’d say. Just because that happens sometimes for no apparent reason. The doctor, he knows, would support this too. So that way he could’ve escaped having to deal with why he’s too afraid to cum, and why I didn’t get pregnant.

The man just doesn’t want to cum. Period. He told me he was gonna tell me from now on whether or not he cums, cuz he’s sick of how I “test” him (by his not correcting my comments about how he cums regularly, when we know damn well he doesn’t). I told him that that’s up to him. It’s not if he cums that I care about. It’s if he lies about it that I care about. He also told me that sometime in 1998 he began cumming regularly cuz of how we were able to get him inside me regularly, and cuz of the wonderful friction he feels now that he’s on top. First of all, he’s been on top for a while now. Second of all, he said sex is an emotional thing for him and not a physical thing. Lastly, he’s the one that refused to go inside me at times in the past. He’s the one that just had to play his games. It’s all bullshit excuses as far as I’m concerned. I’ve thought about it and thought about it and there’s no way he could be cumming regularly. I’d give anything to be wrong about this, but I know without a doubt that I’m not. And besides, no guy that doesn’t want a kid, and whose wife doesn’t want a kid, is gonna go squirting in her pussy regularly. He even admitted he’d do what I wanted first when it came to that. Even if he did want a kid, which I know damn well he doesn’t, he’d still go along with my not wanting one first, and do what he had to in order to ensure that I got what I wanted, which is no kid.

Now, why couldn’t he have just come out and told me, “I don’t want a kid and you don’t either, so why don’t I just not cum? I’d rather not cum than have to have you go through the hassles of birth control. I can get off on my own if I need to. Meanwhile, you go on ahead with your testing and try getting the answers you want.”

I also expressed that I was mad at myself for not going to this doctor back in 1994 when I wanted a kid, knew I was sterile, and so I could’ve maybe avoided years of misery. I should’ve not worried about him like he tells me not to. He always tells me not to worry about him and to just take care of myself. Then he tried to make me feel worse by turning things around and saying that I was mad at him and that I was blaming him. Well, I don’t appreciate his putting being embarrassed to talk to the doctors about his not cumming over my needs and my depression. He preferred that I go through all that depression like I did than be cornered by a doctor about his not cumming and about his not doing something he doesn’t want to do. What would he have done? Gone in there back then and said, “My wife wants a kid and she wants me to cum, but I don’t want a kid and I don’t want to cum, either?”

Still, we could’ve worked things out years ago somehow, if he’d only had the balls to face it and deal with it without going into denial and getting into lying and all that.

I’ll bet you anything that he’ll start telling me, after sex, that he hasn’t cum now that he knows I know he’s only cum twice in 1998. He admits to not cumming during the roofing, though, cuz it was at that time that I hinted certain things to him and he kind of caught on and figured he better be more honest from here on out. So, since then he’s admitted he doesn’t cum. It’s nice to know Tammy’s 48-year-old man can still get off in the midst of doing all that physical work of remodeling, but my 41-year-old man can’t. He can’t mix sex with physical work. Gotta act like an 80-year-old man instead.

Like I said, I don’t care how the sex itself is. It’s the lying and the lame, bogus excuses I get tired of, but this shit just never ends. If you want a sexual relationship of any kind with Tom S, you have to take it part-time, half-assed, and with all the lame lies and excuses added in. Then he said, “I could tell you that you should give me the benefit of the doubt when I tell you I cum regularly, but I won’t. I’ll let you be you and I’ll be me.”

Meanwhile, I guess I’ll continue on with the testing even if it does me no good in the long run. Tom might change his plans since I mentioned figuring that he’d let them have his cum for testing. He may refuse to let them have any now. If that’s what happens, then he can deal with this doctor alone about his not cumming if he wants to, but me? I’ll be out of there and permanently done with this whole fucking issue. It’s no wonder I don’t want a child anymore with this man. Not just because I don’t want the responsibilities and burdens of a child, and not just because I don’t want my life and freedom taken away by a kid, but because I’m so fucking sick of the whole subject that it sickens me. I just hope to hell I never go back to wanting a kid because both God and Tom would never allow me one.

Also, he’s been punishing me by not having sex with me all weekend.

What else could he be lying to me about? Is there anything else that’s not so obvious as this one that he’s been putting me on about? I’m just so confused. I don’t know who to trust or what to do, think, or believe anymore.

My lower teeth are enjoying their last moments of freedom. Got up at 2 AM. A little earlier than I’d like to have gotten up since I won’t be seeing Melie till 1:30, but I’ll live.

Tuesday, December 8, 1998

 

Patrice is here! Yup, the mailman surprised me by bringing her as early as 11:20. He said he wanted to get packages out of the way first. I can understand that. There are a lot of them at this time of year.

Patrice is beautiful, but it was just my shit doll luck that the hole in her stand wasn’t drilled through all the way for her toe-hold. Thanks to Tom and his drill bit, though, he widened it up enough. The stand grips her at the top of her thigh. Not the thigh of the leg that’s up in the air, of course. The toe of the leg that’s thigh is gripped, has an extension that goes through the bass of the stand for extra security, even though the thigh gripper does a fine job on its own.

Her hair wasn’t short. It was up in a bun, which makes sense. Ballerinas are feminine, so whoever did hear of a short-haired ballerina? Anyway, it took me forever to get this bun down! It’s still in a ponytail high on her head, but I braided the ponytail. It kind of sticks out a little, but it looks good enough.

Her dress is a little crumpled, but with time, it should fall out nicely. I’ll iron it if I have to.

Tom knows the song she twirls to, but I don’t. It’s kind of boring, even though I love to wind her up and watch her twirl!

So now I have 7 dolls and Patrice is my first one that’s all porcelain. The lollipop doll should be here between mid-late January, and I’d love to get that angel doll with my Christmas money, but that’s just the question - will there be any Christmas money since we’re not exchanging gifts this year?

We got a Christmas card from Cindy and one from Mary, Dave, Mom, and Mikey. I sent out my cards and a letter to Tammy and one to Kim containing my last few emails to her. Her computer’s still out of it.

As for my computer, I really rearranged things, and it was fun.

I called Andy to leave him a message, but he answered. He’s right back to his typical, sad self. He was baked and he’s still mostly jobless. He just sits in front of the TV, listens to music, or gabs on the phone. He said he was gonna sober up when his pot ran out, but he bought some more. He said he keeps in touch every day with 4 different temp agencies, but they have no work available for him. He said he’d like to pick up a paper but can’t afford one. Yet he could afford pot.

Face it, Andy. You don’t want to work or have a life or move on.

He said he had therapy yesterday with his gay therapist who’s had the same boyfriend for 18 years. I hope this will help him get off his ass and out of the rut he’s in. I know it’s hard, but he can’t afford to be lazy and hide behind a joint. He needs to work or else he’ll end up homeless.

No wonder I had a vibe of hitting down at 110 sometime in January. I’m gonna lose weight whether or not I want to, cuz having to keep stripping all this wax and reapplying it is a bitch!

The good of it is that it only took 45 minutes to get these on. Not 1½ hours like with the upper ones. Also, my inner mouth isn’t on fire like it was when the upper ones went on. Guess I’ve learned to use this wax well, but still. I not only have to wax the two inner knobs, but I also have to wax the front to keep my lip from hanging up on them. Your bottom lip goes over the bottom teeth more so than up top so up top never really got hung up. It’s easier to sing than it is to talk since you usually talk faster than you sing. I’m also not as sore as I thought I’d be. I am if I try to eat, though. Too sore to even chew gum. It’ll be a while before I can do that. So, I guess the upper braces will come off in March, and the lower ones will come off in a year when I’m 34. And I guess I won’t be living here when the bottom ones come off, either.

What was flattering to me was that Melanie had my card sitting in her room. And mine was the only card there! Was this because she hasn’t gotten any other cards yet to set up? Or cuz mine was her favorite?

The massage recliner in the living room broke. Tom said it’s not worth fixing, so we’ll bring out the one that’s in the bedroom and dump this one when they do their bulk pick-up out in the alley like they do every few months.

Later…

Just let the cat in to eat and meow. Man, is it freezing out! If I didn’t know any better, I’d swear I was back east. It’s 50º, but it feels like it’s in the 20s.

I printed out all the things I want to use to border the tops of the pages of my printed versions of these journals. There are old journal covers, drawings, family pictures, celebrity pictures, and a few things that come with the program I used to make the borders. There were a few that I doubted would come out nice, but I told myself to try them anyway, cuz I could always freeloader it if I didn’t like them. So, the freeloaders will get the ones I don’t like for their own journal excerpts. I can’t believe I’m not low on ink after all I printed.

How could I forget my surprisingly good news? I called the doctor’s office and found out that I got a normal pap! Is it a good sign of any kind? I don’t know. It’s too soon to tell. There must be a reason, though, why I’ve come this far, despite his lack of cumming and his lying about it.

Wednesday, December 9, 1998

 

I can finally call for the uterus scan. Once again, though, my period’s really, really light. Even lighter than the last one with no full flow. I had a light flow for a few hours, but now it’s dried up again. Still, I’m gonna make the damn appointment and get that over with.

I’m still stunned that God hasn’t seen to it that I’ve had more female problems than just some yeast infections. Most of all, I can’t believe he hasn’t seen to it that I’ve needed a hysterectomy. I wonder why. That does seem, after all, like something he’d do to me and that would fit my “life patterns,” so to speak. Especially after he’s cursed me sexually. I’d think that if one was cursed with sex, their sexual parts would be cursed too.

Tom and I were talking about how a few months after a couple either adopts or starts fertility testing, they sometimes find the woman’s pregnant so they end up having their own kid after all. Fortunately, that only happens to other couples. God still would not only not give me something like that that I couldn’t handle, but it’s not destined.

I haven’t lost any weight since the braces went on and it looks like I’ll stay the 112-115 pounds I bottomed out at 5 months ago. Especially since I’m constipated nearly every other day.

I’m looking forward to moving my computer back into the back room. Not just so Tom and I can be networked again, and so I can be near the animals again as distracting as they can be, but so I can set up my dolls in the living room where my computer is now. Also, I’m going to go back to walking. My back’s been fine, but if I walk at least 15 minutes a day, no one can say I’m too non-active even if walking doesn’t really do me any good. It doesn’t tone me up or slim me down. It may increase my stamina a bit, though.

Tom worked on Mary’s computer, and as usual, he had to go back to work on it some more. That’s because Mikey fucked it up. Tom talked to Mary about using him for so many jobs, so I would think that she’d keep that in mind, but time will tell.

Sometime late this morning we’ll be going out to get that prep kit for the kidney exam, some more roofing shingles, and 2-3 new mice! We’ll hit PetSmart first, then Petco.

Later…

It’s freezing out! It’s 38º, but it feels less than that. As I knew it’d be, it’s to be a beautiful weekend for the mistake’s party. It’s gonna be sunny and warmer.

The dogs are up now too, so time to run the air cleaner.

Later…

I just came really, really close to calling off the kidney and uterus testing and the whole damn thing. These fucking voice machines! You can’t even talk to a live person anymore! First I called Genesis to schedule the uterus test, but couldn’t get a hold of anyone live. Also, there were no options for scheduling on the main menu, so I had to hit randomly to get a live person. Someone in radiology answered, but couldn’t help me cuz I couldn’t remember the name of the test. So after going through hell trying to get in touch with Vicki, who does Dr. Well’s referrals, I left her a message since she too, has a machine. She was away from her desk, I guess.

Is this where God starts throwing hurdles at me to send me a message saying he disagrees with what I’m doing and therefore trying to stop me?

Later…

Vicki just called and cleared up all my confusion and frustration. At least she did for the time being, anyway. I told her my problem and she gave me the initials for this very long and complicated test name and told me that they’d know what I meant at Genesis Center if I used those initials. Then she offered to make the appointment for me, which I hoped she’d do. So, I’m waiting for her to call me back.

Later…

I heard back from Vicki. I got both the IVP kidney test and the HSG uterus test scheduled for the same day. She said they told her to tell me to have someone drive me to these tests. I’m getting a little nervous here. Are these gonna be really painful tests and am I gonna get sick? She said the uterus test is a form of x-ray, and this is the test where they insert a dye into the fallopian tubes. This test is usually all a sterile woman needs, cuz the most common cause of sterility is clogged fallopian tubes, but I know this isn’t my problem. My problem’s much deeper than just clogged tubes.

Thursday, December 10, 1998

 

Yesterday was a hectic, frustrating, confusing, yet fun day. First, I called Tammy this morning to tell her that I finally got through the worst of the lower braces. A few days after you get them on, your mouth is pretty inflamed like mine was yesterday, but now I’m home free and my mouth is callused and toughened up to them just about. My bite is still off, though, even when it’s not sore, so I have to eat nothing but soft foods. I eat mostly soup and even woke up a pound lighter today at 112. I’ll be stuck tomorrow. My shit system always turns itself off when I hit 112 so my body can hang onto whatever I eat and not shit it out till it gets back up to the 115 it’s comfortable at. Once I gain those few pounds back in a day or two, I’ll shit.

I also told Tammy about our pet store adventures yesterday, which I’ll get into in a minute.

First, poor Becky has to have surgery this morning on her knees and ankles for her rheumatoid arthritis. That’s really sad. I told Tammy to call once they got settled in to let me know how things went. Meanwhile, I’m sending the kid a get-well card.

God’s really cursed this family well. One generation after another. What kinds of problems would my kid have had if I had had one? Plenty, I’m sure.

If I had any sense whatsoever, I’d forget all about this fertility testing. Why put myself through all this shit just to get answers I may not get? I know I’m sterile, I know a kid isn’t meant to be whether or not I want one, so why do I torture myself like this? I guess if I gave up now I’d feel like a quitter, but that’s not to say for sure that I won’t back out at some point by either force or my own will. With my luck, I’ll just be told they can’t find anything wrong so I can be even more frustrated and confused, but then again, that’s part of getting the information I want. This way, if I go through with this, I won’t have to always wonder if they’d have told me they couldn’t find anything wrong. I’ll know for sure. That’s Tom’s guess. Tom said he couldn’t be sure on this one, but if he had to guess he’d guess they wouldn’t be able to find anything wrong cuz it’d be one of those subtle things beyond their abilities to find that I’ll outgrow in time. No fucking way. My first guess is that they’ll find what’s wrong, but it’ll be one of those rare things that they still can’t fix.

His saying this kind of reinforces my suspicions as to what he’ll do. He, having full control over his cumming, will continue to make sure he rarely cums with me, but that he lets them have a sample for testing, then he’ll hope/believe that they won’t be able to find anything wrong with me, so he can come home, go back to rarely cumming, and end up getting what he wants which is no kid. Meanwhile, if I had been fixable I’d have probably gone and let them fix me, then left it in God’s hands, even though the thought of having a kid and giving up my life and freedom, doesn’t really appeal to me.

I asked Tom why he’d cum in me regularly as he claims he does when he knows I don’t want a kid. He said he does because I didn’t tell him he couldn’t. True. I told him to be himself and do what he wants. Just don’t lie about it.

Anyway, I think I know how this is gonna play itself out. Whether or not I get fixed, he’ll cum very rarely with me and at a safe time, give them a sample of his cum which I didn’t think he’d do at first till I realized how convenient for him it’d be to do so, then he’ll just keep on rarely cumming with me so he can get his way. All this would be just fine too, if he’d just come out and say so. I’m on his side now. I don’t want a kid either, and God will see fit to it that I don’t conceive. I don’t know how to convince him a child will never be in the picture, so he doesn’t have to make such huge sacrifices and live with this fear, be it deep in his subconscious or not. Technically, God doesn’t have to sterilize a woman in order to keep her from conceiving. He can just make sure nothing starts growing in there, but still, fate is fate and I’m fated to never have a child. I’m psychic enough to know this. It’s also common sense too, telling me that he wouldn’t give me something I couldn’t handle.

I say I’d probably let them fix me if I were fixable, but that may not necessarily be so depending on the cost. I wouldn’t lower myself and degrade and humiliate myself by buying into normalcy, so to speak. I’m not gonna make myself suffer over a God who didn’t care enough to let me be born whole and normal. Like I said, there are some things that a woman shouldn’t have to do. Things that are God’s job, not hers.

I think I broke a record last Monday by being able to get to three appointments that were each one week apart. I don’t think I would’ve been able to do that in the past.

For the last two mornings, I’ve gotten anonymous calls at around 9:30. I have a feeling it’s Andy, just being a pest in the midst of his baked boredom. He doesn’t even leave messages. What? Does he just want me to hear the phone ringing and get up to check the box? He’s like that. He does little things like that to get attention. It’s along the same idea as the bangers and their “hear me” and “notice me” kick. I just wish he’d get a life and get a job! He only works a few hours a week. If he tried hard enough, he could get a job very easily in this city, but the fact that he still hasn’t called and told me of his new job that he’ll have for a week, tells me something right there. Even he’s admitted to being lazy and scared. God, he’s sad! How can he be so terrified of starting new jobs when he’s had to do it 100 times? He should be an expert by now.

Later…

God! I can’t even eat soup with noodles in it or the noodles that are in my favorite chicken TV dinners. They get hung up on the braces and get stuck midway down my throat. I’m gonna have to live on chicken broth!

It’s to be cool today and tomorrow, into the 70s for the weekend for perfect partying weather, and cooling down on Monday. Now that’s typical Arizona for you and that means that although the roof will be done this week, I’m gonna be forcefully invited to that mistake’s party if I don’t throw headphones on. Tom said they probably wouldn’t do something as extravagant as that inflatable elephant two birthdays in a row, but still, that doesn’t take away from all the screaming kids that’ll be playing outside, and who knows? They may even use this as an excuse to bang in and out, figuring her birthday’s only once a year, and that if they do it just once every now and then, I won’t complain to the city. But once is never enough for them. Once they really get on a roll, they get totally carried away. It’s like they get addicted to harassing me and they’ve just got to test and push and provoke and aaaarrrrgggghhhh! Some people just like to pick fights and problems, but my vibe isn’t too bad as of yet. Birthday party or not, they gotta do something in return for the roofing noise. I know them. I notice that every 3 months or so, they make some sort of scene for old time’s sake.

Later…

I am so goddamn sick of living like an 18-year-old! I have to go out to the back patio just to be able to use my fucking garbage disposal. I had to turn on the back room power, then after I used the disposal, I went to turn it back off and accidentally turned off the power to the computer and the bedrooms. So I had to reset the alarm clock and the stereo, but like I said, at our ages, I’m sick of living like lazy teenagers or college kids live. We don’t deserve this, but life really isn’t fair. Fucking Dureen was living high off the hog long before she was our age and we don’t even want to live “high off the hog.” We just want a decent house whose doors, faucets, plugs, etc. work well enough. One with a solid roof over our heads for when it rains. One with normal, nice, modern, double-paned windows. With doors that close all the way. With newer, bigger rooms, although, the back room and master bedroom are pretty big. I want a bathroom with elbow room and with at least just the tiniest bit of counter space. Anyway, some would call me selfish I suppose, but I don’t think that that’s too much to ask for in today’s world. Then again, that depends on who we are, doesn’t it? It’s OK for Doe to ask for and to receive just about anything she could want, but some of us, like I did in the past, can’t even ask for a baby. Even that’s too far-fetched and out of the question! You know that’s really not meant to be with a husband like mine and with a God that’s so controlling. What I mean by when I say “like a husband like mine” is in reference to how he only cums twice a year when I’m ragging.

Maybe we’re living like this cuz we’re simply gonna be compensated and live better later on. Once again, why do Tom and I have to pay for everything? Again, life isn’t fair cuz there are so many people who get all kinds of wonderful things for nothing. They don’t work for them, they don’t care about them, and they usually don’t deserve them, either.

Remembering his mom’s old house helps at times like these. Her place is even smaller, older, and more fucked up than ours. After visiting her place, I felt like I was returning to a modern mansion when we returned home! It was only about 700 square feet, but ours is about 1,200. We drove by it yesterday and they lied. The people who bought it aren’t fixing it up. They’re selling it as it is. They didn’t even tear down that old rotted, tilted barn-like garage. They took all the inside and outside blinds down. You can see it’s empty in there. Some huge Mexican family will get it and their screaming kids will join in with the screaming kids next to and behind the house. Their dog will be outside to yip away 24/7 too.

We were out twice yesterday. The first time, we went to pick up that prep kit first, which is an enema. The woman there told me I wasn’t scheduled for both tests on the same day, according to the computer. I almost called it quits right then and there, but later, Tom called back and told me I was scheduled for both tests that day. Well, I’m going for these tests on Monday, as nervous as I am, and if there are any problems, then that’s it. It’s over.

Is God testing me? Why is he doing this to me? How can God do this to a woman?

Vicki said she’s talked to people who have had these tests and she says that some say it’s no big deal, and others say it’s pretty uncomfortable. The woman there said it’d be a little uncomfortable cuz it dilates the cervix a bit. Tom thinks that because I had excruciating periods as a teenager, most women would find it bad, but I won’t find it too bad. I think it’s gonna hurt like hell. I may be a toughie when it comes to teeth, but not with pussies! I’m very sensitive down there. Maybe not like I was before I knew Tom, but I’m still plenty sensitive enough. In fact, one of God’s many reasons for sterilizing me is that he knows I could never handle having a kid.

Like I said, if I had any smarts at all, I’d just call it all off. There’s no reason for me to go through all this shit just for info when I know what the future holds as far as a kid goes, whether I continue to not want a kid, or decide in 5 years I want one again.

I have mixed emotions about not wanting a kid. If I wanted one like I used to, I’d feel more motivated to go through with this shit. However, when the end result was no baby, I don’t think that’d do my emotions any good.

After getting the prep kit, we went to pick up some more roofing shingles, then to two pet stores.

I was surprised and disappointed to find that only one place had Fancy mice and they were all males.

On my way into one of these stores, I saw two little kids heading into the store and thought to myself how they’d go right where I was going. Sure enough, they did, and they were obnoxious in the way that all kids are.

Then we came home and I had some soup, while he unloaded the shingles and made a call to a tool shop.

We went out again and had a little trouble finding the shop, then had to wait for what seemed like 20 minutes for the guy to bring Tom his part for his nail gun. It’s a part that advances the next nail to speed the job up even more.

Our final stop was another pet store. Again, no Fancy mice, but all three places had tons of rats. However, there was this $160 awesome investment that’ll house a whole lifetime of rats! It’s mainly for ferrets, but Ratsy should love this thing! It’s got huge tubes and lots of different levels to climb. Within a week, we’ll be getting this and maybe one or two more rats, too!

So, even though all I ended up getting was mice/rat food, Tom was laughing at how we went from getting a few $3 mice to a $160 cage, although I do still intend to get some more mice.

We enjoyed our time out together and Tom was in a good mood, laughing and mocking me swearing, and you know how clean his mouth is compared to mine! He was even laughing with me at this woman in a car near us who had short, funny-looking hair (Tom almost never laughs at someone for how they look). It was light up top and dark on the bottom. It reminded me of vanilla ice cream on top and a scoop of chocolate ice cream.

Friday, December 11, 1998

 

What a pleasant surprise. Woke up at 111½.

I wish I could snap my fingers and have it be noon-1:00. We’re getting that cage today and a new rat too!

Yesterday was the third morning in a row Andy called, but yesterday, he left a message. He was finally going through the job section in the paper when he came across an ad I may be interested in, he said. A music teacher was wanted that must be able to sing on pitch willing to train to do other things and teach kids between 1-7.

I told him thanks, but no thanks. I like music only as a hobby nowadays and I like to do and not teach. I still couldn’t keep a schedule like that and it’d be hard for me to get to the place.

I’m proud of myself, but mostly shocked, for being able to have a little more control over my schedule, for getting to these weekly appointments, and for being able to sleep while he’s working overhead, but I’m still far from normal as far as schedules, sleeping with him, and other things go. Even so, I’ve learned more and have changed more in the time I’ve known him, than in all of the time before that. At least, it sure seems that way!

I still wish I could have more doors open to me. I wish I could keep a schedule so that if I ever did want to do a job like this or some other job, at least the door wouldn’t be slammed in my face as it is now cuz of having no control over my schedule. That’s what this fertility thing is all about. Having doors open and taking back my free will as a woman. Yes, I’m curious as to why I’m sterile, but it’d be nice to be fertile just so that I could know I had a choice in the matter. Up to now, I’ve never had any say in the matter. It’s all been up to God only. I’d like to have as many doors open so that even though the chances are one in billions of my wanting a kid again in the future, God supporting that, Tom cumming enough, and me being able to keep a schedule regularly, I could at least open some doors that have been locked on me all my life.

As easy as it is to say what I just said, though, it’s just as easy to say I hope they tell me my uterus is very badly deformed. That’d make things easier, even if it made me angrier at God that he could do such a mean thing to me or to any woman.

I decided to take some of the old printed journals that I had bound in wires to send to Bob as a little something for Christmas in a manila envelope. There’s something like journals 2-14 in there. These were the ones that used thinner paper that fit better in the envelopes I’ve got. Hope he reads them since he’s got so much time on his hands, but if he doesn’t, he doesn’t. I’m pretty sure he will, though.

Tom worked on the roof yesterday and says he’s now down to having just 3-4 more hours left to complete the roof and make it 100% safe from rain. That’s hard to believe after all this time! He said this job would take 5 days. Instead, it’s been since 11/13.

I get a little annoyed with Andy’s calling me about that job the more I think of it. If his brain wasn’t too potted out to remember things, and if he even listened and gave a shit, he’d know that I only like to sing as a hobby nowadays. I think the main reason he left the message was just to be calling and leaving a message for the attention of it. I swear he can be just as selfish as he was back east. It’s just mainly in a different way.

I don’t have a good vibe about the freeloaders this weekend, nor do I have a bad vibe. When I wake up on Saturday morning, I should be able to get a damn good sense of the weekend freeloader forecast at that time. It’s usually the mornings that provide the strongest sense of what they’ll be like in the afternoons/evenings.

What will I do for the next 6 hours? I sang and I’ve updated things here, so maybe I’ll do some reading.

Later…

Just had some soup and listened to music. Another hour or so and Andy will call. The morning is passing so slowly! Still have 4-5 hours before we go out. I wish I didn’t get up till around now, but then that’d make it harder for me to hold back enough on my schedule to get to the appointments on Monday. I’d have to take Benadryl to fall asleep earlier to keep me from sleeping too late.

Yuck! My stomach’s all gassy now from the bean soup.

Later…

Shiny, who we now call the cat with his shiny black fur, just meowed to be let out. The good of his non-stop meowing is that I can go into another room and he’ll call to let me know when he wants out. Meanwhile, I let him out and he’s out there meowing to himself. So weird!

I forgot to say that for about a week now, the dog across the street has sort of become the problem I knew it would be. However, I’m not entirely sure it’s directly across the street where the renters are, but it is somewhere across the street. Fortunately, it doesn’t bark that much (no dog could bark as much as those collies) and it’s quiet at night, so I still have my nighttime peace.

Later…

Just 2-3 more hours to go!!

What? No call this morning from Andy?

Saturday, December 12, 1998

 

Fittingly, the mistake’s birthday is on the 13th. Last year that was a Saturday, this year it’s a Sunday. Tomorrow. That may explain why I didn’t wake up with a bad vibe constantly nagging at me. It’s probably not today we have to worry about. It’s tomorrow we have to worry about. However, with two city complaints lodged against them, maybe they’ll only do four hours’ worth of ball games and not the stereos. We’ll see. If there’s any major shit from them, they’re gonna have to pay for it, that’s for sure. I just don’t know how they’ll pay, but they will. Maybe it won’t be so bad, though, cuz not only are my vibes not that bad, but I have three things on my side for this final Mistake birthday. The complaints, there being no dog over there, and his not living there. I’m sure he’ll be over doing his laundry and banging his bitch, though.

I haven’t shit yet today and am not the least bit surprised over that, even though I had bean soup yesterday that’s high in fiber. The reason I’m not surprised is that I woke up at 110½ pounds. The fact that I had less than 1000 calories yesterday and woke up only a pound lighter, tells me that it really is true that I’ll never get down to 100 pounds again without total or very near starvation. And it really is true that if I were 100 pounds at the snap of my fingers, I’d just go right back up between 110-115 in a matter of days.

Tom, who bullshitted me yesterday about wanting more sex, has gone off to drive his race car on his computer. Why oh why is he such a liar and a joker when it comes to sex/kid? Can’t he give it up? It’s old, Tom! I understand, though, that he wants to keep his energy to get through these last few hours of work that need to be done, even if I don’t think it should affect a guy that was even older than he is. He and I both are tired of setbacks. But as I know damn well, as soon as he’s finished with this, it’ll be on to something else that’ll be very time-consuming.

Before we went out yesterday, I ended up taking up Andy’s and Marla’s offer to call Linda. She was very nice and she spoke well to me and very openly, too. She was quite talkative too, and I even had a hard time getting a word in edgewise at times.

The main reason I called was to ask about the HSG exam. She said everyone’s different, but having a high tolerance to pain, it didn’t hurt her. She said it was cool how you could see the dye running up the fallopian tubes.

She told me all about the things she’s done and went through as far as getting pregnant goes. She started the testing route when she was 30 and didn’t have kids until her 40s. That’s because the technology wasn’t where it is today when she was 30. Today, they guarantee virtually everyone they can have kids. Different states vary in what they offer and what’s covered by insurance. In California, you pay a flat rate fee of about $20,000 for a certain number of tries. If you don’t get pregnant and have a kid, they give you your money back. In other words, this is for the rich.

She was one of those cases where there started off being an explanation as to why she couldn’t conceive, then she was one of those unexplained infertility cases for a while. She said it’s not that she couldn’t conceive, it’s that she’d always miscarry. They found one clogged tube, but technically you only need one tube as long as the sex is normal with the guy you’re with and as long as he’s willing to cum regularly. A little more than regularly in a case like that. But then no one knows to this day why she couldn’t carry the non-invitro pregnancies. She said she could get pregnant on Friday and lose it by Monday, although I don’t see how you could know you were pregnant if you lost it just three days later, so maybe that was an exaggeration. Maybe after they did the in vitro, they gave her some sort of hormone medication. I forgot to ask. Anyway, maybe it was God’s will to do whatever he felt he had to do to keep her from having kids until she was in her 40s. Maybe there’s a reason too, why he felt she could only have them by way of in vitro. Who knows why he does the things he does? As she said, the assholes live long, healthy lives, while the good ones die young. This is why I always worry about Tom. It’s like he’s too good for life, in God’s eyes. Also, the ones that are too young or too fucked up or both, never seem to have a problem getting pregnant.

She said that the most common causes of infertility are clogged tubes or something within the uterus lining. So I’ve heard. I’ve heard just about everything she told me, except I didn’t know that in vitro causes multiples. I thought only the drug they give you to make you ovulate more eggs did that. She said she had three of them but lost one after she began hemorrhaging.

Anyway, she said they check women for hormone levels, to make sure they’re ovulating, and things like that. I don’t know how the hell they can check to see if a woman’s ovulating, though. I wish my case was and wasn’t a case of a clogged tube or wacky hormone levels. A part of me feels it’d be nice to have the problem be simple so I could have more options open to me, but a part of me also hopes they tell me my uterus is hopeless, cuz that’d make the decisions easier if there was nothing to have to decide, even though God gets the final say in all of this.

You can get pregnant, then lose it, if your hormone levels go wacky during pregnancy.

As for testing Tom, she said they’ll test him last as a last resort if they don’t find anything wrong with me. Great. Then I won’t have to worry that he’ll decide not to do his part. I know the problem’s me, and she too, knew since she was 18 that she’d have problems getting pregnant. And she didn’t have the DES, the years of drugs, and all these things against her. There was nothing to say she couldn’t get pregnant. Only her gut instinct. I don’t know if I was 18 when I knew a child wasn’t meant to be for me, but it does seem that for most of my life, I knew I’d never have one, fertile or not.

She said she’s not ashamed of how she got her kids and that if I find I am right about there being something wrong - it’s not my fault. I know that, but it still makes me feel picked on by God. It’s like, wasn’t his having me born to the kinds of people I was born to more than enough of a cruel punishment to dump on me?

She said she’s no doctor, but my erratic light periods could be a sign of early menopause. Or maybe I do, as Tom suggested, have a hormone problem. But that doesn’t explain my infertility in the past when my periods were normal. Oh, the questions that eat at me! I just hope I get some answers. Right now, the question isn’t am I going to have a kid? I know that’s not meant to be no matter what. The questions are what is wrong with me and what am I going to do about it?

I asked Tom if he’d have a kid if he wasn’t 100% sure he wanted one, and he said he wouldn’t if he had any doubts.

I asked Linda if she believed God made me as I am for a reason and that I shouldn’t fight it, or anything else she thought, but she said the same thing Tom said. God wouldn’t have given us the brains to figure out how to get almost anyone pregnant if he didn’t want us doing that, but again, you don’t need to be sterile in order for God to make sure you don’t get pregnant. If you do everything that technology has to offer in order to get fixed, have a normal sex life, then still don’t conceive, then yeah, it really, really wasn’t meant to be and it’s just God’s will for whatever reason be it fair or unfair, right or wrong.

I admitted without hesitation that if it were between 1994-1997, I’d have jumped at the opportunity of getting fixed and getting pregnant, but I just don’t know if I want that anymore. I don’t feel that deep-down desire I used to feel. I didn’t get into why I feel I’m incompetent to have kids or our freak sex life, but I don’t know if I’d even enjoy motherhood with all its burdens, responsibilities, and restrictions, and the desire’s just not there anymore like it used to be. Only the questions remain. I automatically say how I don’t want to give up my life and freedom, but when I think about it, it wouldn’t kill me to shuffle things around and do the things I do much less often or at scheduled times. It wouldn’t kill me if I couldn’t sing at 2 AM, but it’s the not having any time to myself or with my husband that I would worry about. And the sleep schedule, my temper, and my lack of patience and experience.

She wondered if maybe I’d given up a little and I told her I did that a long time ago. Knowing a kid isn’t meant to be whether I wanted one or not, I could never in a million years go as far as she went and go through years of testing/trying, even though you don’t have to anymore.

I just don’t know what to do, though! Do I want to get fixed if I’m told I can be fixed? Should I bother to be “normal” when I know what’s fated to be? Is there any way I could be wrong about God and Tom controlling and limiting me and my being fated not to have a kid? Is there any way I could be wrong about not enjoying or being able to handle motherhood? I don’t see how I could be wrong. God’s gotta have made me sterile for a reason. Just like Tom has his reasons for being the way he is in bed, which is fear. He may not consciously know it, but he doesn’t want the time a child would take up or its responsibilities, and he doesn’t really think I’d be a good mom like he says.

Let’s just start with finding out whatever I can before I decide what to do about it. Until I have all my options at hand, I can’t say for sure what I’m gonna do.

She told me a couple of other things I didn’t know, but that didn’t shock me, cuz it’s so common. She started off by acknowledging how shitty my folks were and that no one did anything about it. That was the way back then, I told her. Society looked the other way.

Anyway, Milton, Norma’s husband, was a whoring gambler. They’re somehow related to me, I guess. Some kind of cousins.

There was some couple at the beach too, that was once friends with my folks, her folks, and others that were in the same clique, who turned out to be child molesters. Not the wife, but the husband. They had 4 boys and a girl, Linda said, and the husband molested the girl, I guess, and God knows who else.

Let me take a break now to go call Paula, who left a message yesterday at a new number. A new address too, no doubt.

Later…

No answer at Paula’s. I left a message.

I got my daily call from Andy yesterday after I left a message telling him I talked to Linda (I’m still nervous about Monday, though). He said he was proud of me for calling her. Whatever. He also said he kept his mouth shut at a temp agency that gave him a few days’ worth of work. Yeah, yeah. He’ll subconsciously set himself up to be fired before the New Year.

Later…

I’m not looking forward to this prep kit any more than I’m looking forward to these appointments (especially the female-related one). I had to drink a solution that tastes like shit and take some pills. Even worse, I have to shove a suppository up my ass.

Yesterday I got fed up with having to play toilet day in and day out, among all the other problems this old house has, so I tried to fix it. That only helped a little, so while we were out yesterday getting more shingles, we got a new toilet valve and flusher. This is a push-button one. So far so good, but for some reason I’m as hexed with toilets as I am with sex, so we’ll see how it holds up. As long as we can get by, we can just let the next people deal with it. It doesn’t affect the house’s value. The next owners should replace the whole damn toilet if they have any smarts.

Tom and I were just talking about moving and he said we might want to go with just one acre not as far out of town, rather than twenty acres further out of town, and put our money into soundproofing. This way, it won’t matter that the city’s still close by and we could afford the property taxes. If we moved further out and got many acres, and if the city really did catch up to us, that’d up the value of the property and cause us to maybe not be able to afford the property taxes. The closer you are to the city, the costlier the land is. Well, if I could have something just as good that only took twenty minutes to get to stores/doctors/etc., rather than forty, I’d take the twenty.

We went and got that cage. It is huge! And so nice too. With its bass on the ground, it’s an inch shorter than me and about 3’ wide. If it were on wheels, it’d be taller than me. As our luck would have it, we were missing parts so we couldn’t get it up on wheels. Tom will pick up those parts, as well as some ramps that you can get for this cage to make easier access going up and down the 4 different levels. Its bass is a light-colored plastic. Almost like a big litter box. The walls and top are black wires. They’re thick and solid and the whole cage is pretty heavy. At first, I was worried that Mickey, my new rat, would get through the bars, but he couldn’t. It has 3 light-colored plastic shelves that you snap on each level to make floors. One of each of the 3 shelves, has a hole in it for connecting a big tube. Just like how the mice’s cages have floor tubes.

Hey Joebitch, enjoying that banging? Yeah, he’s up on the roof now with hopes of being done at 2:30.

Anyway, there are three tubes. A T-shaped pink one, a straight yellow one, and a curved purple one. Ratsy can get to the 2nd floor just fine, and he can get through the curved tube that leads to the top floor, but will he ever be able to get through the straight tube up to the 3rd floor? He’s physically capable of it, but I don’t know if he’ll ever want to bother. This is why I’m going to get ramps. I also want a couple more rats too, at some point. This cage would be perfect for four rats if you’re not gonna house a ferret in it. I think that if Ma gives us just $50 and not $100 each for Christmas, I’ll get a couple more rats since I won’t be able to get that angel doll. Oh, I hope I will though! But if I can’t, I can’t.

So far, Mickey’s pretty brave and friendly, but not very active. He’s in the old wooden burrow a lot that I put on the bottom along with the black wheel that Ratsy uses. The 2nd floor has Ratsy’s favorite straw-like burrow that’s round with four openings. The 3rd floor has a curved green piece of wood, and the new dark green wheel I just got. The 4th floor has a purple burrow just like Ratsy’s favorite one, only it’s smaller and it’s of thick plastic, and the deep purple hammock that came with the cage. As with the Play City cages, there are other accessories you can add on. You can even add on walls and floors, but this is plenty big enough! Mickey has more brown than Ratsy does. It extends a little further down his neck and more than halfway down the top of his back. He also has dark spots on his tail. Ratsy just has a dark head, with just a little darkness on the sides of his neck, one small dark dot on his upper back, and that’s it. He’s mostly white.

It was pretty funny when at the checkout counter I saw what looked to be jumping fish in no water in a bag that a woman behind us had. Tom, who was closer to her, told me they were crickets that were probably used to feed a lizard. Oh. To me, it looked like little fish in a bag with no water.

Later…

Tom just went to pick up some more shingles. Only a small spot in the center of the roof is still unshingled, so I uncovered my dolls and set them back up. I missed them.

Although it’s now freeloader prime time, no activity and no bad vibe yet. The white car should be in any time now to pick up the bitch. We’ll see what I wake up with tomorrow for vibes, though.

I forgot to mention that Ratsy and Mickey get along very well. Ratsy still doesn’t like Tom, though, and he bit him twice.

Linda said that the only real discomfort she found in all the fertility testing/procedures was when they measured the distance from her opening to the back wall of the uterus for when they went to inject the fertilized egg. She said that when they hit the back wall, that caused cramping. Yeah, I’ll bet.

She said C-sections are a killer compared to having it vaginally, cuz it’s major surgery where they go through the muscle and have to push around organs to get at the baby. She said when gas and shit go through the intestines and all that for the first time afterward, it’s tough, and you can barely move for about a week. She said as long as you don’t tear vaginally since what hurts down there afterward is the pee going where the stitches are, you’re fine. How can a vagina be fine after having something 4-5 inches wide go through it? I’d think it’d have to tear. I mean, that’s quite a stretch!

She also said that once the labor pains peak, all you feel is like you have to push and take a dump. Once again, how can all you feel be labor pains? What about the pain of the baby passing through the birth canal? Was her crotch numbed?

Sunday, December 13, 1998

 

Fortunately, I don’t have a bad vibe about the freeloaders. Tom said it was unlikely that something big was gonna go down seeing that it’s close to noon already and they haven’t started setting anything up. We’ll see, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if there was some company and some ball playing. All we’ve seen so far is the white car. It probably dropped the bitch off from the church.

Yesterday, Tom saw the cock loading up its car. For what? They obviously haven’t gone anywhere and besides, it’s too soon for that. If they were gonna take off for Christmas, it’s too soon.

At 8:40 last night, the cock’s car pulled in and I heard something being unloaded from the car. Then I heard nothing till it left twenty minutes later.

Tom also said that no dog across the street barked at all yesterday, and he was up on that roof for several hours. He said there was a dog that was barking a lot the next block over.

Yes, it’s truly hard to believe this, but the roof is done! He’s now doing the final steps - putting the turbans on, putting trim around the sides to keep the wind from lifting the roofing up, and things like that. I won’t even bother to ask that he trim the tree out front and the hedges after he’s done, cuz I know he won’t. And if he did, he’d do it months after I asked. Soon we’ll begin the cleanup part of the job. That should take some time to do too, but it’ll be nothing like the roof. Now, all he has to do is put a roof over the patio, which will also be a joke compared to over the house/garage. That’s flat and doesn’t need all those shingles.

I’m now able to get away with only waxing the knobs on the lower braces just like with up top. I don’t need to bother with the hassles of waxing up the braces on the front teeth cuz now my mouth is used to them.

Evie sent a Christmas card with a picture of the kids. Her and her pictures of the kids!

Online, after I was bitching to her about always having to fix something around here, she said that she too, went through that for years and that she even had to go without any cooling system of any kind! No swamp cooler, no AC, no nothing! My God! So, I told her that from now on whenever I went to bitch about this house, I’d think of her.

She also bragged about her new family van and I was like, you fucker! You get free will as a woman, the house you want, the vehicle you want, you’ve never had a sex problem that I’ve known of, and you can keep a schedule. Well, I’m not too worried. I may never have free will as a woman, but we’ll have that dream house and that newer, nicer, bigger vehicle eventually.

Today’s gonna be a tough day cuz all I can have is liquids. Thanks to that stupid, incompetent Vicki who told me I could eat as I usually do up till midnight before the appointment, it came as a sort of surprise to me when I read that I really couldn’t have anything more than gelatin, plain bread, and dry crackers. Mostly clear soup and water, though. Fortunately, the instructions say tea and coffee are OK. On the other hand, it shouldn’t be too tough cuz I really can’t eat much anyway with the bottom braces. I can only have liquids or soft stuff, like mashed potatoes.

My vibe rang true today. I woke up at 110 pounds! Again, losing just half a pound in your sleep should tell you something. In my case, my body’s doing everything it can to hang onto its weight. I haven’t shit for two days since I dropped under 112, but that’s gonna be taken care of in about six hours when I drink this milkshake kind of mix I have to drink. I just hope I don’t get sick! Then at bedtime, I have three little pills to take. Then I have to get up two hours before the appointment tomorrow to shove that suppository up my ass. Gross, huh?

Later…

I thought of something Linda said. When she was acknowledging that I’ve got to be the one to decide if a kid’s worth it enough to me to be willing to go so far with the testing and all that, she questioned if I felt like I was “missing” something. It’s been said that sterile women often say they feel like something’s missing from their lives when they can’t have kids. Me? I never felt that something was “missing” in that sense. Maybe that’s because I have so many other things.

We went to Walgreens yesterday and I picked up some more of that Gillette lotion I like. This one smells a little different, though. I got a few puzzles, some nail polish, some chicken broth, some Jell-O, and he got some donuts.

The nail polish is really cool. It’s got slivers of glitter in a clear polish. Between the two bottles I got, there’s purple, magenta, green and red. I want to go back and get one with silver some time, as well as these fake nails with these really cool designs on them. The lady at the check-out counter had one is of a blue sky with clouds. I thought they were decals, but she said they’re not and that they don’t fall off easily. My own nails can grow, but they look like shit with their ridges, so I want to get these. The glitter nail polish helps to hide my ridges. Nails look pretty shabby when solid colors start to chip off, but with this, you can’t tell when it’s chipping cuz there are clear spaces in between glitter slivers.

We went to Staples too, to look for a much-deserved game for Tom after all his hard work. He got a flight simulator game. It’s not a game that has any contest to it, but just one where you fly around the world. It’s not very realistic with its graphics, but after we play around with it some more, maybe we’ll get to like it.

Got a new dry-erase board at this store too, and it’s cute. In the corner of it, it’s got a little girl and boy sitting on a bench kissing and the girl has a pretty floral dress. I hated the one Dureen sent. It was of tiles. The kind you’d find in a bathroom. I hated getting the pen stuck in between tiles.

What else did we get there? I think that’s it. Tom’s gonna go back for a form he forgot to get so he can get a rebate on this game. Also, we need new scissors. The scissors around here are getting dull, so I’ll have him pick up a packet of three when he goes back.

Finally took a dump. Usually, I do that when I first get up. The prep kit says I should take several shits after I drink this shit I’ve got to drink tonight. Fun. Real fun.

Still no bad freeloader vibes.

Tuesday, December 15, 1998

 

Before I get into how horrible yesterday’s ordeal was, oh my fucking God! I was right and how terrifying too! As I told Tom, God’s not gonna let him fix this roof. No matter how many hours of work Tom puts himself through, God’s not gonna help him help us. No matter how smart he is or how much he slaves himself to fix this roof, it can’t be stopped. God is just so determined to hold us back in life and to inflict his wrath, fury, hatred, and insensitivity upon us. He just doesn’t care. He doesn’t give a shit at all! No matter how hard we try to get ahead, he just won’t let us.

When the storm began just after I woke up, I was so happy that I could just relax, go about my business as usual, and not have to play Leak and Bucket. Wrong! Dead wrong. The back room is leaking in its usual spot, along with a new spot near it, and there’s water dripping down the crack in the bathroom doorway.

Typical Arizona, too. A warm dry weekend, then it cools down and rains at the start of the week. These are the kinds of storms that go on for hours. It’s not gonna stop till at least 10:00-11:00 and we can never be sure where else it’ll leak. Just because it hasn’t leaked in a certain area, doesn’t mean it won’t later. In fact, I just looked up and noticed a water stain coming through a crack in the plaster above me. I moved into the living room to be where it’s safer, but no place is safe in this house. This house is making me more and more nervous. It’s like it’s possessed. Will God, the devil, or whatever is hexing this house, follow us when we move?

Would God have it leak today anyway, or does it have something to do with yesterday? But yesterday all I did was get some tests. I didn’t do anything to try to change myself. I didn’t go against the way he made me, so what’s the big deal? Is finding out information a sin too? Is that considered rebelling against God? If this has anything to do with me getting tests, then God help us if I did try to change myself. Will things get progressively worse for us if I kept going? Could this have to do with the fact that I’m down to 109 pounds (the craters have gone down a lot too)? Why? Why does God keep doing these kinds of things to us?

I decided to do my puzzles on the vanity table in the music room rather than on the red table I was gonna put back in the living room. I had taken my dolls off of this table (they were covered with plastic bags) and set them up around the house. Since I can’t put them back on the vanity cuz it’s littered with puzzle pieces, I put Summer Dream, Anne, Edie, Rapunzel and Patrice on my bedroom dresser. Then I put a garbage bag over them. Jessica, I don’t care about, so I just left her on the music room floor. I put Bailey in a bag of her own and set her down in the corner of the bedroom.

All I know is that I just want OUT of this fucking house! I don’t know if this shit is compensation for wonderful things to come, or if it’s a curse. It feels more like a curse to me, cuz things would be just wonderful enough if we didn’t have to keep on going through all this shit and keep getting set back with absolutely no help from God whatsoever.

No freeloader shit Sunday. All I saw Sunday evening was that white car with the rack on it and some skinny black lady putting Christmas presents in the trunk. I couldn’t tell for sure if this was Miss Bitch. The hair and face didn’t look right for the bitch, but whoever it was was totally anorexic and it was so obvious that it was a drug-induced skinniness too. So, this car left and then it came back and it appeared that someone was taking presents out of the trunk, but I couldn’t tell for sure. I just hope they stick to tradition and don’t do Christmas here. How can this bitch afford to buy all these gifts anyway? With drug sale money? Anyway, this car left again for the last time, then the cock came and went, and that’s it.

Yesterday was weird, cuz Bill left before the cock came. Why would he leave the kid alone like that?

In a little while, I’ll get into yesterday. It’s only 9:23 now and I hear the rain picking up again, so I’m too nervous to concentrate on writing.

Later…

Thank God! It’s over. It’s brightening up out there and the barometer’s coming up. But what are we gonna do the next time it rains? And the next? And the next? And the next? How much worse will this get with each rainfall, too?

I guess it’ll be a while before Tom comes home, so I’ll get into yesterday’s torture.

Actually, I should start with Sunday night. The people at Genesis are really incompetent and I hope I never have to go back there again. Not only did they tell Vicki I could eat normally up till midnight, which was a lie cuz I had to have just liquids the day before, but they also said in their prep kit instructions that I’ll have “several bowel movements a few hours after drinking the drink.” Wrong! More like “several bouts of diarrhea 5½ hours after drinking the drink, and then again later. Both bouts of diarrhea will be after you’ve gone to bed and will wake you up, too.” I took the drink at 6 PM and was slightly nauseous, but was asleep by 9:30. At 11:30, the pains woke me and I nearly puked and had the runs for about 15 minutes. I fell back asleep till the runs woke me again at 2:30. I was up with that for about a half-hour, then I went back to bed till Tom got me up at 6:45. Then I had to go without my coffee, suffering from my growling, hungry belly, shove a suppository up my ass, and deal with my last bout of the runs 15 minutes later.

First we had to wait forever for the receptionist when we got there, then we had to go upstairs and wait forever too, to the sound of four obnoxious black kids. Those fucking blacks, man, I swear! I don’t know what I hate more, blacks or Hispanics.

This lady, who went back and forth between being sweet and nice to a bitch, eventually took me in and to a dressing room where I had to strip and put my shoes and clothes in a basket, along with my purse. I put a Johnny on with it open in the back and one with it open in the front.

They wouldn’t allow Tom in for either exam due to the radiation.

So I was put on a hard metal table where the girl took some pictures of my kidneys, then left the room. When she came back, she told me that the technician didn’t see how this test was relevant to fertility testing, so they were gonna have me do an ultrasound instead and then I didn’t have to worry about having an IV too. I didn’t realize an IV would be included in this test, but as Tom pointed out, we should’ve known by the name of the test - IVP kidney.

Then I started getting really frustrated. First it was the waiting time, and now the finding out things at the last minute and being told one thing only to find out another, and now I had just gone and got myself sick all night long for nothing! But then she reassured me I didn’t waste my time, cuz the prep kit helps with the HSG.

So, out I go to sit and wait some more. This time, though, I waited in the hall where the exam rooms were, and they let Tom come join me.

The lady called me again saying they couldn’t get a hold of my doctor, and to come with her. I stalled for a minute cuz I was confused. Then she firmly told me, “Come here. I don’t want to discuss this here. Let’s discuss it in the room.”

Back in the room, she told me they were gonna go ahead with the IVP since they couldn’t reach the doctor. All this waiting and getting jerked around was getting to me! Was God trying to tell me something? Was it for losing weight? Anyway, she misfired when trying to get the fucking IV in, so she called in this butch to do it. Even now as a non-smoker, my veins are still small. She couldn’t find a vein in my left arm, so after what took forever, she got an IV in the right arm. Then the lady injected a dye in my veins that was supposed to make the kidneys show up, I guess, and then the IV slipped out. At that point, I was like - forget it. It’s just not meant to be. But she said she had time to take pictures if she hurried. She took pictures and I asked how they were. She said she could see what she needed to see, but then she got all irritated that I would ask her what the scoop was with the kidneys since that’s for the doctor to tell me.

All the while I was with her, there was this screaming baby in a nearby room. Totally obnoxious too, and this thing held things up, I guess, cuz once again, Tom and I had to wait forever between kidney and female exams.

The only funny thing about it was when Tom said that at least they can’t miss when it comes to the female part of it like they did with the IV. No, but it sure didn’t tickle!

I went in with some other lady. It was a big, ugly room with that same hard metal table. Not even a little tiny bit of cushioning for comfort. She told me if I thought it would be bad, it’d be horrible. Well, she was kind of close, cuz it was definitely a little more than just uncomfortable. It was crossing the border into being painful, with quite the cramps! The first part of the exam was like a regular exam, then it turned into a really bad period. The doctor came in and he was friendly, but a little rough for being the male that he was. He kind of poked, pushed, and rubbed a little hard when soaping up my crotch. Then he inserted a speculum and cleaned off the cervix area, which caused some cramping. He put some cream on the cervix that’s supposed to numb that, but I don’t think it did any good, cuz I felt that tube go in that he inserted in my cervix! This numbing stuff also did nothing for the uterus and its cramping. I also thought I was gonna puke at one point too. I couldn’t see much on the monitor. The doctor agreed, unlike that first woman, to tell me his findings.

I didn’t know I’d have to do this, but I had to roll over onto my side for side shots, with my legs spread, my crotch pried open, and the cramps and nausea killing me. Then he took the tube and speculum out of me and they took one last picture of me from behind as I lay on my stomach, then I got dressed and left.

As I was having this done, I realized I could never handle in-vitro. I’d think they’d have to dilate the cervix even more and that that procedure would last longer. Also, they don’t put fluid into the uterus, they poke it with the tools they use to insert the fertilized egg.

Also, when this woman reminded me that this is nothing compared to labor, it reinforced the fact that I could never ever have a kid. If I couldn’t handle a tiny tube in my cervix, I could never handle a baby passing through it, even if the cervix does automatically dilate much more on its own.

I can totally, totally see, like never before, why God sterilized me. I couldn’t handle a child if my life depended on it. It’s like - no wonder he sterilized me! I kind of figured as much all along (along with other reasons), but this really drove it into me.

Anyway, once again, yesterday proved women’s intuition is real. Or at least my vibes are. I always knew deep down in my gut that my fallopian tubes were fine and that it was more likely to be within the uterus and more than likely caused by the DES. It looks like I’m right so far, cuz my kidneys are fine, my tubes weren’t clogged, but I do have a horned uterus. Something that you commonly see in DES people. What was weird, though, was that the doctor told me it’s also found in non-DES people too. I asked him if this automatically meant I couldn’t carry a kid and he said no, but he doesn’t know as much as Dr. Wells does and only she can tell me how severe this is. Even if it was totally irrelevant to conception, there’s always the chance that I don’t ovulate, my eggs are damaged, I have this bacteria in my fluids that kills sperm, or that my hormones are screwy, or that his sperm is fucked, but you know I highly doubt that one. My first guess is that the problem lies within the uterus. My second guess would be my eggs, and my last guess would be hormones. If I don’t hear from the doctor about the tests by Friday, I’ll call her.

In the end, though, no matter what is or isn’t wrong with me, and no matter what I feel about it, I know I’ll never have a kid. Not with a husband that cums so rarely and certainly not with God making sure this never happens. Some would ask if I felt that the reason I never conceived is due to how little Tom cums, but no. I never would have or will conceive no matter if he cums a little or a lot.

Although Tom couldn’t find much online about horned uteruses (he hasn’t done a very extensive search yet either, he says) he read up on hormone problems, a fertility clinic in Phoenix that covers diagnostics, but not treatments, and how misshapen uteruses can be surgically corrected. The idea of having surgery is less scary to me than having anything done while I’m awake. That’s for sure! That was really sweet of him to do this research, though.

Another thing he said he read was that they suggest taking Ibuprofen a couple of hours before the HSG test to ward off the cramps. That just goes to show how incompetent these fucks at Genesis are. There were others that were upset with them too, Tom said. He overheard people upset over their technicians questioning the tests that were ordered and how they wanted to bitch to the supervisor about it. I agree with Tom when he said that these fucking technicians shouldn’t question doctor’s orders like they did with me. They should just do what they’re told to do, but I guess some people like to challenge and argue with others.

I called and told Tammy about yesterday, and I sent an email to Evie and Marla. Marla will relay the news to Linda, I guess. I typed it up in Kim’s next letter. I’m adding on bit by bit and when I think there’s enough there, I’ll print it out for her.

I really hit the food after my grueling ordeal. Got a burger and a slice of cheesecake, had a TV dinner, and even some popcorn. Had some fries and another slice of cheesecake today too, and poor Tom, who didn’t want to eat out again today too (the roof fucked our plans up as usual), got something. I felt really bad and felt like a half-assed wife for not cooking more often, but he said he’s the one who does the grocery shopping. It’s his fault he didn’t get anything, but it’s just that he’s been so preoccupied with the roof. Yeah, our whole lives are that roof! That fucking mother-fucking roof!! Godfuckingdamn this roof to hell!!

He was going to go to the grocery store after work, then come home and take me to a few stores for those nails I wrote about, and for scissors, the rebate, and the ramps to the cage.

Thanks to this fucking roof that always delays things and sets us back just when it looks like we’re gonna finally get ahead and be able to move on to other things (although I told him I vibed that this roof is unfixable for him), he came straight home and went up in the attic. He feels that these leaks came through from where the cooler and AC connect to the house. He feels that the stuff he put around these openings to seal it from rain, didn’t have time to dry, so we went and got this stuff today that says you can apply it even if it’s raining.

It won’t work. Nothing will stop this leaking. I don’t know if this house is possessed by some evil spirit, if it’s God, the devil, or what, but it ain’t going away. We’re cursed with it in this house, and God only knows if the problem will follow us when we move. Or take on some other form. Meaning, maybe when we have the nicer, newer house, he’ll give us health problems for it.

I just hope that the roof shit doesn’t get worse due to the testing. Or cuz of the weight loss. I also wonder if the return of Caddy Kid means anything. I know he comes and goes, but the fact that he came at this time, makes me wonder. Maybe I’m just paranoid. I hope so. Better to be paranoid and worry for nothing, than to worry for a reason.

We had yet another new problem with this old fucked up house, but Tom took care of it in a few minutes. As you know, we only have a few doors here that open and close normally, so we didn’t need to find the bathroom door sticking all of a sudden since we had enough going on. Guess our kick-ass heater expanded the wood, but he sanded it down really well.

Anyway, you know me. I’ll go from 109 pounds to 115 pounds or higher if I eat any more than 800-1200 calories a day, so it’s back to my usual diet plan.

I guess we’ll be going out tomorrow to Walgreens and Staples to get the stuff we want, although I don’t think we’ll be getting the ramps. The stores I called didn’t have them, and Tom had trouble connecting to their site on AOL, so who knows when we’ll get that? I’m talking about ramps, in case I didn’t mention it, to make it easier for the rats to use the top two floors of their cage. They won’t go up there at this point cuz of the straight tube.

I had Mickey out today. I held him a bit and let him run around on the bed.

Today I hemmed a pair of pants, did some laundry, the dishes, changed the bed, and did other odds and ends around the house.

My shows are on tonight. The Medical Detectives and The FBI Case Files.

Later…

As long as Tom continues to be the supportive person he’s been, and as long as he’s OK with going “all the way,” so to speak, I’d like to take care of unfinished business and keep going with this fertility stuff unless something out of my control comes up to stop me. He said we have an agreement, he’ll still cum regularly, and he’ll be honest about it, but I know better. Still, I need to keep on going till the end, whatever and wherever the end may be. I’m kind of going to go into this as if I want a kid and not just information. That way, if I change my mind in five years (as long as he’s willing to cum and have the kid) I can have one if I can be fixed and if God will let me and turn me into quite the toughie that I’m not, but like I said, none of this is gonna happen. I don’t see it, but fortunately, I’m still OK with it. I look forward to life and freedom unless something ever did happen to change that and if it did, I’d just try to deal with it as best I could. Meanwhile, even though I awoke glad I went through the HSG as tough as it was, I’m not finished yet and if not myself alone, then destiny too, is pushing me onward still till I’m done. Tom understands this feeling of unfinished business. Especially without hearing what the doctor has to say about all this.

Wednesday, December 16, 1998

 

Thankfully, it hasn’t rained today like they said it might.

I guess we’re gonna be going out later.

Later…

Tom was offered a job in a different department being a “working boss” versus an office boss, in two different areas. The pro is that he could have his raise of about 45 cents now, rather than in April, but the con is the hours. The hours would make it tough to take me or his mom to appointments. Mary has no problems taking Ma to afternoon appointments, but mornings are tough for her. So, he’s probably gonna turn the offer down. My vibe is that he won’t be making any changes at the bank till right around when we move, and he’ll be at the bank altogether for 2-5 more years.

We went to Staples and got a pack of three scissors and to Walgreens where I got more glitter nail polish, so now I have three. One has magenta and red glitter, one has purple and green, and one has blue and silver. It’ll be a while before I use these, though, cuz I now have airbrushed fake nails on. They’re red with black curvy lines that turn white at the tips. Next time, I’m gonna get the nail art kit where you draw your own designs.

Anyway, these do take some getting used to. It’s amazing I can type at all. Unwaxing and waxing up my braces is tougher, but it’ll only help to keep me from eating more than I should. I’ll only eat now when I’m really hungry. Gotta use my knuckles when using the touchpad on the microwave. They were really long. Totally daggers! So I trimmed them down. I also rounded them off to make them look more natural. They came squared off at the tips and I hate that. They’ve really come a long way with nail glue. In the past, these would all fall off in no time. It takes no time at all to glue the nails on. These aren’t the kinds you file into your own nail. Filing to make them fit well is what takes a long time. I scanned/printed one of my hands to show the nails to Tammy. Tammy would hate something like this. Not long nails, but the designs. She’s never been into loud, colorful, artistic, creative stuff. I also printed a copy for Tom, since I put them on after he crashed and will be going to bed when he gets up.

As I knew would be the case, I didn’t shit today or yesterday. Not after all those runs! Besides, my body’s gonna do everything it can to get back above 110 pounds. Well, it’s doing a fine job so far cuz I woke up at 110½. I was sort of surprised, though. I thought I’d be back to 112 or 113. Tomorrow I will be.

Thought up a wonderful piece of bullshit for the freeloader’s excerpts. One that goes something like this: As I was putting out mail, Bill was wiping his car windows and he called out hello to me. I said hello back and we made pleasant small talk for a few minutes. Then he said he had to go pick up his daughter. I lied and said we were on friendly terms at last, so could I please go with him? She’d like that. He said sure, but believe me, she wasn’t the least bit happy to see me!

Later…

What’s going on, cock? What the fuck were you just doing here for an hour and a half? Making plans to come back? You’ll be sorry if you do! Mark my words, asshole!

Yeah, Bill picked up Bitch, brought it back, and the fucking cock pulled in at 6:00, took something out of its trunk, and didn’t pull out till 7:30. Still no music, fortunately for the bitch and for all of them, but nobody exchanges that many Christmas presents. Could it be a late birthday present for the mistake? Or was it hauling its shit over here? Six months is a good length of time to back off when you’re caught being where you’re not supposed to be, so what’s it gonna do now? Come back, keep the music off, but slam doors again several times a day? I don’t think so! El cocko, you will never again live next to me. Never!

Just when it had been wonderfully quiet around here as far as stereos go, it’s horrendous again. And again, it’s a hell of a coincidence that it starts back up again the very day I lose weight and rebel against God. Well, my weight will naturally go back up, so curb some of these stereos, OK God?

Doors, toilets, and roofs - it never fucking ends! I got so sick of playing toilet that I took the lid off the toilet, and that’s how it’ll stay while we’re still here. That way, when it gets hung up and when jiggling the handle doesn’t work, I can just reach in and fix it. This fucking toilet needs another part, and Tom mentioned replacing the whole fucking thing, but I’d just hex that too. I told him to use his best judgment. He knows more about this shit than I do, and I don’t want to make my life one big toilet debate. This is its third fucking problem. First it flushed too sluggishly, then it leaked, and now this!

Thursday, December 17, 1998

 

Got an email from Marla and Evie in regard to my testing and questioning how I could handle a kid if that had been meant to be. They’re jumping the gun, though, and making false assumptions by getting it into their minds that we’re gonna have a kid. We’re not, and I told them so. I’m just trying to get info.

Marla told me she’d print out my message for Linda when she sees her this weekend. They live 20 minutes apart. She and Linda also told me something I didn’t know. She said contractions don’t feel like period cramps. That’s nice to know. I hate cramps! They’re just about the worst. They also told me that after the labor pains peak, you don’t feel pain. All you feel is like you have to take a shit, then the baby comes out. Really? But what about the pain of it going through the cervix and vagina? They all say it’s worth it and quickly forgotten. Evie said she was too late in getting to the hospital to take any meds, but she survived. How can an hour and a half be too late? Evie also said she’d hang onto some old maternity things for me, which I told her not to do. I told her a child isn’t meant to be. Period. But I was now OK with that and I know that this only means that God has other plans for me. Not just that I couldn’t handle a child (she said God would help me through the pain of that and not let me hurt for too long). I can’t let myself get hooked back into this child thing. I don’t want to rekindle old dreams that can never be brought to reality. If they fixed me tomorrow and if God suddenly didn’t care if I had a kid or not, my husband still does. He would never allow me to conceive. He would never cum again and if he did, he’d make sure to do it at a safe time.

What if they said I needed in vitro? I mean, what would he do? Feel so trapped and so cornered, say he’ll go along with it, but then refuse to let them have his cum so I could never have this done? Not that I would, cuz I couldn’t handle it.

Well, no matter what the doctor tells me when I hear from her, my destiny is my freedom and my husband. Building that dream house, buying things, my critters, etc.

Later…

Tom brought home some more of that stuff to seal around the AC and cooler. He said yes, the rain did wash the other sealer away as he suspected. I’ll still never believe that this leaking can be stopped without seeing it first. Seeing is believing for me.

He said we’re gonna have to keep the dumpster through the weekend (we were gonna have it out of here by the weekend) and that maybe he’ll call them Saturday.

He also bought a new toilet kit. Last time, we bought a new handle, but this time he bought a new sealer. The part that seals up the hole for when the water fills, and that flaps up to let the water out.

In case I didn’t mention this, I’ve given Tom all the change I’ve been saving up so he can buy the headphones he wants for Christmas. There’s a little extra, cuz the headphones only cost about $30. These are wireless too, but they’re the kind you need to be in the same room with whatever you’re using them in. This way, we can hook the ones where you don’t need to be to my stereo, so I can use these headphones to listen to music if I want to while he’s got the TV headphones on. He’s gonna use the change at the grocery store and take other money for the headphones. There’s a machine there that counts change and gives you bills for it. He’ll let me know just how much money was there since we didn’t count it all.

Andy left a message Tuesday that I didn’t even know Tom saved for me. Sometimes I forget to check for saved messages. Anyway, Andy was asking me to be more specific about the testing and asked if I can have kids or not. That was sweet of him to care enough to ask. I know these things gross him out too, so I had been being careful with what I said. I told him that under no circumstances whatsoever would God allow me a child, and that although my uterus doesn’t look great, I don’t know enough at this point. All I’m trying to do now is seek out info.

I reminded Evie about this too, who’s jumping the gun by saying she’s still got some maternity clothes around that she’ll hang onto for me. Then Tom reminded me that I could fit into Evie’s regular clothes if I were nine months pregnant, she’s so big.

Tom also feels that my fallopian tubes still could’ve been blocked and that the dye flushed any blockage out. He said they can’t always tell if your tubes are blocked. My tubes weren’t blocked. I just know they weren’t.

After I told Tom that I was confused and unsure of what to do next, he made a so-called deal with me. I told him that I still feel just as controlled by him as I do by God and that if I got fixed and decided I wanted to conceive, and if God suddenly didn’t care whether or not I conceived, he’d never let me. He’d play God with my life. So, I was thinking of canceling this fertility thing, since as he agreed, we need the sex to be normal for this. Even if he wasn’t full of it, and even if he had cum all along, he hasn’t cum since the appointment and roof. There are just too many things he needs to fix and if God hadn’t sealed my fate as far as a kid goes, he has, so what the hell? Most women who are sterile can go get fixed and have a normal enough sex life with which to conceive. But I’m a unique case within a unique case. Totally controlled by both Tom and God. What they say goes. Tom’s the one with the sperm, he knows it, and God isn’t about to step in and make Tom squirt his cum into me regularly. Then he told me to just give us the weekend to have sex now that my tubes could be unblocked and now that I’m mid-cycle, see what it’s like, then make a decision. I’ve been through these so-called deals with him before, and the wait-and-see crap. But I have seen. First of all, he’s just gonna lie and say he came when he didn’t, and if he did, one weekend of him cumming isn’t gonna cut it. He needs to cum more than three times a year for him to say he’s cumming regularly and be telling the truth. He also needs to come more than that in order to leave it up to God to decide if I should conceive and not be manipulating and trying to control things.

I wonder, though, about another possibility. Maybe he will admit he didn’t cum this weekend. Or maybe he’ll boldly look me in the eye and lie and say he did. Is he contemplating or planning on admitting he didn’t cum with the hopes of me canceling the fertility testing cuz of it? Could be. Maybe I should insist he came and let him go along with it. If he went along with it in the past, why not now? Then we won’t have to discuss it. A part of me wishes I never bothered letting him know I knew all along he wasn’t cumming. I knew he’d either make an excuse for lying or just plain old deny it. That’s the awful thing about this otherwise wonderful man who’s one in millions. If you confront him with something you don’t think, but you know, he lied to you about, he’ll cry don’t pick on me! Or he’ll just boldly insist he is telling the truth when you know damn well he’s not. He’s really bold. Some people are like that, though. They think that if they’re caught in a lie, don’t make excuses for it, just deny it. Denial is easy, isn’t it?

I’m still OK with never having a child. I have enough other things to live for and I want to stay with my husband forever no matter what, but it’s the lies, the false promises, and the saying one thing and doing another that I’m fed up with. He reminded me today how much I prefer actions to talk, so let’s do our deal and all that. But he won’t put his actions where his mouth is. He’ll say one thing and do another, or he’ll lie about it and insist he did what he said he’d do when he really didn’t.

Later…

Right on schedule. Bill’s gone to get the bitch. Will the cock visit for an hour and a half tonight?

I read Tom my piece of bullshit on how I went to pick up the bitch with Bill and she flipped over it while I laughed. Then they drove to the police station and she ended up getting arrested for being hysterical. I denied riding with them and said they were following me, and out of fear, I came to the PD. He got a kick out of it.

It’s nice not having the toilet hang up and it’s nice being able to just quickly touch the button and have it flush. Before, I had to hold it in for several seconds. I’m gonna enjoy this toilet while it works, cuz I know it’s just a matter of time before it goes on the fritz again.

Later…

Oh, God! The cock’s here. In the driveway again like yesterday. He never parks in the driveway on weekdays. That tells me something that I don’t like and that worries me. I can’t believe I didn’t hear any door slamming. I wouldn’t know it was here if I didn’t look, but that’s the way it should be.

This is day three and still no dump. Damn, that shit they gave me really cleaned me out! Amazingly, though, I woke up at 110 pounds and not the 112-113 I expected to wake up at. What’s gonna happen, though? Is my body gonna wait till it is back up to 112-113 pounds before it shits?

It helps to write about some things that bother me, but this one’s a little tougher. Our fucking lying whore of a president bombed Iraq. And it’s so childish too, cuz he’s doing it for the wrong reasons. He claims it’s because they refused to cooperate with weapons inspections, and they did have some weapons that could’ve harmed people nearby, and they are a fucked up country, but it’s all over his not wanting to be impeached and brought to trial for lying about having oral sex with that 21-year-old. He figures this will stall impeachment. So, innocent children have to die because he had to get his dick sucked by some young thing and he can’t own up to it and deal with it? That’s great. That’s just really great. Why is sex always so destructive?! I wish I could say that in this slut’s case, what goes around will come around and he’ll be assassinated, but I know he won’t. Nope. He’ll live a long, healthy, free life full of all kinds of money, sex, fun and power.

Once again, this cock is hanging around a little too long to be playing daddy. More like banging its bitch and making plans to come back. I didn’t see or hear anything being unloaded, but like I said, if it’s gonna be stupid enough to come back and get its bitch evicted, let it.

Later…

The cock just left. So it was here an hour and 15 minutes tonight instead of an hour and a half, huh? About 15 minutes before it left, I heard two car doors, but because it was dark, I couldn’t tell if it took something out of its car or if it put something in its car. He used to do this all the time he lived here, though - come out and play car door six times a day. It can’t even be here an hour and not play doors!

Anyway, I think it’s testing me and the city and getting a feel for things to see if it’s really safe enough to return. By parking in the driveway, he can see if the city questions it before moving in and really getting everybody into trouble, and also see if I complain about it. Once he feels the coast is clear, in it’ll come. Although, it is parking in the driveway after business hours. We’ll just have to wait and see.

Uh-oh. I just peeked out and saw the bitch’s front light on. She doesn’t usually keep that light on unless she’s either expecting company or currently has company over. Well bitch, your company just left. A little slow at cutting the light? Or are you expecting another round?

Later…

I think I know why I heard two door slams, then one more when it left. The bitch is early to bed, early to rise during the week, but not this early. There are no lights on inside the house. Just the porch, so I think the first two slams were her and Mistake getting in the car. Then for whatever reason, Mr. Cock didn’t come out for 15 minutes later, then they all split. So, Bitch and Mistake should be pulling in with Mr. Fuck sometime before 9 PM, then it’s off to la-la land!

Friday, December 18, 1998

 

I was right about the bitch. It was out with its cock last night. It came in around 10 PM.

I asked Tom if he thought the cock was on its way back in and he said no. He said he thinks they probably went out to pick out a Christmas present for their mistake together, and because the stores are mobbed at this time of year, it took them hours.

At 1:30 PM today, I saw the cock, the kid, and some other guy get out of the cock’s car, which was parked in the street since that was during business hours. El Cocko was wearing a red sports shirt. Guess as Tom said, he has some time off, since people get time off at this time of year. The dude he was with was little. Sort of short and very thin. He had on tight jeans, a black leather jacket, and a cowboy-type hat. I think it was black with a wide brim. Both guys were carrying stuff. Maybe food. They weren’t here long.

At 4:30 PM, Bill left as usual, and returned at 5:22. He should be pulling out any sec now, then the cock should show up for an hour or two.

I hope Tom’s right when he says it’s very unlikely that this country will be bombed in our lifetime since we’re the ones with all the bombs and resources to make them. Iraq can’t bomb us back now, but I hope to hell he’s right and that they don’t find a way to develop the technology to bomb us in 15 years.

I got a message from Evie and called her back. It seems good old Nora is trying to dump Jennifer off on some family member. She called Evie all hysterical from work and said she was gonna call us, but she hasn’t wasted her time yet. Evie told her she didn’t think it’d be good for Jennifer to be placed in different places temporarily. She thinks she should be adopted. The problem with adopting, though, is that no one wants older kids. If they’re more than a day old, they don’t want them. Also, Jennifer’s an aggressive, violent, hyper bitch, thanks to her wonderful mom, so no one wants her. She keeps getting kicked out of the foster homes they stick her in. Evie doesn’t want her beating up on her kids.

I knew Tom was wrong too, when he said they said Pam could never have Jennifer back under any circumstances. They told her she could have her back either in 90 days or if she could provide a home for her. As I told Tom, our lovely system will see to it that Pam gets Jennifer back, even though they both should be killed. Jennifer should be killed cuz her future is already doomed, and people like Pam should be killed cuz they’re sick fucks. Since they’re not gonna kill her, why don’t they order her to have her tubes tied and to stay away from all children for the rest of her life, no matter what her life is like? They should! She’s not in the psyche ward anymore, either. She’s in a shelter and able to have another kid now. She’ll be getting pregnant again anytime now, trust me. You take a kid away from its mother and the mother turns right around and has more. It happens all the time.

Anyway, Tom would never go for a calm kid in here for a while, let alone one that wild, and I totally agree. Also, I meant it when I said that if I’m not good enough for my own kid, in God’s eyes, then I’m not good enough for someone else’s, even if it was just for a little while. Lisa would’ve been different cuz of her age.

Bill left just a few minutes ago. Mr. Cocko shall be pulling in any sec.

I woke at 109 pounds and still haven’t shit, either. Tom says that’s normal after taking the enema. Yeah, I’ll shit when I shit. Meanwhile, I’m surprised I’m not back between 112-115 pounds.

Later…

Miss Bitch is having company tonight. The front light’s on. Unless that thunk I just heard was someone picking her up. Might’ve been the recycle bin cover, but I don’t know. It leaves the light on when it’s expecting company, has company or is going out. I looked out front and in the carport, but I didn’t see a car and I didn’t see headlights shining on the music room wall where I was just now, so I’d guess she dumped some shit in her bin, and is waiting for her cock. After all, the lights are on over there, too. So someone’s there.

I decided to take a break from my near-starving regimen and have a couple of Tom’s pork chops he got. Well, they were good, but now the guilt’s set in and I feel like I automatically gained 5 pounds. I feel fat! It was good to fill up, though. I haven’t been that full in a long time, although nowadays, it doesn’t last long with me. Anyway, since I already blew it today and had over 1000 calories (those pork chops alone were about 1000 calories right there), I won’t worry about how many 70-calorie cups of coffee I have for the remainder of the night. Tomorrow, I gotta get back on track. Don’t want to throw all my hard work away. I had to get sick for most of this! Maybe, though, I should take a suppository once a week or so. At least it works 15 minutes later and not 5 hours later when you’re asleep. It’s funny how it’s after I stop walking that I lose more weight.

Evie said what I figured she’d say - she’s nowhere near her goal of 125 pounds for Christmas. She only lost about 15 pounds, which would put her around 160, and has gained 4 pounds back. Yeah, that’s the life of a mother for you. Also, maybe she shovels thousands of calories a day into her mouth. Who knows? I’m not there to see how she eats.

Later…

I think the bitch is out somewhere. After I heard the thunk of what I thought was a car door, I saw shadows moving over there in front. The light’s still on but there’s no car here, and also, it is dark inside. I can see two of her windows from the music room and the one in front is dark. The one in back, which is the kitchen, has a dim light shining through. So, someone got in a car when I heard the thunk, the shadows were caused by someone else going back in to kill most of the lights, or coming out after just doing so, then they took off.

Later…

Bitch still isn’t back yet.

Just watched L.A. Detectives which was a dumb thing to do. It only depressed me to see a case of this guy who shot his kids, his wife, then himself. Ain’t God just wonderful? Yeah, it just makes me hate and fear him all the more knowing he could allow this to happen. At least he allowed the guy to shoot himself in the end. 

Now that’s justice.

Saturday, December 19, 1998

 

Didn’t hear the bitch return last night, but when I peeked out at around 11 PM, the light was off.

The cock’s here now. It’s been here since noon when I got up. I just saw it come out and fumble with something in the backseat, then it got out and headed back into the house.

Woke up at 110 pounds. Two more pounds, then I can shit.

Later…

Sunshine and Lollipops is here! Can you believe she only took 17 days to get here? She’s a cutie. Even cuter than in her catalog with her brown pigtails, eyes, and happy smile (the dolls seem to look better in person). She’s my first with pigtails, socks, the style of shoes she wears, a yellow dress, freckles, and the toothy smile she’s got. You can see her top teeth. But as you know, I have lousy doll luck. I can’t quite pose her as her picture shows her posed, but it’s a minor thing, and it’s certainly not worth sending her back over. She’s got a big lollipop which she holds and two little ones in her dress pocket. Just like I did with Patrice and Summer Dream, the dolls I got from Ashton-Drake, I scanned their certificates of authenticity and sent their pictures to Tammy so she could get an idea of some of the dolls I collect.

I’ve decided that after I get that angel doll if I get her, I’m gonna hang up the porcelain doll collecting for a while and get some of those Barbie dolls after all. I just love their outfits. At least they range from $12-$20, rather than $40-$300, as my porcelain dolls do.

At 3:30, the bitch and cock left. I think their great big mistake went along, too. They must’ve gone to some party, cuz the bitch was pretty decked out in a short black skirt, and what appeared to be a maroon velour top. A half-hour ago at 9:00, a white car came in and I heard several door slams. Ever since then, the front light’s been on, so who knows if she’s expecting someone, or what.

Tom said that the reason there haven’t been ball games lately may be cuz of the roofing. They may have feared that the kids will get hit with the roofing shit he’d toss down. He almost nailed the mailman good. Whatever, but as soon as the freeloaders see the dumpster gone and realize that he’s all done, then yes, it’ll be payback time as far as the noise department is concerned, and since they can’t do music anymore and get away with it, they’ll send the kids and their fucking basketballs after us. How sick; to use kids to harass adults.

For the third or fourth time since putting these airbrushed nails on, one popped off. I got sick of them, being the pain in the ass that they are, and decided to give myself a break from them. I popped most of them off after a little tugging, but I had to use the acetone stuff to get rid of the rest. Still, it was different, and it was fun and I’ll probably do this every now and then. For now, I’ve got my glitter polish on.

Tom came today! Yeah, he actually came, but right now, I’m tired of writing and I think I’ll go read.

Sunday, December 20, 1998

 

As I last said - the freeloader’s front light was on last night at 9:00 when the white car came in. At 11:00, I saw it was still on and wondered if the bitch forgot to turn it off, but nope. The white car came in again just after midnight, then that was it.

At 6:30 today, the white car came in, then split, but the light was still on so I knew someone else would be coming in. At 7:20, Bill came in, left, then returned at 8:15. Then the light went off. So, she’s tucked in for the night. I guess he took his bitch daughter grocery shopping. It was dark, but it looked like those could’ve been grocery bags, anyway. I can also tell in the dark who’s who. I can tell Bill’s slow shuffle from the bitch’s aggressive walk. The bitch almost bounces when she walks, she’s so furious half the time! It’s like a bouncy trot. Just about ready to break into a run.

I didn’t see the cock’s car today. Did it go out of town for Christmas? Well, if I don’t see it tomorrow, then I probably could assume it did, since it doesn’t stay away more than two days lately.

The tree in front of their house serves as a landmark for nighttime spying. The streetlight casts light upon it so I can see if there’s a car there by how much of the tree I can see. Usually, it’s lit up enough to see the silhouette and metallic gleam of any car that might be parked there at night without the tree, but the tree helps, anyway. The landmark tree also tells me if their front light is on since we can’t see their front door/porch from our front door/living room window. I can tell by how bright the light reflects off the tree if it’s on or not.

Cindy left a message and Tom called her back. She just wanted to know about wires for putting in a phone jack. I’m surprised she didn’t need Tom to come over and do something for her.

We finally got Tammy and the girl’s Chanukah T-shirts done, although it’s a little late. I told them it may be a little late, though. I picked out the pictures, printed them out, decided who’d get which ones, then Tom ironed them on. He did a great job. They got a mix of pictures of themselves, us, and even a couple of Nana and Pa. I didn’t do any of our pets.

Tom will be picking up mailbags tomorrow for us to mail these out.

We’ll also be wrapping up Ma’s electric stapler he got her.

In Evie’s email to me, she said she brought Christmas presents over to Ma’s house, so we can pick ours up anytime, and she’s willing to do refills if we like it. Well, I don’t know what it is, but Tom thinks it’s food. I wouldn’t be surprised. Just when I have to be so strict with my calorie intake, here comes all kinds of junk!

I woke up at 110 pounds and just when I was wondering if I should pig out and up to 112 so I could shit, I shit. Not very much, but it’s a start.

I typed up Tom a half-wacky, half-serious letter as an excuse to show him my “hidden message.” I typed the letter as I usually would, then I highlighted and changed the color of letters throughout the page to form the words I love you. Did this in one of the freeloader’s pages too, but I certainly didn’t make the words I love you. I just did the bitch’s last name.

Tom’s really put a dent in the cleanup around here. Well, maybe not the side yet, but the front and the back. He even trimmed the front tree! I never thought he would till the day before we moved. It looks much better, and now I can see more when spying. I can see the street now, but before, I could only see part of it.

We didn’t have sex today, and I know his cumming will always be something he rarely does, but he sure did shock me with cumming yesterday! He said he should take Ibuprofen when we really want him to cum, cuz it helps with aches and pains and shit like that. He said he’s had this all his life. I wonder why? Anyway, why did he cum yesterday? To try to cover for his fears by cumming when I’m mid-cycle and after having that dye? Or cuz he knows my uterus is still as it is and that it cannot carry a child? Some other reason?

Well, I can’t say I’m not glad to know that yesterday’s fun didn’t get me pregnant. That’s not what I really want. What I really want is to spend my time and money on moving and buying things. Not put my time and money into a kid. He reminded me earlier that we need to save money after the 1st so we can move. I agree. Poor guy hasn’t even had time yet to go gambling or use his share of the money for fun things for himself. He has gotten a few things, though.

I didn’t call the doctor last Friday, cuz Tom suggested I don’t till I see how the sex goes this weekend, and then I can decide whether or not to carry on with this fertility thing. I may not even call them this week either, what with Christmas and all that going on this week. I may wait till after Christmas unless I hear from her.

As I told Tom, the truth, and his happiness are what matters to me. He doesn’t have to cum if he doesn’t want to. He just has to be honest about it.

Evie was reminding me once again how the odds were against her having kids, then she got married, having kids was the last thing on her mind, and then she found out she was pregnant. Yeah, yeah. I know these things happen to people, but other people. These things don’t happen to me. I know what she means by life being full of surprises, as I told her. I certainly didn’t expect to get married. I thought I’d be single and loveless all my life, but there are some things that just don’t happen to me. Not everything can happen to everyone. She also doesn’t know she’s dealing with a psychic here who knows these things. If yesterday’s sex was gonna spawn a child, I’d know it. I’d sense it.

I’m now reading Ghost Child by Duffy Stein and it’s great. Just the kind of story I like.

Did you know that these houses are so close that I can see the security light when it’s on two yards down where the dogs are from inside this house? Even when it’s not totally dark yet and even with the kitchen light on I can see it cuz it’s so bright. Thank God that’s not right next to us!

So are the freeloaders and the people with the dogs still friends? Neither of us has seen them socializing in quite a while and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if they had a fight.

In one of Evie’s little joke things she sends, there was this thing with trivial shit in it and one of the things said that beating your head in the wall burns up to 150 calories. This one cracked me up. Totally reminded me of Bob and how he’d do that to try to get Kim’s attention.

Monday, December 21, 1998

 

And now it’ll gradually get lighter earlier and darker later. I don’t really like that being in the city. In the city, that’s at least three extra hours that they could play ball, for example, when the days are longer.

Tom just ran out to pick me up some coffee and to get mailers for the T-shirts. They should get the shirts by Saturday.

Tom called to have the dumpster picked up. They’re gonna pick it up tomorrow, I guess, then send him a bill for the extra days he used it.

I’m not going to do much cleaning up in the backyard since he’s gonna be doing the back patio. The front’s all done, though.

I missed having my dolls set up, so I put them in places it’s never leaked before. I wanted them all in the same room so I can show them to Andy whenever he’s here again, and so I could easily grab them all and cover them if it does start leaking where I put them.

Later…

This bitch next door looks like she has some time off. I haven’t seen the cock’s car, so he may have gone out of town. Meanwhile, the bitch appears to have time off, like I said, so I don’t know why she didn’t go with him. Bill wasn’t there when I peeked out this morning, and the big white car just dropped her off, which is a wee bit late if she had to get up early the next day. This white car is more like a Bronco or Blazer-type vehicle. It was also one of the loudest visitors as far as music goes, but thanks to the city, they were quiet. The light’s off now, so I guess that’s it for tonight, although the light was off earlier and I thought she was in for the night, so we’ll see.

I just hope to hell that she goes elsewhere for Christmas and for New Year’s Eve if she’s staying in town. I have a feeling, though, that since they’ll see the dumpster gone tomorrow, and since it’s Christmas, and since it’s been a while since there’s been a quick little show from over there to serve as a reminder of their existence, they’ll raise hell over here in regards to us and all our hammering. I think it may be like Easter, only minus the music. I think we’re talking lots of cars and door-slams, and certainly lots of screaming kids playing ball for hours. Thank God it’ll be dark at 5:30 and not 8:00!

When Tom got his jury summons, I figured I was next, since the last time mine came after he got his. His is for Phoenix, but mine’s for Mesa. He said to go ahead and send them a note asking for a dismissal, but he’ll bet I won’t get called for this anyway. Oh, they got a note alright. No more courts for me! I told them how I was unstable right now with personal problems and a bit bitter towards the courts for getting convicted of making prank phone calls in the early 90s.

Yesterday’s sleeping together didn’t go so well. It figures, huh? Maybe we ought to try using separate comforters when we sleep together, cuz the second time he woke me up was cuz I felt him pulling the covers across me. The first time was when he got into bed about five hours after I had crashed. We have a deal, though, that when I get to be about a week away from an appointment, we sleep separately. Thank God this man is so supportive, patient, understanding, and not your typical male!

Got a letter from Bob today. He said just what I expected he’d say, too. That he wasn’t too happy about the idea of her moving in with Walter since he’s jealous. And he wasn’t too thrilled that she’d take anything to enlarge her tits.

I improved Sunshine and Lollipops by semi-straightening her hair. It’s still curly, but I pulled the curls out a bit. This way, it looks more like she’s got two ponytails. Before, it was so bunched up that it looked more like loose curls. Also, her arm was out of position when I got her, as I mentioned. It’s supposed to be off to the side, but it’s more towards the front of her. Since I couldn’t fix her, I put her hand in one of her pockets to make it look like she’s reaching for another lollipop, and I like this much better.

Tuesday, December 22, 1998

 

Just called Tammy to let her know their Chanukah presents were on their way and to let me know if she gets them OK. She said she’s alone with Mark. The girls are in Florida with Bill and her ex-in-laws. I asked if they’d be stopping by you know who’s, but nope. I asked if they sent Chanukah presents for the girls and she said yes. I asked if she had them returned and she said no, they arrived when she was out. I warned her that they may use the girls to get at her, but she said they wouldn’t, they haven’t even called. I really believe, though, that someday they’ll kiss and make up and it’s too bad. If they do, and if Tammy pressures me to get all lovey-dovey with these people again, I’m gone. She can do what she wants and live her life, even if I don’t always agree with her ways, but I’ve got to do what I’ve got to do as well.

Later…

The phone rang and I saw it was from a payphone and figured it was either Andy or Mary calling to say they broke down and needed a ride. Well, it was Mary, but she didn’t break down. She was calling to let us know she brought Mom to the ER. She said something about an infection, CAT scans, and no bleeding in the brain, not to worry, and that she doesn’t know much right now but will call back later.

At first I thought of waking up Tom but then thought against it for two reasons. He has to work tonight, and also, there’s nothing he could do from what I heard in her message. I’m not gonna answer when she calls back, either. I’m gonna let her leave a message so Tom can hear what she has to say directly. I wouldn’t want to take a chance of misinterpreting her.

I don’t have any death vibes about Mom. I think she’ll be OK and with us till August or September of 2000. I’m just glad, for everyone’s sake, that she doesn’t live in that house anymore and that it’s sold!

Tom fixed the printer so it shows the ink status again. I like that better.

The dumpster’s gone now so I guess that’s the freeloader’s cue to get us back for all the noise.

Bill wasn’t here today. In fact, I haven’t seen any car since I got up at 1 PM. My current conclusion is that the cock did head out of the state and left the bitch behind. Why? Who knows? Meanwhile, the bitch, who obviously has time off, is spending her days elsewhere. Someone must be picking her up in the mornings and bringing her back at night. As soon as the sun goes down, I’ll see if I can see if her front light is on. If she’s out and doesn’t plan on coming back till after dark, the light should be on now. It’s a little unnerving knowing she has the whole week off, but thanks to the city and those letters, it’s not as unnerving as it could be! I’ll bet if she knew she could still get away with raising hell over there, she’d spend every day off doing so. Since she knows she can’t, this may be why she isn’t around very much during her days off. In fact, since we complained to the city, she does seem to be out much more often. She probably figures that since she can’t stay home and bother me along with her cronies, she may as well not even bother staying here too much. It probably pisses her off to stay here and be just a few feet away from someone she detests.

Another call from Mary just came in, so I’ll go hear what she has to say this time around.

Later…

All Mary had to say was that they were still in the ER, they were going to admit her, and as soon as she knew a room number she’d call back.

Changing the rats was a near disaster! I thought they’d stay out of the way, but nope. First Ratsy got in the way and I had to shoo him out of the way, then Mickey decided to hop on out and panic on me. It’s amazing his tail didn’t come off or that he didn’t escape! He started to run, then I caught him by the tail. He spun around and around like hell and I had to kind of toss him onto the upper levels of the cage. I finally got them cleaned, though, and rewarded them with cheese, lettuce, and their regular food. It also appears we don’t need to get them ramps or T-tubes for easier access to the upper levels. They’ve been going up there themselves lately.

No eating for me today. No more than half of a TV dinner I had and some Jell-O. I woke up at 111 pounds and climbing. I didn’t shit yesterday, but I did today, so that’ll help. Still, I ate more than I should’ve yesterday and the day before. Also, if Tom stops over at Ma’s tomorrow and finds that it is junk food that Evie’s made us, I want to watch it today so I can enjoy this junk food. If I stayed around 115 pounds for four months, does this mean I’ll stay around 110 pounds for six months or more?

As the days have passed since my testing at Genesis, I find myself less and less curious as to what the next step may be, and more and more finished with this subject. I’m not saying for sure I’m either gonna do this or do that, but I think I’m done with this chapter of my life. I really don’t want a child. I don’t want to give up my time and my freedom to a kid. I want to be with my husband, and I want to have the time, freedom, and money to buy things. I like to shop, and I like to collect things and that’s just how I am, selfish or not. No, it wouldn’t kill me if I couldn’t sing at 2 AM, but it’s still nice to know I can if I want to.

Another reason I think I’m done is that I think I got my answers. I suspected my uterus all along as being the reason I can’t have a kid, and it looks like I very well may have been right. Either way, the more I don’t want a kid, the less I care about the cause of my sterility.

Later…

The front light isn’t on and neither are their lights on in the house. I’d say she’s not home. She wouldn’t stay home these many hours without company. There’d have been cars coming and going if she’d been home since I got up.

Later…

Miss Bitch is definitely, definitely not home. The house is still dark both inside and out.

I went to check out doll catalogs online last night just to see what I could find, and oh my God! I found dolls way better than what you’d find in stores. They were just to die for! Sadly enough, though, they ranged from many hundreds to even many thousands of dollars! The clothes are similar to the ones in the stores and like what I’ve got, but what made these different was their size and reality. They were mostly around 30” and so realistic looking. They looked more like real photographs of people than dolls.

Later…

Mary just called again from home and said something about doing gallstone surgery on Mom.

Next door’s still dark and deserted. I haven’t heard any car doors, either.

Wednesday, December 23, 1998

 

I’m even surer that Miss Bitch is out of town, but won’t be totally sure until the night passes without any cars coming in. Again, once it’s dark I’ll see if I can see lights on, but we both think it’s out of town.

Tom saw something very weird next door yesterday. He said a red pickup was parked on the street and an odd-looking white woman and man got out, walked directly into the carport, then left a half-hour later although he didn’t actually see them leave. It was as if they knew no one was home, he said. But since when have they ever had white friends? And why would anyone, of any color, come over if they knew she was out? To check and make sure there was no vandalism? Or were these white supremacists? People who knew the house was empty and were scouting it out to break in? Who were they and why were they here?

Tom brought home a rum cake that a woman at work made, a card from her, and a card from some guy at work too. And Evie said I guessed right. It is food she’s got for us. Food, food, food! I awoke at 110 pounds, but I need to clean myself out my way and just have liquids for a day or two.

Tom thinks this is great and perfectly OK, and that’s that Dureen and Art sent his mom a Christmas card. I have mixed emotions about it. I know how impressed with Marge they were, but still, they need to move on and forget about anyone with the last name S, just like I’ve moved on. As I told Tom too, I’m probably gonna walk and not give Tammy our new number and address when we move. It’s best that I just wonder about Lisa for the rest of my life, rather than keep that last remaining tie to the past open. The past excludes friends like Andy and Kim. I mean family ties. It’s just that if I don’t fully sever all those ties, I can’t fully move on like I need to. Tom says it’s too soon to make any decisions like that. Maybe.

Later…

It’s dark and deserted next door. If she is gone, I hope she doesn’t come back till after the New Year and not just after Christmas. I looked back and from what I wrote, I think they do stay away till either New Year’s Day or the day after.

Andy left a message about the usual - not enough work at the temp agency. Basically, all he talks about these days is phones, work, and pot, so I figured it was one of them. He’s still getting high from what he told me, too. Anyway, I left him a message about Mom, which I’ll get into in a minute.

There was a call from Dr. Brown’s office asking if I had the IVP test. I told her I had that and the HSG on the 14th. She said she called Genesis and was told there was a record of me having an appointment that day, but nothing was written about it. So I told her how screwy they were, questioning the tests that were ordered, and how they got a new computer system. Tom said they’ll find it. She said maybe she called the wrong one. There’s more than one Genesis Imaging Center, so I told her the one I went to. What? Did God erase the test results from their computer system? Or are they just that fucked up at Genesis? As I told Tom, if they do lose all their info I’m not repeating these tests. She wondered if Dr. Wells got a report yet, but who knows? She could be out of town. I told her I wasn’t going to call her till after the holidays.

When I got up, Tom told me Mom was still delirious, still in pain, and no one knew for sure what was the cause of this and how to deal with it. So, according to messages we got from Mary, then from Evie, they are gonna do gallbladder surgery on Mom tomorrow morning at 8 AM, since they know she has gallstones, and since they gotta try something.

I went through my cards and pulled out a blank one for her which I turned into a little get-well card for her. Although she’s used the hell out of us since Dad died, I feel bad for her having to suffer like this. She’s still basically a much better person than your average person will ever be.

Thursday, December 24, 1998

 

Carol and Steven got a computer and emailed Tom the other day. He gave them my email address, and I went into the mail controls and added their email address to my list so that any messages they may send me can get through.

Tom thinks he knows who those people were in the red pickup that came next door two days ago. He thinks they’re people from the church the bitch goes to, coming to see if her lawn needed mowing. He thinks the church handles her lawn. I always did say the bitch only went to church to see what she could get from it, but why were they here for 45 minutes? I asked Tom. He said they were probably just standing around in back talking. Then the next day, today, the lawn was done. I told Tom he ought to go to church and cry needy so he can have his yard work done for him.

The house is still dark and deserted, so hopefully the little bitch shit will stay away till after the New Year.

I got an unexpected letter from Andy. It had a couple of Stevie pictures on it that I guess he printed out at work or at the college he goes to when he goes to browse the internet. It was full of the usual gibberish.

Now for my surprising news. I’m 108 pounds! Exactly what I was when I quit smoking. Just last night, though, I was 113 and had to take a water pill, so I can forget about shitting today. I’m having my bean soup today, so I can shit tomorrow.

I’m quite proud of myself for quitting smoking and losing weight. Both took serious discipline and very hard work.

Ma had her gallbladder removed this morning. It was very infected. Hopefully, this explains why she was in so much pain and why she was delirious. Her fever’s gone down, so that’s good, and fever is a sign of infection. She’ll probably be in the hospital for a few weeks, but at least she’ll be going home to Mary and Dave’s and not going home alone where it’s really hard on other family members who have to take time out of their daily lives to go see/help her get by.

When I got up, I saw Tom’s Christmas card from Mom on the kitchen table with a $50 bill lying on it. I realized, upon opening my card, that if he got $50, so did I. Any amount is generous and perfectly acceptable, but with only 50 dollars, I knew I could forget about that angel doll I wanted and start thinking of what I wanted to do with $50. Buy more rats, clothes, CDs, whatever. But then I was holding two $50 bills! These were brand new bills and they were stuck together. I checked Tom’s money again and he too, had two bills, so now all I have to do is hope Angel of Wishes, as is her full name, is still at the store. With my rotten doll luck, she’ll be gone.

Friday, December 25, 1998

 

I did a load of laundry and watched a movie. Soon I’ll go begin Ghost Story and hope it’s good.

Just got off-line thanking David, Evie, Steven and Carol for their gifts. Got a total of ten Christmas cards, too. I also saw Alex on my buddy list, so we swapped Merry Christmas messages.

Got some unexpected surprises today. At Mary’s house, Mary and Dave got Tom a joystick, and me a 3-D puzzle game you play on the computer. There was a box of hair accessories from Mom, nuts from David and Evie, a small wolf blanket from Carol and Steven, and this really cool clock from Ray and Nora that I wanted to get myself but forgot about. At each hour is a picture of a different bird that chirps its sounds at the hour. The great horned owl is at the twelfth hour, for example, and the song sparrow is at the eighth hour. This is much better than having a live bird here in the house! That Tweety bird was way too obnoxious! It has a light sensor too, so that the birds won’t chirp if you have it in the bedroom or something like that.

The blanket will be good for Tom to use next time we sleep together. That way, if he pulls the covers I shouldn’t feel it.

The hair accessories consist of a few different sizes of claw clips and some cloth-covered hair elastics.

Mom’s still hanging in there, but who knows when she’ll be able to go home? It’ll probably be a few weeks.

Tammy called to say in a message to us that she had a wonderful Christmas party with Mark and Stephanie. That’s Mark’s 18-year-old daughter.

Andy called too, leaving a message about how he went to Donna’s and got some unexpected gifts. As usual, so into himself, too. Not a word about Mom. Not an “I’m sorry to hear about Tom’s mom,” or a “How is she doing now?”

Later...

The Baltimore oriole went off at 10:00, and at midnight, off goes the owl.

Any sec now I should have my spot that I get a week before my period. I felt pre-cramps, I think. My tits are also doing well this month as far as soreness goes.

I didn’t like the book Ghost Story but began A Cry in the Woods last night and got 115 pages into it.

Tom told me the renters are really weird. They talk on their cordless phone while standing in the driveway. People out here tend to hang out in their front yards, but yup, that’s a weird one. If you’re gonna talk on the phone outside, why not sit in a chair on your patio or porch? Why stand in the middle of your driveway?

Also, at 1:15 last night, for about 20 minutes, some people were out partying. I couldn’t fucking believe it! I know this is Arizona, but this wasn’t 1 PM on a winter’s day or 9 PM on a summer’s night. This was in the middle of a freezing December night! All I heard were voices laughing and talking, but the weird thing about it was that I couldn’t see anyone. I thought it could be one of the houses across the street, but I never saw any movement or people.

Saturday, December 26, 1998

 

This is the current eating plan - to not worry about what I eat from now till I get up the next time I get up. When I get up, though, I’ll have basically liquids till Monday to compensate for these Christmas treats I’ve been having. Then, every day I’ll have my chicken TV dinner and chicken soup. Every other day I’ll have bean soup and popcorn. I’ll also have unlimited amounts of chicken broth, Jell-O, and things like that.

I have no desire to be a doll sculptor and could never imagine myself being able to be in a million years. I mean, it’s hard enough to draw faces on paper, so I don’t know how the hell I could ever shape one out of clay. What I do want to be is a doll maker who assembles the dolls and picks out their clothes, different faces, hair colors/styles, and things like that. I want to buy doll parts to make dolls for myself, as well as to sell them. So after we move, and after I’m in a place where there’s more room, I’m gonna start with getting a doll kit, which costs around the same price as a doll. Then, I’ll buy bulk quantities and see about selling them. The store in the mall may be willing to sell people’s dolls.

I guess we’re going on Tuesday to get another T-tube for the rats and to get Angel if she’s still there. Tom’s sure she is there. I hope so!

Later...

It looks like the little freeloaders are to be returning tonight, cuz someone turned the front light on. There’s no car over there now, but I take it Bill came over to turn the light on for the bitch and that the bitch will be here any moment since the inside of the house looks too dark for anyone to be in there unless they came in before I got up and crashed very early. I was hoping they’d stay away through the New Year. Now, who knows how rowdy things will be over there for New Year’s Eve, although they’ve never been here during a New Year’s Eve yet.

Sunday, December 27, 1998

 

The light’s still on, but it’s still dark inside the house and I haven’t heard or seen any cars. Maybe Bill came over to check things out and thought the light should be on for security measures.

Woke up at 110 pounds, and to a message from Paula. Yeah, she loves playing phone tag!

What a nail disaster I had yesterday! I tried to put the second set of nails on, but my nails are just too little. I had to do so much filing to try to get the nails to fit, that they just wouldn’t glue on right. The fucked up surface of my nails didn’t help either. They’re like sandpaper. I have to resurface my nails and get a new set, but I can only use one set in each package. Even the smallest nails have to be filed like hell to get them to fit.

I love my new game from Mary and Dave. It’s like a tiles game and it has lots of colorful tiles that are really pretty.

Later...

No freeloaders. At least not from what I can see. The light’s still on, so unless Miss Bitch came back before I got up and crashed before she could turn the light off, and is still out cold, Bill or some other associate of hers came over and left the light on on their way out.

I forgot to mention that it was Mom who got Tom the joystick. Mary and Dave got him a T-shirt. That seems to be a tradition here; getting Tom T-shirts when he doesn’t need them, cuz he has a ton of them.

Got some wine coolers for New Year’s Eve.

Later...

We went to have our weekend sex, but he was too stressed out over his mother. Couldn’t stay hard very well and couldn’t get on top. Yeah, old Marjorie’s interfering with our lives again and holding things up around here. God, I hope my vibe of her dying just after her 77th birthday is wrong. I’m like God, take this woman off our hands now! Nonetheless, things are continuing to go as vibed. Don’t get me wrong. She’s ill, she’s in pain, she’s out of her mind half the time. Tom says she asks if there are rabbits in the pail in the hall hospital, falls asleep during sentences, and forgets people’s names. Anyway, she may be in pain and she may be out of it, but she’ll be alive for a while yet. Thank God, for the millionth time, she’s not alone in her own house. That’d hog up more time that Tom doesn’t even have. God’s always had magnificent timing when it comes to having things happen in my life, be it to myself or to those I know, so why doesn’t he take her now? Now seems like an ideal time so we can get on with our lives and out of this house. I mean, doesn’t he want us to move on? We’re in our 30s and 40s, so I’d think he’d want us to live our lives and do the things we need/want to do.

Isn’t it funny how he doesn’t like Kim, who he claims woke him up while he slept through a million times more noise right next door, yet he goes to see his mother who took us for about $4,000 and God only knows how many hours of time.

Currently, our plan is to go to the doll store on Tuesday, but why do I have a feeling that good old Marjorie’s gonna change that?

There are no freeloaders next door. I didn’t hear the Sunday morning door slamming. I’ve heard nothing, and there’s no way the house would be dark from as early as 9 PM on a Saturday night all night, and there’s no way I wouldn’t have heard door-slamming last night and this morning if there was someone there.

I called Paula who told me she’d call me back, which really means she’ll call me back in a few days or even a few weeks. I don’t know why she’s so obsessed with playing phone tag, but it’s very obvious that this is the case.

Monday, December 28, 1998

 

Still no freeloaders, and still got the front light on.

I had a dream that they moved next door and I got to see the inside of their house, which looked nothing like it would in reality. It was a 2-story 4-bedroom house. In the dream, Miss Bitch had two daughters and a son. The house was furnished when I looked in it and I assumed that the state furnished the house for them. All they took was their stuff, but not all of it. They even left a few dolls behind, but they were ugly.

I also dreamt that the house out back that’s behind the old man’s house added a second floor to it.

I hope this dream isn’t a dream premonition and that the freeloaders stay put. Dreaming about Measles coming back didn’t happen, so that’s hopeful. The sad part of that, though, is that I really believe Measles is dead. Why else would she stay away for so long? She loved me and she knew I loved her. She knew she was my favorite bird.

I did some singing earlier. Just like old times, too. The singing was fine. It’s the congestion that got in the way. God’s just so determined not to let me fully use/enjoy my voice! Just think, I still couldn’t be a professional singer, even if I could keep a schedule, for the same reasons I couldn’t when I smoked. I’m just too damn congested. Tom says it’s Phoenix’s pollution, but what are we gonna do when the pollution catches up to where we’re moving to? Not only will we be hearing car stereos in Texas in another 10-20 years, but there won’t be any clean air left!

My weight’s right back to where it was before the torture I had on the 14th. I’m about 112 pounds, and I took a water pill, but I don’t know if it’ll help much.

To my surprise, I didn’t have tons of Evie messages yesterday or today.

Jackie and Jim gave us a little wooden wall hanging with a cactus, a roadrunner, and a mountain carved in it. I colored it in. So much for no one giving Christmas presents this year! It seems everyone did, but us. All we did was give Ma an electric stapler.

Speaking of Mom, she’s now in a care center just outside of the hospital. She’ll be there till she can gain enough mobility to go back home. Then when she does go back home, she’ll probably need hired help. Someone to sit with her while Mary and Dave are working during the daytime. Dave only stops in for lunch.

I asked Tom why he felt he had to be with Mom every day when that’s what the doctors and nurses are for. He said it’s because she was there for him when he was sick (he had meningitis as a kid). Well, that’s all well and good, but he was a child and that was her job to be with him. Meanwhile, she’s all grown up now and he’s not obligated to her like he seems to think he is. Well, at least he won’t be dumb enough to give her another four G’s, and as for time, she’s only got a year and a half of that left anyway, and I don’t need him with me as much as I needed him before. Now that my sex drive’s about as low as his and now that I don’t want a child, it makes it easier to deal with. I entertain myself very well with my hobbies. As he told me, though, he’s there for me if I need him. I know that. I know I’ll see him every day.

Paula left two messages after I crashed.

Tuesday, December 29, 1998

 

Yesterday’s visit to Mel’s was no joyride. It hurt like hell when she went to tighten the bands and she even had to get the doctor’s help on one particular tooth.

She said I needed to brush better, which is hard with the braces on, and gave me a special little toothbrush designed to pick in between the braces.

She also still had my card and my card only! Didn’t she get other cards? It was sitting in the same spot by a picture of her dog. It was a white dog of some kind that’s kind of large.

Anyway, I’m a little sore now, but before I see her the next time around, I’m gonna take a ton of ibuprofen. At least I don’t have to see her again till February 1st.

Woke up at 109 pounds.

Tom brought home some leftover treats from work and about 5 more Christmas cards he got from coworkers. He also bought me a couple of puzzles at the grocery store. One’s a scene of the Virgin Islands with palm trees, and the other’s a dog and cat.

I realized something not too good and I hope this will never be the case, but if we put the house up for sale in March - what if it takes 8 months to a year to sell? God, I hope not!

I felt some pre-cramps a little while ago. See? I knew having clogged tubes was too “normal,” on top of all the reasons a kid is not meant to be. Because that is the problem for most women, and because the dye usually fixes that, I knew that wasn’t my case. If it’s common, it’s not me. I knew my problem went much deeper and I knew my uterus had something to do with it. Not my tubes. Tom says he got off cuz he had nothing to fear, but I wonder - could the test have only reassured him that there’s nothing to fear?

Well, the point is the same as it’s always been - whether I like it or not, I’m sterile for life. I was born this way. I’ll die this way.

Later...

I talked to Tammy at 8 AM her time. The girls are coming back today. Meanwhile, she’s been having a blast with Mark, and the T-shirts arrived there, too. She’s still having problems with Lisa. Lisa’s being rebellious, she says, and is lying and basically being lazy when it comes to chores. She also said Sarah said something about being afraid of Bill’s temper while in Florida but didn’t get into it. She said she doesn’t think he got physical with the girls, but he’s his usual angry self who’s hurting all three of the girls emotionally. It can hurt a kid when you tell them they’ll amount to no good, or something like that, just as much as if you’d hit that kid. Yes, verbal and emotional abuse can be just as damaging as physical abuse. So Tammy says she’s gonna look into getting his rights severed, and I hope to hell I’m wrong, but I say she’ll never succeed. The courts are too biology-obsessed. I asked her how she felt about beating the shit out of Bill or killing him and having it look like an accident and she said it wouldn’t do her any good and that two wrongs don’t make a right. Yeah, I know what she’s saying, but still, sometimes you’ve got to resort to violent measures in order to get someone off your ass and scared into doing right.

Speaking of doing right, it hurts and angers me to hear what she has to go through and I don’t need it any more than they do, so once again, should I walk away when we move?

Got a backache now. Another PMS symptom. I’m looking forward to getting my period, but I don’t actually sit and pray for it, cuz you don’t need to pray for what’s already a done deal. If something’s meant to be, it’s gonna be, and you don’t need to pray for it.

Wednesday, December 30, 1998

 

The freeloader’s front light is out. Did they come back? Or did it burn out? Hope it just burned out.

Now I’m ready to do some bitching. Here we go again with the mom and Mary tasks. Ma went home yesterday and today Tom’s gotta put up handrails cuz Mary’s stupid, lazy husband won’t do it himself. Thursday, I’m gonna go over and sit with Ma while Tom works on Mary’s computer for her. These people can’t do their own work, I swear! You gotta do everything for them. Tom calls Dave inexperienced, but I think lazy and stupid is more like it. It’s his house, his wall, so he should be putting up his own fucking handrails. And it’s his computer, so he should be the one fixing it. Mary and Dave together should take care of their own house and their own things. Tom says Mary will pay him fairly, and that we can get on with fixing our own house after this, but I don’t know. They always seem to need just one more thing. There’s always something they just have to use Tom for cuz they’re either too fucking stupid or too fucking lazy to do it themselves. And if they don’t know how, why don’t they get off their asses and learn? And of course, David and Evie don’t hardly help out cuz they don’t have the life in which to do it, and Ray, Nora, and all the others are too fucking stupid and lazy to care. Like I said, the abusers are on my side of the family, and the lazy, stupid, users are on his side.

Later...

The dogs decided to go off, so I decided to really give them a reason to and I screamed. They continued barking for five more minutes. And of course, the owners slept right through it and didn’t come out to calm the dogs down and check things out. The only people around here who may not be able to sleep through anything like the freeloaders, the collie owners, and everyone else, might be the people behind us. They’re up all night anyway. I don’t know if someone there has a weak bladder or what, but that bathroom light goes on constantly throughout the night. Like once every hour or two.

Anyway, what is it with these dogs going off at the slightest sound? I know how close I am to them and how sensitive their hearing is, but last winter was totally different than this winter. Last winter, there were a few nights where I tried to get the dogs to go off given the one-in-a-million chance they may have woken the freeloaders up, but they wouldn’t. I slammed chairs around, I banged things against the house, but they wouldn’t go off. This winter, they go off at the screen door opening. And it’s so quiet too. Just a little rustling sound. It doesn’t squeak or anything like that. Even the daytime’s worse this year. There are some days when they wait longer than ten minutes in between barking sprees, but not very often. They have been quieter since the freeloaders have been out of town, and I realize, that Bill and Mistake being home would stir them up more. Assuming the mistake hangs out in its bedroom half the time, that’s just an arm’s reach from the dogs, so I’m sure they hear her bopping around and go off over that. The slightest thing sets these dogs off. I never heard anything like it or as bad. Only trained guard dogs are this bad.

I don’t usually like to talk in round-about ways, but in my message to Andy a few days ago, I mentioned how he didn’t question or comment about Mom, so “just in case” he didn’t get the message with the scoop on her, I’ll go through it again. In other words - don’t be so into yourself and seemingly non-caring. Be polite. Ask how she’s doing. I haven’t heard from him since, and I realize it may be because he’s a little embarrassed. I left him a message tonight and all I said was that I hoped things were well with him, and that I wanted him to visit sometime soon so he could see the new stuff I got, which I told him about. As I told him, I don’t know what’s up with him lately. Is he clean? Is he working? Would it be best to get together at night or during the day? Of course, whenever he comes over, he’ll be a stoned ditz and it’ll be just like I was talking to the wall. He won’t remember shit about our visit. And asking him to come over sober won’t do me a damn bit of good. Yes, Andy is always a true friend, isn’t he?

Later...

OK, on with the good news. I doubled my rat collection and got that Angel doll I wanted!

First we went to a pet store to get another T-tube to make it easier for them to go between the middle two floors. Now they have two pink T’s, a purple curved, and a yellow straight tube. Since they’re too lazy to climb the straight tube, it’s just lying on its side in the cage.

Tom told the guy there that the wheels were missing from the cage we got, and he opened a cage box and gave us the wheels from it. That was easy enough.

Then I got Porky and Cutie. Porky’s solid dark brown, except for the white on his paws and belly, and Cutie’s all light tan. All four rats get along very well.

I also got some more sawdust and noticed that they make bigger balls. Those plastic balls that the hamster and gerbil used to run around in. Maybe someday I’ll get one for the rats.

Then we went to the doll store. They were having a sidewalk sale which seemed to be no big deal. They were plastic dolls for $40. But that’s what they usually sell for. Anyway, the guy there gave me a brand-new Angel doll right out of the box she’s shipped in. As usual, there’s a slight problem, but not nearly a big enough one worth taking her back. Well, it seems I have a problem with arms these days. First the lollipop doll had her arm out of position, and it seems Angel’s is bent a bit too far back, but I can live with it. One arm hangs straight down by her side. The other’s up and has her palm upright and opened by her face, which is turned to the side, as she holds the purple heart-shaped gemstone she came with that says the word “wish” on it. They did a good job on her hands. They’re more real-like compared to Edie’s and Anne’s, whose hands almost look like clubs.

She’s really gorgeous as far as her face, hair, and clothes go. Usually, it’s hard to get all three. Usually, if the face is nice, the hair’s pitiful, and if the outfit’s nice, the face sucks. She has blue eyes and dark blond hair like Rapunzel’s and Summer Dream’s. It’s between wavy and curly. I straightened it out a bit and it falls a little below her ass. She’s 14” tall and is on a thick, solid stand. This stand, like Summer Dream’s, grabs her at the crotch. Patrice’s stand grabs her at the thigh, Bailey sits, and the others are held by the waist.

They did a good job of making her hair look like it’s attached to her head, and not sitting on a bald head. There are two little braids at the sides that go to the back of her head and are tied with a purple ribbon. For someone who doesn’t like overly detailed things, her detail is exquisite. A halo sits on her head, going across her forehead. I had started off by having her hold this, instead of the gem, cuz I couldn’t get it to stay in her hand at first. It’s a really pretty halo of purple and gold with little pearls wrapped around it. She has a similar necklace on, too. I may make her an ankle bracelet later.

I chose not to attach her wings, which are white and gold and have the same sequins and pearls that her dress has. They’re sitting elsewhere in the living room. Her dress is lavender satin and chiffon. Three layers altogether. It’s off the shoulders, tied at the waist, and shorter in the front. It comes up almost to the knees in front and is to the table she’s on in back. She has purple silk pantaloons on, too. Does any doll come without pantaloons? The only one I’ve got without them is Patrice, although I can’t say for sure what’s under Bailey’s sleeper.

She’s very realistic looking, like Summer Dream and Patrice. Compared to Edie and Anne, she makes Edie and Anne look like geeks! She’s sitting by my monitor.

I never really believed in angels and being able to make wishes to a doll that’ll come true. I asked Tom if he believed in angel dolls granting wishes. He said he doesn’t believe, but he doesn’t disbelieve either, so I decided I’d put her to the test. I wished upon her that we’ll get to move before June. Tom said as long as he has me, he doesn’t need anything else and that anything else he gets is a bonus. I feel that way too, but it couldn’t hurt to test her out, even if I think it’s bullshit.

Later...

I guess Tom was right - Angel’s hand isn’t too far back. He said it looked like the model that was displayed in the store. I just went online and looked at the picture of her they had, and it looks the same.

I made her an ankle bracelet which really looks good.

I had made Bailey a necklace to cover up where her head and neck join but didn’t like how it looked. That’s only because the only halfway decent color I could find was clear neon orange. If it had been light blue or pale pink, then maybe it’d look OK.

Later...

Earlier I had Velvet out. Just now, I cleaned the rat’s cage, fed them, and gave them some attention.

The pet store had a much better selection this time around. The last time, all they really had was a couple of ugly chinchillas and white mice that were used for snake feed. This time, they had medium, large, and jumbo rats. These are large rats, although Mickey might be a medium rat.

If the light bulb on the freeloader’s front porch did burn out like I think it did, I hope they don’t get it in mind to replace the security light bulb too, when they hit the porch one. I do not want that thing glaring on and off at night when I’m trying to relax to music.

Thursday, December 31, 1998

 

Tom thinks the freeloaders will come back Sunday or Monday morning. That’d be nice, but with my luck, they’ll be back tomorrow or Saturday. More likely Saturday.

The red pickup was next door for about a half-hour yesterday. This time, they parked in the driveway. I couldn’t see what they were doing. I don’t know if they went inside the house, and if they were here just to check out the house, as Tom suggested, why did it take a half-hour? I couldn’t see the driver, but I caught a glimpse of the woman as she was getting into the passenger side of the truck, which was easiest to see from where I stood. She had shoulder-length blond hair. Their driveway is to the left of our house, so when I spy from the living room window, the passenger side is closest to me. At least these people came and went normally. They shut their doors coming and going once and in a normal manner. They didn’t slam the fuck out of them over and over and over and over.

I forgot to say that Angel was 20% off, so we got her for $99 and not $109.

I asked Tom why I had irritation in my mouth all over again on the bottom. Just when my mouth toughened up to the braces, I was irritated all over again. He says it’s cuz she tightened the braces and that I may get that after a tightening. I don’t with the top, but that’s cuz she’s not tightening a whole row of teeth up there. Not yet. Anyway. Not till it’s almost time for the top braces to come off. Guess I still have 3-4 more months with the top braces.

I sent Marla an IM when I saw her online. She’s trying to go to Massachusetts but keeps getting delayed due to fog. Guess she won’t make it out till the 1st or 2nd. She said she spoke to Andy, but I still haven’t heard from him. I left him a message yesterday telling him I’d like us to get together sometime soon, so he’ll call when he calls, I guess. He must be really busy, thank God, to not get back to me right away. Either that or he’s waiting for the weekend since he didn’t call me last weekend. I have noticed the pattern here lately. It seems he’s calling every other weekend. At least he’s doing what I asked of him half the time. What is it with people having such a hard time doing little things? If you can’t do a simple little thing like not calling on weekends, reaching out, and turning the volume knob of your stereo, then how could you handle big things?

Later...

All the rats were waiting anxiously for me when I got up. They came up and grabbed their cheese. The mice also looked for me when I got up, as they usually, do and the pig went off for his carrot or lettuce. Whatever I feel like giving him.

We’re not going to Ma’s today, as planned. Tom didn’t put up the rails yesterday cuz Ma had a lot of visitors.

Later...

There’s a chance the freeloaders could make a scene on MLK Day. They did for the two they were here for in ‘97 and ‘98, so we’ll see how they handle freeloader year in ‘99. However, last year was different. They were pissed at me cuz of the bottle and letter and I hadn’t gone to the city yet for help, so that’s why they harassed me with a dozen kids playing ball for 3 hours. This year, things are different, so maybe MLK Day will be, too.

[titularkilljoy]

sometimes and always

//a love story in five acts

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: It's hard to resist falling into bed with a cute neighbour, but it turns out it's even harder to resist falling for him. (alternatively- Spencer Reid and the reader struggle to resolve their feelings but make valiant attempts to do so while lying horizontally in each other's beds.)

Word Count: 7k

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, strong language, decidedly non-American spelling conventions

Author's Note: SO. This fic was originally part of a fic swap for the wickedly talented @imagining-in-the-margins, but it is now over six months too late. Thankfully, patience apparently springs eternal in her?? besides all the other amazing things?? Unfair, but good for me. So, Pom, this one is for you. Thanks for being the absolute best and putting up with my rants and not judging me for mocking everything and everyone all the time. Love, Perpetually Tardy.

(i)

This is how it happened the first time.

I was frowning at the pitiful stack of mail in my hands, wondering if the conspicuously missing letters and subscriptions would ever be returned to me. Ever since moving to my new apartment, I had been at the mercy of the Postal System and that was never a good situation to be in. I’d resigned myself to having to take an extra trip back to my old building and do some investigating, when the elevator dinged and I stepped in. Just as the doors slid closed, there was the frantic rumble of footsteps and a hand slipping into the narrowing gap.

The doors sprang apart to let in the harried owner of the appendage, who barely spared me a glance before turning to face the front, eyes briefly darting to the buttons. It took me a second to recognise him. It was the guy from the apartment opposite to mine, although so far that seemed to be only a nominal living arrangement; in my two weeks there, I’d seen him exactly once, merely in passing, and we had exchanged a sum total of zero words.

I followed his lead and stopped blatantly staring at him, though I continued studying him covertly through my peripheral vision. He looked—well, his jawline looked like it could cut glass effortlessly and he had the soft chestnut hair of a male model and I knew I was probably going to develop a very embarrassing crush on him at some point— but besides that, he looked browbeaten, his whole posture seeming to buckle under the invisible weight of the world.

There was an awkward moment when he realised we were both heading in the same direction, and I took it upon myself to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greeted, introducing myself, “I just moved in. I don’t think I’ve seen you around.” I gave him my warmest smile.

His swift assessing glance would have escaped my notice if I hadn’t been paying such close attention; his expression was still shuttered off, but he offered an endearing little quirk of his lips and an introduction. “Spencer Reid. I’ve-uh, I’ve been away on a work thing.”

“Oh? What do you do?” I asked, beginning a leisurely walk down the hallway and fishing my keys out of my bag. I immediately regretted the query when, impossibly, his eyes became even more guarded.

“I’m an FBI agent.”

Well, that clipped admission would have given anyone pause. “Oh, wow. That’s really impressive, dude.”

“Thanks.” He hesitated before adding, “I’m part of the Behavioural Analysis Unit.”

“So, you’re like a psychologist?”

“I catch serial killers.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

The silence wasn’t uncomfortable so much as it was brimming with my insecurities. The alcohol in my blood helped with that, though; the next words were out of my mouth before I even registered the thought.

“Do you want to come in?”

“Oh, uh—”

He was going to say no.

“It’s just that you look like you could use some company. And I think it’s absolutely criminal that we haven’t gotten to know each other yet.”

“It’s really late.”

But he was rocking forwards on his toes just the tiniest bit, leading me to believe that some part of him did want to take me up on my offer that night.

“So it is. Come on, Agent Reid. Be a good neighbour.”

“It’s Doctor, actually,” he corrected. “Doctor Reid. I have Ph.Ds. Three of them.”

My eyebrows had risen to my hairline and, sensing the change in the air, he hurried to put me at ease. “But you can just call me Spencer.”

“Huh. You don’t hear that every day.” I chuckled sheepishly. “Well, come on in, Doctor.”

There was a moment when his whole body leaned towards me and his face looked conflicted but slightly enthusiastic, and I was convinced I could turn the night into a very pleasant one for both of us. Then, with a loud clatter, my keys slipped from my hands, startling us. The moment was broken, and I sighed in resignation.

“Let me guess, you’ve decided I’m too drunk and we’re going to go our separate ways.”

At least he had the good grace to look apologetic. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea right now,” he told me slowly as he bent down to pick up my keys and pressed them securely into my outstretched hand, “It’s late and I’ve had a long day. I’ll...see you around?”

“Sure,” I managed to say with a regretful smile, “I’m holding you to that.”

*~*

That, however, turned out to be easier said than done, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which was the Herculean feat of unpacking and organising my new place with a mild hangover and a tinge of frustration over lost opportunities looming over me. Once that was dealt with, the bigger challenge turned out to be actually locating the man in question. I knocked on his door a few times, but when the responding silence continued to persist for over a week, I began to think he’d just been a drunken hallucination in the first place. And the longer I went without any follow-up interactions, the more intensely I started overthinking the slightly fuzzy memory of our brief conversation.

Of course I’d managed to make a fool of myself in front of a really cute guy. That was absolutely in character for me. Every time I passed by his door, I convinced myself a little more that I owed him a sincere apology for my poor, inconsiderate conduct.

Beyond the embarrassment, however, work didn’t leave me much time to think about it, and by the time I was trudging to my apartment the next Saturday, the whole encounter had been relegated firmly to the back burner. Naturally, that was when the faint glow of light under his door distracted me from the very passive-aggressive email I was composing. I hesitated.

The deep breaths I sucked in didn’t serve much more purpose than to make me somewhat lightheaded, but I forged on anyway. I knocked on the door, and waited.

There was silence, followed by the sound of reluctantly shuffling feet, and then, finally, I was face to face with Spencer Reid once again.

“Um,” I started, “hi.”

He stared at me wordlessly for a beat, during which I started to wonder if he’d actually forgotten me already.

“So, we met the other day, and I just want to apologise. I didn’t mean to come on to you so strongly, and I get that you weren’t int-”

“Do you want to come inside?”

“..What?”

“Do you want to come inside?” he repeated, enunciating clearly. That didn’t clear up my confusion, though.

“Um. Yes? Sure. I mean, no, shouldn’t we talk about this a bit?”

He let out a tired laugh. “I don’t want to talk right now.”

“Alright,” I said, biting my lip. I followed him inside, and pushed the door closed behind me; it emitted an innocuous little click as it fell shut.

There was something about the weariness behind his eyes and the careful set of his jaw that made me want to study him and understand what was going through his head, but all I could glean that night was that Spencer didn’t seem amenable to much time spent on documentation.

“So,” I began unsurely, shedding my jacket and scanning the contents of the room, the piles upon piles of books and the distinct lack of much else, “tell me about yourself.”

“Didn’t I already do that?”

“Hmm, that’s not the whole story,” I mumbled, running my fingers over a broken-spined, wrinkled copy of Paradise Lost laid open on a heavy wooden desk. A single smudge of blue ink stood out against the yellowing page, and beside it, the print read: This horror will grow mild, this darkness light. “You’re not just an FBI agent.”

“That’s all that’s important,” he asserted, taking a step towards me. He had one eye on my curiously wandering fingers and, sensing that it was making him more antsy than he needed to be, I tucked my hands into my back pockets, facing him with a grin of false bravado. I really wished I was drunk. That would have made things infinitely easier.

“Besides,” he continued, this time meeting my eyes directly, “I don’t know anything about you either.”

“Fair enough,” I conceded, stepping closer to him.

His eyes didn’t leave mine, until my own strayed to the bobbing curve of his throat and the tantalising motion of his tongue sweeping over his bottom lip. Not for the first time that week, I wondered how terrible of an idea it would be to try to kiss my attractive neighbour. I could see my own apprehensions mirrored in his stance, and I saw the exact moment when he identified the focus of my gaze.

I didn’t have to spend much time contemplating. He decided, just as I did, that any consequences of this impulsive decision could be dealt with later.. I lunged for him just as he closed the distance in one long stride, grasping my jaw in both his hands. Then we were firmly attached at the lips, and his arms wrapped around my waist and dragged me closer, seemingly intent on devouring my mouth. Gradually, our actions slowed a bit, the kiss turning softer and more exploratory, our tongues winding around each other gently, my lungs readily accepting his deep, nasal sigh.

His arms around my waist were a steadily spreading band of warmth, and I could feel the growing evidence of his arousal against my thigh. I found myself thinking I could be very happy with just kissing him like this, feeling his breaths tickle my face, letting my hands suffer minute pinpricks from the stubble littering his jaw. But then his grip shifted to my hips and tightened ever so slightly, and it was like I’d been doused with fuel and set alight. My fingers struggled to unbutton his shirt as he pressed distracting kisses along my neck, my soft whimpers breaking the relative silence of the room.

All of a sudden, the ground shifted and my stomach swooped, and it took a second or two before I realised I was now in his arms, being carried towards, presumably, his bedroom. Content, I got to work on undoing the last button and trying to slip the shirt down his arms entirely. He granted me a chuckle for my troubles before laying me down gently on our destination and taking it off himself.

He didn’t waste any time in sinking his knees into the soft mattress on either side of my legs, helping me out of my own clothes and methodically kissing every bit of newly exposed skin, until finally, I was clad only in flimsy cotton and he was nosing at my aching core. With two fingers, he deftly removed the last of my defences and pressed his mouth against me. I moaned, my hands flying to his hair and trying to keep from pulling too hard as he used his tongue to examine every inch of my arousal, evidently experimenting based on the sounds he managed to elicit from me.

“Oh, my God,” I babbled, hips bucking wildly under the iron grip holding them down.

“Tell me,” he demanded, pulling away slightly, “tell me how much you like it.”

“Spencer,” I breathed desperately, “Please. I need- I need more.”

He hummed leisurely against me, frustrating me to no end. My grip in his hair tightened at last, guiding him where I needed him most, and I swear I felt his lips stretch into a smile.

It went on for what felt like hours, but there was no earthly way I could have lasted that long. He took mercy on me eventually, plunging two long fingers deep inside me, closing his lips around the bundle of nerves that, predictably, sent me into a violent, shaking climax. He nursed me patiently through the aftershocks, waiting till my legs had stilled before rising to undo his belt and rid himself of his pants. I was already mourning the loss of his closeness, and I pulled him back on top of me the moment he was within reach.

“Come on, Doctor,” I taunted, “It’s time you made good on your promise and got to the main event.”

“I never promised anything,” he retorted, but the playful glint in his eyes excited me, and while he reached over beside us to the nightstand, I rose to the occasion.

“Oh? Well, if you don’t want to, I guess I’ll just head out, then,” I teased, going so far as to attempt to sit up from underneath him. I felt a low, threatening sound begin in his chest and make its way up his throat as his hands gripped my wrists and brought them down to my sides, pinning me in place.

It was my turn to chuckle at his eagerness, lifting my head to briefly peck him on his lips.

“Don’t worry, Spencer,” I cooed, “I’m not going anywhere. Now fuck me already.”

“With pleasure,” came the response, and while I wondered idly how a smirk could simultaneously be sinister and bashful, there was the sharp sound of crinkling foil, and then he cut off my thoughts by entering me in one fluid motion.

“Fuck!” I cried out, holding him around the shoulders, bringing him impossibly closer.

“That’s it,” he groaned in my ear, “let me hear you.”

He set a torturous rhythm, thrusting into me harshly before pulling out slowly, carefully, making me relish the sensation, anticipation building steadily in the pit of my stomach and spreading until it engulfed me. A ceaseless litany of moans and whimpers filled the air around us, the source of each barely discernible. At last, I could feel myself riding the very precipice, and his name began to fall from my lips like a prayer.

“Spencer,” I called, “Spenc-”

He swallowed the rest of my inconsequential cries, bringing his thumb to where we were joined to guide me over the edge, and as I convulsed around him soundlessly, he reached his own climax, blunt fingernails leaving crescent marks on my hips, his heavy panting breaths stuttering, once, against my clavicle, before calming and slowly evening out.

We stayed that way for a few minutes, my hand combing lightly through his hair, his closed-mouth kisses pressing against my neck like a balm. Eventually, though, we had to move, and it was he who did first. He pulled out and walked away from the bed without looking at me, tossing the tied-up condom in the trash. I sat up, cross-legged, watching him for a bit, pursing my lips when I noticed he was actively avoiding my gaze.

I cleared my throat. “Where’s your bathroom?”

He pointed in a general direction and mumbled something incoherent; sighing in disappointment, I stood up gingerly and went to clean myself up. When I returned, the room still smelled like sex, and Spencer was still evasive, but he was sitting on the edge of the bed now. He looked up when I entered, watching me pick up my clothes.

“Are you alright?” he asked quietly.

I glanced over at him. “Yeah, I’m good. You?”

Nodding, he watched me get dressed, then followed me into the living room and watched me drape my jacket over my arm. Then he watched me walk to the door, all the while not saying a word.

The cool steel of the doorknob in my hand, I looked over my shoulder one more time.

“Well, Spencer. You know where to find me, I guess,” I muttered, shaking my head slightly. Then I left his apartment, and despite the enormity of what had transpired during my visit, the click of the door closing sounded exactly the same.

.

(ii)

Of course, after that, I resolved it would never happen again. The man next door clearly had some issues with what we had done, and I couldn’t be bothered to solve them. It was, frankly, idiotic to jeopardise the prospect of good neighbours in favour of sex, however great it might have been.

It was embarrassing how quickly my resolution packed its bags and jumped out of my third-storey window.

I was awoken the next morning by three firm raps on my door. I think I knew, somehow, who was trying to get my attention, so I took my time, but the reveal of Spencer’s regretful face didn’t surprise me any less. I was wary as I stared at him wordlessly, cycling through all the possible reasons for his visit, and his eyes dropped to the way my arms tightly hugged my midsection. He winced then, meeting my eyes.

“I’m sorry for the way I acted,” he blurted, and it sounded so rehearsed that I had to stifle a guffaw. There was a flicker of something in his eyes that could have been frustration, but he powered through. “I’ve had a pretty terrible week at work and I think I was trying to get something out of my head. But I was awful to you, and it was completely my fault. I’m sorry if I offended you. I had...a great time.”

I’d been watching him carefully throughout his speech, and if he was faking the earnestness in those last couple of lines, he was an extraordinary actor. I concluded, as I studied the apologetic slump of his shoulders and the dark bags into which his eyes had sunken, that I didn’t need to worry about the veracity of his words.

“It’s okay,” I said hesitantly. “I mean, no, it’s not okay, it felt really awful, but thanks for explaining. I get it now.”

“Oh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck and looking off to the side, “that’s great. Thank you.” He shoved his hands deep into his pockets.

“Problem?” I was bemused.

“No!” He was looking back at me, now. “I- well, to be honest, I wasn’t expecting it to be this easy. I thought I’d have to convince you.”

“Huh. Well, you can still convince me, Doctor. Give me a second to get ready. You’re buying me breakfast.”

I quite liked the shy smile that graced his face in response.

*~*

It kept happening. There was no way I could have stopped it, and there was no reason I would have wanted to.

We quickly grew into a familiar rhythm. Each time, it started with one of us having a particularly stressful day. Each time, it started with a knock on the door and some perfunctory shuffling around. Before wasn’t the time for talking. Each time, we’d stumble into whichever surface was closest, and every time it wasn’t the bed, Spencer would make some halfhearted protests about germs and hygiene, before I shut him up very effectively with a manicured hand on his dick. Each time, in the During, I marvelled at how well we fit together, how quickly we’d learned each other’s bodies, and each time, I saw more of him than I had the last.

And I loved every bit of it.

Spencer no longer retreated into his shell in the After. He’d try sometimes, but I knew how to coax him out, now. I’d slip my hand into his, ever so gently, and wait. Or I’d sling one arm around his waist until he returned the embrace. I was getting scarily good at reading him. It was like working on an intricate puzzle, and every new achievement was rewarded with a deeper, longer look into his mind.

I carefully stored away every casual anecdote about someone from work or his godson or his mother, and I loved to watch the life burn bright in his eyes. Of course, they were all happy stories. I could sense the bittersweet aftertaste they left in his mouth, but he never let me inspect it too closely. In turn, I regaled him with tales of my own, of my sister and my parents, of my cat that was perpetually falling asleep on top of me. I told him all the easy, palatable things, holding back just as much as he did, always careful to maintain the wall of superficiality.

But things did slip through the cracks every once in a while, from both of us-- they were bound to, what with the sheer amount of time we spent together in various states of undress. Things that made me burn with curiosity that couldn’t be sated without jeopardising the very foundation of our arrangement. So I turned a blind eye to the jagged scars on his thigh and neck when he failed to maneuver to hide them; in return, he kept mum when I walked into his apartment, on the day of my worst professional disaster, with runny makeup and bloodshot eyes, shivering all over.

If he noticed that I kissed the skin over his scars a little more tenderly, lavishing attention on him the first time I saw them, he didn’t show it. If he liked the way I always nuzzled my face into the one on his neck when we were done, he didn’t show it.

For my part, I tried very hard not to read into the slow, shallow thrusts or the almost reverent way he handled me when my tears still hadn’t dried. I definitely did not read into the arm over my shoulder or the slightly baffled crease in his brow while we sat on his couch with a random episode of The Office.

And if, maybe, the frequency of his visits increased as the months went by, who could blame him? He was an FBI agent. He probably had a lot of bad days.

Sometimes, though, I’d go over when I’d had a good day and I felt like celebrating. Sometimes, I’d knock on his door just because I was bored and I wanted to see him. It wasn’t as if he would know the difference. Our bodies knew how to be around each other, and that was all that mattered.

This was just stress relief, after all.

(“Have you ever been in love?” I asked him once, abruptly, my heart still pounding as the sweat cooled on our skins.

He glanced at me warily, but he must have detected only honest curiosity on my face, not lovesickness or anything else that would have had him running for the hills.

He chewed on his lip for a moment. “Once.”

“What happened?” My finger traced an aimless pattern on his chest.

“She loves me,” he said, “but she isn’t in love with me.”)

We never articulated any feelings we may or may not have about each other or our situation. We dodged sincere conversation like it would kill us. So all the pieces we owned of each other were ones that we had been remiss in guarding diligently. That only made them all the more precious.

But on the heels of every stolen glance, there was a moment where he looked right through me, where I felt blank and insubstantial, like I was a placeholder for something or someone, and that would be enough for the wall to be between us again, rigid and unrelenting.

It was a shame that I was stupid enough to hold on to the scraps that fell through anyway.

.

(iii)

I was an immensely stupid person.

That was the only explanation for why I was leaning against the outer wall of our apartment building at three in the morning, desperately shoving my hands into my coat pockets to brace against the cold.

“You don’t have to be here.”

Can he read minds now? I wondered sullenly. Spencer was sitting on the front steps, with his head in his hands. His hair was dishevelled, and his eyes were the picture of torment. I would have loved to console him, but every attempt so far had been firmly rebuffed.

He had knocked on my door an hour ago and silenced my greeting with a bruising kiss. Of course, I knew how to do that dance, but Spencer had been off his rhythm tonight. When I’d reached for his shirt, he’d pushed my arms away. When I had kissed his jaw, he'd flinched. When I’d finally retreated in concern to ask him what was wrong, he had huffed out that he was perfectly fine, before trying to lift my shirt over my head.

I’d pushed him onto the bed and tried to distract him, and he had responded by clenching the sheets in his fists instead of grabbing my hips. I’d whispered his name in his ear the way he usually loved, and he’d climbed out from under me, sitting up on the bed with his chest heaving. At that point, I’d given up. What had followed was an exercise in patience.

(“Spencer, what’s wrong?” I’d asked again, to no avail.

“It’s nothing. I don’t want to talk about it,” he’d gritted out, glaring at me.

I’d sighed. “Okay, which is it? Nothing, or that you don’t want to talk about it?”

Silence.

“Well something is clearly bothering you. Am I just supposed to ignore that?”

“We don’t need to talk about anything.” He’d tried to kiss me again. That time, I was the one who pushed him away.

“No, Spencer, this isn’t working. I don’t think we should do this tonight.”

The glare had intensified. “Fine.” He’d gotten up and tried to put his shirt back on, but his hands were shaking.

Cursing my investment in this man, I’d helped him while he stared daggers at me. When he’d hunted down his shoes and made his way out of my apartment, I’d pulled on my coat and followed, petting my cat briefly when he tried to follow us.)

So now we were outside, experiencing the most awkward silence ever known to man. Every time I attempted to put a hand on his shoulder or sit beside him, he would tense up yet again.

“Yes, Spencer,” I replied at length, “I do. You look like you might accidentally walk into traffic. I’m not leaving.”

“It’s not your problem.” The petulance was beginning to get on my nerves. I hadn’t signed up for sleepless weeknights.

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,” I told him, shrugging.

I pulled out my phone to distract myself with the cute animals in my game. Spencer was still worryingly silent. But if he didn’t want to talk to me and he wouldn’t let me near him, there was little I could do but stand there.

Every now and then, his breathing would hitch, and I would study him out of the corner of my eye. Whether he fully registered my presence or not, I was unsure, but he seemed to be calming down. He looked less on edge, his eyes less wild, and I was about to approach him and try again, when a black car pulled up just ahead of us.

Both our heads jerked to attention, but the petite blonde who exited the car only had eyes for Spencer.

“Spence!” She rushed to him, pulling him into a hug that he slowly reciprocated. “Your phone is off. After what happened, I was so worried,” she murmured into his hair, her eyes shut in relief.

And Spencer-- Spencer’s face was something to behold. His eyes were tightly closed, his lips turned down unhappily, and his face was so naked and open that I almost looked away. Almost. The pain that shone there riveted me. I felt as if I could see every wound he had ever suffered, in that instant. He’d never shown me that before. And he still hadn’t-- this wasn’t for me. The embrace broke, but his face stayed the same while the woman fussed over him.

Something came back to me, a fragment of a memory. She loves me but she isn’t in love with me. Unbidden, a sound of realisation escaped my throat, drawing two pairs of eyes to the dark corner in which I had been so far obscured.

Spencer schooled his face back to some semblance of normalcy, and ran a hand through his hair.

“Uh, JJ, this is--”

“Leaving,” I blurted out, then cleared my throat. “I was just leaving. Work in the morning. Nice to meet you.” I tried to smile at her, but it felt more like a pained grimace.

I brushed past both of them, but hesitated on the top step. “Spencer…”

His gaze was inscrutable, and I was too tired to try to decipher it.

“Feel better,” I mumbled, and then I left them there.

*~*

I was not sulking.

I told myself this as I lounged on the couch in my most comfortable pyjamas, stuffing my face with junk food and watching Michael Scott lament his foot injury.

So what if Spencer was in love with a beautiful blonde while getting him to talk to me was like pulling teeth? It wasn’t like I’d been carrying a torch for him. We were just extremely compatible sexually. And in very close proximity to each other. That put us in the ideal position to hook up whenever we needed it. That was the extent of our relationship. For all I knew, he’d been sleeping with other people this whole time. I hardly had the right to protest it if he had. We hadn’t set up rules. We just fell into bed together as and when we liked.

It was a good, uncomplicated thing.

So I needed to make sense of whatever needless jealousy I was feeling, before I ruined it. I couldn’t sit around being pathetic. I had a life.

There was a knock on the door.

Sighing, I turned off the TV and put the snacks away. Spencer was quiet as I let him in. His eyes roamed the small living room as if he didn’t know his way around my place as well as he did his own. I perched on the arm of the couch and stared at him, hoping my face didn’t betray the rollercoaster of emotions I’d experienced over the last forty-eight hours.

“So,” I started, “you okay?”

He looked a bit startled, as if he hadn’t expected me to address it at all. I tried not to roll my eyes.

“Yeah. I’m alright.”

“Do you want to tell me what happened?” I prompted, “It was pretty intense.”

“It-uh, it was a work thing. JJ helped me out.”

Of course she did. “Great,” I said aloud.

We looked at each other for a beat. “She’s the one, isn’t she?” I blurted before I could stop myself.

“What?”

“The one you’re in love with?”

There was a telltale spot of red high on his cheeks, even as he sputtered. “That’s not-- I mean, yes, but that was--”

“It’s fine,” I said cheerily. “I was just curious.”

He frowned at me. “She’s my best friend, it’s not--”

“No, I get it.” My stomach was somewhere near my feet. “So, do you wanna fuck?”

Again, he seemed taken aback. “What?”

“Isn’t that why you’re here?” I directed my gaze at his meticulously polished shoes.

“No.” A pause. “I just wanted to say-- would you look at me for a second?”

I forced myself to comply.

“I, uh, I wanted to thank you. For staying with me the other night.” The sincerity in his eyes was a bit too much to bear at the moment.

I hadn’t done anything, and I told him as much.

“You didn’t have to. Just being there was more than enough.”

“Right,” I said hollowly. “So is that it?”

“Yeah.” He seemed very lost. “Um, are you okay?”

“Sure. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“You’re acting kind of strange.”

“That’s because there isn’t usually this much talking,” I snapped.

I longed to smooth out the lines on his face and make him feel at ease again. This was supposed to be the good, uncomplicated thing. He was apparently making an effort. I could return the favour.

“I’m sorry,” I said, letting out a deep breath and rubbing a hand over my face. “Can I get you something to drink? We can talk about it if you want. Or just hang out.” I tried to squash down the hope that bloomed in my chest.

“Oh. Sure, if that’s okay.” He was chewing on his lip again, and it was unfairly appealing.

And so he stayed. I got two mugs of coffee, and when I came back, he was on my couch reading a well-worn paperback, as if he belonged there. I had to agree with the thought. When he heard me enter the room, he looked up with a smile.

When he left three hours later, I couldn’t remember what we’d talked about or the name of the book he’d abandoned within minutes, but I remembered the way he’d leaned close to me while gesturing wildly with his hands, and I remembered that we hadn’t touched beyond accidental brushes of our fingers the entire time.

He still hadn’t revealed the source of his despair, and I knew there was someone he loved. I knew whatever this was, it would be temporary.

But the smile on my face as I closed the door was real.

.

(v)

Spencer kept coming over. I was never given the chance to initiate contact because it seemed like he was always at my place. Whenever he was in the city, he would be with me. I started to worry about his apartment gathering cobwebs from the disuse. But I couldn’t honestly complain about this new development.

Sometimes we had sex, and sometimes we didn’t. Sometimes he came in sore and tired, other times he was brimming with excitement with a playful grin. Sometimes he was angry at the world and I was allowed to coax him down from his rage. Those nights were in turn infuriating and thrilling.

(“What happened?”

“Work.”

“That’s really helpful, Spencer, care to elucidate?”

“No.”

“Okay, caveman.”

“Shut up and take off your clothes.”

I’d rolled my eyes and complied.)

I enjoyed every bit of him. I wanted to observe and chart every one of his moods and his little quirks. I loved the small pile of his books that had found their way onto the coffee table. I loved introducing him to pop culture that he approached with the same diligence as he would a textbook of quantum physics. He was an eager student, and I attempted to return the favour whenever he launched into his obscure tirades.

Some nights I would drowsily let him in and he would crawl into bed with me, fully clothed. The following mornings, I would wake up with a silly grin on my face, seeing him utterly relaxed and at peace. We’d have breakfast in my kitchen and slowly come awake together over our steaming mugs of coffee.

It was fun, learning him.

In the dead of night, as I was drifting off to sleep, he would tell me bits and pieces of horrible things he’d had to see. All I could offer him then was a tight, protective embrace and a steady gaze as the words clawed their way out of his reluctant throat. It felt like he was giving me some sort of twisted boon, these revelations of his pain. I collected them just as carefully as I did everything else. If it was a part of him that was freely given, I knew I wanted it.

At intervals, I would have to remind myself that he wasn’t truly emotionally available. It wasn’t hard. I only had to picture JJ’s relieved smile and the raw uncloaked expression on his face that I had never seen again. He mentioned her every now and then, and I’d discovered that his godson was her child. He never seemed upset, talking about her family, but he wasn’t the kind of man who would resent another’s happiness, even if it was at the expense of his own. I knew that now. I still remembered the way he would pull away from me and flinch at my touch, and I knew I was playing a losing game. There was no way out of this where I didn’t get hurt. All I could do was try to control it.

Three months after that night outside our building, I knew I’d fallen for him.

I was in trouble and I needed to do something about it, quickly. So I stopped preemptively cancelling plans with my friends and coworkers. I joined a book club. I called in a guy to loudly fix my bathroom sink the day I knew Spencer would be getting home. I even got a gym membership. I tried to be away from home as much as I could.

Whenever Spencer texted me, I would let him know I was unavailable. His texts got progressively more frustrated. Watching the excitement on his face dim when I turned him away at my door was painful. But it was necessary. I convinced myself that when Spencer and I stopped existing in this vacuum without other people, my feelings would weaken and I would be able to get him out of my head.

It didn’t work, of course, and I spent every day missing him. I tried to distract myself with work and my suddenly-full schedule, but the feelings were still there. Try as I might, I couldn’t stop thinking of him every morning and every night, and every time I passed his door and every time I walked by a bookstore.

So when Neil from work asked me out a week later, I said yes.

I wore a nice dress and heels, and he picked me up. We went to a midscale restaurant and talked about boring first-date things, and I knew within the first fifteen minutes that I didn’t want to see him again. I went through the motions, smiled pleasantly at him, and told him I would take a cab home. When I walked dejectedly up to my apartment, it took me a second to realise what I was looking at. My heart leapt and I dropped my keys.

Spencer was sitting on the floor outside my door, and he looked tireder and older than I’d ever seen him. He had looked up at my approach. I froze.

“Spencer.” I hadn’t seen him in a month.

He looked me up and down, and there was an unhappy tilt to his mouth. I wanted to kiss it away. He reached for the keys and rose to his feet.

“Hi.” He held them out to me, and I wanted to laugh and the eerie reflection of our first meeting.

“Hi,” I echoed.

“Were you on a date?”

There was no point in lying to him. “Yes.”

He looked away, his jaw clenching.

Silently, I unlocked the door and held it open. After a moment’s hesitation, he walked in.

He paced the floor of my living room. I took off my shoes and put my keys on the table, waiting for him to speak. I felt out of sorts and unprepared for what was to come. Even when I heard him come to a halt, I didn’t lift my gaze to meet his.

“Why would you-- I thought we had something.” His tone was heavy with accusation.

I stared back at him in challenge. “Sure. We had something. But I didn’t want to fool myself into thinking it was more than it was.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Us! You. You send me all these mixed signals, and I know you’re still hung up on someone else but I let myself get in too deep anyway. I had to protect myself.”

“I’m not hung up on someone else,” he shouted, raising his hands in frustration.

“Of course you are!” I matched his volume. “You told me so yourself.”

“When did I do that?” He sounded honestly bewildered.

“A few months ago. You said you were in love with someone but she didn’t love you back. And then I saw you with JJ that day. I know it’s her. It’s okay. You didn’t promise me anything.”

Feeling drained, I wrapped my hands around my middle. The tears were threatening to fall, but I tried to hold them at bay. This would be over soon. It all would.

“JJ--” he barked out a laugh, surprising me.

“What about this situation is funny to you?” I demanded.

“No, listen--”

“You’re hot and you’re cold. You kick me out right after our first time and then you’re sweet the next day. How do you want me to feel about that?”

“I’m sorry about-”

“Trying to talk to you is impossible! I want to help you. But you clearly don’t want to talk to me!”

“That’s not--”

“And then you’re over here all the time, and I get that it’s because you want to distract yourself, but you have to know how it would con--”

“God, would you just shut up and listen to me for once?”

I glared up at him. He was undeterred, a strange glint in his eyes.

“I love you,” he informed me, striking me dumb. “It took me a while to realise it, but it’s true. I love you.”

All I could do was gape at him as he walked closer to me and took my tightly clenched fists in his hands. “I’m sorry if I made you feel like I was holding back. I’m trying to be better. And I don’t know what you thought you saw between me and JJ,” he said very slowly, stroking his thumbs gently over my palms, “but all that’s there is a lot of trauma and shared experiences. Yes, I thought I loved her once, but that was a long time ago. We’ve never-- she’s not you.”

Traitorously, that tendril of hope began to coil around my heart again as I searched his face, looking for a trace of a lie.

I found none.

I surged forward, crashing my lips to his with no finesse and too much force, but he was ready for me, releasing my hands and cradling my waist instead. I gripped his hair, letting the tears spill at last, an overjoyed laugh bubbling out of my throat and into his mouth. I let my hands roam the hard plane of his body, the delicious ripple of wiry muscle beneath his shirt, the hidden softness that only I could feel.

“I love you,” I told him when we broke apart for air. “I’m glad I can tell you, I love you, I fucking love you.” Spencer grinned down at me, and the look was so fond I had to kiss him again.

The rest was a blur of hastily discarded clothes and the steadfastly ignored pain of knocking into furniture before we finally found my bed and tumbled into it.

(“All this time, I could have had you,” I groaned into his ear while he thrust his fingers into me, mouthing along my jaw.

“You have me,” he promised into my skin an eternity later, when he was inside me and my nails were scrambling for purchase along his back, my vision going white.)

That night, there were no painful confessions or taunting insecurities. There were just the two of us, blissfully entwined together, and the deepest of dreamless sleeps. Somewhere in the middle of falling out and falling back together, we had found our new rhythm.

.fin.

[pingutats]

be this close, forever and ever

you and harry have been together for a while. your nights at home are quiet and comfortable, and, well, you’re both just so in love.

warnings: sexual content (soft giggly sex), mostly fluff

word count: 2.5k

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

Living with Harry, the two of you start to fall into the same rhythm. It’s not easy with his schedule as chaotic as it often is and your lives so profoundly different, but the nights when he’s home are the quiet sanctuary you need from all of those stresses. His little rituals seep into your own. The evenings are for being together, enjoying each other’s company without distraction or pressure. It’s just you and him, and the routine you’ve constructed so delicately together.

It starts with a face mask. Just because he’s so famous, he receives packages from different companies hoping for endorsements. He doesn’t really do those but he keeps the boxes anyway and most nights the two of you pick out one to try. He reads through the ingredients while you wait for the prescribed fifteen minutes to pass: pumpkin extract, baobab oil, a white flower extract.

“Which white flower?” Harry asks, looking up at you. 

His mask is wrinkled between his brows where he’s frowning and you reach up to smooth it out again, your hands coming away sticky. You wipe them on his sweatpants, which just makes him frown again. “Dunno,” you say, “but it must be a pretty powerful flower if it—” you snatch the packet out of his hand “—de-puffs, hydrates, and brightens our skin.” You scan the printed text for a moment. “I think this one’s supposed to be used in the morning.”

“Oh, fuck. The moon’s out. Was this all for nothing?”

After peeling off the masks carefully in the bathroom, you coo over each other’s soft skin ridiculously and move back into the living room for the next unspoken event of your night. Harry is borderline religious about meditating, somehow possessing the discipline to do it for twenty minutes day and night. You aren’t like him, but sometimes you join in. It is good for you, after all.

The two of you sit on the carpet, legs crossed and backs straight, side by side and within arms reach. The itch to reach out and touch him or lean over to put your head on his shoulder is strong, but you know it annoys him when you do that. He is so serious about it — “It doesn’t work if you keep poking me, the point is to be completely focused” — and even if you’ve never reached his fanaticism about the practise, you respect it so you keep your distance. Two minutes in, though, you’re starting to get bored. He can meditate for ages: twenty minutes is his standard, and you simply don’t have it in you to sit still for that long. Quietly, so as not to disturb him, you uncross your legs and stand up, padding across the soft carpet into the kitchen to turn on the kettle.

When the soft alarm he’s set on his phone rings and brings him back to reality, he blinks open his eyes to see you in front of him, holding two steaming mugs. It’s the tea he buys especially to have before bed, something a friend recommended to relax him. You aren’t sure if it really does anything, but it tastes good so you always have a cup too. When you think about it, you do almost always have a good sleep the nights that you drink it. Those nights are the ones you’re sleeping with Harry, though, so maybe it isn’t the tea. You set the mugs on the table nearby. 

“Thank you, love,” he says softly. He reaches to take hold of your hand and then suddenly drags you down to the floor, a tangle of limbs as you collapse on top of him. 

You giggle and then shriek as his fingers find the ticklish spot along your ribs. “Harry! Get off!”

His attack ceases very quickly when you accidentally elbow him in the stomach in your attempts to escape.

“Sorry, H.”

“’S alright. Probably deserved it.”

“You did.”

But he’s mostly quiet in the evenings — doesn’t like to talk too much as he decompresses from the busy-ness of his days, so he shows his affection more through his actions. As the two of you sip your tea (still on the floor, because with the plushy carpet he has it’s just as comfortable down here as on the couch) he reaches out to drum his fingers over your knee while he tries to remember all the things he needs to do tomorrow. He’s always written himself to-do lists and he got you hooked on them too. You were sceptical at first, but they do make life easier. The little thrill of ticking off boxes in your black notebook with your initials monogrammed on the bottom right corner (Harry’s gift) is a bonus. He’s less driven by those superficial rewards, so he chooses to keep his on his laptop, which is rose gold. His hand leaves you only to type the next line of his to-do list, then he’s back to tracing patterns over the fabric of your borrowed sweatpants. He emails the list to himself when he’s finished. You’ve always found that funny, and you tease him for being grandpa-ish, but it’s just another one of his eccentricities that makes him more endearing.

You probably wear his clothes just as much as you wear your own. He loves seeing you in his stuff. He’s practically throwing t-shirts at you as soon as you walk into the house. He’ll take your stuff, too, sometimes. Dating Harry comes with an unspoken agreement to merge your wardrobes. There are a couple of pieces — a hoodie or two, sweatpants that are too big for either of you, a pair of extremely fluffy socks — that have been passed between you for so long that you can barely remember who owned them first. The sweatpants you’re wearing right now (paired with just a sports bra) are his. The old band tee he has on is yours.

He carries the empty mugs back to the kitchen and loads them into the dishwasher while you finish the last of your planning. There’s no discussion around it, just like no one asked you to make the tea in the first place. The two of you just now how to work together now, with all the times you’ve practised this routine. Sometimes it’s him who makes the tea, sometimes you finish your list first, but you never really have to talk. Harry usually picks out an album to play in the background over these moments, and that’s the only thing you need to listen to. It’s good. It makes you feel more connected to him, like you understand each other on a deeper level than just being able to talk.  You know Harry like the back of your hand. He knows you almost as well as you know yourself. It’s a quiet kind of euphoria, to love and be loved back. You don’t need the fanfares and the grandiose displays. You just need each other.

Later, you pull faces at each other in the mirror while you brush your teeth, bumping hips as you giggle around your toothbrushes. He’s finished in the bathroom before you are, so he lies in bed  in just his boxers and watches you through the open doorway while you do your last couple of skincare and hair rituals. Satisfied, you switch the bathroom light off and enter the bedroom that you share, decorated with framed artworks you both chose, a bedspread that you picked out together. You quickly change into just a long loose shirt, then collapse into bed with him and crawl under the covers, his greedy arms pulling you to nestle into his side while he presses a kiss to your forehead. He likes to read before he sleeps, but you aren’t in the mood for that. You shuffle down until your head is at his chest and you throw your arm and leg over him, letting him rest his paperback against your bare thigh while he reads with you wrapped around him.

After a couple of minutes of just the sound of pages turning and your soft breaths, you start to sponge kisses over his bare chest. He ignores you at first, but you hear his breathing stutter as you move up to his collarbone.

“Let me just finish this chapter,” he murmurs. “Just a couple pages left.” His eyes don’t leave the page, but he gropes around until he finds your hand and brings your fingers to his mouth, kissing them before he lets your intertwined hands drop.

You don’t reply. You pull your hand out of his loose grasp and run your fingertips up the subtly defined lines of his abs, softened by the way he’s sitting. You trace the wings of the butterfly tattooed over his stomach, then draw a constellation between his four nipples — he chuckles and pulls your hand away, holding it tighter this time.

“Baby,” he says, a little firmer this time.

You kiss his shoulder again.

He sighs, closing the book (he doesn’t tear his eyes away from the page until it’s fully closed and you almost feel bad for distracting him until —

He throws the book on the nightstand and reaches over your body to plant his hand on the mattress, pushing himself up so he’s hovering above you. “You’re a pest,” he says, leaning down to nudge his nose against yours. 

You giggle and bite your lip, wrapping one leg around his hip and pulling him closer to you. “Kiss me?”

He obliges, pressing his lips against yours. “That all you wanted?” His tone is slightly teasing. He’s always liked to see you squirm.

You shake your head, wrapping your other leg around him. You can feel the bulge underneath his boxers against your crotch and it sets a fire in your core. You thread a hand into his hair and pull him down to kiss him again, less chastely this time. You roll your hips against him, just slightly, and smile against his kiss when you feel him twitch.

He breaks away from the kiss and smears his lips over your cheekbone to your ear. “Tell me, angel, tell me what you want you want and I’ll give it to you,” he whispers.

You barely contain a whimper at how deep his voice has gotten. “Fuck me,” you say, gasping as he starts to place hot openmouthed kisses down your neck. When you first slept together, you were too embarrassed to ask him so openly. You don’t get embarrassed around him anymore. “Harry, please fuck me.”

He pulls back suddenly, smiling down at you. “See? All you had to do was ask nicely.”

“Harry!”

He’s laughing as he pulls his boxers down to free his cock, but his giggles fade into a low moan as he takes hold of himself and strokes a couple times. “Ready for me, baby?”

“Yeah.”

He pushes into you with one fluid motion, making your eyes roll back. He fills you so perfectly. Every single time he’s in you is better than the last, it never gets old — there’s no feeling that’s as good as how he feels. Sometimes it’s explosive, sometimes he’s brutal in how he fucks you, or passionate and needy, or the both of you get caught up in the roles you make up to play, but you treasure the times like this. The times where he’s on top of you, face-to-face, alternating between kisses and whispers and little giggles — this is where you feel the most love for Harry.

He takes his time, in no hurry to end this moment. The pace he sets is slow but he reaches deep into you on each thrust, his breath coming out increasingly ragged every time he buries himself to the hilt. You have your hands in his hair and splayed across his back — he has one clutching the pillow beside your head to hold himself up, the other roaming over your chest. It’s like he can’t decide what he wants to do with his mouth: he’ll kiss your lips, then along your jaw, down your neck, then back up to your ear where he whispers all the sweet little nothings he can think of.

“So pretty, baby, love you so much, taking me so well, always my good girl, my best girl, my girl, always feel so good…” He chants it like a prayer, his words taking on a firmer tone each time he thrusts in, starting to pick up the pace a bit. “Touch yourself for me, darling, want to see you cum underneath me.”

You moan and reach down between your legs, rubbing little circles around your clit while he starts to fuck you at a faster pace. “Feels so good, Harry,” you say, your words choked slightly by the intensity of what you’re feeling right now.

“I know it does,” he replies, kissing you again, swallowing your moans. That edge of cockiness, the way he knows how to take care of you, when you just need his mouth on you and he can’t keep off you — you love all these little traits. You love him. And he loves you. That’s maybe the feeling to triumph over all the others.

“I’m close, I’m close,” you chant, the hand on his back digging fingernail marks into his skin as the warm feeling in your core rises, threatening to explode.

He thrusts into you faster, his rhythm growing slightly sloppy. “Yeah? Let go for me, baby, let go, I’m right behind you.”

You cum, legs shaking around him and brows pinched as you stare up at him, while he watches you cum undone with an intensity behind his gaze that wasn’t there before. You say his name, over and over, trying to put all you want to say into just that one word. You hope it’s enough. You think it is. He gets you.

“I’m gonna cum,” he says, words cut off by a pant, as you feel the aftershocks of your own orgasm and the growing over-sensitivity. “You feel so good, baby, gonna cum so hard…”

You feel him spill into you as he cries out, his body collapsing over yours so his entire body is pressed against yours. You thread your fingers through his hair until he starts to come down from his high and rolls off you, his cock slipping out and you hiss at the slight friction.

“God…” he murmurs into the air. “That was so good.”

You giggle, twisting around and propping your head up with your hand so you can look down at him. “You say that every time.”

“It’s good every fucking time,” he says, a smile spreading across his face.

You poke his dimple and he tries to catch your finger with his mouth, biting the air playfully, but you pull it away. “You’re such a weirdo.”

He pouts for a second, but then his features soften. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” You drop your head back down to the pillow, watching him stretch his arm out to turn off his bedside lamp. After a couple of swats at the switch, he finally manages it, and brings the same arm back over to drape over your body. It’s totally dark now. “Love you so much,” he tells you, kisses your forehead.

“Love you more. Goodnight, H. Sweet dreams.”

“Night, angel. Sleep well.”

.                               .                           .                               .                           .

hope you enjoyed -- let me know if u did, i like reading ur replies/tags !! i rlly loved writing this fic, it’s just so domestic and sweet and happy. the meditating and the to-do list (including the emailing !! ) is from the real harry. 

btw !! my ask box is open for requests & general chatter, so come say hi :D

[kaimelia]

can you write a fic about amelink having multiples, like twins or triplets?

overjoyed

a/n: hi! thank you for the prompt! i hope you enjoy it <3

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

"Maggie! Let me in, please!" Amelia knocked on the door again, banging her knuckles against the surface. "Maggie, come on!" The door opened to reveal Winston standing inside, his eyebrows raised. "You're not Maggie."

"Nope. She's in the shower. You okay?" Amelia let out a breath, shrugging her shoulders.

"I need Maggie."

"You can wait for her." He held the door open further for her, and Amelia quickly walked inside, tossing her coat on the floor and dropping onto the couch. Winston picked up her coat and hung it up before walking towards the bathroom. "Amelia's here," he shouted, and the shower turned off. Maggie walked out a minute later with a towel wrapped around her body; concern spread across her face.

"Are you okay? I didn't know you were coming over," Maggie muttered, adjusting the towel on her head.

"I told Link I was coming here, and I can't lie to him, so I came here." Amelia looked down at her nails, picking at a hangnail.

"Let me go change, and then I'll be back, okay?" Maggie hurried into the bedroom, leaving Amelia alone with her brother-in-law.

"Can I get you something? Water, maybe?" The neurosurgeon looked up, nodding her head.

"Yeah, water would be great. Thank you." He handed her a glass after a moment passed, Amelia taking a large sip before settling the glass down on the coffee table.

"Okay, what's going on?" Maggie ran back out, dressed in a plain t-shirt and jeans. "Are we mad at Link?" Amelia shook her head, slumping down further into the couch cushions.

"No, I just think I'm pregnant." Maggie raised her eyebrows, glancing back at Winston, who raised his hands up in defense before leaving the room.

"Are we not happy about this? I thought you two were starting to try for another kid?"

"I just didn't think it would happen so soon, you know? And I know that Link is gonna be over the moon about this, and I kinda need a minute to freak out before I tell him," she rolled her head to the side, making eye contact with her sister. "He's super understanding about everything, but I want it to be a happy moment when I tell him, so I came here to get all of my anxiety out." Maggie placed her hand on Amelia's shoulder.

"Have you taken a test yet?" The brunette shook her head, letting out a heavy breath.

"Nope. A little scared to do that."

"Well, why don't we go to the store and get some, and then we can come back here so you can take them. And whatever it says, you can freak out or cry, and I'll go with it." Amelia's lip turned up into a small smile.

"Thank you."

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

"I mean, Scout's only a year old. So he and the baby would be what, 20 months apart?"

"Depends on how pregnant you are. The timer's got a minute left." Amelia sighed, continuing her pacing around the couch. "Hey, you and Link are incredible parents. You parented a newborn, Zola, Bailey, and Ellis, for months last year. So, if you're pregnant, I know that you two will be able to figure it out," Maggie consoled, watching her sister purse her lips tightly, clasping her hands together gently.

"I know. I just really wasn't expecting this." She froze as the timer on Maggie's phone sounded, the ringing loud in the living room. "Okay, here we go," she muttered, picking up the two plastic sticks from the table. She flipped them over one by one, her mouth dropping at the sight. "I'm pregnant," fell from her mouth as a whisper, a hand subconsciously moving to her stomach. She felt Maggie's arms around her, pulling her into a side hug. "Oh my god."

"Is this a happy oh my god, or a 'my life is falling apart' oh my god?"

"Happy, happy," Amelia muttered, tears rolling down her face. "I was super anxious before, but right now? I feel like everything is right. Like everything in my life is the way it's supposed to be." Maggie grinned, wiping her sister's eyes.

"I see the hormones are already kicking in." Amelia nudged her, standing up from the couch.

"Okay, I need to go tell Link. I can't keep this from him any longer," she spoke through tears, grabbing her coat from the rack. "Thank you for staying with me, Maggie."

"Of course. Let me know when I can get an ultrasound photo of my niece or nephew."

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

Amelia pushed the front door of her and Link's house open, a small three-bedroom place they'd purchased after Meredith's recovery. A smile spread across her face at the thought of the third bedroom being filled. Link grinned at her from inside, sitting on the floor with Scout. "Hey, everything with Maggie go okay? You seemed a little stressed when you left." Amelia nodded, walking over to her boyfriend, wrapping her arms around him as he stood.

"I love you so much," she whispered, feeling Link's arm around her.

"Are you okay?" Amelia pulled back, his arm remaining around her waist as she beamed.

"I'm pregnant," she raised her eyebrows, watching as his face froze as he processed what she said. "And, I was a little freaked out at first, but now, I'm super happy."

"Are you serious? We're having another baby?" She nodded, laughing as he pressed his lips against hers, her hands resting on the sides of his face.

"Totally serious," Amelia felt his lips turning into a grin. She pulled away, her hands falling down to his chest, opening her eyes to see his watering. "Don't cry; I'm supposed to be the hormonal one here."

"I love you." A tear rolled down his cheek, and Amelia brought her hand up to wipe it away. "There are happy tears, I promise."

"I know. I had my own share of them earlier," she laughed, kissing him again.

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

"Now, we know who the father is this time, right?" Carina joked, pulling the ultrasound machine towards the table. Amelia groaned.

"No question now. Unless there's something you need to tell me," Link joked, receiving a slap on his chest in response.

"Just Link." She rolled up her scrub top to reveal her stomach, the slightest curve of a bump forming over the past weeks.

"Alright. It'll be a little cold," Amelia winced as the gel was placed on her stomach, and Link watched Carina shift the wand around. "Okay, Amelia, it looks like you're about seven weeks along," she smiled, pausing her movements of the ultrasound, her face freezing.

"What's that face?" Amelia's voice was laced with concern as she watched her fellow doctor's eyes scan the screen. "Carina, if something's wrong, I need to know." Link squeezed his girlfriend's hand reassuringly.

"Nothing's wrong, Amelia. I just need to make sure that what I'm seeing is right." The mother shifted uncomfortably, her grip on Link's hand tightening. The OB turned the screen to face the couple, her finger pointing towards something Link couldn't quite make out. "You're pregnant with twins. You can see baby one right here," she pointed towards a gray blob on the screen, "and baby two hiding here, behind their sibling." Amelia's mouth dropped open, her hand slapping Link's chest again.

"You asshole!"

"What did I do?" He asked defensively, pulling her fingers away from his chest.

"You impregnated me with twins! How are we supposed to handle three kids under the age of two?" Carina laughed at them, hitting some buttons on the machine, wiping Amelia's stomach clean.

"I'm going to leave you two to figure some things out," she handed them a few printed photos, "but the nurse will help you schedule your next appointment. I want to see you in two weeks since this is considered a more high-risk pregnancy now. I'll email you some prenatal suggestions and websites with good information about multiples." Her hand squeezed Amelia's shoulder before she excused herself, congratulating the couple.

"How are we going to do this?"

"I honestly don't know," he breathed out a laugh, "but I know that we can figure it out. I mean, we dealt with four kids during a global pandemic for months. Whatever happens, we got it." Her eyes locked with his, her breaths steadying. He reached out to roll her shirt back down. "This explains why you have a bump already, though." Amelia's mouth dropped again.

"Are you saying I'm fat?"

"No! You know I love the little baby bump," he placed his hand on her shirt. "You didn't start showing with Scout until your second trimester. You're like, halfway through your first, and I can already see the bump." He grinned toothily.

"You look so overjoyed," Amelia muttered, using Link's hand to balance herself as she stood. "Because you're not the one who has to push two babies out of your vagina, now." She brought the ultrasound photo up to her face. "This is going to be insane," her voice was quiet, and Link's arm wrapped around her waist.

"It is. But, you're a superhero, both as a mom and a person. So, we've got this."

[bnhabadass]

Pairing: Akaashi x Reader Genre: Fluff Word Count: 1370 Synopsis: You can’t help but feel drawn to the cute customer who keeps coming in during your shifts.

It was a quiet day at the shop when he came in. Soft hair dripping from the rain, glasses fogged up. But you didn’t notice that at first, not until he approached the front desk where you were stationed.

“The Phantom Tollbooth?” he asked, eyeing the blue book whose pages you were tumbling through.

“It’s a childhood favorite of mind,” you said, still not looking up. Setting the book down, you typed a few things into the front desk’s computer. “Can I help you find something today?”

“Yes, I ordered a few books and I received an email saying they were in. They should be under the name Akaashi Keiji.”

You typed the name into the computer’s system and waited for it to load. “Sorry it’s taking so long. This thing’s really old.” You rubbed the side of the chunky computer.

The man nodded and made a noise out of understanding.

You hated interactions like this, when the computer was taking a very long time and there was just a moment of awkward silence between you and the customer in front of you. And all you want to do is pick your book up and continue reading but you can’t because that would be rude to the customer. So instead you pretended to scroll along the web page as if you were looking for something in particular.

The customer fiddled with the cap on a stray pen left on the front desk. He grabbed one of the free bookmarks you keep next to the computer and stuck it in his bag.

“All right,” you said when the computer had finally loaded. “Let’s see. It looks like your books came in this morning. I’ll grab them from the back.” You left your spot and the front desk and went to the back room where book orders and other supplies sat on shelves wrapped in brown paper and twine. You grabbed the one labeled “Akaashi K.” and ran back to your waiting customer. “Here you go.”

As you sat them on the counter, he thumbed around the package, feeling to make sure all three books were snug inside.

“That’ll be 4200 yen,” you said, finally looking up at your customer for the first time. And at that moment, you couldn’t help but burst out in a fit of laughter.

“I’m sorry, did I say something funny?” He looked puzzled and quite frankly annoyed.

“No,” you giggled. “I’m sorry I know I’m being mean. It’s just, you’re soaking wet and you’re getting water everywhere.”

Puzzled, he turned around and saw the trail of rain drops he had led into the store. “Oh, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize–”

“No no it’s fine,” you cut him off. “As long as the books stay dry you’re all right.”

He nodded and looked down at his soaked through sneakers. “Thank you. Um, here’s my card.”

You took his debit card and swiped it through the machine. “You’re all set.” You handed him back his card and his receipt which he gladly folded and stuck in his wallet. “Have a good day and, um, stay dry.” You couldn’t help but let out a fleeting giggle as you watched him walk out the door and back into the pouring rain.

It was dry out, and even sunny, at the start of your shift the next day. Although cool wind blew past you and the only thing you had to keep your hands from falling off was the latte you had just ordered from the coffee house next door.

“I’m here,” you called to your fellow coworkers as you made your grand entrance through the front door.

“Thank god.” Hanamaki, one of the coworkers you favor least, took off his uniform apron and balled it up. “Enjoy your hell duty.”

You would not consider this job to be hellish in the slightest. You loved the smell of the decaying glue holding the books, old and new, together. It was such a peaceful environment which you were happy spending hours upon hours in.

The door of the shop opened, and the twinkling of the jingle bells tied to the handle pulled your attention to the front door.

Kicking the soles of his shoes against the store’s welcome mat was the customer you had met yesterday, the one who had left his trail of rain water leading right to the front desk.

“Don’t tell me you finished all three books already,” you said, astonished by his presence so soon after your first encounter.

“No,” he said, running a hand through his fluffy hair. “Just the first one. The other two are gifts for friends.”

You nodded in response. “Well what can I help you find?”

“Just browsing,” he dismissed. And with that, he disappeared into the isles stacked floor to ceiling with non-fiction, gothic literature, YA novellas and so much more. He emerged twenty minutes later with a small stack of books.

“Find what you were looking for?” You set down your half drunk latte and began scanning each book, smiling at some of the titles you recognized.

“It’s a dangerous place in there,” he admitted. “Never thought I’d come out with this many books.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “I’ve spent way too much money here, even with my discount.” You finished ringing him up. “Anything else I can do for you?”

He shook his head and handed you his card. “Actually, there is something you can do for me,” he said as you handed him the small paper bag with the store’s logo printed on the side. “Could I by chance get your number?”

You froze and eyed the man in front of you. He wore a black and white flannel shirt and tight dark jeans that seemed to outline his figure in indescribable ways. He looked at you patiently with a nonchalant expression that told you he would be fine with either a yes or no answer. “Why?”

“Well, you seem to have good tastes in books,” he started. There was a brief pause before he met your gaze and continued speaking. “Also, I think you are very pretty and my stubborn roommate thinks that I should be dating more.”

You felt a bit light headed. This seemingly perfect stranger, someone you have barely had a full conversation with, was being so bold with his words. You wanted to speak but you couldn’t find the words. The seconds hand on the clock behind you ticked at an abnormally slow pace. The bell jingled but you didn’t look away from the man and the way he rubbed the pad of his thumb back and forth between his fingers.

“I’m sorry,” he broke the silence. “That was incredibly rude of me. I don’t even know your name.” He bowed his head down and turned around, ready to leave and possibly never come back.

“It’s (Y/n),” you sputtered. You finally took a big long breath as he turned around again. “And I’m assuming you’re Akaashi?” you asked, remembering the name on the order he picked up during your shift yesterday.

“That’s right.” He walked back over to the front desk. “So you’re (Y/n), your favorite book from childhood is The Phantom Tollbooth, and from the sweater you are wearing I can assume you’re a student?”

You looked down at the sweater with your school’s name and logo on the chest. “That’s right,” you chuckled. “And you’re Akaashi, I’m guessing you love reading more than anything in the world and you’re bold enough to ask a stranger for their number.”

You found the blush dusting his cheeks to be adorable, and your smirk lifted up until your face began to hurt. “I guess I am,” he mumbled.

“Well good.” You folded your hands in each other and rested your chin on them. “Because I’m not confident enough to do so.” You grabbed a pen from the cup holder to your side and wrote your number on a post-it.

“Thank you,” he said when you slid it towards him. “I’ll text you.”

You watched as he bid farewell, turned around and left. This seemingly perfect stranger who had asked such a bold question. The butterflies in your stomach would never seem to calm down.

[sxfterhearts]

33. [12:12 pm]

➳ pairing: mark x reader

➳ genre/warnings: fluff, office worker!mark

➳ word count: 1,348 words

➳ summary: 33. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

➳ author's note: apologies in advanced for any mistakes (it's so late rn ㅠㅠ) please enjoy another timestamp featuring descriptions of fooddd

//

“Let's dig in!” Mark chirped with a huge smile on his face before tucking his silver skinny tie into his plain, light blue button-up and grabbing a mouthful of jjamppong, his beloved spicy seafood noodles.

You could only offer a weak nod in response. Picking up your chopsticks, you poked lightly at the large bowl of jjajangmyeon that was patiently waiting for you to dig in. You didn’t have the heart to do so, however. Physically, you were seated next to Mark in your usual cramped corner of the Korean-Chinese restaurant frequented by nearly every office worker within its vicinity, eating your lunch. Mentally, though, you were still back at your office desk, scanning through every single cell of your Excel spreadsheet.

It was when Mark had to pause his meal for a drink that he finally realised your less-than-enthusiastic mood. “Y/N,” He called over the aggressive clanging of the kitchen’s woks and the lunchtime chatter of the other patrons.

You shook your head in an attempt to dispel your worrying thoughts, your hands moving to mix the glistening, black soybean sauce with the egg noodles underneath at a snail’s pace. Even such simple actions required more effort than usual, perhaps due to the constant tension in your muscles that left you exhausted.

“Hey, something’s up. What is it?” Mark eyed you attentively, taking in your slumped figure, dark eyebags and bitten nails. It was clear that you were under a lot of pressure. “You’re not mixing it right, let me do it for you. In the meantime,” He said, exchanging his jjamppong for your jjajangmyeon. “Have some of mine.”

“Thank you.” You replied, taking a sip of the red hot soup. This restaurant’s jjamppong was known to be spicier than average, but your tastebuds welcomed the tingling sensation. Its flavour was comforting and tempted you to go back for more.

The familiar squelching sound of jjajangmyeon being mixed could be heard as Mark stirred the hot contents, his tongue sticking out in concentration. “So?” He asked expectantly. “You haven’t told me what you’re stressed about.”

Grunting in protest, you hurriedly chewed and swallowed a crunchy piece of prawn. “Who said I was stressed?” You were met with a look of disbelief. “I’m just… concerned.”

“Go on, talk to me.” Mark promptly returned your meals to its original positions when he caught you stealing another prawn. “I’m here to listen, feel free to offload all your complaints on me. That’s what a boyfriend is for, right?”

“Boyfriend?” Your hand stopped mid-air, your mouth agape as noodles dangled off your chopsticks. “What… What do you mean by boyfriend?”

Now it was his turn to pause while reaching for the plate of tangsuyuk sitting between you. The crispy sweet and sour pieces of pork would have to wait for now. “I mean me, your boyfriend.” He emphasised. “Why are you even asking that question?” Mark paused for a few moments, the two of you just staring dumbfoundedly at each other before he waved his hands in front of you. “Anyways, we’ll save that for later. Continue what you were saying earlier.”

You narrowed your eyes at home, a bit annoyed at his nonchalant dismissal of the discussion of your relationship. That would have to wait. You heaved a sigh. “It’s just, the client told us about a change in their fringe benefits at the very last minute, which wasn’t captured in the tax return we already filed, which means we’ll have to submit an amended return, but I can’t seem to find any evidence of this and this client is such a pain in the ass! Their tax department is so damn slow at replying to my emails and it’s going to take forever–”

“Y/N,” Mark’s voice cut through your rambling, firm. “Y/N, take a deep breath for me, okay? Yeah, just breath in, and out. Again, in, hold it, and out. That’s my girl. You’re doing great. Feeling a bit better?”

“Yeah,” you agreed, still a little breathless from your earlier ordeal. “Yeah, thank you. It feels good to let it out.”

Mark responded with a knowing smile. “Good. Eat your noodles, it’s going to get cold.” He urged, turning towards his lunch. “I have to admit, I didn’t understand most of what you said after ‘fringe benefits’, but it sounds like you have a deadline to meet and a client who’s not very responsive?” The IT worker guessed with his scarce knowledge of your profession.

“That’s basically it.” You sulked internally, taking bigger mouthfuls of noodles as your appetite slowly returned.

“How long do you have to submit your work?”

“Technically, the tax office allows three years. My manager will probably want it done by the end of the week.” It was already Thursday. You winced. “Maybe earlier, I haven’t told her yet.”

“Why? You need to tell her, Y/N.”

“I know, but like, I don’t want her to get mad at me, you know? I've never submitted an amended return before…”

“Y/N, clearly this whole thing is giving you a lot of stress. You need to tell your manager so that she can ask someone to guide you or reassign your other tasks to your colleagues. The longer you sit on this, the worse it gets. Tell her.”

As you processed his words, you began to realise that he was right. It was times like this that you truly appreciated his presence. While your first response to situations was usually fuelled by raging emotions, Mark always faced everything with a level-headed, logical approach that you admired. “Okay, I will.”

“And even if, and that’s a big if, she does get mad at you, I’ll help to make up for it.”

“How?”

His face scrunched up into a mischievous smile. “Close your eyes and hold out your hands.”

Without even sparing it a second thought, you followed his instructions exactly. You trusted him.

“Like this,” Mark said, sounding much closer to you than before, as you felt his larger hand grasp your smaller ones securely. Your breath hitched when his warm, moist lips melted against yours, engaging in a short yet graceful dance. When he pulled away, you curiously licked your lips, enjoying the lingering taste of jjamppong he left. “And this.” He announced, lifting his hand away.

It was then that you realised he had placed a piece of colourful paper on your hand. Holding it closer, you recognised the logo printed on the top of what seemed like a buy one get one free coupon. It was for the dessert place where you had your first date. “Free bingsu?” You wondered. Your insides were bubbling in excitement.

“Wow, I'm going to take you on a date to the place we first went out and all you can say is free bingsu?” Mark teased, his ears still a bright, noticeable shade of pink from your shared kiss.

“You can't blame me for that, it's unfair! You didn't even tell me that we're boyfriend and girlfriend.”

“What?!” Mark shrieked in pure shock. “What did you think we were? I've took you out on like at least ten dates already, we've held hands, kissed and everything, how—”

“Yeah, you took me out on dates, Mark. We never discussed anything which means we're just dating.”

“Who cares about labels?” He sighed exasperatedly, but went silent at your pointed gaze. “Well, that's a bit of a shame. All this time you thought we were just dating when I was going around telling everyone you're my girlfriend.”

“What… Really?” You stared at him unblinkingly.

Mark couldn't hold in his laughter when he met your dazed look. Each and every expression you wore on your face was adorable to him. “Yes, girlfriend. And if you really don't start eating now you won't finish your lunch, which, as your boyfriend, will make me very worried.”

“Stop teasing…” You mumbled weakly before stuffing your face with jjajangmyeon. Your tummy may not be full but your heart was filled with pure adoration for the man sitting next to you, chuckling amusedly to himself at your cuteness.

[softowlhours]

paperclip chains

akaashi keiji (officeAU!)

a collection of scenarios following you and akaashi as you try and finesse the art of navigating life as working adults.

genre: a bit sad at times, but hopefully fluffier in the future.

a/n: my first piece of writing and this is pure self indulgent because work is hard and nothing makes sense sometimes. hope you all enjoy and find some comfort in it. 

word count: 3500~

pt. one 🦋 blank like a sheet of paper. 🦋

[friday. 3:00 p.m.]

someone had cracked open the window. the air inside the office had been much too oppressive, stale with the smell of the murky, insipid coffee you could get from the cafeteria. for free. staff privileges, they call it. late afternoon sun pours in through the large square windows. it ignites the office, dying it in the shades of an inferno. however, the warmth of it does not reach akaashi’s heart. the way the rays set everything aglow was in contrast to the chill crisp autumn air. akaashi could hear the leaves rustle, clinging to the branches waiting for that particular gust of wind, strong enough to blow them off. the leaves would then twirl and twirl until they’d softly land on the damp earth becoming one with it again. he wishes he were a leaf.

He tries to focus on nature’s gentle melody, but the hubbub of the office is overbearing. the incessant clicking of alphabets on the keyboards, the murmur of pages being turned, someone sneezes loudly and it is immediately followed by lazy ‘bless you’s’. his ears are attuned to the low electric groan of the printer, and he hopes someone would get up and unclog the jam of papers before the white noise drives him insane. he ends up doing it himself, almost losing a finger in the process as he tries to pull out a badly stuck paper from the printers’ rollers. today had been one of those days where nothing had gone right, a domino of disasters triggered the moment he’d opened his eyes. these days had been coming by way too often lately for his taste. he felt tired.

none of these turmoils showed on his exterior though, he wore a calm, unbothered mask. despite his depressing inner monologue, he diligently read through the manuscript highlighting bits he’d like to go over with the author at their next meeting.

it wasn’t like akaashi hated his job, infact, this was his dream job. he loved what he did but sometimes his love for his work was eclipsed by the politics the workplace was entrenched in. the naivety from when he had first joined almost a year ago had worn off quickly. it took him a mere week in the workforce to understand that a job demanded more than the list of skills and tasks specified in the job description. in any office, beneath the veneer of civility, there always remains an undercurrent of competition, jealousy, idle minds looking for entertainment at the expense of each other. there were people who did not love their job, the free loaders who somehow never did their share but managed to take home their bag of coins. they would slack and slack some more until the burden of their neglect would be shifted upon the shoulders of the new comers. too timid to resist. he pulls out his leather bound planner, a gift from his friend to celebrate him landing the role of an assistant editor all those months ago. it is almost filled from start to finish with his scribbles and the leather is soft with constant handling. his eyes scan past all the work he had wrapped up for the day, until one of his seniors had dumped an endless stack of files containing short stories that had been sent in for the monthly writing contests. they’re not short anymore when you have a hundred of them to read at once. apparently, the senior had a date he’d forgotten about and had to leave early. akaashi couldn’t report this to the boss, he knew how offices worked. its venomous hierarchies slithered like snakes ready to diss whoever defied them. rookies must act like rookies. akaashi quickly jots down in his planner a list of things he must get done over the weekend and the bulleted list slowly fills up two entire pages.

when he wasn’t picking up after someone’s mess akaashi did enjoy what he did. he enjoyed being on top of his work, found an euphoric satisfaction in duties well done. while his colleagues took it easy during the day and whined as they worked overtime in the evenings to meet deadlines, akaashi was most probably done for the day by then and already at home; fresh out of the shower and lighting his favourite candles that made his bedroom smell like cinnamon. he’d curl up under his soft comforter letting the tension of a busy day dissipate from his body. he kept his favorite books on the nightstand and would read them as he waited for sleep to come.  

“akaashi-chan,” he hears the soothing voice of his supervisor, an old well natured man in his sixties who had worked here for almost thirty years. he walks upto akaashi’s desk, his eyes crinkling with a gentle smile as he takes in the mess that was his desk.  “its difficult being a rookie, huh?” hatori-san says. “i would’ve just let you gone home, but the design and printing departments are an anxious bunch. they’re breathing down our necks for the final draft of the magazine two weeks before the release date.”

“please don’t apologise, hatori-san. It’s always like this towards the end of the month.” you aren’t the one who should be apologising.

“hmm...” the elderly muses, “maybe you should dilly dally like your colleagues, afterall, who is to blame you? the youth are meant to be reckless. ”

“but hatori-san if i did that not even a quarter of our magazine will be ready by the end of this month!” akaashi’s voice is filled with amusement, and mild terror.

hatori-san chuckles. “yes, yes i’m aware. i’ll rely on you then akaashi-chan. i do have a bit of good news for you though.” a bonus-

“we’re getting another assistant editor on monday, hopefully your workload can be halved from then on and a be little more manageable. i’m worried you’re starting to look older than me akaashi-chan.” he jokes. “i’ll leave her in your care.”

❀ ✿  ✿ ❀

[friday. 8:20 p.m.]

he stays in the office until late that night, finishing as much of his work he can before the words on the screen begin to blur and he can feel his brain churn in his head. he packs the documents he needed to read over the weekend, putting them neatly in his black briefcase. the temperatures have dropped quite low and with his tan coat on and a scarf wrapped around his neck, he steps out into the world. outside, tokyo is buzzing with life, the lights twinkle and a bubbly atmosphere engulfs even this usually grim and dull part of the city; where most companies found their home. salary men and women chatter excitedly as they pour into the office district from the high rise buildings of concrete and glass. groups of people stand on the sidewalk chatting amicably, smoke rises from cigarettes, plans to go hangout at karaokes, bars and restaurants float in the air.

it wasn’t that akaashi did not have friends, or ever had trouble making any. he was easy going, attentive and though not the loudest in the room, he was enigmatic. people were drawn to him. especially the weird and loud ones. not that he minded. not that he ever judged. which is what made people open up their hearts to him so easily. they knew he’d take them for who they were. but, like earlier today he couldn’t shake off the feeling of unease that clawed at him. he had his dream job but the hours he spent on his desk day after day, the endless exchange of apathetic emails, the unlimited cups of coffee, had all amalgamated into a kind of hollowness. he felt empty instead of fulfilled. he idly wonders if bokuto-san ever felt this way, or knowing him, did he charge straight ahead without any inhibitions? if you asked bokuto whether he could see himself playing volleyball for the next twenty or fifty years, bokuto would say ‘yes, ofcourse!!!’ in a heartbeat. and akaashi knew bokuto would mean it.

he wonders how hatori-san had spent his entire life in that office. could i do the same?

akaashi considers hanging out with some of his friends from university, maybe take hatori-san’s advice and just let go and forget everything for a while. he could be your typical 20 something, going to the bars with his 20 something friends where they’d shit talk their rude colleagues. He could console that one friend who wouldn’t stop crying over his ex-girlfriend who left him 3 years ago, every time he’s drunk. he could go home with that girl at the opposite end of the bar who wouldn’t stop looking his way, and who in his drunken haze, he thinks to be pretty. but eventually akaashi decides he is too tired to do any of that.

much later, when he settles into bed, he mindlessly picks up a book from his nightstand. he starts reading from where he had left off the night before but his eyes don’t really register a single word. for all he knew, he could’ve been staring at a blank sheet of paper. after a few more minutes of seeing nothing, he puts the book away and buries himself deep underneath the covers.

he feels the tears fall.

❀ ✿  ✿ ❀

[monday, 9:45 a.m.]

its odd. akaashi feels well rested. very very well rested.

his eyes fly open, and the first thing he sees is the blue sky peeking from the gap between his curtains. he’s afraid to look at the time.

9:45 A.M. well, shit.

akaashi feels winded by the time he makes it to the floor where his office was.from the door he sees hatori-san standing next to akaashi’s chair, his back towards him. akaashi’s heart is in his throat, an apology that sounds fake dances on his tongue. he then hears hatori-san chuckle. a soft female voice says something he cannot catch. ah, the new assistant editor.

“good morning” he calls hoarsely, as he approaches them.

“Ah, hello akaashi-san,” his supervisor beams, “meet y/n. hopefully, your new partner in crime.”

“i was told i’m supposed to help slow down your aging process.” her voice is soft, and despite the shyness there is a mischievous lilt to her tone.  “i’ll do my best. please do guide me.”

hatori-san excuses himself. she’s practically buzzing with excitement, akaashi notices. before he can say anything, she pulls out a brand-new notepad from her bag, pen clicking open. she looks ready to take on the world.

he has to bite back a smile. she’s cute, cheeks flush and lips in a pout as she  jots down something on it. he genuinely wonders what it is she writes, considering he hasn’t even spoken yet. her hair is neatly tied away from her face but a few stray tendrils fall and delicately frame her face.

he wonders if this is how he had looked on his first day at work. face pink and eyes bright. probably not as cute though, oh no, definitely not cute. he internally cringes at the memory of his awkwardness.

but you miss it. that excitement.

“it’s fine.” he says, “please just sit down and relax, i’ll guide you as we go through our daily routine.” he gives her a small smile.

they spend the morning, going through the basics of the trade, she's a fast learner, he notes. and later during the lunch hour he divulges to her the little ‘how to survive in this office 101s’. he tells her how how she mustn’t drink the free coffee they hand out at the cafeteria (even though he’s come to accept it himself, for he welcomes caffeine in any state and form). he suspects they reuse the coffee grounds more times than considered acceptable. how if you ever jammed the printer, try and leave before anyone realises it was you if you don’t want to be the recipient of death glares from colleagues all day long. He tells her which restrooms are the best and which elevators reach their destinations the fastest. the grimmer and more ruthless bits of working here can wait, he thinks.

passion was something he lost some time ago and hasn’t been able to find ever since.

“make sure to take it easy.” he mumbles to her as they are putting away their trays, “if work gets too much, you can always place the manuscripts and drafts  on my desk when i’m not looking.”

she looks at him incredulously. laughter bubbles from her lips as she tells him with mock indignance that she’s better than that. she asks the cafeteria lady for two cups of the infamous coffee, offering him one.

“lets toast!” y/n proposes .

“to what?”

“to all the times we’ll be the the last two brain cells holding up this company. together.” she jokes, touching her paper cup to his. 

he likes the sound of ‘together’.

❀ ✿ ✿ ❀

[tk9336]

My Curatorial Internship at the Museum of Science and Industry, Chicago!

I began my Curatorial Internship on 6/7/21 bright and early as I drove my first day waking up at 5AM as I live in Wauconda, IL a northwest suburb of Chicago. MSI is in the heart of downtown Chicago, so the drive is usually an hour and half accounting for traffic. That sucked big time, so I took the train for the rest of my time so far. Luckily I only have to be in the office Monday/Tuesday which is bittersweet: my train ticket is $10 a day, parking at Barrington Station is $3.50 daily but what kicks my wallet in the teeth if my Lyft bill, usually around $50 from Ogilvie Transportation Center in downtown Chicago to MSI and back. Thankfully my internship is paid thanks to Studio Institute which is my sponsor, a grant MSI received and SI how I found out about the position for the summer. I thought I would be working with a team of interns since this is a big project I am a part of, but believe it or not I am the sole Curatorial intern! It felt good to know that I did well in my interview and it wasn’t just a hunch, and to have the honor of being the sole recipient! Its been a number of years since there was a curatorial intern and with this in mind I knew I was going to work hard to pay them back for their faith in me. I do not say this lightly, as I am 28 years old now and opportunities like this I have learned are not offered to just any one off the street.

The Project? MSI is digitizing roughly 1,000 artifacts to be shown online on their website (COVID was a strong motivator for this as it hit Museums all over the world. They are passionate about reaching their audience!) Collections has over 35,000 artifacts to keep track of, and all it’s history is just written or printed in a large Accession’s Archive, and there is digital archive to work with. I am going to help with what I am assigned with gaining invaluable professional research experience, with a strong focus as well in writing for labels and anything else that is thrown my way! I am also making this blog conjunction for my school, Loyola University Chicago of which helped me get this position. This will be a long post, so buckle in as I share my weeks to bring you, and me up to date for next week, 7/19/21!

Week 1: 6/7-11/2021 | This position is 4 days a week, for a total of 28 hours. Part-time. My round-trip however with commuting turns a 7 hour work day into a 12 hour day from when I wake up until I drive home from Barrington Station. Thankfully the two days I work from home is a bit easier on commuting from upstairs to downstairs!

Monday: HR/Orientation/Introduction to Collections by Alexis, the talent manager at MSI. Your standard job introduction, but my first at a Museum.

Tuesday: In-depth Museum tour/explaining the research and writing work I would be doing/assisting Kathleen (Collections Director) in the vault*(storage, vault sounds cooler) cataloging.

Wednesday: Photographing Bike exhibit for transcription/beginning research work on first Accessions project on Firefighting artifacts by find corresponding files in Accessions archive, reading the materials in each folder to find relevant material to write in description about the item to put online. I scan the documents I find relevant, so that I can do that additional research and writing at home. This will be the plan going forward (research/cataloging the vault on Monday and Tuesdays) but there are plans to have me assist on additional projects and duties within the department and MSI as a whole.

Thursday: With the information gathered from scanning documents from each accessions folder, then at home I can look over each stapled bunch of materials of each item and then add bullet points of relevant information in a word document. That can then be shared with the Director, Curator and assistant curator to help them use the most relevant materials to weave the labels needed to put online for this historic artifacts.

Week 2: 6/14/18/2021 | Fridays are not included as that’s when I attend Zoom meetings with the program directors and liaison for Studio Institute which has over 40 interns around the country in Museums across the United States. I won’t lie... I got the best assignment in my opinion! This was tailor made for me! As an older student I am FULLY aware of what a incredible privilege it is to be paid to do something you truly love down to your bones.

Monday: I start at 9:15 but my train was late to unforeseen circumstances. I emailed my supervisor I would be in a hour later than usual and she appreciated the heads up. I continued pulling folders from the accessions archive, then scanning relevant materials. I would then staple the gathered materials and kept my work in order to mirror the worksheet log I was given for the artifacts in the fire fighting exhibit.

Tuesday: Getting in at my normal time I continued, and finished the worksheet log I was given for the Fire Fighting exhibit. I now have a large amount of material to review on my days working from home to provide bulleted points of relevant material that will assist the Collections team create the labels needed when selected materials are uploaded online. I would do five files at a time to stay organized and not bite off more than I could and get "lost in the sauce" as we would say in the Army. That way, a steady rhythm was established and I could better gauge my time per batch.

Wednesday: I worked from home continuing my task of added bulleted information points on artifacts. I am assuming that the items that have a extensive amount of reference materials will be those making the cut to be uploaded online once the project gets to that point. Made up the hour lost on Monday due to my train out of Barrington, IL running late.

Thursday: Still grinding away by going through the research materials I assembled from the archives in MSI to add bulleted points of relevant information on artifacts to make the lives of the Director, Curator, and assistant easier allowing them to focus on more advanced research and other duties.

Week 3: 6/21-25/2021

Monday: Continued transcription of the Fire Fighting Exhibit. Nearly finished with it. Working from home is getting better as I am getting a better pace of work and less distractions.

Tuesday: I was able to get some opportunities for front-facing guest interaction and educations as I gave my first MSI tour. Two individuals from my organization, the 501st Legion, came down from Green Bay for a Chicago vacation. They had seen my positive posts about being at MSI and wanted to come see it for themselves. I asked Dr. Saridakis if I could learn how to give a tour on my own, to which she agreed. In my inaugural tour I took them around the great hall's exhibits, being careful to focus on items of which I had some background in to better give a small education on the artifacts. My strength is in the Hall of Transportation in which houses the Spitfire, Stuka and new Boeing 727. On the floor I pointed out the Millburn and Tesla electric cars as well. After going at what seemed a quick pace, we made our way over to the Hall of Bicycles, and weaved back to the floor. I took them to U-505 which is my strongest exhibit. Military history is my focus, and I don't ever tire of going to see U-505. In the most surprise to my guests, they were granted a behind the scenes walk-through of Collections in which Dr. Saridakis kindly donated her time to open the vault for us. She accompanied me, but gave me the reigns to get a feel for my first guided walk-through of Collections which is a duty all in the department should be familiar, and comfortable doing. I feel I did well for my first time, and gained experience in doing the same for the following day for a larger, planned tour by mHub. I took my guests out to lunch where my supervisors did a few weeks ago. It ran over time, so I'll make up the hour later at home.

Wednesday: Today was the day of the big planned of tour by Chicago tech company, mHub. My supervisor was not available in the morning so I filled out some other documents and found other work to do until she came in. This was sorting through the former archivist's boxes of files and articles looking for relevant materials that would be of use to the registrar. I had been doing this the day before as well before my guests came in at 11AM. There was a A LOT of material, but there was plenty of relevant stuff, including a complete file on the cars, and motorcycles in the MSI collection which included a recent appraisal of each item in inventory. I found the motorcycles of interest and made copies for myself to be of use on future behind the scenes tours (you pick a handful of items scattered at various checkpoints to engage with guests about. There just isn't enough time to go row by row.) mHub was scheduled for 3:30, but didn't not come until 4ish. My recent work with the fire fighting artifacts proved critically relevant as one of the guests was working on technology for fire fighters to pull up a 3D schematic on a app to see where the beams, and wiring is without them having to hack through the walls to find it. He was very much interested in the various fire fighting artifacts and thankfully I was a part of his group throughout the tour. Exhibitions engineer Jeff brought out two 1930's Ediphones, and while he was setting up I had a lengthy chat with him regarding his duties and responsibilities at MSI which proved insightful.

Thursday:  I wasn't as productive today as I wanted to be in part to some distractions in my personal life. I will make this time up on Saturday. Continued work on transcription of relevant facts to the fire fighting exhibit

Saturday: I finally finished the fire fighting exhibit items and look forward to trying my hand at writing short labels based on returning to the material I have. This label writing experience will be invaluable in such a professional capacity. It will be nice to have this skills honed, refined and on a professional level. I trudged the remaining artifacts, and put more time off the clock to finish so I can begin on my favorite exhibit, U505 on Monday!

Week 4: 6/28-7/2/2021

Monday: I came in and had my weekly 10AM meeting with Voula, and moved onto U-505/WWII items. Same as with the fire exhibit, finding files in the accession archive, scanning relevant materials to take home for work at home.

Tuesday: I continued scanning, and gather materials. At 1:00 PM I took photos of all the labels in the U-505 exhibit for transcription by one of the volunteers, Mary. I then at 2:30 I worked with Director McCarthy cataloguing some more artifact ranks in storage. At 4:10PM I asked if I could get a photo handling a textile artifact for both the experience of doing so and seeing one of U-505's flags not only in person, but to carefully handle, and touch. Director McCarthy and Dr. Saridakis both kindly indulged my request and it was a truly awesome experience for me. I also learned that there is a later train than I usually take. That bit of info is helpful just in case I ever miss the 5 o'clock train out of Chicago back to my home train station of Barrington, IL!

Wednesday: As I did with the firefighting exhibit and items, I continued bulleting down relevant facts and information. I created a new word doc just as I done previously with the Fire Fighting artifacts.

Thursday: Continued transcription. I look forward to trying my hand at writing some labels and short descriptions. I still can barely believe I am being paid to work on items I already love learning about. 

Saturday: Made up 1 hour from Thursday.

Week 5: 7/5-9/2021

Monday: Unpaid holiday for MSI employees. I am going to work half a day today so I only have to work 4 hours later in the week to make up for today. I am going to look over my U505/WWII artifacts and see if any really stand out as candidates for getting labels and descriptions.

Tuesday: I came in Tuesday and had my weekly meeting with Voula. Since the program is half-way over at this point the decision for now is for me to focus on the U-505/WWII artifacts and to also focus on writing a few labels for some of the Fire Fighting exhibit artifacts. I also took photos of all the labels in the U-505 and will transcribe that exhibit to it is available in a word doc to be transferred to the digital site - one day. I then worked with Kathleen in storage to continue cataloging artifacts, in three hours we nearly inputted over 200 artifacts.

Wednesday: I came in and got to work on transcription since there are no more additional accession files to pull and scan. MSI has just brought on a new assistant curator for a year to help with the digitization of the archives and storage. It is a daunting task! But one that will streamline Collections at MSI and make pulling artifacts extremely easy and hopefully foster some excitement from the public online to see items that otherwise sit in a dark, temperature controlled room. I also had the honor of getting to write a pitch to put up a "pop up" U-505 exhibit up in downtown. That was very exciting to me, along with the confidence gained because of the trust to do that. I wrote a few drafts to which the Director edited down. Very happy to be useful with a project that is extremely relevant to my interests.

Thursday: Continued transcription of the U-505 exhibit and writing a few labels that will then be edited by the Curator. Being directly involved in what the public will learn from a artifact is very cool to me. Improving on working remotely, efficiently - making a decision right away in the morning after a shower to begin work is a great guard against procrastination and working late to fairly submit the hours for the day. A regular schedule when self set and stuck to is extremely effective. 

Saturday: Continued work on the U-505 items from home.

Week 6: 7/12-16/2021

Monday: I started working right away after waking up. I want to finish my transcription of the U-505 exhibit which includes every wall panel, all artifacts and everything else in between. I went past midnight and just hit a stride, "in the zone, so to speak."

Tuesday: I worked through the night while on a roll. I didn't look at the clock, I just kept going! Reminded me of the old all-nighters I used to pull. I was excited to be finally complete with this project. I took it upon myself to transcribe the entire exhibit since it only existed on the walls and printed material. With it digitized this will be a tremendous help to the department. I finished it and even double checked Flickr for any photos I may have missed taking myself. I only missed only small panel, but all quotes, stories, artifacts... everything came to a 50 page, 20,000 word document. I look forward to seeing Voula's reaction when I print it out tomorrow! I also made a copy of just the artifacts for MSI so when they want to put some online they'll know what is theirs outright. In my previous job I worked 10 hour shifts so this felt familiar, I enjoy doing four 10-hour days to hit 40 back then and enjoy 3-day weekends. This is less hours, but I am grateful none-the-less to have the time to use for other projects, books and hobbies.

Wednesday: Voula's reaction to the massive transcription was great. I also placed the document in SharePoint so that anyone in Collections can access it. I am sure it will be a great aid in the future when a quick reference is needed for U-505. Today was also the MSI Employee picnic which was great. I took a couple pictures and video. Sodexo made me a Angus half pound burger which was great. I sat by myself since I came after our intern/departmental MSI zoom meeting held by Talent so we could learn how MSI is a collaborative effort and chat with the heads of other departments which was cool. I followed and email Mike Welsh to set up a tour of what Construction and Grounds does around the Museum. Most folks went to the picnic at noon, and our meeting didn't conclude until 1:10PM. Thankfully though Voula stayed a little after and we chatted at the table I was at. MSI redid the Smart Home area and it's a very nice shaded, little park. Definitely never been there before as a guest. Very cool to be a part of the "in-crowd." I took a longer lunch to take it all in.

Thursday: Since I busted my butt Monday into Tuesday and enjoyed yesterday I only had to do two hours today. I sat in the other half of the MSI intern/departmental Zoom meeting which featured Collections/Exhibitions and HR. I had the best chat with Exhibitions and the public relations managers. I will send emails to follow up with both of them as I find their work fascinating, and might as well - only here for a short time and it be an absolute waste to not take utter advantage of it. I cleaned up some of my Word documents and doubled check for syntax errors.

Thats it! You, and me, are now all up to date! I will continue to make weekly postings until its conclusion! I will also add some photos in the following posts, this is a long post so stay tuned, it will be less dense.

[rae-is-typing]

Scars

Original request from @sorrybutimtrying: Can you do one where Chris Evans or Paul Rudd meets a fan, sees her scars and tries to help her. Or something like that

Description: You win one of those contests where you and some other people get to meet and fraternize with a celebrity. This time, it’s Paul Rudd. He notices something you wished he hadn’t.

Characters: reader, original female and male characters (Sophia the Marvel person, Olivia the other teen girl, and a lot of unnamed men and women), Paul Rudd

Warnings: swearing, implied self-harm, self-harm scars, being sexually harassed at work, mentioned cat calling

Word count: 3.8k

See Ant-Man three weeks early, hang out with the one and only Paul Rudd, play laser tag, and pizza together on an all expenses paid trip to LA! Enter now! 12 lucky fans will be chosen. Entries close in three hours. 

You take a moment to stop scrolling. Your heart speeds up; it always does when opportunities arise. You always apply, but you never win. Glancing at the clock, you see you still have ten minutes on break. 

What the heck, might as well enter. There's nothing to lose. 

Entering takes the rest of your break. You were asked questions, and had to enter your phone number and email address a few times. You submit your entry as soon as your break ended. Sighing, you push yourself to your feet. Back to serving customers and getting yelled at by your manager. 

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

Life gets hard and you completely forget that you ever entered in the first place. 

You aren't proud of what you do to cope. Hell, you've managed to stop doing it completely for a few months. But sometimes it's so hard. Too hard to do anything else. 

You don't show off your scars. By sticking to long sleeve shirts, concealer, and strategically placed bracelets, you can easily make it seems like there are a few birthmarks on your wrists instead anything self-inflicted. 

Unfortunately, you can't afford to see a professional. Both you and your mother are working multiple jobs so you can eat and have a place to live. Deep down, you know you should tell her. Deep down, you want to tell her. But you can't bring yourself to. It'll only stress her out. Between two jobs and going back to school to finish her degree, you don’t want to bring her more stress. But your always hopeful for the day where she'd be able to help you through your hard days. 

Speaking of hard days, you hate being a waitress. You work in a particularly sleazy part of town where the guys like to call out anything resembling a female body. Walking down the street brings you one cat call after another, and waitressing isn't any better. You get called every pet name under the sun. Sweetie, babe, baby girl, jujubee. Someone even called you, a 16-year-old wearing some of the baggiest clothes imaginable, sugartits. Your manager had fun with him. 

After getting home, you flop on your bed and fight the urge to cry. You made a whopping fifteen dollars in tips that night for working 4 hours, a customer yelled at you for giving them iced tea with ice in it, and a guy started following you home until he got bored. It was not a good night. 

Then your phone starts to ring. Maroon 5 reverberates in your room, simultaneously annoying you and making you feel a tiny bit better. Without looking at the caller ID, you pick up the phone. 

"Hello?" You ask, voice muffled by the pillow your head is still buried in. 

"Hi there! I'm looking for a Y/N Y/L/N." A feminine voice chirps through the phone.

"Yeah, that's me." You roll onto your back so you can speak clearer. 

"Great. My name is Sophia Ramsey, I'm the one organizing the event with Paul Rudd. I'm so excited to let you know that you won! You will be one of twelve to be flown out to LA to meet with him and spend the day with him."

A huge smile tugs at your lips, so much so your face starts to hurt. "What?" You laugh. "Are you serious?"

"I sure am! Some blank documents have been sent to the email you provided in your entry. I need you to fill them out and either fax them to the number listed on them, mail them to the address listed, or scan them and email them to that same email address."

"I-I can totally do that!"

"Now this event is an all expenses paid, so everything will be provided for you. You'll be flown out the day of and flown back home after it ends. It will be held June seventh."

"Thank you so much!"

She laughs at your enthusiasm. "Of course. Once we get those documents we will be organizing your flights. We will be in touch."

"Awesome, wonderful. Thanks so much!"

"You're so welcome. Bye bye now."

You pull the phone away from your ear, sporting a grin that could rival the Cheshire cat himself. You won! You won you won you won! You're going to meet one of your favorite actors!

You pull up your email on your phone immediately. Spotting the email, you skim through the PDFs quickly. Since you're a minor, there are a lot of things your mom has to sign. 

I need to print these. You think, biting your lip. You don't want to wait for the next at school, you want to fill these out now. Grabbing your wallet and apartment keys, you run (yes, run) down to the library that's a few blocks away. A lot of students gather there for studying and the free wifi.

You wave at a few of your classmates, and they nod back. You print the documents off quickly, paying a small fee for the paper, and you run (yes, run) back home. 

You bounce into your apartment, still giddy (and sweaty). 

"Mom! Mom, you'll never guess what happened!" You exclaim upon seeing your mother sitting on the couch in the living room. 

She looks up from the book she was reading with a tired smile. "What happened, sweetie?"

"Remember that thing I entered? That event Marvel was hosting?" You ask, vibrating with excitement. 

"I do."

"I won! I won Mom! I get to meet Paul Rudd!" 

A grin broke out on your mom's face. "Oh, Y/N, that's awesome."

"I know! I have to fill out these documents. Do we have somewhere we can fax things? Do you know how to fax? I don't know how to fax."

She laughs. "I'll teach you how to fax things, don't you worry." 

------

You get everything taken care of the day after. After another call with Sophia, you manage scheduling flights and times for the drivers (you get a driver! how awesome!)

In the weeks leading up to the event, all your extra effort is put into a gift for Paul. You have a knack for art that you don't have much time for anymore. Between school and work, it's also hard to find energy to put into it. 

However, you said 'screw school' and began an art project: a hand-drawn collage of all Paul Rudd's characters, including Ant-Man. It takes all the time leading up to the event, but you manage to make it look amazing. Along with the collage, you write him a letter. You don't believe it to be anything very special, but you hope he will appreciate it. You detail your own struggles and how much looking up to him has helped you. 

Then the day comes.

You barely sleep at all the night before. Adrenaline and an unhealthy amount of caffeine replace any semblance of rest you may have gotten. 

The driver arrives at your apartment at 4:30 AM to take you to the nearest airport. After triple checking your stuff and a quick goodbye with your mom, you're off.

The car is so nice. You have no idea what make or model it is, but you're sure it very expensive. The drive doesn't take a long time; the roads are practically empty and there is little traffic, which is great. 

However, you're left on your own in the airport, which is not great. A lot of zombie-esque people are there, a few crying children, and some drug dogs even joined the party. You bite your lip, scratching at your concealed wrists. It's something you always do when you're nervous. 

You don't have any bags other than a backpack, so you don't need to check anything. Looking around, you try to spot someone that looks like they know what they're doing. You eventually do, and follow them to security.

The line is long, and after moderate hassle with the agents, you're through and on the way to your gate. Once you get there, you closely examine your ticket. First class. Your eyebrows shoot up. The first time you're flying and you get first class. Damn. Okay, you'll take it.

The flight was good: no babies cried, the flight people were all super nice, and you even got the entire row to yourself.

After the flight, you're off to the venue. You meet your new driver at the exit and get to another very expensive looking car. 

LA traffic is everything you've heard and more. The streets are packed, and it takes quite a while for you to get where you're supposed to be. But when you do, it is incredible. 

The building is huge. It's wall to wall one way glass. The sun bounces off the silver accents, almost blinding you. Out of pure impulse, you take a picture. You almost don't believe that you're here. 

After thanking the driver, you hop out of the car and walk into the glass building. The interior is even prettier. 

It's clean, with dark oak floors and chairs and tables lining the wall. A small group of excited people are gathered by a longer table full of stuff. Your anxiety spikes. This is actually happening. You're going to meet one of your heroes and give him some of your art. This cannot be happening. You nails find your wrist again.

After making your way to the small group, they immediately welcome you into the circle. They each introduce themselves for probably the millionth time, and one of them informs you that everyone is here. 

After a few minutes of pure small talk, a woman walks into the lobby area. 

"Hi everyone!" You all turn to her. She's dressed in a red sleeveless blouse, black slacks and high heels. Her face is done up nicely, as is her hair. She stands proudly with a charismatic smile gracing her face."I'm Sophia, the manager of this event. I'm so excited to get started! First things first, we'll start with the meet and greet. Each one of you will get 15 minutes with Paul. After that, there'll be a few games of laser tag, and finally, the screening of the new Ant-Man movie! We at Marvel ask that you keep all the movie details to yourself so everyone can enjoy the movie when it comes out."

Murmurs of agreement spread through the room. 

“If you all follow me, we can get started," Sophia leads the group to a different room. Paul is sitting at a table with an empty chair next to him. 

Excitement spreads through you. He looks so much more real in person, as weird as that sounds. You bite your lip, keeping your mouth shut. Excited calls from the other fans make him smile widely. 

You keep your place near the back, slowly building up courage and thinking out what you're going to say. You certainly don't want to look like an idiot when you meet one of your heroes. 

"Nice bracelets." The voice of a girl pulls you from your thoughts. 

"Oh, thank you." You say, turning to see her. She has short black hair, blue eyes and pale skin. 

"Yeah. I love Panic! At the Disco. Their music is amazing."

"For real, they're so good!"

The two of you share small talk until it's her turn. For twelve people each getting fifteen minutes, time went by very fast. She talks to him excitedly, something that he reciprocates. Another wave of anxiety comes over you. Your heart speeds up, your hands get a little sweaty. Holy shit! You're actually meeting him.You fight the urge to scratch at your wrist.

Finally, it's your turn. 

You go up to the table with an anxious smile on your face. He smiles back. 

"Hi there!" He says. "I'm so glad you won."

"Thank you!" You say, sitting down in the chair. "I actually brought something."

"Oh thank you! That's awesome."

You pull out the small framed collage, placing it on the table with the enveloped letter on top. There's a small stack of stuff on the other side of him. He carefully sets the envelope to the side, now examining the poster. 

"Wow! This is so good!" He exclaims. "Did you draw this?"

You can only nod shyly. 

"This is great, really. Thank you." 

"You're welcome."

The two of you talk for the rest of the time. He signs a couple of things for you, and you take a few pictures. At the end, you want to take a funny selfie for your instagram. While taking the picture, your bracelets slide up your arm. Your heart stops for a split second when you see a fresher scar. You pull back the bracelets immediately, and play it off as soon as possible. 

But it was too late, Paul saw some of the scars. His face falls into something more solemn, concerned almost. He opens his mouth to say something, but he was interrupted. 

"Alright everyone! It is time to move on to the next event."

Paul put a smile on his face, but he gave you a worried glance at you while he stood up. He walks by Sophia as you're led through the building. The interior continued to take your breath away. Postmodern design flooded your sight as everyone crams into an elevator. 

You're taken up a few floors and the elevator opens to a small room with vests and guns attached to said vests. A blank scoreboard hangs proudly above everything. You glance around. Everyone is sporting grins. 

"Let's do girls against boys!" Olivia, the girl you were talking to before, exclaims. 

"You sure?" One of the guys pipes up. "I think there are more guys than girls," 

"There's like one more guy. We should do at least one battle of the sexes." She grins. 

"I'm cool with it," A woman in her mid twenties smirks. 

"Me too," You shrug. More murmurs of agreement spread through the group.

“Alright, suit up everyone. Girls will be red and boys will be green." Sophia says. 

"I will leave you to Ralph, he is our resident lazer tag expert." 

"Alright everyone, your goal is to destroy the other team’s base. You do that by destroying the power supply in the deepest part of the opposing team’s base. It looks like a dinosaur egg off of Jurassic Park, and it lights up. I have a few ground rules. No fighting, no sprinting, no food or drink near the equipment. But most importantly, have fun! There are large towers on each side where you have to charge your gun. Your vest will beep at you when you need to recharge. Good luck. Boys, enter to the left, girls on your right." With Ralph ending his spiel, everyone hustles into the room. 

You follow behind one of your teammates to the back of the base. The room is absolutely massive. There's a large structure running through the middle of the floor with at least four sets of stairs. The supporting poles are lit up by green and red lights. You clutch your gun to your chest. It's not the very first time you're playing laser tag, but it is the first time in a long while. 

You go off on your own, jogging up the stairs on the large structure. You speed walk quietly, ducking behind large foam covers that were spread sporadically throughout the entire floor when you suspect one of the boys had spotted you.You climb to the top. You hold your gun by your thigh, keeping your finger on the trigger. Slowly walking in circles, you try to spot the egg like power supply that Ralph had described on the ground below. 

Suddenly, someone bumped into you. You jump, barely holding back a yelp. 

"Oh, my god. I’m so sorry." Olivia quickly apologized. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, you just scared the shit out of me though," You laugh. 

"I'm sorry... Y/N, right?" 

"Yeah yeah yeah, and you're Olivia, right?"

"Mhm, what are you looking for?"

"I'm trying to find the power supply." 

"Same girl. I think I saw it over there." She says, gesturing to your left. "But I'm not sure."

"Let's go check it out."

The two of you venture to the left, moving as quickly and quietly as before. Soon enough, you're able to spot the power supply through the guard rails. Only one guy is standing guard. You share a small low-five and split up to attack it. 

Olivia jogs down the stairs to ground level and you go to the second floor for better range. 

You crouch close to the floor, poking your gun through the guard rails and wait until you see Olivia come up behind the guard and start shooting. You join her immediately, and together you almost destroy it. However, your gun runs out of charge. 

Cursing under your breath, you jog as fast as you can (almost running) down to a charging base, where you run into Olivia again. 

"Dude, that was fucking crazy." She laughs. "We almost had them."

Laughing breathlessly, you agree. "For real though. We got them this time. Same plan?"

"Hell yeah,"

"What plan?" A new voice cuts in. The woman in her mid twenties pops up out of nowhere. 

"We found their supply. I went low and she went to the second floor. If we have one more person, I think we got this. We'll have to hurry though."

A grin spreads on the woman's face. "Let's do it. I'll head to the first floor on the other side."

The three of you jog together back to the same place as before. You show the woman where to go, then you leave to go up one floor. 

Once again, you start to shoot when Olivia does. The woman joins in soon after. 

You hear the guards frustrated cries as he tries to fend off all three of you at once. A few of the other guys come running back, but it was too late. Girls won! 

You laugh, throwing your hands up. "Hell yeah!" 

Olivia cheers, and the woman whoops. The lights come on, making you wince.

"Game over. Red team has claimed their victory! Congratulations, ladies!" Ralph's voice comes over intercoms you didn't know were there. 

You make your way down to ground level, meeting up with the other women. You congratulate each other. 

"Let's do it again! Same team?”

The lot of you end up playing three more games: girls vs. boys, old people vs. young people, and Paul vs. Everyone else. Boys won, young people won, and the last one was a tie. (You and Olivia ended up teaming up with Paul anyways, but no one else needs to know that.)

After that, everyone was crammed into an elevator yet again. This time smelling a lot less pleasant after running and sneaking around.

All of you are lead to another floor. This one resembled a movie theater more than anything else. A huge table of food is set up in front of the door to the screening room. 

Everyone begins to get their dinner, most of them being hungry from the hour and a half spent running around in the dark shooting at each other. 

Before you could grab a plate, however, someone places a hand on your shoulder. You turn to see Paul standing behind you.

You smile up at him. "Hi."

"Hey. I wanna talk to you, could we step out?" That look of concern from before is etched onto his face. 

"Sure," You say, the slightest bit of hesitation seeping into your voice. You step into a smaller, unoccupied corner of the hall. Before you can ask any questions, he starts speaking. 

"Look, I don't know your situation, I don't know you, and I don't know what you've been through, but I saw your wrist. I know what it's like to be low, and I just wanted to tell you that it gets better. Everything is going to work the way it's meant to. Everything is going to be okay. And if you need help, don't be afraid to ask. Mental pain is just as serious and debilitating as physical pain is. I hate to see anyone go through this, especially my fans."

Tears prick at you eyes at his words. No one has ever taken you aside and spoken to you like this before. All the anxiety and trepidation leaves your body, and your left with this warmth and reassurance. 

You can only bite your lip and nod. He smiles again and opens his arms. You hug briefly before leaving the corner and getting your food. 

Everything after that is all smiles and laughter. The food is some of the best you've ever had; they certainly spared no expense. 

The movie is incredible. You have no doubt in your mind that you'll save your tips and take your mom to see it one night after it comes out.

Truth be told, you're sad this is over. You want to do more with everyone, but you're so undeniably grateful that you got this opportunity. More pictures are taken, social media is exchanged, and soon you're all on your separate ways home.

When you get home, you pass out on your face, shoes barely kicked off your feet. You never expected to wake up to what you did though. 

A DM from Paul Rudd. 

Hey Y/N! It was so nice meeting you! I'm so glad you had the opportunity to attend the event. It's always so wonderful to spend time with fans. I wanted to tell you that your collage is amazing! You have a real knack for art. You should definitely keep it up if you can. Thank you for sharing your story in the letter. It really moved me. I also wanted to let you know one last time that things do get better, things do improve. Stay strong for yourself and your future. You got this.

[writers-post]

Tu eres la unica ~ Javier Pena

Not a request but don’t be afraid to drop something in my inbox. @siempre-pedro​

Warnings: Fluff and little bit of Angsty (This does involve Plus size reader)

Spanish Translations: 

Oye, Por que te pone tan molesta cuando te llamo que no te gustan mis llamadas // Hey why do you get upset when I call you? Do you not like my calls? 

Claro que me encantan tus llamadas pero tengo trabajo que hacer// Yes I love your calls but I have work to do.

te ves tan hermosa// You look so beautiful

por que yo? for que te gusto una chica gordita como yo?// Why me? why do you like a chubby girl like me?

Te ves guapo// You look Handsome

Working at the DEA was a tough job even for a receptionist, working long days and nights. But for Y/N it is a different story, she loves the fact that she has a job. Answering phone calls from agents on a mission or just in their office being a ass lazy, to completing and printing out paper work for her boss and the agents, Handing out profiles to agents. It is like being the maid of the DEA. 

“This is Y/N L/N from the DEA, How may I assist you?” She spoke in a such uplifting tone.

“Damn mi amor you sound like that every time?” Javier spoke from the other end. Y/N let out a sigh gently rolling her eyes.

“Javier this is the third time today, and yes that is how I sound I can’t sound like I don’t like my job.” 

“Oye, Por que te pone tan molesta cuando te llamo que no te gustan mis llamadas?” Javier spoke with an offended tone.

“Claro que me encantan tus llamadas pero tengo trabajo que hacer.” 

“Your Spanish is improving good job.” 

“wow thanks Javier nice to know that you don’t like the way I speak Spanish even though I'm Hispanic just like you.” She scoffed through the phone.

“Calm down mi amor it was just a joke.” He let out a small laugh. 

“Alright well I’ll talk with you later I really do have a lot to do and plus you have a meeting this afternoon with the boss I'm getting all the stuff ready.” 

“Okay I'll see you around Y/N” 

“Bye Javier.” She placed the phone down and covered her face with her hands. Y/N has had a long time crush on Javier since she first got the job. But she still doesn’t know if Javier is into Chubby girls like herself. there had been times where she has felt that her body wasn’t sexy enough. 

The meeting was about the start, Y/N grabbed all the papers and headed out to the meeting room 5 minutes early. She neatly set down the papers neatly smiling at her boss. 

“Do I need to stay to take notes?” 

“Yes Miss. L/N I would like that, you can sit up front next to Javier.” A blush flushed her cheeks as she nodded. 

“Yes sir.” She walked over with her note pad and pen having a seat in one of the comfy chairs. She dated her paper and got everything set up. 

“Is Miss. L/N staying for notes?” Javier’s voice boomed the room, Y/N flinched but gave him a soft smile. 

“Hello Mr. Pena and yes I am.” She gave him other soft smile. The Meeting was long as always but soon ended, Y/N looked at her watch and it was already 8:30pm. 

“Late night?” Javier lean over getting close the Y/N.

“Yeah another late night..” She sighed and closed her note pad. 

“I can stay late too so you won’t have to close up all on your own.” 

“Really? Wow. Okay but you have to help me with some of my stuff when the boss leaves.” Y/N smiled and got up from the chair pushing it in. 

“Of course I’ll help you anytime Mi amor.” He winked at her leaving the room, leaving Y/N with flushed cheeks once again. she walked back to the front and started working on clearing her desk and putting flies back. 

“the boss has left.” Javier popped out in front of her causing her to drop some papers from her flinching. 

“Javier.” She sighed softly reaching down to pick it up. 

“No let me I’m sorry..” He stopped her and fixed everything

“Okay pull up a chair you can organize this files for me really quick..” She grabbed some files that had papers from every angle all messed up placing them in front of him. Javier went to grab a chair and sat down getting to work. 

“So Y/N I actually had something to ask you..” He spoke while fixing the flies. Y/N stopped moving and sat down next to him.

“Sure what’s up?” She smiled softly at him.

“Well you know how we have the DEA promotion event every year?” He looked up at her. 

“Yeah?” 

“I Don’t have a date so I was thinking maybe this year you could be my date?” 

“Oh..Javier but I never go because I don’t look good in dresses once I went and everyone was judging my dress that my tits were too big and revealing and Honestly I just embarrassed myself..” She sighed looking down.

“I don’t think your breasts are revealing I mean they are perfect.” He winked again. 

“Javier.” She playfully punch his arm. “I guess I will go with you I think I would have a good time.” 

“Great I guess I'll meet you there tomorrow at 7pm?” He smiled at her. 

“Yup I’ll see you there and I’ll wear the nicest dress just for you.” Y/N giggled and smiled. 

“Sounds like a good plan.” He laughed.

“Alright finish those so I can put them up.” I got on the computer to check emails before logging off and locking up the building. 

She couldn’t stop thinking about the event all morning, she couldn’t help but feel nervous as well. She soon went to the store to find the nicest dress that wouldn’t be too revealing but make her stand out. After she went to get her hair done while doing some of her makeup. When she got home it was already 6:30pm. 

“Shit.” Y/N went to put on the dress and did last touches before grabbing her phone and purse getting in her car driving off. She had gotten there a little late and let valet take her car. She walked inside thinking the nerves would kick it, sure enough it hit her hard. 

As she continued walking in, she scanned the room looking for Javier and finally she found him. She started walking up smiling softly until she saw the young girl standing next to him touching him. Y/N stopped dead in her tracks and she felt a sharp pain in her heart. She closed her eyes and continued walking towards him.

“So it looks like your already having a good time.” I interrupted the girl as she was speaking while Javier turn to look at me. 

“Y/N..” He spoke looking at her from head to toe. 

“Javi? Who is this chick?” The girl ruined the moment making Javier snap out of his thoughts. 

“Javi? Honey you don’t have the right to call him that, I came up with that nickname for him.” Y/N looked at her with a look of disgust.

“I can call him whatever I want, besides why would Javier ask a chubby looking girl like you? He is into fit and skinny girls like me.” The girl started sipping on her drink. Y/N didn’t know what to say, she was offended and looked over at Javier with tears building up her eyes. 

“Now I see the truth, you used me--..” She finally let out a tiny sob. 

“Oh my gosh are you crying? suck it up your such a huge baby--..”

“ALENA SHUT THE FUCK UP.” Javier rose his voice snapping at her making the girl flinch, meanwhile some of the guest turn to look at what was going on. 

“Javier, it’s fine please don’t make a scene for me. I’m not even a woman to fight for I mean look at me. Nobody wants a chubby girl, Just have fun I'll see you at work on Monday.” Y/N spoke turning away letting the tears fall. She got outside and waited for the valet to drive her car to the front. 

“Y/N..” Javier came running to the front and she turn to look but then looked away. 

“I don’t want to talk to you Javier.” She wiped her eyes gently not messing up her makeup. 

“Please let me talk, this was all a misunderstanding just hear me out please.” Javier reached up grabbing the girls hands. 

“Okay.” Y/N sniffed gently. 

“First of all..Te ves tan hermosa..” Javier kissed her hand softly. 

“Yeah, beautifully fat.” Y/N scoffed and looked away. 

“No Y/N, You look so beautiful like an angel. But anyway I didn’t ask for her to come she is my Ex I left her because she cheated on me, She was flirting and I told her you were coming but she wouldn’t listen..” Javier looked at her eyes with an apology look in his eyes. 

“Javi, I’m sorry I started the whole scene I should have just handled it like a grow ass woman..” 

“No, No non of this was your fault you don’t have to apologize mi amor.” Javier reached out and cup my cheek gently. 

“Te ves Guapo.” Y/N spoke and a blush flushed her cheeks as they began to heat up. 

“Gracias mi amor.” He leaned in kissing her lips gently.

“Javier I’m sorry I have to ask this but por que yo? for que te gusto una chica gordita como yo?” She looked in his eyes. 

“I love you for you Y/N I don’t care how you look I care about your personality. and plus I don’t care if your chubby you look so beautiful either way and I love the fact that you are so brave enough to put on such a beautiful gown showing all those curves and those handles are my weakness..” Javier reached down grabbing her handles giving them a loving squeeze.

“Your such a flirt Javi..” She continued to blush and cover her face with her hand before looking back up at him. 

“Ma'am your car?” The nice gentleman handed Y/N her keys with a smile. 

“Thank you.” She grabbed her keys. 

“No problem have a great night..” He walked back to his desk. 

“Let me make it up to you mi amor how about a nice dinner at my place and you can stay the night.” He held her body close kissing her neck. 

“Alright but you drive I'm the queen of the night.” Y/N giggled and handed him her keys and he unlocked it opening the door for her. 

“Your always going to be my queen.” He winked and kissed her lips.

[f1united]

THE CEO’s - ceo calum/luke part 5

Summary: You are Luke’s PA and have a thing for his rival Calum after meeting him in a bar one night, but you don’t know who he is

Word Count: 3.35k

For a minute, you stood in shock staring towards the door that Calum had just gone through. Calum had said he had his own business, but you weren’t expecting it to be anything to do with the field that you worked in, let alone be at your office and in the meeting room you needed to be in. Grabbing the empty glass, you headed over to the water machine. Calum had been in a suit when you’d met him, but this time was different. He looked more professional, the buttons were all the way up and a red tie hugged his neck. His blazer was the perfect fit round his shoulders, making them look toned even through the layers of fabric.

You shook you head to try and get him out your mind as the water almost spilled over the top of the glass. Walking towards the meeting room, you felt your heart beat slightly faster. Why the hell was Calum in your meeting room? As you entered, you were glad that it wasn’t just Luke and Calum in there. Around 15 people sat along the long table. You made your way straight towards Luke and sat in the seat next to him, taking your laptop out from under your arm and placing it on the desk with your glass. Opposite you was Melissa, one of the director’s assistants that worked just below Luke. You gave them a small smile, grateful that you didn't have to be sat directly in front of Calum for the duration of the meeting.

You tapped the buttons impatiently as you waited for the screen to load so you could type in your password. You printed the documents for all Luke’s meeting which included lists of people attending, Calum had to be on there somewhere. You eventually got to the folder and opened a couple of the documents. The first to load was an email attachment you had received from Hood Co.

You scrolled down the document searching for his name. It was an email about planning the meetings from a few weeks ago. Your eyes widened as you reached the signature of the email.

Kind Regards,

Benny Lane

On Behalf of Calum Hood

Hood Co.

‘CALUM HOOD’ you thought. He’s the CEO. Luke’s 'rival'. You've spent the day fantasising about your company's biggest competitor and he's now in the same room as you and your boss.

Luke nudged you under the table with his knee and your eyes immediately shot to his. He mouthed a ‘you alright’, a concerned look plastered on his face. You nodded in response and loosened yourself in your chair slightly, leaning back and making yourself more comfortable. You scanned the room for Calum, noticing he was sat at the other end of the table on the opposite side. Your eyes caught his as you looked up, his face still plastered with a cheeky smirk from the kitchen. You gave him a smile back. Jesus, he looked good.

‘Right’ Luke spoke up, you were thankful for him breaking the silence in the room. ‘Let’s just pick up where we left off. This is Y/N, she’s my assistant. She’ll be helping with any admin and technical bits. I'm sure you all have her email by now’.

After Luke introduced you, you tried to keep your eyes locked on the computer screen from then onwards, hoping that your focus would be on the meeting.

Calum was the first to start talking as you caught up on some of the meeting notes from earlier on. It didn’t take long; Luke wasn’t very good at making notes as well as leading a meeting when there were this many people here talking.

You continued making notes as the group spoke, grateful for the fast-flowing conversations as it meant that you could think about nothing other than typing the words you were hearing. As the meeting went on, you understood what Luke meant about trying to befriend each other rather than being rivals. As two of the leading engineering companies in Australia, they often competed for clients. If they were working together for some jobs, then the bigger team would mean there was less pressure and more resources. It made sense and it was probably the biggest decision that Luke had made since you'd joined. Maybe even in his entire career. So, perfecting a contract for the two companies to merge for certain jobs was a big deal.

The meeting lasted a few hours. Your stomach was starting to growl slightly and the thought of your sandwich back in the office wasn't helping so when it was dismissed with a plan to pick up where you'd left off tomorrow morning you let out a huge sigh of relief. You stayed seated as Calum and his employees began gathering up their things.

'Thank you for that' Luke looked more relaxed now and seemed a bit cheerier than before.

'My pleasure' you turned slightly to face him and gave him a smile. It had been nice to do something different today. Sure, you'd sat in plenty of meetings, but this was something new for the company and something you were excited for after learning more about this afternoon, although there were many different reasons for that.

You and Luke headed back to your office; you didn't look at Calum on the way past just in case he caught you staring. On the way back Luke asked Amy, one of the new interns, to show Hood Co. out. She happily obliged and who wouldn't? No one says no to Luke and she also got to stare at Calum.

The sandwich sat on the coffee table didn't look as appetising as it did when you'd got it earlier, and to be honest, eating dodgy food wasn't something that you wanted to experience. You screwed your face up as you picked it off the table and chucked it in the bin, it didn't smell great either.

'Did you not get a chance to eat?' Luke nodded towards the sandwich as he placed his laptop on his desk.

'No, I grabbed it at lunch' You glanced over at the clock. 5:17. You'd done your hours for the day and didn't really have anything major to do for now.

'You can go home Y/N'

You looked back over to Luke.

'Are you sure? I can stay for longer if you need me' you never liked leaving without it being okay with him.

'Not much more can be done tonight, thank you for all your help today'

'Anytime Luke'

'Well in that case, would you mind sitting in the rest of the meetings for this deal? You made it so much easier today, and Melissa does a good job, but she has he own work to focus on too. You just somehow always manage to get everything done perfectly first time anyway!' Luke looked almost as apprehensive as he had done when he'd asked you earlier. Melissa was one of Luke's newer employees who dealt with some of the Directors admin. As you'd gradually got busier, Melissa was the one that Luke called on to attend his meeting, make notes and sometimes even travel with him when you couldn't make it.

'Of course, I don't' you smiled. 'I don't want to take away Melissa's role though' you picked your bag up from your desk and rummaged around for your keys. Checking you had your phone with you to and that your laptop was charging for tomorrow you headed to the door.

'You won't be' he assured you. 'We've promoted another employee to become a director so she will have even less time to focus on this now anyway, and it's a big deal that needs a lot of time and attention'

'Okay well thanks for the extra work' you joked earning a smile from him. 'Don't stay too late Luke, I don't want to be dealing with a grumpy you tomorrow morning'

'Grumpy? Me? Never!' a laugh escaped his lips.

'Night Luke' your eyes rolled at his comment

'Have a good evening' he replied. As you walked out into the corridor you noticed that the office had started to empty. It was crazy how having someone important in the office made people put in extra work and stayed longer.  Walking towards the lift your thoughts wondered back to Calum. You checked your phone to see if he'd messaged you and to your surprise he had.

'I'll pick you up at 7?'

You never really let people pick you up, always just insisted that you'd just met them wherever planned, but Calum already knew where you lived, and it would just be easier.

You smiled stupidly at your phone typing a 'sounds great x', ditching the smiley face for a kiss at the end, as you went through the door and pushed the down button at the lifts. Your drive home took longer than usual as you hit all the rush hour traffic and by the time you got home you didn't have long to get ready. You put on some make up to make yourself look a bit more alive and changed into a skirt and a nice top, slipping on some high-top converse to make it slightly more casual, hoping that you weren't going anywhere extremely fancy.

It wasn't your usual Monday night, you'd usually get home and do a workout or go straight to the gym and then cook, shower and sleep, all ready to repeat the next day. As you applied a thin coat of lip gloss, your phone rang.

'Hey gorgeous, I'm outside' well that made your heart beat faster!

'Okay I'll come down now' You grabbed your small bag that you usually used for going out-out and went to the front of your building. You thought that maybe you'd at least have to try and spot Calum's car but no, the huge brand-new Rolls Royce that he was stood next to didn't really make him blend in with your apartment complex norm. You probably should’ve guessed that he had a nice car as Luke had plenty, and each time he purchased one he always invited you along to help him pick some of the design features. You loved it, you loved driving but could definitely not afford a Rolls Royce, so helping design Luke’s was the closest you’d ever really get.

He was wearing black jeans and a Guess t-shirt which made you thank yourself that you’d made your outfit more casual. As you approached the car, he opened the door for you before walking round to the driver’s side and getting in. You both smiled at each other before you broke the silence.

‘So, you’re Mr Hood huh?’ you still couldn’t quite believe that you’d been in a meeting with him earlier.

‘Well I don’t like to boast about it, plus, who knows the name of someone who runs a construction business?’

‘Oh, is that why you decided to pick me up in this car?’ you asked, ‘So that you can lie low’. He knew you were being sarcastic as his face cracked a smile. Calum tried his hardest to keep his eyes on the road, but he couldn’t help looking at you as your eyes scanned around the luxury car.

‘I can bring the Bentley next time if that’s more suitable’ Calum commented, and you smiled at his confidence.

‘I really wasn’t expecting to see you in my office today’

‘And you think I was expecting to see you?’ His voice got a bit higher as he spoke. ‘I just wanted a coffee and suddenly you’re walking towards the kitchen’

Calum ended up taking you to a restaurant that he said he’d discovered the last time he was in this part of town. It was a small, family run Italian and it was delicious. Although you offered, he insisted he paid, claiming he chose the restaurant, so it was down to him. You spoke about how you’d gotten into the business, applying for the job and completing a university environmental science degree through the company. It was easy to talk to Calum about your role, most people who hear ‘personal assistant’ assuming its running after their boss every minute of every day but with Calum having his own, he knew it was much more. You loved the variety of jobs that you got to work on and things that you learnt.

Calum spoke about how he got into business and how he could never had imagined he would’ve been so successful. His father had founded the company years ago and it wasn’t until he decided to take a step down that Calum was able to take it to a bigger level.

You also spoke about your families and friends. Turns out Michael who works on his team and was in the meeting today was one of his closest friends and they had been for years. You told him that Luke has the same type of relationship with someone called Ashton who would’ve been in the meeting but was currently away on holiday.

When Calum drove you home, you felt kind of sad that the night was over. You’d had a good time and could’ve carried on speaking to him for hours more. So, when he pulled into your apartment complex, you couldn’t help but ask him something you’d never asked a guy you’d recently met to do before.

‘Do you um… Do you want to come in for a bit?’ he seemed slightly shocked at your question. ‘Oh no not for that you know I just thought maybe we could have a drink and watch Friends or something, it’s what I’d usually do anyway’

Your question was answered when he pulled into a parking space and turned his engine off, shooting you a smile. You apologised for the mess in your apartment as you walked through the door. Your makeup was littered across the coffee table, for some reason you’d decided to put your makeup on in the living room today. There were a few glasses that you had yet to wash up but other than that you kept it very clean. ‘You can but your keys on the hook if you want’ You noticed the keys in his hand and pointed to the hook next to the door where the key to your Mini hung.

‘Are you joking? It’s spotless’ he laughed at you slightly as you sat on the edge of the sofa and untied your shoes and he copied your actions. You picked up both pairs of shoes and placed them on a shoe rack in the hall.

‘I’m a bit of a clean freak’ you admitted. I was true, even if you’d left clothes scattered around for a few days, everything was clean and spotless. ‘I don’t like germs and dust’

He laughed and shook his head you swiped the contents of the table into your makeup bag in an attempt to tidy and placed the glasses onto the kitchen side. The perks of living in an apartment with an open plan kitchen and living room meant that you could have a quick tidy without seeming rude.

‘You’ve got a Mini?’ he asked, obviously noticing the key when he’d placed his with it.

‘Yeah I love it. I had one as my first car and when it eventually got too much use, I just got myself a brand new one as a treat. Do you want anything to drink?’ you asked. Neither of you had drunk at dinner, just had some pink lemonade. ‘I’ve got beer’ You picked the Peroni out of the fridge and waved it in his direction.

‘A beer would be great’ he smiled. ‘I’ve never driven a Mini before’ You grabbed a beer for yourself and joined him on the sofa which he was still perched on the end of. You rolled your eyes and threw the display cushions on the floor.

‘You can sit properly you know’ you handed him his beer and sat down next to him with your back on the cushions and feet up on the coffee table.

‘I just didn’t want to mess anything up’ he made himself comfier as you reached and grabbed the remote that had was on the arm.

‘I’m not that picky’ you laughed ‘And maybe one day you can drive mine if you’re lucky’.

‘Oh really?’ he raised his eyebrows at you. ‘Only if I’m lucky’

‘Well it is my pride and joy’ you smiled. ‘Do you mind if I put Friend’s on or would you prefer something else’.

‘No, I love Friends’

‘Thank god for that, I watch it constantly on loop and all my friends hate it, I just never get bored of it, I think I’m near the end of season 5’

‘Which one do you think I’m most like’ he asked. You cocked your head at him slightly.

‘Hmmm maybe Joey but with more going on up there’ you pointed to your head as you spoke. He let out a little laugh before asking why. ‘I don’t know you just seem like you’d ‘wow’ all the ladies, what about me?’

‘Monica if we’re talking about cleaning, Chandler if we’re talking about sense of humour’

‘Are you calling me sarcastic?’ you narrowed your eyes at him with a smile. ‘And there’s no mention of Rachel’

‘Is that a problem?’ he asked

‘Well she’s only the most attractive women on the planet’

‘I’d say she has strong competition’ he answered as he looked at you. You noticed how his eyes changed slightly. He said it softly, but his eyes said it differently. You both carried on watching Friends and after a while your eyes started closing, your head falling on his shoulder every now and then as you got sleepier. Season 5 eventually finished, and Calum sat up slightly, looking as sleepy as ever, and extremely cute.

You flipped over your phone and looked at the time. 01:25. How was it already so late, you’d usually be well asleep by this time on a Monday night.

‘Shit we’ve got a meeting in the morning’ you remembered as Calum rubbed his eyes.

‘Yeah I should probably get going’ he pouted at the end making you just want to cuddle into him even more.

‘I’ll grab your shoes’ you got up from the sofa and wrapped the blanket that had been covering both your legs around your shoulders to keep warm. After tying his laces, Calum made his way to the door.

‘Thank you for a nice evening’ you smiled up at him as he stood just by your front door. You insisted to walk him down, but he promised he could do it himself.

‘I had a great time too’ his hair was slightly messed up and voice slightly groggy from the tiredness. You both stood there smiling stupidly at each other until he placed his hands around your waist and his face closer to yours. You dropped the blanket from your hands and placed your arms round his neck, connecting your lips to his. The whole thing felt dreamy. What was even happening to you. After a while, you both pulled away and rested your forehead on his as he bit his lip and you smiled up at him.

‘See you in the morning Calum, text me when you’re back safe’ you smiled up at him. You both released your hands from around each other as he grabbed his car keys from the hook.

‘See you in the morning gorgeous’ you opened the door for him, and he stepped into the corridor, giving you a hug and a kiss on the forehead before leaving.

You shut the door and picked up the blanket and cushions that were over the floor. You washed up the glasses from before and placed the beer bottles in the glass recycling. You sat on the sofa and went through your phone, noticing how the smell of Calum had lingered on the fabric.

You got yourself into the shower and eventually bed, falling asleep as soon as the text from Calum hit your phone. But the late night hadn’t helped with the early start that came the next morning.

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

Sorry the wait was so long! Anyone want a part 6?

[keikoyue]

I know it's been years, but I finaly came around to finish this little ficlet.

@castiel-left-his-mark-on-me prompted this with this post. 

____

Castiel looks up as the little doorbell rings for the hundredth time of this day. This means, a new customer just entered the shop. A smile lights up his face – genuine, not as any sales pitch – as he sees the man walking towards the counter.  

Castiel remembers when he saw him the first time, three days ago. There are often soldiers from the military station nearby, who orders their meal here. So does said man. He stood in line, waiting to give up his order, in his neat military uniform and a stern expression on his face. It took Castiel a simple smile to break it, though. He was amazed how the deep green eyes lit up, as he smiled back at him. Castiel couldn’t help but looking after the man, as he left.  

He ordered his food daily since then.

“Hi, how are you doing today?”, Castiel greets him friendly.

“I’m alright, and yourself?” The man’s voice is rough. He coughs slightly.

“I’m doing better… now.” It’s true. The day was hectic and Castiel yearns for closing time. But seeing a friendly – and damn good looking – face lights up his mood.

The man’s cheeks colors in a slight red and he immediately looks up to the menu boards above.

“I… I’ll take the cheeseburger. And some fries.”, he orders, still scanning the range.

Castiel enters the order into the register. “Extra bacon?”, he asks, remembering how he insisted on this the last days.

“Uhm.. sure! Yeah, extra bacon, totally!” He smiles thankfully.

“I remembered.” Castiel winks at him, seeing how his opposite blushes a bit more. “Do you want anything else – need anything else?”

“No, that’s it, thank you.”

“Okay”, Castiel completes the order in the register, “and, what’s your name?” He will give it a try.

The man looks at him, hesitating a moment, but then smiles again. “Dean. I’m Dean.”

Castiel gives him a once over while confessing “That’s a really pretty name.”

“Uh, thank you… had it for a little while”, Dean responds with a shrug, still blushing.

Castiel giggles. He doesn’t know if Dean means to be funny or just hasn’t thought about his words, but he likes it nevertheless.

For a moment, Dean looks at him wary, then joins the laughter, head-shaking about the situation.

“Are you gonna give me that order or do I need to read your mind?”, Castiel’s boss barks from out of the kitchen.

“Sorry, Chuck!”, Castiel replies, pushing the right button to print the order. He smiles again before turning to hand the paper into the back. When he faces the counter again, he sees Dean standing some steps aside.  

Unfortunately, there are more customers who want to order, so Castiel gets back to work. He stares regularly at Dean, though. He observes Castiel’s movements the whole time.  

A ring signals Castiel that another order is ready. For a second he hesitates, checking out Dean one more time. The man, gathering some more self-assurance through the distance, winks at him. That’s all Castiel needs to finally pick up the pen, actually meant to mark different meals in same packages, and write down his phone number on the paper bag.

He hands it to Dean, who stepped closer to the counter again. Dean rolls his eyes funnily as he sees the big numerics.

“Have a nice day”, Castiel wishes in the typical salesman manner, which causes Dean to chuckle.  

The next day, Castiel has a day off. His phone doesn’t ring once. He won’t admit it, but he’s slightly disappointed.

Dean comes back the day after.

“Hello Dean.”

“Hi…“, Dean pauses, looking down at Castiel’s chest. “…Castiel”, he finishes his greeting.

“You only now looked on my name tag?”

“Well… I got distracted” Dean smirks, then nods towards the menu boards. “I’ll take the same again.”

“Of course.” Castiel passes Dean’s order to Chuck. When he returns, Dean has stepped aside far enough for the next customer, but is leaning heavily on the counter.

“You weren’t here yesterday.”

“Don’t I deserve a day off?” It’s clear that it dawns on Dean just now that Cas doesn’t spent every day at his work and he smiles awkwardly.  

“I just missed you.”

“Good that we are both here today then”, Cas answers in between his work routine of taking orders and giving the food out.  

Dean searches for an answer, but doesn’t seem to find the right words, so he settles for a small nod. They just smile at each other every now and then. When Dean’s food is ready, Castiel grabs the pen again. Maybe Dean is more of a writing guy. He scribbles down his email address to hand it over with a wink. He clearly sees Dean blush before he makes off.  

“Hello Dean.” Castiel’s smile isn’t as bright as it was the last times. There was neither an e-mail nor a call from Dean and he gets that unspoken message. He decides to switch to a professional worker-customer-relationship before he’s making an even bigger idiot out of himself. “Cheeseburger with extra bacon and fries, right?”

Before he can answer, a redhaired girl next to him interposes. “Make that two!”, she says with a bright smile. “We’ll sit right over there”, and with that she drags Dean to the nearest table.  

Castiel blinks. Well, now he knows, why Dean didn’t contact him. He still feels like a total dumbass now. To further not any more embarrassments, he tries his best to focus on the upcoming orders. He doesn’t dare to look over to them and ignores the giggling coming from their table, which he doesn’t consider part of his workplace for now.  

Admittedly his plan doesn’t work out, when their order is ready and he needs to call them over.

“Order is ready”, he announces and places their plates to the side, hoping they will just pick them up, but neither Dean nor his company reacts. They are too focused on their conversation.

“Two cheeseburger, extra bacon with fries”, Castiel declares, louder this time. Still no reaction. Castiel feels lost behind the counter. There is no other work to busy himself with and clearly, he’s responsible that the customers are getting their food hot.  

Dean and the girl are whispering with each other. Neither of them takes notice of their food. Castiel takes a deep breath before he calls: “Dean”.  

Dean’s head shoots up and he looks at Castiel like a deer caught in the headlight.  

“Your food’s ready”, Castiel declares and point at the plates. For a split second he panics he might have to serve him his order, but the girl kicks him very clearly against the shin with a bright grin and Dean gets up to come over.   “Thanks”, he mumbles and avoids looking at Castiel. He can’t blame him.  

“Hey!”, Chuck’s voice catches him off guard, “It’s pretty quiet. Take your break now!”

Castiel would rather not, but there is no use in debating with Chuck. Besides, he appreciates to sit down for a while. He takes some of the French fries as his break meal, puts his little apron aside and sits down at the different end of the diner. He doesn’t want to look over to Dean and the girl, but with how wild they are gesticulating while whispering suspiciously low, it’s impossible not to be distracted. The girl is pointing clearly at Castiel and Dean pushes her hand down again and again. He tries just as much not to look at Castiel as he does vice versa. Neither of them succeeds.  

Before Castiel can decide if it’s worth it to eat his fries in the constant rain outside, the girl leaves Dean’s table, only to come over and take a seat at Castiel’s table.  

“Hi!”

She grins wide; he tilts his head in confusion.

Dean, who followed involuntarily, clears his throat as he sits down next to her, right in front of Castiel.  

“Um, this is Charlie”, he introduces.

“I’m his best friend”, Charlie declares and winks at Castiel.

Castiel can’t help but share the genuine smile. He likes her.

“Hi Charlie, it’s nice to meet you. I’m-”

“Cas, yes, I know”, she interrupts him, “Dean already chew my ear off about you.”

Dean looks like he’d like to strangle his best friend right here and now.  

“Oh no!”, Charlie announces dramatically even before she takes a look at her watch. “I totally forgot the time. I have to go, have fun!” And with that she’s already gone.  

Both of them stay in awkward silence for a moment, unsure what to do now.

“Sorry about her, she’s a Chatty Cathy.”

“Just like you, it seems.” Dean breaks into a laugh about Cas’ words. Cas enjoys the sound of it and continues with his meal. Without invitation Dean takes some of his fries to.  

“So, what are you doing?”, he asks.

“That’s what I want to know!”, Chuck yells from the counter. “I’m not paying you to sit around all day!”

A look on his watch reveals, that Cas indeed overrun his fifteen-minute break.  

“I have to work”, he declares and shoves the rest of his meal to Dean and puts his apron back on. Before he steps behind the counter, he turns to Dean once again. “I’ll be off at 9, though.” Dean winks at him.

It’s a quarter past nine when Cas finally leaves the diner. Just as he breathes in the fresh air, his phone rings. He answers with a smile.

“Hello Dean.”

Read on AO3

[myhockeyworld87]

Choices - Tyler Seguin/Jamie Benn - Part 21

Word Count: 2,165

POV: Reader

Warnings: Language (Maybe???)

Notes: It’s the moment you’ve been waiting for. We’re going to find out which choice you guys made. This was by far the biggest vote I’ve ever had. I’ll mark the results at the end. I hope you guys enjoy this. Happy Reading!

Your hands were shaking the second you saw the email come into your inbox. This was the moment you'd fretted about the last week, and now that it was here you weren't sure you wanted to know the answer. You'd gone back and forth all week, playing scenarios out in your head. What you would do if the baby was Jamie's or if it was Tyler's. When it all came down to it, you didn't know what you were going to do either way. But any decisions couldn't be made until you opened the email. All you had to do was click the mouse, that was it, yet still, you couldn't do it.

 There were a million butterflies in your stomach and you weren't sure if it was from nerves or morning sickness. You took a deep breath in, calming the rioting emotions rolling through your body, as you talked yourself into finding the results. Hand still shaking on the mouse, you left clicked and then it was open. You scrolled the results quickly, obviously, there weren't any names on the e-mail, but it also clearly stated that Sample B's DNA matched that of your unborn child's. Which meant Tyler was the father.

 It took you a moment to absorb the fact that you were pregnant with his child again. A small smile played across your lips, you'd lost your last baby together and you couldn't help but think that somehow this was divine intervention telling you that you and Tyler needed a second chance. The problem now became in order to get that second chance, you had to tell both men what was going on. You knew you had to do it quickly as well because the stress from all of this couldn't be good for the baby. While the doctor said there was really no known reason for why you lost your first child; you'd always blamed yourself for letting the stress of Tyler's apparent cheating get to you. Your stress level was something you were definitely going to work on this time. Though to do that, you had to make one not so little change in your life first.

 Which is how Jamie found you in the bathroom grabbing your makeup bag out of the drawer when he came home from practice. "Sweetheart, why is your suitcase half-filled laying on the bed?"

 This was the part you weren't looking forward to. Well, the whole you were pregnant with Tyler's baby, was what you really didn't want to tell Jamie, but for right now; you were dreading this part. "Why don't we go sit down for a minute?"

 His eyebrows pulled together in a questioning look, yet he still followed you into the bedroom where you sat on the bench at the foot of the bed. "What's going on sweetheart?"

 There was no easy way to say it, so you just decided that being straightforward was the best route to go. "You know Jame, you've been doing so good. I mean physical therapy is almost done and you're back on the ice and everything; that you really don't need me here to help you out anymore. I just kind of figured it would be best if I moved back into my own place." His head pulled back as if you had struck him. You knew this wasn't going to go well, but seeing the hurt on Jamie's face almost crushed you.

 "But…I mean…" His big brown eyes were burrowing into yours and you could see his soul practically stripped bare. "I thought it was more than that, you know? I want you to stay, like move-in completely, not the other way around. Things are so great right now, there's no reason to move back to your place."

 There were a ton of reasons you needed to go back there, but not one that you could tell Jamie at the moment. "I know Jame, things are good, but I need to get back to my life. I haven't really been back to work that much and then there's the band. I haven't been to practices and sometimes that means everyone coming to my place. I guess I just need to start putting myself first, and now that you're practically better; I can start doing that." That last part was totally true, you did need to make yours and the baby's needs a priority and moving out was the first step. "It's not like I won't be over, I'll probably be here every day.  I can still make you dinner and we can still watch movies and hang out; all the stuff we do now." Minus the sex of course, but why get into the details.

 "You can have the band practice here, the house is huge. I'll even have a room redone so that it can be your music studio. You know I've always supported your singing; I'll do whatever you need."

 The pleading tone in his voice almost had you changing your mind, but you stuck to your resolve. "I don't know Jame. I just feel like this would be best for now."

 "Have  I been too clingy or needy? I mean I can back off; give you more space." He took hold of your hand then and was rubbing his thumb over your knuckles; part of you just wanted to cry, but you held the tears back. You went to tell him that it wasn't about that, but he stopped you. "And I still haven't got my memory back. I mean what if I lose more of it or something."

 Ugh, he really knew how to punch you in the gut using that one, but you'd prepared yourself. "It's been like eight weeks Jame, and you haven't lost any more yet. So now would be a good time for me to just try staying at my place, and if something does happen; I can always move back." His head fell then, and he wouldn't look at you anymore; he just clung to your hand. You took your other hand and covered your linked ones. "You're still going to see me, Jame. I promise."

 He looked up then, eyes even sadder than before, and your heart broke a little more. "So there's nothing I can say then is there?"

 As much as this hurt and you didn't want to break his heart; you knew this was for the best. "No Jame, there's not." There were unshed tears in his eyes and you found yourself saying. "How about I stay for dinner tonight? We can make your favorite."

 "Yeah…yeah. I'd like that." When you left later that night, it was still quite evident that Jamie was both hurt and angry you were going, but when you kissed him goodbye, his spirits lifted slightly. Which meant that you felt a little less guilty about leaving.

 You didn't have a chance to call Tyler today, but as soon as you got everything back into your place you picked up the phone and gave him a call. "Hey baby, what are you up to?" He said answering the phone.

 "Um, I was wondering if we could talk?"

 "Yeah sure. Where's Jamie at?"

 "Well, I moved back to my place." You didn't get another word out before he started.

 "I'll be right over." Tyler must have ran every red light between your place and his because it seemed like as soon as he hung up your doorbell was ringing. As soon as you opened the door, he grabbed you and kissed you hard, not letting go as he entered the house, shutting the door behind him. Only then did he pull back, letting you both get some air. "So you left him? Did his memory come back? Does this mean we can finally be together?"

 You put your hands on his chest in an effort to quell the words that were spewing out of his mouth. "Woah, Ty, one thing at a time." You pushed him away a bit, needing some distance if you were going to get out everything you had to say. "Come, let's sit down. I need to tell you some things." Grabbing his hand, you led him over to the sofa, where the two of you sat down. He laced your fingers together, settling them in his lap. "I don't even know where to start." You took a deep breath, while Tyler remained silent hanging on your every word. "Yes, I did move out of Jamie's, but not because I told him about us and not because his memory came back."

 "Ok, then why? Did you guys fight or something?"

 "No, actually he begged me to stay." You blew out a breath before continuing. "He doesn't know the real reason why I left."

 "Which is?"

 You closed your eyes, weighing the words in your head before saying them. "I'm pregnant Ty." His jaw went slack at the admission and you could see his mind working trying to figure out who's baby it was. "The baby's yours."

 "Really?" His face filled with joy and elation, and you found it contagious. It was the first time you let yourself be truly happy about the baby growing inside you.

 "Yeah Ty, it's really yours." There was more you had to tell him, and you pretty sure he wasn't going to be thrilled about the next part. "I won't lie to you. I wasn't completely sure, so I had to have a DNA test done."

 "Wait, what? How?"

 "Last week when we had sex; I made you wear a condom remember?" He nodded, for it was literally the last time you'd slept with him or Jamie for that matter. It had been tricky waters to navigate but you just wanted to take out any more emotions then were already there. "I took one from Jamie as well and had it analyzed along with my blood. They were able to determine that it was your baby."

 "Why didn't you tell me? I would've gone with and given them blood or whatever they wanted."

 "I…I…what if it wasn't yours, Ty. I didn't want to get your hopes up." You knew how much it hurt him when he found out that you miscarried the baby and he hadn't even known you were pregnant then. It would be devastating if you'd told him, only to find out the baby was Jamie's.

 "I never thought about that." Now that he knew the baby was his, he couldn't really see anything beyond that. "You're one hundred percent sure that it's mine though right?"

 It was a valid question and one you were prepared for. You'd printed off the results and had them set on the end table. "Yes, here it is. You were sample B in case you were wondering." He scanned the report quickly.

 "We're having a baby (Y/N). We're really having a baby!" A wide grin split his face, and you could see how truly happy he was. "This is all I ever wanted (Y/N). You and me, and now a baby, we're gonna be a family; all three of us. You should move into the house, so I can take care of you and the baby. I can't wait to tell my family; they're gonna flip."

 "Slow down, there are some things we need to discuss first." When he gave you a quizzical look, you kept going. "I don't want to tell anyone until I make it to at least twelve weeks, with my history and all."

 He wrapped you in his arms at the admission, for your face must have revealed how scared you truly were. "Oh babe, nothing's going to happen this time. I promise."

 "You can't promise that Tyler, but I'm going to do everything in my power to keep my stress levels down during this pregnancy." Which you'd already started to do that by moving out of Jamie's, which lead to your other problem. "But I don't know what to do about Jamie."

 "What do you mean? We obviously have to tell him."

 "Do we? I mean what if his amnesia gets worse or something? I'd feel horrible." You felt guilty enough moving out today, you didn't want to add any more to it by causing Jamie to have a relapse or worse.

 "Then what do you want to do?" That was the problem you had no clue what to do, but you didn't have a ton of choices at the moment.

  Our reader may not have many choices, but it's time for you to make one:

 A)     Tell Jamie the truth about everything, he needs to know.

B)     Hide your pregnancy from Jamie, you can't be responsible for him getting hurt worse than he already is.

C)      Suggest you go see Jamie's doctor and find out if it's ok to tell Jamie the truth since it's been a while since the accident.

D)     You both agree to not tell Jamie, but Tyler lets it slip somehow.  

Vote was 43 for Tyler, 40 for Jamie and Chaos made it to 13. Thanks so much for voting! Remember to vote for this one as well. I’ll give you 48hrs. Which means 9PM EST on Thursday.