#again from the cd and how it was something he first gave her to play the cds her brother gave her

[causenessus]

eggy i regret never sending you an ask about this quote i found that immediately made me think of rot. i screenshotted it and i've had it in my images forever and i'm not sure why i never sent it to you (i think i was just scared of you disagreeing with it or something idk </3) but now that i've read this chapter (amazing, by the way) i feel like this poem excerpt encases this work so so well:

"cautiously, i allowed myself to feel good at times. i found moments of peace in cheap rooms just staring at the knobs of some dresser or listening to the rain in the dark. the less i needed the better i felt."

"let it enfold you" (charles bukowski)

(and i ran out of tag space so i came here to rant more so u may want to come back after reading the tags bc i just got sick of having to abide to the character limits when i have so much to say)

rot just feels like an entire universe and world of it's own and it is so so beautiful

like a completely different universe that i want to go to i don't know how to explain it

(and sorry if these tags sound off or dry or anything!! i just want to show how genuine and serious i am about the impact this fic has had on me and how good it is by not using caps and everything if that makes sense)

i should probably save something to say when i reblog the masterlist again but eggy i loved rot so much. it was so so good. you are such a talented writer you should be proud of this; of the work as a whole and every single chapter and how much thought you put into every word and part and how much your heart has gone into this. i love this work SO much i genuinely need to go onto one of those book websites and get this work printed out. i love the way that this fic had impacted me so much i feel like i see reminders of it everywhere, or open my window and think of the first chapter of rot, and y/n trying to open her window while she smokes. i love the way the word "rot" itself has continued to be so important to this work. how it appears everywhere, how it is a part of y/n. i loved seeing y/n's character develop throughout this work, how her mindset changed multiple times throughout her different jobs, and as she got closer to iwa, and then they seperated, and then the immediate way her life was bright again, warm despite the bitter winter outside because she was finally in his arms again, and she was home.

rot: h. iwaizumi

chapter six -> a promise

(masterlist ; written content)

word count: 2.7k

now playing: my hot piss by die spitz

Autumn cools everything down. The feverish sort of pain that made her almost delirious has chilled into a dull, steady ache. Kiyoko rests her head on her shoulder. They sit on the couch together, under a shared blanket, and watch old, cheesy horror movies. Every on-screen death makes Kiyoko flinch and hide her face under the blanket.

It’s odd, to be in her apartment, to have it be her own as well. Where the fridge is free of remnants of rotten food and is properly stocked with essentials. Where the furniture matches and there’s no stuffing spilling out of the cushioning. It’s small, and sometimes she has to fiddle with the pipes under the sink to avoid calling a plumber, but it’s nice. It’s well-kept and Kiyoko always has some kind of candle lit. The walls are white, just white, not stained yellow from years of cigarette smoking. The locks don’t look like they’re about to fall off the door. There’s no mold in the bathroom. No pest infestations. No decay in the hardwood floor.

It makes her feel so out of place.

“My parents helped with the deposit,” Kiyoko had explained to her, almost sheepishly, like this was something she should be ashamed of. “And with the first few months of rent while I built up some savings. It’s how I was able to get it.”

Her brother would’ve liked Kiyoko, she thinks. He would’ve liked her quiet demeanor, and the deliberate sort of way she carries herself. He would’ve liked how spending time with her is never overwhelming. He would’ve liked how her voice is like a small stream that runs down the street after a rainstorm.

They would’ve gotten along.

She has the thought that he would’ve hated Iwaizumi, and then tries to pretend that she didn’t.

Onscreen, a head is removed from a set of shoulders. She tries not to think of Iwaizumi. It makes her sick, even his name. Never once has she felt like she did the right thing. Kiyoko keeps telling her that sometimes, the right things hurt the most. But that doesn’t help. It doesn’t quell the nausea she feels at his memory. It doesn’t fade that dull, aching loneliness. It doesn’t make her feel better about leaving him.

Objectively, her life as improved post-Iwaizumi. She’s held onto the same job for several months in a row without incident (no spitting, cursing, or fighting-though that’s mostly due to Kiyoko). She actually has money in her bank account now, ¥50,901.96, after rent (which, isn’t a lot by any metric, but it’s definitely more than nothing). Her father stopped calling. Her diet is much more balanced. The cable’s better. She doesn’t really get mad anymore.

It's an improvement. A drastic one. Something she probably wouldn’t have been able to achieve on her own.

But it’s worse. It just feels worse.

Blood spews from a headless body, cartoonishly fake. Kiyoko squirms, and she doesn’t flinch.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

The bell on the door to the sports shop dings as the it closes, and a customer leaves with fresh tennis balls. She rests her cheek on the palm of her hand as she leans up against the counter. She’s drawing the earth as it explodes from the inside, splitting into dozens of chunks of land and ocean. “Who the fuck buys tennis balls in November?”

Kiyoko slides behind the counter to stand beside her, peering over her shoulder to watch her draw. “I dunno. Maybe he’s going somewhere warm,” she offers as a solution.

Kiyoko doesn’t hate people the way she does. She can’t ever hate someone just because she wants to; Kiyoko doesn’t ever want to. It makes her feel mean, since the feeling of hatred comes to her so naturally. “Yeah, maybe.”

“Noya thinks you’re cute,” Kiyoko says, suddenly stiffer when she talks. “He asked if you were going to go out with us tomorrow night.”

She doesn’t know who Noya is. She probably should. He’s probably someone that she’s met more than once. But she can’t conjure up the face that’s supposed to go with the name. “Which one’s he?” she asks, well past the point of caring if she seems rude to Kiyoko.

Kiyoko knows she’s rude, at this point.

“The short one,” she answers. “The one with the blond in his hair.”

Her pen digs into the notebook paper, adding shading around a blown-up chunk of earth. “Yeah, he’s cute, I guess.”

Kiyoko makes a noise of acknowledgement. “But you’re not into him.”

It’s not a question, so she doesn’t answer it. Kiyoko sighs, and rocks on her heel. “That’s fair. As long as it’s because you’re actually not into him, and not because you’re not over Iwaizumi.”

Hearing his name spoken so casually makes her flinch. Kiyoko notices and leans her head down on her shoulder. “Well, we’ll get there.”

★⋆. ࿐࿔

At her lowest point, she calls her father.

She dials his number so many times she loses track of it. She stares at the numbers for so long they start to lose meaning. When she closes her eyes, she sees them burned into the inside of her eyelids. She hits ‘call,’ and then hangs up, only to dial him right back up again.

She doesn’t know what she’s doing, and definitely not why. She just sort of acts, moved by impulse and a craving for something unknown.

It rings. It rings three times before he answers. His phone is gruff and worn on the other line. “Hello?”

Her hand slaps over her mouth, and she tries to quiet her breathing, like she’s hiding from him. Her eyes prick and burn. “Hello?” he repeats on the other end, more impatient this time. Her heart pounds like he’s just on the other side of the door. She doesn’t know what she’s doing.

“Fucking hell,” is the last thing she hears before the line goes dead. The phone clatters to the floor of her bedroom, and she cries. The first time she’s cried like this in months.

She really doesn’t know what she’s doing.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

Most of her time is spent lying in her bed, doing nothing, thinking about everything. Sometimes she goes along with Kiyoko when she goes out with her friends, and she sits in the corner and tries not to draw too much attention to herself. She hates that. Sometimes she tries to pick up extra shifts at work just to pass the time. She hates that too. Sometimes she goes to this cheap dive bar just two blocks away from her new apartment, just to have a drink or two in a place that’s not her bedroom.

She orders a second drink. It’s bone-chilling cold outside, and the alcohol makes her feel warmer. Just a bit. She thinks it’s sad that this is the most exciting part of her week.

At least the festering rot that tore her up from the inside was interesting. Now her life is boring and depressing.

The call of her name is sudden and jarring. She spins around in the barstool with an elevated heartrate and her fingers reaching for her keys. She doesn’t recognize him, at first. When her eyes first land on him, she continues looking for a second, before it catches up to her. Her heart leaps up to her throat. “Matsukawa?”

Matsukawa chugs, his head tilted back and his Adam’s apple bobbing, downing the pint until there’s nothing left but traces of white foam. Her fingers tap against her own glass, looking at the condensation that leaves a ring around the wooden bar. It reminds her of the plastic cups of coffee Iwa brought her daily. She didn’t drink coffee before that. Now every morning she finds herself crawling out of bed at eight in the goddamn morning, throwing on whatever clothes are on her floor so she can get to the closest coffee shop before it gets too busy.

“Is he over me yet?” she asks, tips of her fingers collecting droplets of condensation.

Matsukawa slams his glass down on the bar. “Nah.” He wipes his mouth with the back of his sleeve. “Not even a little. Iwa’ll never get over you.”

Her eyes roll. Matsukawa sees this and narrows his own. “Don’t think I don’t mean it.”

There’s an awkwardness that hangs between them. She takes a sip of her own drink and swishes it over her tongue, trying to distract from it. “He’s got a long time to.”

“Doesn’t matter. I know him. You were it.”

“Then he shouldn’t have left me.”

She says this, she realizes, with familiarity, the kind that no longer exists between her and Matsukawa. She hasn’t seen him since her father’s blood was on her hands. Any closes between them granted by the lifesaving has since evaporated, and now, they’re as good as strangers. At least to her.

Still, Matsukawa leans back in the bar stool. “Yeah, he probably shouldn’t have.”

She shifts in her seat uncomfortably. It would’ve been better if he argued. “Yeah,” is all she can manage, her fire dulled.

“You don’t look like you’re doing that much better than he is,” Matsukawa remarks, and she offers no reaction. It’s not like he’s wrong. “You two are both idiots. You’re perfect for each other.”

Her lip furls up. “You got a lot of fucking opinions on this.”

“Hard not to. Iwa’s heartbreak is everyone’s problem.”

Iwa’s heartbreak. She doesn’t like the implication of it. Like it’s just his. Like it’s nothing something he caused for her. Like it’s not something they share.

“C’mon,” Matsukawa says, hand clapping on her back, like he can see the thoughts brewing in her head, and he wants to cut her off before they can work their way over to him, “let me walk you home.”

He does. He walks her home and he talks about his recovery post-stabbing and he rants about Oikawa and he talks about this girl he’s been talking to that he’s not really that into and he talks about how good Makki’s been looking lately but he doesn’t ask about her and he doesn’t bring up Iwaizumi again.

At least that she’s grateful for.

And when he deposits her at her front door, he grins, and tells her that he’ll see her later.

★⋆. ࿐࿔

It’s snowing. She stands outside of his apartment, box in her hands and something caught in her throat. It’s been a few weeks since she’s seen Matsukawa, and she’s done little but think about him and what he said and fixate on it and let it gnaw away at her.

So she’s outside Iwaizumi’s apartment, snow getting stuck in her hair and fingers going numb.

Her list of problems doesn’t really exist anymore. They’re not as material, harder to pin down. Her anger issues have simmered down into this lethargic mood that has much less daily wear and tear. The split rent and the consistent income have dissipated the money problems. She doesn’t worry about things the way she used to. Things don’t really plague her the way they used to.

It’s really just him. It’s really just Iwaizumi.

She sighs. It was easier in her head. Everything’s always easier in her head.

Now that she’s here, all she can think about is everything that can go wrong. Matsukawa being wrong, and Iwaizumi being over her, so much so that he’s not even moved at the sight of her and there’s already someone else in there warming up her side of the bed. He could be working. He could hate her. It could go as badly as it did last time.

Kiyoko disapproved of the plan. Kiyoko wanted her to move on. She wanted her to find a life outside of Iwaizumi, purpose outside of him, drive outside of him.

But people like Kiyoko don’t get it. People like Kiyoko don’t know what it’s like to be infected with something so consuming and persistent and chronic. Kiyoko doesn’t get it. Iwaizumi gets it.

He gets it.

She inhales slowly, and forces herself to move forward.

Breaking into the front door of her old apartment building is something she’s done more times than she’s proud of. It’s oddly nostalgic to pop that old lock open, and it feels the same as she creeps up the stairs. It was like this when she first moved in. Bitter, winter air floating up the stairs like all the windows were left open. She remembers shaking as she hauled up trash bags of her belongings, and taking breaks to wrap herself up in the first blanket she could unpack.

She feels that way now as she stomps up the stairs, the bottom of her boots heavy against the wood. She wonders if he can hear her coming.

By the time she reaches the top of the stairs, her hands are trembling, and she’s slightly out of breath. She takes a moment to catch it before she’s shifting the box to hold in one hand, and she knocks. She does it before she has the chance to talk herself out of it.

The door swings open sooner than she thought it would, like Iwaizumi was just standing there on the other side, waiting for her. Waiting for her this whole time.

When she sees him, she holds her breath. She holds her breath as she counts the one, two three, four bruises and the one, two, three cuts that decorate his features. He’s paler than he was before. The bags under his eyes are darker.

Still, he looks pretty. She always thinks he looks pretty.

His reaction to her, standing at his doorstep after six months, is the same as his reaction to everything else. His brow slightly furrowed, mouth curled up in something that looks like annoyance. She’s not surprised when he doesn’t say anything.

“Um, hey,” is how she starts out. It makes her flinch. “I’m sorry to just like, pop up out of nowhere but, I just kinda wanted to see you. I, erm, I missed you. A lot.”

Iwaizumi says nothing to this either. She feels oddly like she is shooting herself in the foot, and she loses the ability to look him in the eye.

“I feel really bad about how everything went down,” she confesses, now staring at her shoes. He’s still looking at her, she can feel it. “I’ m not proud of the things I said or how I acted. I don’t-I don’t hate you, not at all.���

She thinks she can see his chest rise and fall with heavy, deliberate breaths. But she’s not sure. Could be imagining it. The corners of her vision are starting to blur. She holds the box up to him.

A CD player. Brand new. The same one he got her.

“I got you this. As a sorry. I felt like shit for breaking the one you got me. I feel like shit for a lot of it, but that gift meant a lot to me. Just like you do. And I break things a lot and I have a lot of issues and I don’t think you-“

She does not get to finish her sentence. Iwaizumi grabs her by the arm and pulls her into her chest. The force knocks the box out of her hands, and CD player slams to the ground between them. Before she can realize what’s happened, her feet are hovering above the floor, and Iwaizumi’s arms are tight around her.

It’s automatic, the way she returns the embrace. Her arms snake around his middle, and she leans her head against his chest. She started crying at one point, without realizing it.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Iwaizumi says, pressing his face into the top of her head, lips kissing her hair between words. “You have no fucking idea how sorry I am.”

She does, because she feels it. It gnaws away at her chest the same way it does to his. She shakes her head. “I get it,” she tells him. “I know it.”

“Please say,” Iwaizumi pleads. “Please. I would do anything for you to stay.”

If she were someone like Kiyoko, she would say no. She would leave. She wouldn’t have ever come back. Because she knows, she knows that Iwaizumi is not going to change. He’s not going to become someone different overnight, or over six months, or a year or a dozen. Iwaizumi is always going to be who he was the day that she met him.

People like your father only care about one thing. And it’s not you, and it’s not me.

She holds onto him tighter, and thinks that that’s okay. She is too. “I’ll stay,” she promises. “I’m not going anywhere.”

an: ok let’s try this again

taglist: @wyrcan @thechaosoflonging @localgaytrainwreck @cherrypieyourface @eclecticeggknightpsychic @httpakkeiji @does-directions @needtoloveoutloud @causenessus @kawaii-angelanne @thatonecroc @v1oletfury @lonesomedrive @nnnyxie @pinkiscool @michivrse @cannibalsrider @kmwife @k8nicole @oikasenpai @fennecnco @riousluvs @bellamsby @rinheartshyunlix @bae-ashlynn @ephemeralninon @fangsbb @plumarbre @v-e-r-t21 @snail-squasher @seroh @mfcherry @canthavetoomuchchaos @ange1icarch1ve @applepi25 @wqnsho @19calicos @girlkissersco @Lisoozi @bailey-reeds @kitskasoboring @iluvaquaphor @lllaw @kinsies-blog @1lovestrawberrymilk

[blueberrypancakesworld]

Help in unexpected arms

Colin Gray x classmate!reader

warning : tiny fluff, comfort, kiss, some angst, injury (a little blood)

Summary : His date that night with Jennifer, who suddenly had a special aura around her, should have been something good and beautiful. What it shouldn't have ended up being is him running through the secluded street at night bleeding and finding himself half passed out in front of the door of a familiar face. A familiar face a little different from him but with a nature ready to help him.

info : For a very long time something for Colin again just something small fluffy at least to cuddle etc well have fun reading and until the next work

masterlist

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The cool evening air had surrounded him since he had left his house, the hopeful words of his mother that he could have gone out at a better time as there was still the afternoon service the next day but the words were just a murmur in his ears as the cool calming evening surrounded him, ,,Free at last” he mumbled as he broke out of the cage of his parent's house.

Instead, his heart skipped a beat as he thought of Jennifer in the last few days and weeks, she seemed to have changed, still shining brighter here and there with her suffering, she seemed to be more and more in the grave with each passing day, at least that's how it seemed to him as his thoughts about the brown-haired girl came up again and again in his poems.

She seemed almost like a muse to him and even though he had almost choked on his words, threatening to sink into the ground with shame, he had simply walked away and the message had popped up on the small screen of his cell phone and one press of the keys later he had the address in front of him.

It was about a quarter of an hour away, on the outskirts of a small town that only had a lively inner area and the further away you went, not only did the houses become more fragile, but the forest threatened to swallow you up - the idea of simply disappearing was actually quite pleasant, but the thought of being in the abandoned houses made him a little uneasy inside.

Disappearing into the forest would still have something picturesque about it, but these houses sometimes gave him the feeling that they would eat you up and leave you under the rubble, so he shook off the thought when he finally saw the green traffic light and turned off the main road in the remote direction.

Not noticing that the first house in the old street had a lighted house, a small house inhabited by a small family with currently one resident his classmate in history and literature and at the same time a participant in the church masses through her mother who had taken another night shift at the hospital.

The teenager who didn't pay any attention to the car couldn't either when she listened to rock music through her headphones, which she hid under her bed together with her mp3 player.

It was enough if she had to do the clean believer at school so she had some time for herself in the evening and could listen to a little music, sing and just watch a few horror movies without being yelled at that it was the devil.

But one thing in particular had made her smile that evening as Colin, who was sitting opposite her in Literature, had left the room after the bell had rung and lost a piece of paper, so she wanted to chase after him but didn't want to get lost in the corridor crowd of students, so she kept the poem for now.

,,When I give it back to him I'll ask him out,” she mumbled, glancing at her computer where the local movie theater's site was showing a classic horror movie, the perfect date and a beautiful poem about lost love, and she let it go round and round again.

A leeky scrawly cute handwriting she thought as she thought of him sitting in his dark room with the rock music playing from his cd player and him singing softly and writing the poem to himself.

She'd be lying if she said she hadn't lost her heart to him since she'd heard his poem and that cute smile when he talked to his friends and probably shared a few morbid jokes.

Turning back to her own things, she didn't notice how two figures met just a few houses away, how lust and love could cloud someone as her crush made his way through the building, the atmosphere was his but she had no idea what would happen.

The kiss should have sealed his fate the pain of the wound on his arm was a sign and the pain that went through his body as he suddenly felt sharp teeth on his neck his scream mingled with roars, cracking beams and rat squeaks the teeanger tried to tear himself away managed to find a wooden bed in the building and with a yelp and a holler managed to knock Jennifer or that something of hers off him.

Not wasting a moment he ran out of the room sorang down the stairs and almost got knocked down and ran outside but in his haste he had forgotten one thing and when he looked behind him he saw Jennifer standing in the window with a hideous bloodied mouth turning the car key around her fingers as she mouthed the word run.

The rosary he always carried with him lost in the flight, the individual wooden beads slowly rolling down the stairs as he rushed back to the main road, bleeding with adrenaline, panic beating in his heart that she would eat him as soon as he even looked behind him.

,,Help!” he screamed, his throat burning from running and screaming, finally making a sound as he shouted the word, calling the police but no one would hear him here, no one except Death who was after him to finish what she had started.

He knew he wouldn't make it until he saw the light in the corner of his eye, the first house on the street, a house he knew last fall they had stayed at her house on Thanksgiving after her mother had treated him at the hospital.

My salvation, he thought as he rang the doorbell, knocked, shouted and pressed against the window, the footsteps and shadows seeming to get closer the longer he lingered, but the main street was still a few meters away, which he wouldn't have made.

It was only a few seconds before the rock music stopped ringing in her ears and the moment of silence was enough for her to hear the quick ringing.

It's too early for mom she realized and decided to go and see anyway, maybe it was a delivery service that her mother ordered from time to time when she had a good grade or there was nothing left to eat.

Going downstairs in her dark pyjamas, she opened the door and screamed in horror as Colin burst in, bleeding and screaming, holding on to the stairs as he shouted, ,,Close the door! She wants to kill me!” and jerked away from her as she locked the door and hurriedly pulled the curtain shut and slowly turned to face him as fear coursed through her.

,,Colin…it's me…you're safe okay who's after you?’ she dared slowly sitting down on the stairs with him her trembling hand going to his barely noticing how she too now had blood on her hands as the cut on his arm dripped onto the wood and floor.

Something or someone must have attacked him but her glance at the door told her it was nothing and perhaps it was the first time she gripped the cold chain around her neck tighter and prayed within herself that all would be well, ,,Jen-Jenifer she's the devil!” he was still shouting but seemed slow to calm down as he held onto her when she tried to get up to fetch the first aid kit.

She paused, feeling uncomfortable about the whole sizaution and took off the cross necklace around her neck and put it in his hand, seeing that he didn't have his rosary with him.

,,Colin listen to me okay? My-my room is upstairs the first one on the right go there it's…safe” she said her voice still thick with anxiety as she sensed that something seemed to be watching her but the crosses and religious figures here in her house were protecting her.

She felt his hand on hers as he took the cross and a brief smile and a ,,Thanks” seemed to form on his face of fear, blood and tears before he ran upstairs and she went to the kitchen to find the first aid kit trying not to think about it too much but she too had noticed the change in Jennifer completely detached from the world pretty and then dead like.

,,She's not coming in here…don't worry Colin I'm with you” she thought and flinched as she heard an animalistic scream outside like a creature that was angry before the evil presence retreated and she too ran to her room no longer wanting to be alone.

Closing the door behind her she saw that Colin had calmed down, still shaking a little, he sat at the end of her bed looking overwhelmed and almost fascinated as far as he could at that moment.

,,Nice room…didn't think you liked that sort of thing” he admitted and she tried not to let on that she was trying to explain the whole situation to herself somehow, she sat down next to him and moved over on her bed, gesturing for him to follow what he was doing.

,,Thank you, well, you wouldn't believe what some people are, would you? Has me scared to death right now…let me see your arm" she admitted and saw the disappointed look on the black haired man's face.

He hesitantly rolled up his sweater and let her do her work knowing that she would do it better than him, since he had seen her again he knew about her talent as a prospective super healer at least for the moment.

She heard his soft ,,Thank you” again and he leaned a little against the bedstead, occasionally hearing a hiss or a gasp as she cleaned the wound, stroking his hand a little and he gripped her necklace tighter until his eyes fell on a piece of paper, ,,That's...that's mine,” he stated firmly and she looked up from his wound, feeling the warmth of her cheeks flush as she let go of his ministrations for a moment.

She expected him to want to leave, that he was getting too much of a crazy evening, but instead he handed her back the necklace, rubbed the blood off his sleeve and his hand touched hers as he handed it back to her.

,,Thank you… thanks for picking it up and not breaking it” he only said pulling back a little but the smile the wide joyful smile made her smile too ,,It's really beautiful so full of devotion, love and feelings just perfect’ she mumbled her thoughts to herself for a moment.

Putting the compress around the wound and pulling the bandage around it, she only half noticed Colin lean forward slightly and give her a kiss, a brief yet grateful sincere kiss before he pulled back and his nervous voice read the poem as she saw the pink on his cheek, his voice read the loving words and she sat down next to him.

The two's hands clasped together slowly, the chain seeming to connect them, ,,You touched my bleeding heart love," she heard his words before she leaned against him and Colin laid his head on hers as the two looked after each other that night, holding hands knowing that through blood and false love, only true hearts would be revealed, sealed with a kiss of true devotion.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

@angelsanarchy , @starry-eyed-wild-child ,

@rmwfe ->Here is the little emo boy ;)

[mc-lukanette]

Luka didn't consider himself particularly stupid, but he probably could've caught on earlier to what was going on. In his (weak) defense, Marinette had always been generous with her gifts.

Their friend group wasn't very large: it was him, Marinette, his sister Juleka, Ivan, and Rose. It was also common for them to give each other gifts even if it wasn't their birthday, just to show they cared.

Ivan, for example, gave him a CD one day. It was from a band he didn't recognize, but he was always open to hearing something new. Ivan had that exact thought, knowing he probably hadn't heard it but figuring he might like it. Luka appreciated it.

Then, only a couple days later, Marinette brought him a set of CDs, all from relatively new bands who'd yet to make a name for themselves. Perhaps that should've been suspicious to him, but they'd initially bonded over music in the first place and she was the designer for his band.

Still, he couldn't help commenting, "You didn't have to spend this much on me, Marinette."

"Oh, this?" She shook her head. "This is nothing! I had extra money from some commissions I did!"

There wasn't any sign of a lie. He smiled, thinking how it would be rude to reject the gift in that case. "Okay. Thanks for thinking about me."

She beamed with pride, and something else he couldn't quite place.

—————

The next gift was from Rose. She'd called his name in a sing-song voice and presented him with a thick, fluffy scarf. It was going to get cold soon and the insulation of the houseboat was only so-so.

She didn't hesitate to point out the absurd length either, which Luka had noticed but thought it polite not to comment on. Pointing at it from end to end when he held it stretched out, she didn't bother hiding the fact that it could be used as a "scarf for two."

Gently, he'd reminded her that he and Marinette were not together, nor was he interested in any sort of scheming to make it so. He was perfectly happy being friends and didn't want to push anything on her that she might not want.

It was that same train of logic making him believe that Marinette giving him a handmade scarf, less than a week later, was probably a coincidence.

Probably.

—————

Juleka made plushies of the five of them during art club: soft, carefully stitched together, and absurdly cute. She handed each friend's matching plush when they were all together and blushed when Rose insisted they trade because she wanted the Juleka plush. Luka, meanwhile, placed his atop the speaker next to his bed, impressed when it sat upright all by itself.

It felt like no time at all before Marinette brought along her own handmade plush to show him: himself in his Kitty Section costume.

"It's merchandise!" she explained excitedly, flipping the mask a few times and wiggling the guitar to show that they weren't stuck on the plush itself. "It's just a prototype, but I wanted you to have the first."

Using him as the prototype made sense. He was the oldest, even if only minutes older than his sister, and there was an unspoken agreement that he was the "leader." Decisions about the band tended to go through him as the final, most important voice, and he often spoke for all of them when in public.

The thing that tipped him off, however, was that Marinette was thorough. He would've expected her to drop a full set in front of him, a plan for how to market them, and a sketch of what the best place to sell them would be whenever they played somewhere, just for good measure.

Of course, he wasn't going to say any of that out loud and he loved it anyway, but something felt strange.

—————

"...Marinette," Luka said patiently.

She was all smiles and innocence, practically hopping in place as she held out the tiny jewelry box to him. "I just thought it'd be nice to have another set of earrings to wear!"

That sounded fine enough on its own. He supposed it'd be boring to play the same song over and over again, but this was her first attempt at making jewelry and she was giving it to him. There was something so obviously special about that, yet she was playing it off casually.

Taking the box and looking at the earrings themselves only made it more apparent. It wasn't just some jewelry she'd done up as a test and barely thought about the design of.

The earrings were simple, but clearly themed: a flower on each, but crotchet rests for leaves and a whole note as the center. There was no reasoning of merchandise or just trying something out this time; these were made with him in mind.

And, going off of the flower design, a little bit of herself too.

"This is a lot," he pointed out, and even that felt like an understatement.

She softened, sympathetic. Raising her hands up, she assured, "You don't have to wear them if you don't want to! I already thought that your earrings might mean something to you, so—"

"No," he cut in immediately, catching the misunderstanding. "I meant that you've been giving me so many gifts. You don't have to."

"Huh? But I do," she began as she straightened her back, glaring with determination and clenching her hands tightly into fists, "if I want to get that best friend spot!"

"What?"

He blinked at her, wide-eyed at the sudden declaration. Marinette herself only realized what she said a second later, her posture turning to a slump as she groaned into her hands.

Part of him thought about letting it go, but he was too invested in how important this was to her. He leaned in, asking softly, "Best friend spot?"

She lowered her hands just enough to look at him, then sighed and dropped them at her sides. "Juleka and Rose are already best friends, and Ivan has Mylene, so..." She flicked her wrist in his direction as if to say, 'well, you know.'

Luka did know now, but it hit him like a truck. He flashed back to times of the group playing video games together and the way Marinette's competitive spirit came out, quite literally, to play.

That expression he couldn't quite place all this time and her giving him so many gifts suddenly made sense: she'd been "competing" to take the role of his best friend. There wasn't even anyone to compete with, and she'd known that, yet something so basic held value to her to the point of seeing it as something to "win."

Luka turned his head away and covered his mouth with a hand. He wanted to laugh, but didn't want to give her the idea that he found her efforts something to laugh at. No, it was simply that it was the cutest thing he'd ever heard and it was taking actual effort not to say that out loud.

"A-ah? Luka!" Marinette called, leaning to try and catch a glimpse of his expression.

He went to speak, but remembered the hand covering his mouth and lowered it. Grinning at her, he replied, "You've already got the part."

"The part?" she repeated, then grew excited when what he meant hit her. "Really?"

Cute. So cute. The absolute cutest. How'd she been friendless for so long before meeting him and the others was beyond his understanding.

"What did it?" she pressed. "The CDs? The scarf? The plush? The earrings? It was the earrings, right?"

He shook his head, unable to stop smiling, and didn't elaborate beyond, "It's you." Then, staring down adoringly at the earrings in their little jewelry box, he added, "But I do want to wear these. Can you put them in for me?"

She was still in shock, but shook herself out of it to answer him. "O-oh, sure..."

She took the jewelry box back and he turned around to take out his earrings. He knew it wasn't like he was getting undressed in front of her or anything, but he was learning quickly that even he had limits for how long he could deal with her pretty face saying pretty things.

He removed both earrings, then heard a tiny pecking noise from behind him. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see Marinette, turned away from him but not enough that he couldn't see the kiss she gave one of the earrings.

He could hear a pounding in his ears, clutching his earrings tight in his hands to feel them poking into his skin, just to make sure this was real.

—————

Luka honestly - perhaps foolishly - thought things would remain like that: with them being "officially" (whatever that meant) best friends and Marinette not feeling like she had to compete with it. She did take the hints that the gifts weren't necessary, and thus gift giving had returned to their usual back and forth.

He hadn't considered anything further than that.

One day, Juleka and Rose were preparing to go on a long walk together, off to a place they hadn't been before. Luka knew they'd be alright, but gave his sister a cheek kiss in a silent wish for luck and safety.

He felt a pair of eyes on him at that moment, but Rose was busy excitedly putting semi-random objects in her bag for the "trip." Also, what was the sudden sense of foreboding going up his spine?

Juleka and Rose waved goodbye and departed the Liberty, Ivan having already left a while ago to see Mylene. Knowing that left only one possibility, Luka glanced over his shoulder to see Marinette, sitting on an instrument case and looking his way.

Immediately, she dropped her gaze to her lap, pouting.

"Is something wrong?" he asked, walking over to her. "We're best friends. You can tell me anything if you want to."

"I-it's nothing," she insisted when it was clearly not nothing. "It makes sense. She's your sister, so it works differently."

Utterly lost, he merely blinked at her, mind racing to understand what had her sulking like she was. It was only when she brought a hand up, her fingertips idly skimming her cheek, that it registered.

"...You want me to kiss you on the cheek?" He sat down next to her, turning towards her as much as possible without their legs brushing.

She blushed, but answered noncommittally, "If you want?" Her voice lowered as she mumbled more to herself than him. "My skin probably isn't as nice anyway. I bet Juleka uses a lot of moisturizer."

Evasive as it was, her position was clear: he was doing something with Juleka that he wasn't doing with her, and thus she was "losing." She wanted him to do things with her that he'd do with anyone else, and maybe even more than that. In his personal opinion, that wasn't being best friends, but—

Well, point being, he was happy to "prove" that they were best friends if these were the standards to hold to.

He leaned over, pressing a light kiss to her cheek that was slightly longer than the one he'd given Juleka, just to be safe. Marinette still smelled faintly of strawberries and coconut, a scent he'd long grown fond of whenever she'd press herself against him in her eagerness to show him something.

He could also confirm that her skin was actually very nice.

She stiffened, mouth dropping open in surprise that he'd actually done it, then delight. A little giggle-hum came out of her as she rested her hands in her lap, looking absurdly pleased with herself.

Luka wasn't sure how she always did that. She was unpredictable, even when he felt he knew her, and was practically preening from a little kiss on the cheek. It was such an easy thing for him to do, but it meant something to her.

His role in the band as "leader" hadn't been self-designated, as he'd always been fine playing in the background if need be. He had no need for attention, fame, and the like. Marinette was different though, and not at all in a bad way.

She was making him center stage, showing him again how much impact his presence had. He didn't know how he'd gotten so lucky.

"Ah," Marinette began even though that wasn't really a word, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear. She was trying to be "cool" about all this, but that was hard to do when she swayed from side to side, her prior pouting swallowed up in her bliss. "You don't have to worry about the earrings, by the way."

"Hm?"

She pointed at one of his earrings - the ones she made for him - and clarified, "I'll make you another pair if you ever get bored of them."

He'd done such a good job at not chuckling at how cute she was, but that finally made him snort. She raised a brow at the reaction and he grinned, pointing out, "That won't work."

"Why not?" She leaned in, genuinely curious.

He reached up to the earrings, affectionately stroking the delicate lines of the flower she designed. "I won't get bored of them. If you make me another pair, I'll just get my ears pierced again."

"Wh—" She shook her head in disbelief, having expected a more practical answer like 'you shouldn't be making me more earrings on a whim.' "You can't do that!"

He shrugged unapologetically, because he absolutely could do that, and he would. Maybe he could make an appointment sometime soon just to prove it.

Shoulders tense in her defiance, she challenged, "And if I get you another pair after that?"

As if it were obvious - and it was to him - he replied easily, "I'll get them pierced again."

"You'll run out of room eventually!"

"I have other places I could get pierced."

She was looking deadly, comically serious about all of this. She brought a fist up to her mouth, her eyes darting all over him like there might be a big sign hanging on him, saying that he didn't mean it.

He wasn't sure what she was actually looking for, but when she made eye contact again, there was something familiar; something blazing behind her gaze.

With her other hand, she reached out and snagged his sleeve. Her pull was strong, bringing him close enough to where he could feel her little huff against his skin. Then and there, she kissed his skin back, right next to his lips.

It was like a tiny lightning bolt hitting him, sparks spreading out all along his face and down his neck. He couldn't tell if the warmth was from her or his face heating up.

Her hand left his sleeve and pressed against his chest, putting him at arm's length to her. Her own cheeks were red, but that fire in her eyes was still there: her competitiveness.

Looking away from him, she stood up quickly and shouted, "W-we'll see!"

Then she ran off further into the Liberty, as if to flee from the bold move. It didn't serve the purpose of actually running away - he lived there - nor did it clarify on what they would "see" about, but it at least gave him a moment to think.

He'd thought before that she hadn't had any competition to be his best friend, which was still true. He couldn't have imagined anyone who could've taken that place but her, so the only obstacle after that was saying it out loud as far as he was concerned, and they'd done that.

But now there was a second competition he hadn't been aware of, whether that was being the best best friend or whatever else she was aiming for. Regardless, she did have an opponent - him - and he'd seen how merciless she could be when it came to competitions.

One thing was for sure: he was in so much trouble.

[1d-brainrot]

I'm in bed next to my sleeping partner sobbing to ot5, so I think it's time I get this out.

This blog is new, but I am in no way new to the fandom. I grew up very poor and in unstable housing my entire life, so I really looked for comfort in other things - which lead to my love for music. I was 10 years old when the boys hit the US, and they changed my life.

What Makes You Beautiful immediately had me hooked and for the next several years - they were what got me through so much. Even the hardest days were easier when I got home to my poster covered walls and my CD player with the stack of 1D discs next to it.

When the boys broke up I was lost. I had never got to see them live - and beyond that my biggest escape was suddenly gone. But that didn't change too much for me in reality. I still listened, I still loved them, I never gave up.

October 16th, I was in a voice chat on discord with my longest online friend - the only Directioner I met in my childhood that never left my side. She got off call to go to bed, and within 20 minutes I heard the news. I remember just sitting there. Do I call and wake her up? Regardless she's waking up to the news.. I didn't know how to process it myself - how do I even say those words out loud? Is it real?

Over the last week, it's become more real. I went from being a passive fan of their solo careers to being so deep into the ot5 again that they're all I'm thinking about again. These boys were my first special interest. They supported me through my transition without even knowing it.

This fandom is something I wish I would've never drifted from; regardless of the break up. But, I think Liam would be so happy to see all of us together again, listening to the boys again. I think he would be proud of how much we still care. I hope wherever he is, he knows we're still here.

Liam,

Thank you. Thank you for saving my life so many times. Thank you for making me feel heard. Thank you for bringing me some of the most amazing friends and memories that I could've had. Thank you for being my escape. Thank you for being you.

I know life wasn't always kind to you. I know we weren't always kind to you. But I hope you know how much this world loved you. How we still love you. I hope you know that you have changed so many lives and so many people are going to cherish the memories you brought them for the rest of their lives.

We will tell our children about the things you did for us, the songs you played for us, and all the laughs we got to share with you by being in this fandom.

Directioners,

I love you. Rather you're new here or you've been here the whole time, I'm here for you. We're all here for you. Not a single one of you are going through this alone and I promise I will be right here for any of you who need someone.

We have gotten through some hard times as a fandom, but this is easily the hardest. I hope that for Liam, we can keep contact. I hope that this fandom's breath of life isn't temporary. We need each other.

Please drink water, try to sleep, and take this day by day. I am here for any of you, always.

[agaypanic]

could you please do a chase davenport x musical reader ?? she’s constantly asking him “how does this sound” and blessing his ears with her voice. sometimes even asking him to help her play something only for his intelligence to shine and play every instrument perfectly much to her surprise. thanks a bunch !!

His Little Songbird (Chase Davenport X Singer!Reader)

Masterlist

Request Something!

Summary: Chase is the first person you go to for thoughts on something new you’ve written. He’ll do anything to keep hearing your voice.

A/N: i feel like if chase was dating a musical person/singer, hed totally call them his songbird or something equally as cheesy and everyone would think it’s cringey but his s/o would be giggling and shit. Made reader like semi-famous (she’s going on a tour) bc i think thats fun

***

Bringing Chase along on your first tour was probably the best decision you ever made. Being the smartest man in the world, he could handle any technical problem you were having in a flash. He was so supportive, always making sure you took care of yourself and watching every show without ever getting tired of hearing the same set over and over again. Plus, having your boyfriend with you while you traveled around the country was way better than having to text or call whenever you wanted to talk to him.

But one of the coolest things about having Chase with you was that he absolutely loved being the first person you went to when a new song popped into your head.

“Hey, Chase?” You called out, scribbling notes and words in your little notebook. You were hanging out backstage before a sound check and decided to do some writing.

“Yeah?” He answered, appearing by your side almost instantly. He crouched down next to you, glancing at your notes before looking up at you curiously.

“What do you think of this?” You asked, tilting the notebook so he could get a better look. Being a fast reader, he looked at the page briefly before looking back at you.

“Good rhymes.” He said. “Wanna try it?” You nodded, and Chase left, coming back with a guitar and chair. He got settled, and you held the book out for both of you to see. Having bionic super smarts, Chase could easily play any instrument. So whenever you wanted to see how something would sound, he quickly volunteered to grab whatever you had in mind to play along. It sort of made you wish that he would be on stage with you, but Chase insisted that he was better helping you behind the scenes.

Chase started strumming the chords you had written down, waiting for you to start singing. When you did, he had to power through his playing. Chase was always taken aback by your beautiful voice. If you had to take a shot for every time he fawned over your singing, you’d probably get alcohol poisoning in a day.

When you were finished, you and Chase had a small conversation about things to fix, playing the song over and over until you were satisfied. Then, when you were called over to do a sound check, you kissed Chase and gave him the notebook to put in your bag.

Hours later, your concert was in full swing. Chase watched your performance from backstage like he did every show, phone recording the entire time despite it being the same songs. And then, when you were finished, you ran to him like you did every show, and he picked you up and swung you around while telling you how great you did. You knew he actually paid attention because every time, he talked about a different moment that he deemed his favorite of your performance.

While you got changed into something more comfortable in your dressing room, your phone buzzed. Seeing it was a post notification from Chase, you opened it and smiled.

He had posted pictures that he had taken in the past couple of days. It was all mainly you. The two of you at a cute little local cafe. You posing next to your vinyls and CDs being sold at a store you went to to pick up some snacks. Doing your sound check and performance.

The last picture might’ve been your favorite. You were alone on stage, doing an acoustic version of a song you had written for Chase for your first anniversary. Although all of your songs were amazing in his eyes, this one would forever be his favorite. In the picture, you were looking to the side. Not at the camera, but at Chase, giving him a big, loving smile.

You liked the picture and then looked down at the caption.

chase.davenport: my little songbird <3

[ashwhowrites]

Famous daddy part 5

The series has come to an end. I want to thank everyone for the love and support on this fic. I know the parts came at random times but everyone was so patient <3 I hope you enjoy the final part.

Zack was calling call after call. Eddie knew he'd be pissed and he knew Zack would do anything he could to make Eddie regret ever crossing him.

But the small interaction with Y/N gave him all the hope he needed.

~~~

Y/N didn't know what to think. Eddie stayed true to his word and ended his career. A career that he was so desperate for, yet she meant more. She wanted to be cautious, he burned her once and he could easily burn her again. But he publicly left his label, and no management would ever take that lightly.

She couldn't ignore the part of her that was happy. She still loved him, and she knew that wouldn't go away overnight. Knowing that he was fighting for her meant something. It was easy to be away from him when she pretended she hated his existence, but he was digging himself back into her life. She knew if she hated him, she could let him go in a heartbeat.

As the world lost their minds over the news, Eddie felt like his head was more clear than ever. He didn't waste a second to send her a location to meet at.

She wanted to pretend that she fought the idea of seeing him, but she didn't. She grabbed her keys and raced out the door. She ended things, she took time away, and she avoided all contact with him. And did she heal? Not at all. Did she miss him the whole time and wish there was a way to feel better again? Definitely.

She walked through the park, her eyes already catching him on a bench. His head was down, his legs shaking as his elbow rested on it. She could sense his nerves from miles away.

Flowers next to him, a cup of coffee, and a small device.

"I'm here, now what?" She asked, now standing in front of him. His head snapped up. She gasped at his red eyes, like he'd been crying for hours.

"sit please?" He asked, grabbing the flowers and coffee, and handing them over to her as she sat.

She kept the flowers in her lap but sipped on the warm drink. A smiled as he remembered her order from their first date.

"I want to start with I'm so sorry. I know I've apologized and apologized. But I still feel like I need to say it. I made you look like a fool and I regret that so much. I never should have agreed to a shortcut. I should have made it on my own. I don't deserve anything I have, because the only thing I want to deserve is you. You are all that matters to me. Not the music, the fame, and the money. I wish I did everything differently. I wish I never said yes or was man enough to end it when I realized I fucking loved you."

She took in his words but her heart was still spiraling. His career was over, no doubt about that. He proved that she meant more, but was it too late?

"I understand if you never want to see me again. Tell me to fuck off for good, and I promise I will. But I need you to look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me. That I'm too late and I'll never get to make this up to you." He sniffled through his words, his head facing her as he stared at her.

She got the courage to lift her head. Her wet eyes met his. She opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He looked so torn and tired. Selfishly she hoped it was because he lost her and not his music.

"How can I believe you?" She asked.

Eddie grabbed the small device between them.

"A CD of every single song I recorded about you, me, and us. Every single one." He handed it over but she was confused.

"what do I do with this?" She asked

"Break it, set it on fire, run it over with your car. Anything you want. I moved everything to that CD, nothing was left on any devices for my old management to get. I won't make a single dime off of you. Not anymore." He explained.

Y/N appreciated the gesture. A part of her wanted to play it, hear what he had to sing about her.

"Was it real? Did it feel real when you recorded it? Or was it money grabs?" She asked. Either answer would hurt her.

"All real. Everything I felt for you was real. The only unreal part was the beginning. But I fell for you instantly and I didn't write the songs just to make money from it. It was everything I was feeling. You became my muse and it was so easy to write about falling in love with you." He explained.

"Thank you. I'll take it and think about everything. It's going to be hard to act like it didn't happen or that you didn't break my heart. But stupidly enough, I miss you and it kills me to be away from you." She admitted, standing up as she grabbed the flowers, CD, and drink.

"Take all the time you need. Thank you for listening." Eddie smiled.

She gave a small nod and walked away.

Eddie watched until she disappeared. Now all he had to do was wait.

~~~

Y/N plugged her headphones into her computer, the disc spinning inside the laptop as Eddie's voice filled her ears.

Over fifty songs, all just for her. The way he had so much emotion in his voice, conflicted with her. She could hear the moments when he smiled, his voice picking up when he replayed a memory. The more she listened and made it down the list, she sensed a change in his direction.

All the songs now were apologies. His voice cracked throughout the lyrics, and his sniffles mixed in when he got to the end. His voice was powerful and determined.

He took the blame for everything, never once begging for sympathy. He sang about how he deserved every bad thing coming his way.

She was suffering, and he clearly was suffering.

They both missed each other and loved each other.

He did everything she asked. He left the music behind and is focused on fixing things with her. She felt like she was the most important thing to him.

She figured one more chance wouldn't hurt. If she got burned twice by him, she'd learn her lesson and never forgive him again. Right now she could forgive him, and start a new relationship that's based on real words and love. She could go slow and start over. And maybe a happy ending.

~~~

It's been a week since he saw her and he was losing his mind. He wanted to be patient and give her all the time and space she needed. But it was killing him not to know where her head was at.

He almost felt like he stopped breathing when her name popped up on his phone. He answered it as fast as he could.

"Hello."

"Hey Eddie, I've been thinking about us. And I was wondering if you wanted to go out for coffee. For old time's sake, maybe on a first date?"

Eddie felt the biggest smile on his face as her words traveled over the phone. His heart raced and he could feel the excitement bubbling in his stomach.

"YES! Yes, a first date sounds amazing." He rushed out, and a huge sigh of relief passed through his lips.

"How about tomorrow at three?"

"I'll be there, thank you."

"Bye Eds." She smiled.

"Bye Y/N."

He waited until she hung up before he screamed in excitement. His phone was in his hand as he jumped on his couch. Thanking God over and over. Thanking her over and over. Thanking anyone who helped him get a second chance.

"EDDIE! IM STILL HERE!" Y/N laughed over the line.

He froze when he heard her voice, collapsing on his couch as he put the phone to his ear.

"shit, sorry." He panted out.

"All good. I'll see you tomorrow."

This time the phone went dead.

She knew she made the right decision as she felt her stomach flutter again. He sounded so relieved and happy about her decision. He wanted her and she wanted him.

It will take time to build up the trust again. She's going to be cautious with her heart heading into a relationship with him again. But she believed he'd fix all the parts he broke. She believed he was determined to make it work, and that convinced her enough.

Tags!

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[daydreamgoddess14]

The Escape Artist - Chapter 5

This one gave me a bit of a headache, I knew what I wanted but it just wouldn't cooperate! But hey ho and here we are. Enjoy 😘

Masterlist

CH 1 | CH 2 | CH 3 | CH 4

Taglist: @theskytraveler @moonmaiden1996 @acrackintheteacup @succulentthief

It had only taken a few days of lifts to and from school for Clover to fully assert herself as River's passenger Princess. Though Ella begged her not to, she'd clamber over seats, rifle through his CDs and play with the aircon settings. The strangest thing to Ella though, was that he didn't seem to mind at all. It was a stark reminder of just how much interference she'd been running for years between Clover and Eddie - always trying to keep Clover quiet and well behaved so she didn't incur her father's wrath. Clover had, on the surface, coped incredibly well with the recent events but the cracks were beginning to show. 

“Clo, River's outside can we please get a move on?”

“I don't want to wear this top, I want the one without buttons.”

“This is the only one I have for now, I'll get one without buttons as soon as I can.”

“It's not fair. You made me leave all my things behind.”

“I know I did. I'm sorry.”

“I want my pink headband.”

“I'll add it to the list,” Ella sighed. “Now please, let's go.” 

Clover barged past Ella and bounded out of the front door, straight into the passenger seat. Ella could see River talking to Clover who stared straight ahead with her arms crossed and a frown firmly in place. She slid into the backseat behind Clover. “Morning.”

“Hey, you both OK?”

“Fine,” they mumbled in unison. He caught Ella's eye in the rearview mirror and she shrugged. Clover reached out to turn the radio station over and then slumped back in the seat without another word.

Outside the school, River raised his hand in greeting to Coe who nodded. He leaned against the low wall surrounding the school. Ella got out first and held Clover's door open. “C'mon Clo, let's move.”

“I don't want to go,” she kept her arms crossed. Ella sighed. 

“Please, babe? River and I have got to get to work and -”

“Can't I come too?”

“Not today. Look, JK is already waiting for you.”

“Muuuum,” Clover whined miserably. 

“Clo, enough. I need to get you into school.”

“Why? You think he's gonna come and kidnap me?” She whinged and suddenly appeared eighteen to Ella, not eight. She took a deep breath and turned away from the car, rubbing her temples. She felt a sting as the tender skin around her cut was pulled and pushed, and drew her hand away to find she'd opened the cut again. 

“Y’know what, Clo? I have no idea. I just want to get you inside with Coe where I know you're safe and then I want to go and find another plaster for my head, ok? Let's go now , please.” She stressed. 

Inside the car, Clover reached to the backseat and into Ella's bag to pull out a tissue. As she got out of the car, she pushed it into Ella’s hand and marched towards the main school doors without saying goodbye. Coe followed closely behind. 

“She hates me,” Ella said with her head in her hands once she got back into the car. 

“No she doesn't.”

“She does. I've taken her away from her dogs, her favourite toys, her house . She's eight, this might as well be the end of the world to her. She's got Coe sitting in her classroom making her the school weirdo, we can't go anywhere, or do anything. All I've done is swap one prison for another.” 

She turned to face him and he took the tissue from her hand and held it up against the cut with a small amount of pressure. 

“You know that's not true. Hold this,” he waited for her hand to hold the tissue against her forehead and let go so he could continue driving. 

“It's her birthday at the weekend.” She said quietly. “I don't know what to do, River? Happy birthday kiddo, everything is shit and we can't go anywhere.”

“So let's do something?”

“Don't be daft. Lamb is currently wasting all these resources on us, I feel awful having you ferry us around everywhere.”

“I want to help - they all do. You know how miserable it is in that place, at least we can feel like we're actually doing something.” He split his attention between talking to her and the morning traffic building up. 

“She has taken a shine to you all,” Ella admitted softly. “She thinks Shirl and Louisa are just so cool . I'd be jealous if she weren't right.” He parked up and leaned over to move her hand and check whether the bleeding had stopped again. 

“They're alright, I suppose.”

“Don't worry,” she teased, “I'm pretty sure you're still the favourite.” 

“I’d better be,” he said smugly, “I don’t see anyone else letting her listen to Capital radio.”

“You’ll regret giving her radio privileges, I’ve downloaded a couple of Taylor Swift albums for her birthday.” She couldn’t help but smile as his face fell at the news. “Prepare yourself for car karaoke,” she warned happily, shutting the car with him still inside.

She hadn’t managed to sit down with a cup of tea before the ceiling shook unceremoniously above her.

“Your turn,” River told her pointedly. 

“It’s definitely yours.”

“You think you’re playing Taylor Swift in my car? Get up the stairs, Cole.” Ella felt herself flush at his words but if he’d noticed then he didn’t let on, already staring at a screen filled with ancient police e-fits. She made her way to the top floor, the pull in her ribs had noticeably eased off over the weekend.

“Cole.”

“Lamb,” she replied warily, there were two police officers with him in the office.

“These upstanding gentlemen have some questions for you. Now, I can clear off downstairs and bother Cartwright for a bit, or I can stay here, or I can summon one of the other dipshits. Which would you prefer?” Ella’s hands trembled.

“Stay. Please?” He nodded once and leaned back in his chair, feet up on the desk.

“Ms Cole, we’ve been contacted by your husband, Edward Cole? He’s raised claims of assault and kidnapping.” She said nothing, her mouth agape. Lamb tapped his desk with a grubby socked foot.

“Might be a good time to start talking,” he suggested.

“You’ve got to be joking,” she looked at Lamb, incredulous. “I… I’m sorry, he’s said what , exactly?” 

“That you knocked him out with a blunt instrument -”

“It was half a bottle of wine.”

“And kidnapped his daughter.”

“Our daughter. Did he also tell you he’s only been out of prison for a couple of months? Did he tell you why I hit him with a bottle and took our daughter?” Ella asked, not bothering to disguise her anger.

“Well, that’s why we’re here. To follow up.”

“Oh! You want to follow up now, do you? Amazing how you didn’t want to follow up everytime I called anonymously with information about his business activities. Will you be following up on that?”

“If there’s anything else that warrants looking into, then obviously we will -”

The door opened a crack and River peered in before being ushered in further by Lamb. He went over to the desk and bent to speak directly to Lamb without interrupting.

“Something that warrants looking into?” Ella asked, her volume rising. She untucked her t-shirt from her jeans and lifted the hem to the level of her bra, exposing the bruising on her torso. “Does this fit the bill?” She crossed the room towards the officers. “Here, this is what he did to me. This is why I hit him with a fucking bottle.” The officers looked over to Lamb who shrugged unhelpfully. “I’ve got photos going back years of the things he’s done to me. So let’s talk about that instead shall we? Because I would like to report multiple instances of assault.”

“Perhaps we should take this to the station,” the more senior officer suggested nervously.

“I think that’s probably a good idea,” Ella told him through gritted teeth. 

“I did warn you gentlemen that this wouldn’t be straightforward.” Lamb told them with a wicked grin. 

“Would you like to come in our car, or -”

“Would I like to be taken to the station in the backseat of a police car? No, I wouldn’t. Why don’t I follow you shortly? You can go now.” She spun on the spot to see Lamb looking up at an interesting mark on the ceiling while River was disguising a laugh by looking intently at his feet. “Anyone need a cuppa? I fucking do.” 

She sighed and brushed past them both to go back downstairs. The officers were swiftly escorted to the bottom floor by Catherine.

“Well done you,” she said with a warm smile. “One of us will be happy to go with you to the station. Just say the word.”

“Thanks, Catherine. God, what a bloody cheek coming here to talk to me about an assault.” She muttered angrily. River dropped into his chair which groaned in response. “He must be deluded if he thinks he’s got the police in his pocket on this.”

“Make sure you have plenty of photos,” Catherine advised, “If you have reason to believe they’ll side with him then you’ll need evidence and character witnesses.”

“Ugh, this is going to get so messy.” Ella’s words were muffled, her head lay in the folds of her arms on her desk. “I’m not sure I’m ready for this.”

“El?” 

“Hmm?” When River didn’t continue, she forced herself to look up.

“You said you’re going to war.” He told her. Catherine looked on, confused. Ella frowned, processing his comment.

“I did,” she said thoughtfully. “I did say war. Catherine, I am going to fucking war, and I am not going to let Eddie win.” She continued fiercely.

“Oh. Good to know. We’ll be with you all the way,” the older woman said with a smile. 

“Told you,” he said as Catherine left, “they all want to help.”

“I know. But I spent years with Eddie’s mates and their wives and girlfriends turning a blind eye. They knew what was going on in my house and not one of them stood up to him.”

“You’ve got us now.”

“In that case, I’d better go and sweet talk Louisa into another favour. I take you lot to all the fun places. School, supermarket, police station,” she laughed.

“If she says no -”

“I know, I know. But if I paid you back every favour, I’d be doing it for the rest of my life,” she rolled her eyes.

“Fine by me,” he called out as she left. “Good luck.”

*

It turned out going to war was stressful business. Ella had provided a full statement and photographs to the police who’d concurred that she was the correct party to be pressing charges. She was still left in limbo waiting for the call which confirmed that Eddie had been taken into police custody and charged. It had been days. 

“Look, why don't you leave the kiddo with me and go and do something for yourself?” Shirley offered as Ella took another loop of the room, her phone in hand, waiting for it to ring. 

“You?” River interjected before Ella could. 

“Kids love me. Get your hair done, go to the gym, whatever you want” She continued enthusiastically, not noticing Ella's discomfort. 

“Shirley, stop,” Louisa demanded. “You don't need to do any of that unless you want to,” she said to Ella who looked mortified. “Would he say stuff like that?” She asked. 

Ella nodded slowly. 

“Whenever he decided I wasn't making enough effort. He'd dress it up like a reward but it was his way of humiliating me. He made it sound like my own fault he was sleeping around.”

“Fuck. I'm so sorry,” Shirley said, ashamed. 

“Don't be, it didn't bother me. Let some other poor girls deal with the fallout of his performance issues and lack of skill.” Ella said slyly. Shirley cackled.

“Oh my god, the loser couldn't even get you off? For, like, years ? You deserve a medal, that's bullshit.” 

“Total bullshit,” Louisa agreed. 

“You're quiet, tosser,” Shirley kicked the wobbly leg of River's chair. He didn't look up from his computer. 

“I know when to keep my mouth shut,” he told her. “Also, they're right,” he looked up and his gaze lingered on Ella's face for a moment, a hint of a smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. He spoke softly but pointedly, “you do deserve a medal.” 

“Said Cartwright the sex god?” Shirley scoffed, “I don't fuckin’ think so. You're more likely to get punched in the face than get a shag.”

“Did you mean sex god or sex pest?” Louisa teased, “he's definitely a pest but I'm not sure sex has anything to do with it.”

“Annoying, whiney… punchable face? It's been a while actually, I could help you out?” Shirley balled her hand into a fist and rotated it as if warming up. 

“Why’d you need to turn everything into a fight?” He asked.

“Dunno, cos I can?” 

“She's bored.” Ella and Louisa declared in unison. 

“And here I thought we were all being nicer .”

“I'm being nicer to her. Cos her ex, y'know,” Shirley raised her hand - still in a fist - and mimicked stabbing someone, complete with Psycho sound effects, “is nuts. But you,” she looked at River with disdain, “jury's still out.”

“Thanks mate,” he grinned, “you're the best.”

“Anytime, pal .” 

“Alright kids,” Ella interrupted before their bickering escalated. “I'm popping out to get birthday stuff for Clover before I lose my mind waiting for the police to call. Which one of you is on babysitting duty?”

River stood up first.

She loved the feeling of the underground train hurtling towards its next station. It felt like a glorious combination of deathtrap and feat of engineering.

She could hear River complaining under his breath behind her as they pushed through the crowd and onto the train. It was busy for the middle of the working day, a pair of elderly ladies each had a little dog in matching bags at their feet, a man in his twenties with a long ponytail precariously held up an Ikea flatpack box and there were tourists everywhere.

Ella made her way into the aisle between seats and then, realising she had nowhere to hold onto, tried to backtrack. She turned towards River who, on glancing behind him, was already boxed in by people. Ella planted her feet and softened her knees as the train set off again at speed. River held onto the bar above her head with ease and she could see the path of a muscle in his wrist as it travelled along his forearm and up into his bicep.

She'd hustled them out of the building so fast, he’d left his jacket in the car and his keys on his desk, not that she felt at all guilty. The carriage swayed and rocked unsteadily on the tracks and as it slowed for the next station, Ella felt the same flip in her stomach that came from leaning back too far in a chair. Her heart lurched as the driver hit the brakes eagerly and she felt herself falling backwards, her hands automatically stretched out towards River who caught her with an easy hand in the small of her back. 

“Steady,” he said quietly. She huffed a laugh of relief and reset her feet as the hand on her back pulled her half a step closer and moved to her waist. She didn’t flinch. Her mind and heart raced as, for the first time in years, she hadn’t recoiled when someone other than Clover had touched her.

Ella distracted herself by looking at the myriad of posters for musicals rather than at him. She could feel his eyes on her, her body had become well attuned to knowing when she was being watched. Eddie had watched her every move, every day, so she’d gotten used to making her facial expressions as impassive as possible. There was a malevolence with the way he watched her, always with a sneer or a frown of disapproval, but as she caught River’s gaze in their reflection in the glass, there was nothing of the sort.

His hand moved slightly as he dipped his head towards her. “We should get off next.” She nodded, not trusting her voice to speak aloud.

Ella felt herself relax, breathing in whatever he was wearing that held the scent of sandalwood and black tea, whatever it was, it was expensive - she knew. She’d brought enough grooming products over the years. Eddie had always favoured stronger, more overpowering scents as if to match his personality, but River wore something that felt more intimate, as if it was speaking directly to her senses.

She was almost close enough to press her face into his t-shirt and let the scent engulf her. His hand left her waist as the train stopped again and he turned to move towards the doors.

Off the train, he followed in her footsteps as she navigated through crowds of people. Occasionally separated by big groups, he found his way back to her, his light touch on her elbow letting her know he was still there.

She led him up through the tunnels and finally out into central London.

“So,” she said brightly. “I’ve no clue what to get her. Any ideas?” 

“I don’t think I’m the same demographic as your eight year old girl,” he said with a smirk.

“Shit, you don’t like Barbies, Nintendo and Taylor?” She turned aimlessly on the spot, hoping for inspiration.

“Can she skate?” He asked suddenly, pointing out a sports shop.

“Ice?” Ella looked doubtful.

“Roller?”

“Yes!” Her face brightened immediately into a smile. “Perfect,” she pulled him along and into the shop.

Emerging with roller boots, knee pads and helmet, Ella was over the moon. “This is amazing, these are so cute!”

“You could throw her a party?”

“And invite who? She’s an outcast at school at the moment, the kids are all shit scared of Coe. Sofia and Lulu would come, but I’d need to clear it with Flyte.”

“I’ll be there. Catherine, Louisa. Probably Shirley if you tell her there’ll be food.” She thought it over.

“I think that would work, hardly peak cool for nine though - a party with a bunch of grown ups? There is one thing I want to try and sort, but I don’t know if I can do it.”

“Go on?”

“I want to get her dog back from Eddie. She’s got this little - well, not so little - puppy at his place. She had him for Christmas and then not long after, Ed went to prison and I couldn’t get the dog back ‘cos his brother was living at the house. Now I’ve made her leave him behind again . Pretty sure if I could get Eugene back, I’d win brownie points for life.”

“I’m sorry, what was the fucking dog called?” He stopped short in the middle of the street.

“Eugene. From Tangled?” Ella smiled at the complete confusion on River’s face. “It’s her favourite. I’m sure she’ll let you watch it with us? Anyway, she named the dog after him.”

“Eugene,” he muttered with a low laugh. “OK. So we need to try and get Eugene back.”

“Since when did you become such a team player?” She nudged him.

“I’m not.”

“Oh but you are! You’ve reformed.”

“Hmm. Don’t get telling everyone else, they’ll all expect special treatment.” He led her back towards the underground station and on to Slough House. 

*

“Wish my feet were teeny enough to give these a whirl,” Shirley held up the roller boots and stared enviously. 

“You can hire them? When the police finally call me to say Eddie’s been held, I'll be able to take Clo. There's a roller disco every Friday near the safe house.” 

“Oh my god, a roller disco!” Shirley squeaked, “Fucking fuuuun! Do you skate?”

“God, I can, but it's been years. I'll be on my arse in a heartbeat.” Ella laughed, putting hers and River's tea down on the desk. 

“Thanks, El.” He muttered. “Got it, Ho?”

“Nearly there,” Ho typed some more commands. “Ladies and… Cartwright, I give you, the CCTV from the Cole residence.” Ella peered over his shoulder for a closer look. 

“Fuck me, that's weird.” She whispered. 

“You ok?” Shirley kicked her foot causing her balance to shift and she lurched into River who was looking over Ho's other shoulder. 

“Oh, shit Shirl, sorry River,”

“Sorry, you alright?” 

“Yeah, it's just strange. Seeing my own house through the cameras. There he is, there's Genie!” A beagle puppy bounced into view, running around the driveway.

“So, we're dognapping?” Shirley asked eagerly. 

“No. Maybe. I don't know?” Ella looked uncertain, “I just want Clo to have him back. Maybe I should just call Eddie, tell him I want the damn dog back.”

“No fucking way.” River replied through gritted teeth. “There's got to be another way.”

“Well, we can figure it out later,” she decided. Ho's phone buzzed across the desk with a 5pm alarm, “Ho's got places to be.”

“Bitches to see.” He supplied.

“Ugh, keep calling women ‘bitches’ and I doubt you'll see a pussy ever again.” Shirley sneered. 

“If he ever has?” Ella questioned.

“That's true, y'know those fake silicone ones don't count?”

“Oi, what's with the abuse? I've seen many, many pussies actually. More than him ,” he jabbed a thumb in River's direction. 

“Not something to brag about, Rodders. It's not the quantity, it's whether you actually have a clue what to do.” Ella teased. “Now, off you pop, there's a sports sock and a tub of lube waiting for you at home.” Ho blushed as he pulled on his jacket and grabbed his backpack. 

“I think I preferred when you were the quiet one,” he rolled his eyes. “See you fuckers tomorrow.”

“Bye Ho,” Shirley waved, smiling brightly. Ella stifled a loud laugh behind her hand, “have fun!” The wave turned into the universal signal for wanker.

“God, how on earth has he survived this place with you here, Dander?” Ella wondered aloud, a firm hand in River's back gently pushing him to the exit.

“He fucking loves it, mate. I swear he thinks it's foreplay.” She fake heaved and said her goodbyes as she went back up to her office while Ella and River went for the exit. 

“The world could not handle a Ho/Dander love story,” Ella confirmed from the passenger seat of River's car. 

“I don't think they could either,” he sniggered. 

“Good that she's a bit happier, feels like she's found some peace lately.” 

Ella fell into silence during the drive, lost in thought. She envied how free and wild Shirley was, how poised and strong Louisa was. As if reading her mind, River interrupted her thoughts. 

“You'll find it too,” he assured her, pulling up at the school gates. As she turned with a smile, the view through the windscreen made her stop dead. Seeing her pale, he followed her gaze. “That's him?” He asked grimly. She nodded. 

“Fuck, I feel sick.”

“I'll let Coe know to stay inside, I'll get him to call the police. Stay here, just ignore him.”

“Yeah,” Ella felt ready to bolt at any moment. Her legs carried her without thought, as she ignored his suggestion and got out of the car, leaving the door open behind her. 

“Ella,” River called from the car, she didn't turn back. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked calmly. Eddie leaned against the wall of the school. 

“Wanted to see my little angel.”

“She doesn't want to see you.”

“Been poisoning her against me, have you?”

“She saw what you did, Eddie. There's no going back from that.”

“She saw what you did as well, darls. Moving on already?” He gestured behind her where she felt calmed by River's presence.

“You need to leave -”

“Get a fucking grip, Ella. You won't win, I can make you disappear. Nothing but a fucking slut.” She felt River move as he went to launch himself in front of her and towards Eddie. “Hold up, your little puppy wants a scrap,” Eddie laughed. Ella put herself between the two, choosing to face River rather than Eddie. 

“Don't, don't do anything - he's not worth it, River,” she implored as he tried to get around her. “River, please!” She said firmly, placing a hand on his chest and grabbing the cotton of his t-shirt in her hands. “Please don't. I will not let him hurt the people I care about.” She turned back to Eddie and stood firmly against River to hold him back. “Leave, Eddie. It’s done, you don't control me anymore. I'm not going to let you hurt me, or Clo, or anyone I love anymore. We're done.” As she spoke, sirens and blue lights filled the area immediately surrounding the school. She laughed with nervous relief, “see? It's over.”

“If you think that, then you're more stupid than you look, darls. I'll decide when it's done. You're still my wife, you belong to me.”

Police officers surrounded them, slowly approaching Eddie. 

“Eddie Cole, you're under arrest for assault and harassment, get on your knees with your hands behind your head -” one officer called out, Eddie acquiesced but kept his gaze firmly on Ella. 

“It's far from over, darlin’. You won't get rid of me.”

“Fuck off, Eddie. Stay the fuck away from us.”

“Get comfortable, Ella. Shack up with your new boy and relax. I want it to really fucking hurt next time I see you, and him.” He jutted his chin towards River.

He was dragged from the floor and roughly pushed into a police car. An officer approached them - one of the same officers from Lamb's office. 

“Mrs Cole, apologies, it took us a few days to track your husband down.”

“Hmm, isn't it a good job we were here so he wasn't able to get to his daughter?” The officer had the good grace to look ashamed. “Do you need anything from me, or can I go now?” The officer waved them off and went back to his colleagues with his tail between his legs. 

Ella turned away, back to River who'd finally dropped his guard.

“I shouldn't have done that -” he started.

“I shouldn't have stopped you.”

“You were right to, god, I want to fucking kill him myself.” 

Ella felt herself deflate as the fear overtook her, “I’ll never have a life while he's around -”

“You will, of course you will.”

“You heard him, River. Oh my god,” a hand flew to her mouth, “the things he said to you -”

“Ella, forget that, I don't care what he said to me. It's you I'm worried about.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Don't apologise for him. You need to stop apologising for him.” 

She sighed, resigned. “I know,” she murmured. 

“Let's get Clo?” He nudged her towards the door. 

“What am I going to tell her?”

“The truth, El. You can try and protect her from stuff, but you can't lie to her.”

“I never would,” she whispered. 

Coe met them at the door with only a raised eyebrow and a nod, leaving immediately afterwards. Clover sat in the small reception area with her bag at her feet. 

“What's going on? Why wouldn't JK let me out?” She demanded.

“Can I explain at home? Properly?” Ella asked. Clover scuffed her shoes against the carpet and shrugged. 

Ella held out a hand, a peace offering. She could see Clover weighing up what to do next, looking first at Ella and then at River who gave her an encouraging smile.

It felt like an eternity, but Clover's warm hand slid into hers and they went home. 

Despite there being more than enough space for the two of them in the house, Ella climbed into Clover's bed and held her daughter close. 

“Your dad came to school this evening. To see you -” she started.

“Not me,” Clover said softly. “You. He wants us both back.”

“Do you understand why I don't want that, lovey?”

The scent of strawberries from Clover's shampoo filled Ella's nose as the girl nodded. “I believe that the best way to protect you, is for you to live with me. But, Clo, I'm not going to tell you whether you can or can't have a relationship with your dad. That bit needs to be your own decision.”

“So I could still see him? If I wanted to?” Clover asked. 

“If you wanted to still see him, then I'd find a way to make that happen sweetheart.”

“Even though you don't want to?”

“Yeah, Clo. As long as you're safe, I'll make it work.”

“I don't want to.” She said decisively. “I saw him hurt you. And when JK wasn't looking, I saw him today and I thought he'd do it again.”

“You can change your mind, you might as you get older.” Clover shook her head. 

“I only need you.” 

“I love you, my precious girl.” Ella squeezed tighter, her tears falling into Clover’s hair.

*

Steam billowed from the shower as Ella slid the door back and stepped out on the morning of Clover’s birthday a few days later. Louisa had driven them home the night before with River disappearing halfway through the day. Ella ran through the list in her head of everything she needed to get done. 

She glanced quickly at the fading bruises on her stomach, her hand skimming over the dusting of light stretch marks that remained with her nine years after Clover's birth. She was considering taking Shirley up on the suggestion of self defence classes, her body - slim, but soft and pliant - had no strength. 

“Oh my god!” A squeal from downstairs startled her and she yanked a towel from the rail. 

She was still pulling it around her as she reached the bottom step, water dripping to the floor. 

Clover rolled on the living room floor with a brown tangle of fur and limbs. “Mum! It's Eugene!” She shrieked. 

At the centre of the chaos was River. Ella flushed, pulling the towel a little tighter, her arms crossing over her chest.

“You -” she started, her voice hoarse. “You got the dog?” She saw his eyes flick from her face, down her body and back again and shifted self consciously on the spot, pulling a hand free to tug the towel down and cover her legs a little more. 

The dog spotted Ella and bounded over, nipping her ankles and rolling at her feet in greeting. “Genie,” she smiled at the puppy, desperate to reach up to her. With her free hand, she ruffled his ears.

“Can I take Genie outside mum?” Clover asked. 

“Yeah, go on babe, I don't want him to pee on the floor.�� 

With Clover outside, Ella turned back to River. “How'd you get the dog?” She asked, wide eyed with disbelief. 

“Why don't I put the kettle on,” he offered, “you should get dressed. We've got a party to set up haven't we?” He said with a bashful smile. 

Ella got halfway back upstairs when she stopped and turned back to him. 

“You're a good man, River. Good job I didn't listen to Shirley, I knew she was peddling bullshit.”

“Probably wasn't all bullshit, only the good bits.” He smirked on his way to the kitchen, leaving her still dripping water on the stairs.

Chapter 6

[ithinkyouhealedmyheart]

National Boyfriend's Day

Characters: Kendall Knight, Gustavo Rocque mentioned, Veronica Clark oc, James Diamond, Mrs. Knight mentioned,

Pairings: Kendall Knight/Female Original Character(s), Kendall Knight/Veronica Clark

Word Count: 1988

Grammarly is my beta reader

The boys were graciously given the day off for some unknown reason, which was not wholly unknown. Gustavo claimed his throat hurt from all the yelling he had done the day before. But it didn't matter; they didn't have to sing or dance in the recording studio for a whole day.

Ronnie had been doodling a lot the past few days. She had heard about the botanical garden and wanted to go there more than anything, but she was stuck working with Gustavo and the boys. It wasn't like she hated working with them. They were rowdy and louder but had their quiet moments. Since Kelly gave her earplugs on her first day, she hasn't been without them. It was common for her to wear earplugs even if she lounged at the pool with the guys.

Her doodles mainly consisted of various types of flowers. She hadn't been sightseeing since arriving in L.A. a few months ago. Gustavo's been keeping her busy with the prospect of a new album, so it's been taking away from her time. For the time being, she sat in the living room of 3G. Her dad and Mrs. Knight got coffee earlier, leaving her alone in the apartment.

Living in Hollywood was a dream come true. She also heard her music play on the radio because Big Time Rush was a big hit. It was excellent writing music that would sell stadiums and make it onto CDs that teenagers would buy and listen to. But, being behind the scenes was the best of all. She wasn't a fan of all those big crowds or the flash of camera lights. Instead, the boys got to deal with all of that.

A knock was at her door, but she was too in the zone to notice. Music playing softly on the radio, Pink Floyd and David Bowie tapes that her father left in there from his spring cleaning.

"This is your first date. It has to be amazing," James whispered to Kendall. He only tagged along because Lucy wasn't at the pool, and he was bored.

"How many times do you think I should tell you? This isn't our first date, and quit trying to control it." Kendall knocked on the door again.

"I'm sorry, you have a bad track record of asking girls out and keeping them entertained. Shall I remind you of- "

"Don't. Say her name." Kendall sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Do we even know if Ronnie is inside? She could be with Camille,"

"Maybe she can't hear you? She always has those earplugs in." James shrugged. "Oh! Which means she can't hear us talking,"

"For the last time. You don't have to worry about the date I've planned."

"But you won't tell me about it," James pouted. "I want to make sure you take her to the right place and know-"

"You're not her brother. Or her dad." Kendall cut him off sharply. He pulled out his phone and texted her.

Shortly after, the door opened, revealing Ronnie with her faded blue hair dye. She'd meant to touch it up, but everything else had been distracting. She wasn't wearing her yellow sweatshirt. It had been swapped for a plain tank top.

"Sorry, did I keep you guys waiting? What happened?"

James waved and smiled brightly. He was a bit too giddy for her liking, and she wasn't sure if she would be happy about what Kendall had to say. It wasn't odd that they were standing outside her door, but something about it felt suspicious.

"So, uh, there's this new botanical garden that opened, and I was wondering- I was hoping that you wanted to come see it." Kendall was rarely all that nervous, but it was cute when he did trip over his words.

"Of course! But uh," Ronnie glanced down and smiled sheepishly. "Let me go change real quick."

"I think that's fine considering the heat wave-" Kendall elbowed James.

Ronnie left the door open and sauntered into her room, closing that door behind her. Kendall and James glanced at each other before stepping through the threshold. It wasn't that they'd never been in her apartment, but they hadn't been inside without her dad present. He was ex-military and scary. The last thing either of them wanted was for him to come home and assume Kendall and James were there for less-than-safe for work activities.

"Oh, hey, her notebook!" James's eyes sparkled as he made his way over to the beige couch. He didn't pick it up but leaned over to look at what she was doing.

"Does she have any new song ideas?" Kendall joined him, but he was too afraid to touch her notebook. It was one thing if Ronnie caught them looking at it, but an entirely different ordeal if they picked it up and started flipping through.

"I know it's scorching out, but I can't go anywhere without my hoodie. At least I have short-" Ronnie's bedroom door creaked when it opened, and the three stood still, staring at each other. Not only were Kendall and James caught red-handed, but they also froze like deer in headlights.

"What are you doing?" Ronnie narrowed her eyes.

"You left it open!" James whined, shuffling away and holding his hands up. "If you're going to hurt us, don't touch the face!"

"I'm not going to hit you. It's not like you would see the new song I'm working on anyway,"

"Are you sure you want to wear your hoodie?" Kendall asked. He was wearing cargo shorts and a T-shirt.

"I'll be fine." Ronnie shrugged. "Now, get out. I'm not leaving my apartment unlocked with three idiots all day. That's asking for something to get broken." She shooed the guys with her hands.

"Aw, but I wanted to see your dad's face when he gets back." James mocked.

"I bet he'll be happy to see you later." Ronnie rolled her eyes.

~~~

It was no surprise that Ronnie hated buses. She hated the crowds, the limited number of seats, and, most of all, the smell of L.A. passengers. A purse dog with dead eyes was staring straight at her, and she stared back, nearly crushing Kendall's hand. The bus was noisy because of the people on it and because it sounded like the moving vehicle would fall apart at any given chance.

Kendall was standing, holding onto the bar above his head. He moved to block the small purse dog from her sight and gently rang his thumb over her knuckles. He could tell from a mile away that she was getting overwhelmed. As much as she tried to hide it, she wasn't really good at it.

Ronnie didn't want it to seem like everything in this city was overwhelming, but when the only place she had been to was the Palm Woods, everything was overwhelming. But it wasn't for a lack of trying. She rested her head against the back of the uncomfortable plastic seat and closed her eyes. The bus ride would be shorter than it seemed. It was easy to get caught up in it all.

Originally, Kendall would have asked his mom to take them to the botanical gardens, but she was away, and he couldn't ask Gustavo or Kelly to drive them. A limo would attract suspicion, which would, in turn, alert a border of fangirls. It had been a hot minute since he last rode the bus; he was too used to having a driver, and now that he and his friends were famous. However, they would have taken the train if they had been in Northern California.

As soon as the bus finally stopped at their destination, Ronnie hopped out of her seat and whizzed past the bus driver. Her thanks were drowned out by her feet hitting the steps. Kendall followed after, thanking the bus driver more prominently. Even though the bus had yet to pull away, Ronnie couldn't contain her excitement. She jumped up and down, clapping her hands with a big smile. Kendall wasn't embarrassed to be seen with her. He was glad he could make her happy.

"We could never start a garden back in Vermont, which was a bummer because everything always looked so gray. Also, Scout would eat whatever flowers we planted, which was a hazard to his health. My dad doesn't have the best green thumb either-" Ronnie rambled while she led him by the hand, taking a big breath before launching into the second part of what she was saying.

"Easy, easy. Don't forget to breathe." Kendall chuckled. He would follow wherever she would go, even to the ends of the earth.

"Sorry, sorry. I swear, sometimes I need one of those cool devices that tells you when to drink water, but instead for when I need to breathe." Ronnie laughed and played with the drawstring of her hoodie with her free hand.

"If you got one of those, you would throw it against the wall."

"Well, yeah, but it would be useful for a little while."

Kendall showed the man at the door their tickets, and they each passed through a metal detector. Luckily, it didn't go off. When they were in the lobby, Ronnie froze. Her eyes went wide and sparkled. Her head swiveled, trying to take in every detail about the botanical gardens. Kendall was even taken aback by how pretty it was, too. 

There was greenery everywhere. It was the perfect place for Poison Ivy’s secret lair. There were halls divided up by seasons. Wordlessly, Ronnie took the blonde's hand and led him toward the Spring hall. When did she get so strong? He nearly tripped over himself, trying to follow after her. In a way, she was like a kid in a candy store. Wait, no, she was like Gustavo when she spent the night at 2J because Griffin took his mansion away. And her smile was infectious. He honestly didn’t mind getting pulled around. He hadn’t realized just how pretty nature was before now. When James suggested the botanical gardens, he shrugged it off but this place was ethereal. Although he would have preferred playing street hockey with his friends this wasn’t the worst way to spend his time. 

Did he mention how pretty Ronnie’s smile was? 

Kendall, pretty much, spent the day admiring Ronnie while she admired plants and talked about them. She wasn’t the most knowledgeable about them but she was passionate. Maybe this little adventure could even spark some inspiration? At least Kendall could only hope. He really just wanted to know what their next song was going to be about, because Gustavo wouldn’t tell them anything. But, he could ask her about it any other day. Ronnie didn’t stop holding his hand either, and he was on cloud nine. It was the cutests thing. She was the cutest thing. Now that he thought about it, he should take her on dates more often. She deserved it to be honest. 

Plants weren’t just pretty, but they played an important role in symbolism. Bouquets could be used to relay a hidden message, and different colors had different meanings across all genes. The only thing Kendall knew was that roses were used to symbolize love. It was why he always got roses for his mother on valentine's day, because he loved and cherished her more than anything. Ronnie prattled off about the symbolism of different roses and even different flowers. But, he was too busy paying attention to the sparkle in her eye to understand anything she was saying. At least he found out that she liked Lisianthus, whatever that was. 

And by the time they were ready to come home, Ronnie leaned her head on Kendall’s shoulders and her eyes fluttered shut. She had tired herself out. 

“Best, day, ever.” She mumbled sleepily. 

“Best date ever.” Kendall clarified with a small smile.

[queen-of-writing-bad-things]

Henry Danger Reader Insert | Captain Man x Reader: SEASON 1

Episode 9: Birthday Girl Down

~Henry's house~

Henry, Charlotte, Jasper and one of their other friends from school were all sat on Henry's couch, studying the periodic table.

"Okay..." Charlotte showed her PearPad to Jasper, which had a 'B' symbol on it.

"Boron, okay....atomic number five, category metalloid." He recalled, feeling proud that his chemistry revision was finally sinking in.

"Doesn't your grandfather have metalloids?" Henry looked at Charlotte, thinking that it was a disease.

"Yeah, he can't sit down." She replied without looking up from her tablet. This time, it was Jasper's turn to test Henry, showing him a 'Cd' symbol.

"Canadium, a person from Canada...mium. Personality, Canadian-ish." He guessed incorrectly.

"It's cadmium. Atomic number 48. Category, transition metal." Charlotte answered for him, being right, of course, because it was Charlotte.

"Ohhhh, and once again Charlotte gets the answer right." They all started to clap sarcastically, laughing with each other.

"Yeah..too bad I don't know the atomic number for idiot boys." She sassed, not letting them get her down. They all shouted again at her burn, as she put her PearPad back in her bag.

"So, hey, what are we all doing Saturday night?" Henry asked his friends. They all looked around awkwardly, giving him the suspicion that they knew something he didn't.

"You guys wanna play miniature golf?" He asked enthusiastically.

"No." Was the answer he got from all of them.

"You wanna play enormous golf?" He said as a joke, but they still gave no answer.

"Hello?" He looked at them, wondering why they were so quiet.

"He's gonna find out." Charlotte sighed to Jasper.

"Well, I'm not telling him." He told her, putting his hands in the air.

"What? Come on, no secrets. Flashback?" Henry was eager to know what was going on, so he looked to the boy sat quietly on the end of the sofa.

"Why you asking me? This is the first time I've even been invited to your house." He said as an excuse.

"Ugh, alright." Charlotte gave in when Henry looked at her, so she returned to her seat next to him.

"Henry... We're all going to Debbie Putch's birthday party." She revealed to the blond boy, making him look around in confusion, only to see them nod in confirmation.

"But... I didn't get an invitation." He said, making them feel awkward.

"Is that a big surprise?" Jasper asked his best friend, who looked back at him, offended.

"You know why," Flashback added. Henry got up from his seat in frustration.

"It's not fair!" He said to his friends.

"You almost killed her." Jasper reminded him.

"No, I didn't." Henry insisted as the doorbell rang.

"Who's here?" Flashback asked.

"Our food," Henry told him in an annoyed tone and he went to see the delivery guy.

"Sushi Dushi!" The man said in a cheery voice, holding out a large platter of sushi to Henry.

"Here's my mom's credit card." He gave the piece of plastic to the guy and accepted the food from him. 

"Don't be mad." Charlotte tried to calm him down, as he brought it over to the coffee table.

"I am mad." He snapped back.

"Well, you can't blame Debbie," Jasper told him.

"I blame Debbie. I blame her parents and I blame anyone else who thinks it was my fault." Henry exclaimed in anger.

"Hey." The sushi guy interrupted.

"Yeah?" 

"What are you so ticked off about?" The dude asked.

"Why do you wanna know?" They all looked at him with weirded-out expressions.

"Hey man, just because I deliver sushi, doesn't mean I don't have curiosities." The man whined back.

"Tell him what happened." Charlotte looked to her friend.

"No, I've already told the story, like, a thousand times." Henry didn't want to remember that unfortunate night.

"Flashback? Tell the guy how Henry almost killed Debbie." Jasper asked the boy on his right.

'All right. It all went down at Debbie's last birthday party. And it almost was her last." He smirked and leaned forward, making the delivery man sit down in amazement.

"Tell me more."

"Okay, try to visualise this. Debbie was turning 13 years old, and she was getting everything ready for her party, way up on the roof of her parent's condo." 

~Flashback~

"It looked like it was going to be the best birthday party ever."

"Mom, this is going to be the best birthday party ever," Debbie said to her mom in excitement.

"It will be if we get everything ready." Her mom put her hands on her daughter's arms.

"Excuse me, I'd like to get some pics of the kids helping me set up?" She said, grabbing the party photographer, who quickly started taking photos of everyone on the roof.

"Okay, all the balloons have been blown up. What else can we do?" Charlotte came over to her and reported how everything was going.

"Uh... let's see. Oooh, why don't you and the boys check out the ball machine and make sure it works?" She suggested, pointing at the machine by the doors.

"Sure. You guys, let's make sure this ball thing works!" Charlotte yelled to Jasper and Oliver Pook. They grabbed a bat and Charlotte put a ball into the tube.

"Set the ball speed nice and slow. Level two." Jasper told her, not wanting the ball to injure someone. The machine fired, but Oliver didn't even swing. Sydney clapped excitedly though.

"Anyone see where it went?" Oliver said. Jasper ran over to the edge of the roof snd saw the ball hit a car, which then hit another car.

"You hit that Prius!" He yelled in horror, watching the accident unfold. The door opened and in came Henry, dragging a whiny Piper behind him.

"Hey guys, sorry I'm late." He greeted the rooftop.

"I wanna go to the Pear store!" Piper screamed at her brother, who turned to Debbie.

"Later. This is my little sister, Piper." He introduced them.

"Oh, hi, Piper." The teen girl smiled at her, but Piper just pulled a face at her.

"Sorry I brought her, but I had to babysit tonight." He explained to Debbie.

"Like I wanna be here?" His sister retorted at him. 

"Aw, I'm sure you'll have a--" Debbie's mom was interrupted as Piper shoved her phone into her face.

"Look at my phone!" 

"The screen's broken." Debbie immediately noticed.

"No kidding, girl." Piper said sarcastically.

"Hey Debbie, want to come hit a ball?" Jasper butted in and the birthday girl happily accepted. Mrs Putch called Charlotte to help her with the gift bags, leaving Henry with his sister.

"Henry, go work the ball machine," Charlotte told him.

"Okay, I'm just going to grab a chip." Henry agreed as Piper struggled with her phone.

"I can't read my stupid screen!" She yelled, flicking the cracked screen and squinting at it.

"Okay, get ready, birthday girl." Jasper smiled at Debbie, who was preparing to swing the bat in her hand.

"Do it, Henry." The curly-haired boy called to his friend, who ran back to the ball machine.

"All right, here it comes!" He pressed the button and the ball flew it at lightning speed.

"And that's when things went real bad for Debbie." The ball hit Debbie square in her chest, forcing her backwards and over the edge of the roof. Screaming on the way down, she landed on a dog, as her friends and mother ran to the ledge. They looked down and saw Debbie groaning in pain, a dog walker looking up at them in horror and confusion.

"Stop taking pictures and call 9-1-1!" Mrs Putch yelled at the photography, who quickly ran off. She looked at Henry.

"How did this happen?" She asked him in a shrill voice.

"Henry made the ball go at like, 90 miles an hour." Jasper pointed at the ball machine.

"What...me?" Henry looked flabbergasted at the accusations.

"Henry, you set the ball speed to 11." The distraught mother said to him after checking the machine.

"No, I didn't!" The blond boy insisted.

"Henry, why would you do that?" Oliver Pook blamed him.

"Charlotte?" Henry looked to his friend for support.

"I set it to two." She explained, which didn't help Henry's case.

"And you were the only one standing near the machine," Sydney added. 

"But I..." Henry stuttered, not knowing what to say.

"Security!" Debbie's mother called the guards, wanting the teen gone.

"I didn't do anything!" Was all Henry could protest, as two men came and dragged him out of the building, kicking and screaming.

~End of flashback~

"And then ol' Henry got kicked out of the party before it ever got started." Flashback finished the story for the Sushi Dushi guy, who had now sat down at the coffee table and was eating with the kids.

"'Cause Henry's the one who set the ball machine to 11. Amen." Flashback looked back down to his sushi, as Henry protested.

"It wasn't me." He tried to tell them.

"He says it was you." The delivery man said.

"Are you meant to be eating our sushi?" Henry looked at him confused.

"No, I'm not supposed to be." The dude just shrugged with his mouth full.

"Henry, you might feel better if you just admit that you did it," Jasper said to the boy on his left. Henry grabbed his chopsticks and snapped them in half with a scowl on his face.

"You guys see the rage in this kid?" Jasper said to the group.

"Where I come from, a man who knocks a pretty girl off a roof, on her birthday, is no man." The sushi man said, which made Henry feel even worse.

"Will you tell these guys that I didn't set the machine to 11?" He tried to get Charlotte on his side.

"I can't." She told him.

"Why not?"

"'Cause, you did it." Charlotte looked at the sushi guy, so Henry broke her chopsticks too.

~The Man Cave~

Henry stumbled from the elevator, seeing Ray at the back of the Man Cave and (y/n) sat on the couch. 

"Hey, you called me?" The boy looked at his boss.

"Yeah, check out what's in that bin." Ray pointed to a black box on top of a table near the elevator.

"Okay." Henry opened the lid and saw that the box was full of underwear, shirts, pants, but mainly underwear. 

"What is..." Henry looked at him in disgust, as (y/n) looked over from where she was sat.

"I want you to do my laundry." The man said in a pleasant voice, making Henry immediately drop the underwear back in the bin. Okay, he was gonna have to bleach his fingers after this. 

"Ew, no!" 

"Raymond! Why would you do that to him?" (y/n) threw her head back in annoyance. Suddenly, a beeping noise went off, only Henry had never heard it before.

"What does that sound mean?" The boy asked his boss.

"That we have a delivery," Ray told him, as a pizza box came down the tube.

"Huh." Ray went to pick up the food, as (y/n) came over, her curiosity getting the better of her.

"Did you order a pizza?" She asked Henry, knowing that Ray hadn't as they had been together all morning and she'd had rather a heavy lunch so the fact that they now had unknown food deliveries was odd. 

"No." Henry denied. Opening the box, Ray smiled at the two and started to read the note written on the box.

"Hey, get this. "Dear Captain Man, our daughter, Debbie, is having her birthday party Saturday night."" Henry groaned at the mention of the party, feeling like it was following him everywhere he went. 

"Oh no, Debbie?" He complained, groaning at the thought of the girl and how she and her parents hated his guts. 

"Shhh. "We're inviting some of Debbie's favourite celebrities, including you and Miss Swellview." Ohhhh, she's so hot." Ray squealed looking at his friends, but he failed to see how dejected (y/n) looked at the mention of the beauty queen. The thought of Ray spending an entire evening with the beautiful woman made her feel small and inferior, like she was at the bottom of the pile, the last person he'd ever want to go out with since he had models and pageant wives throwing themselves at his feet. 

"Will you please stop reading the box?" Henry asked him, not wanting to hear more about Debbie, or see the woman next to him sad.

"No. So, if you'll agree to come to Debbie's party, you may cash the enclosed check for twelve thousand dollars. Whoa, look at this check!" He said holding it out, but (y/n) was too upset to care about the injection of cash into their bank account, so she didn't share his happiness nor did she give the cheque much attention. 

"It has pizza grease on it." She said in a monotone voice.

"I know." Ray smiled back, not realising she was in a bad mood.

"Fine, go to her party with every other kid in my class except me," Henry whined.

"Why aren't you invited?" (y/n) put her hand on his shoulder.

"'Cause I was at Debbie's birthday party last year and everyone thinks I shot her in the face with a rubber ball and knocked her off the roof. Onto a dog." He explained and the young woman looked at him with sympathy whilst Ray munched on a pizza slice.

"Oh, yeah. I remember hearing about that on the news. You did that?" Ray asked him, his best friend frowning at how happy he seemed.

"No! Everyone just thinks it was me." He insisted on his innocence.

"Henry, it's just me, (y/n) and you here." Ray walked towards the kid.

"So?" The boy asked confused.

"Why'd you shoot Debbie in the face?" Ray wanted to know, putting the pizza in his mouth. (y/n) and Henry groaned together.

"I didn't. Man, even you don't believe me." Henry couldn't believe that his boss didn't think he was telling the truth, the guy counted on him in life or death situations.

"I believe you." (y/n) told him, which made him feel slightly better.

"Do you want me to believe you?" Ray asked the boy.

"Yeah," Henry replied.

"Can I feel your head with my truth fingers?" The man questioned him.

"Sure you can-- feel my what with your what?" The teen looked extremely weirded out.

"Does this mean I have to go in the back and get everything ready?" (y/n) looked at Ray in annoyance.

"Yeah." He smiled at her, but she just glared back. He was really ticking her off today.

~

Having set the machine up, (y/n) motioned for Henry to sit down in the red spongy chair, as Ray pulled on the special gloves.

"Is this gonna be weird?" Henry asked as the woman pressed a few settings on the screen.

"No," Ray said from behind him.

"Yes, it is." (y/n) deadpanned.

"No, it's not," Ray said in an unusually stern tone, at which (y/n) tutted. Henry could feel the tension between them, and it wasn't comfortable to sit in-between.

"Okay." Ray lifted up his gloved hands, the fingertips covered in glowing censors. He moved past (y/n) without a word.

"Now, I'm going to rub my finger nodules all over your head and face," Ray said, as the woman did some final checks.

"So, what would be weird to you?" She said with an irritated voice, but the man just ignored her. Henry decided that he hated it when they fought. He wanted them to go back to their silly, oblivious selves who were hopelessly in love with each other, even if they'd never admit it to themselves, let alone each other.

"See, these blinky things read human brainwaves, like a lie detector but way more sophisticated," Ray explained how it worked to Henry.

"Whatever, just do it." Henry settled back into his chair, ready for the test to begin.

"All right, we're ready." (y/n) pressed the go button and Ray placed his hands on Henry's head, rubbing them over his scalp.

"Think about Debbie's birthday party," Ray said, working his fingers on the boy's head.

"Debbie's birthday party," Henry repeated slowly, his brainwaves picking up on the machine.

"One year ago." Ray carried on.

"One year ago," Henry repeated.

"When a ball knocked her off the roof." (y/n) scanned his results, and so far everything was normal.

"His heart rate is spiking." She reported.

"Off the roof." 

"Because you changed the ball speed from 2 to 11." Ray looked at his friend's back. He hated it when they weren't on good terms, even though he didn't know why she was so upset.

"No, I did not," Henry said truthfully. 

"Why do you tell lies?" Ray rubbed his hands faster over the teen's hair.

"I don't tell lies." Henry insisted.

"Brainwaves say he's telling the truth." (y/n) said over her shoulder.

"Do you feel pretty when you tell lies?" Ray asked him, and the woman furrowed her eyebrows at his odd question, but she remained quiet.

"You said this wouldn't get weird." Henry's humour wasn't prohibited by the machine, and Ray quickly ended the test, leaning over (y/n)'s shoulder to see the results.

"I believe you." He said to Henry.

"Really?" The boy asked with a joyful voice.

"Yeah." His boss smiled.

"Told you he was telling the truth." (y/n) piped up, but Ray still wasn't talking to her. He didn't want to be on the receiving end of her sharp tongue, so he thought it would be best to just say nothing.

"But that doesn't mean everyone will." Ray continued.

"So you felt my face for nothing," Henry complained.

"No. Now, we're going to find out the truth." (y/n) said, walking over to them after turning off the machine.

"But you both know already that I didn't do it," Henry replied.

"Yeah, but to know the full truth we've got to find out who did do it. That's the key slice of truth we need to complete the entire truth pie." Ray said, looking thoughtful.

"Ooooh, can we get some actual pie?" Henry asked, smiling up at his boss.

"I like the way you think about pie." Ray pointed a finger at him, as (y/n) felt her annoyance building again. Man, she was having just one of those days.

"Focus." She slapped both of them on the shoulder, bringing them back onto the problem at hand.

"So, how do we find out who really did change the ball speed from 2 to 11?" Henry looked at them both, the adults thinking over the situation.

"Easy. We're gonna dress up like foreign filmmakers and interview everyone on that roof when Debbie's face got smacked by the ball."

"And then we eat pie," Henry commented.

And then we eat pie." Ray nodded with him.

"Wow, Holmes, how do you come up with these brilliant plans?" (y/n) said in passing, as she walked away from the two and went through the sprocket, needing the comfort of her bed.

"What's up with her?" Ray looked at Henry with a perplexed face.

"Dude, you're so stupid." Henry just looked at him in disbelief.

~The next day, Swellview high~

Henry and Ray had donned ridiculous disguises. Wearing dark hats and tinted glasses, they had taken to speaking in strange, German accents. Charlotte looked at them with a bored expression.

"And vhere vere you vhen Debbie flew off zhe roof-us? Ray asked her.

"Yah, vhere vere you?" Henry repeated, his accent not as good but the effort was there. 

"VHERE?" Ray shouted through his megaphone.

"I know it's you, guys" She sighed at them, seeing through their pathetic costumes.

"Vhat guys?" Henry asked her.

"Ve are German filmmakers." Ray tried to say, but it didn't convince her.

"Yah, ve German." Henry nodded with his boss.

"Ve like veiner schnitzel." The man spoke.

"We also like to say veiner schnitzel." Henry joked.

"Veiner schnitzel." Ray let the words roll off his tongue.

"Yah, veiner schnitzel." Henry loved that phrase.

"I know, you're Henry and Ray. P.S, your accents are terrible. Does (y/n) know you're doing this?" She asked the two. 

"They're fighting, will you just answer our questions?" Henry took off his glasses, as Ray's stomach dropped at the mention of (y/n). She hadn't spoken to him last night when he got back from his crime fighting, and he was missing the familiarity of his best friend.

"We have a lot of these interviews to do." He snapped.

"Go ahead." Charlotte felt the need to drop the subject of the young woman, sensing it was a touchy subject.

~Back to the Man Cave~

"Okay, vhere vere you vhen Debbie flew off zhe roof-us?" Ray interviewed her.

"Well, Henry and Ray..." Charlotte's interview was one of several on the monitors inside the Man Cave.

"I was helping Debbie's mom with the gift bags, I was nowhere near the ball machine." Her voice came through the speakers.

"Do you think ve can believe her?" Ray said to Henry, using his German accent.

"Dude, it's just us and (y/n) here. You can drop the accent." Henry smiled at him, and the woman looked at the boy when she heard her name. 

"Geez, ma, why you always got to pee in my skeezits?" Ray whined at him, making (y/n) smile behind his back. She'd calmed down in the time they had been to the school and come back, but Ray still seemed to be on edge around her. She just needed the right time to apologise.

"I'm trying to prove I'm innocent." Henry reminded him.

"All right. Play the section from video four again." Ray replied, getting ready to write ideas down.

"Vhere vere you vhen Debbie vas knocked off the roof?" German Ray said onscreen to Jasper.

"Yah, vere youuuu?" Jasper looked at them weirdly but answered the question anyway.

"I was on the roof." He stated.

"Achtung!"

"Gesundheit!" The superhero duo exclaimed in frustration. 

"Video three," Ray said to Henry, having seen enough of Jasper.

"Yeah, I've always like Debbie. Except for one time in fourth grade, she told on a teacher that me and Sydney were eating bugs. That made me feel hatred." Ray and (y/n) screwed their faces up in disgust, as the older man wrote down a few notes about Oliver Pook.

"Okay, first, I only chewed the bugs. I did not swallow. And anyway, Henry's the one who changed the ball speed." Sydney Birnbaum said, following up on what Oliver said.

"No, I didn't!" The teen piped up, shouting at his classmate onscreen.

"Video six." (y/n) made him move on before he could get any angrier.

"NO, I DIDN'T CHANGE THE STUPID BALL SPEED!" Piper yelled at the camera, making the woman wince. Taking the pen off of Ray, she noted down 'Brat' under Piper's name, making him smile. Finally, things were beginning to calm down between them.

"Get out of my face!" Piper slammed the door, so Henry swiped to the next clip.

"Look, I felt really bad when Debbie fell off the roof, even though she used to make fun of my bucket collection. I'm a bucketeer!" Jasper flashed his badge at the camera, and Ray made sure to write 'bucket' on the board.

"Okay, I guess I felt a little bit jealous when Debbie won the spelling bee last year. But I'm over it. That should have been my trophy!" Charlotte revealed her anger to the camera.

"Is that vhy you changed zhe ball speed?" Ray quizzed the screen back on Oliver.

"I wanna talk to a lawyer." He said in his usual flat tone.

"Video 15," Ray called out.

"I... I know nothing about any of this. Can someone get my manager, please? I don't think these guys are even German." Some mystery guy called Nathan stuttered as he came on screen.

"Hey, he's cute." (y/n) smiled at the screen, checking the guy out. Ray angrily wrote an exclamation mark on the board, not liking how (y/n) looked at him.

"Oh please, he's a foetus." Ray scoffed, but Henry quickly switched off the screen. Ray realised what time it was and quickly came up with a lie that would allow him to leave. 

"So I'm going to... I got to go buy some socks." Ray checked his watch, trying to sneak off to the party.

"Socks? Right now?" (y/n) asked him, she wanted to make up with him and she couldn't do that if he was buying socks. 

"Yeah, it's an emergency." Ray slowly started walking backwards.

"But we still haven't figured out who made Debbie fly off the roof." Henry pointed out, not understanding why Ray wanted to leave so urgently.

"But, hey! You still got that thumb drive with all the pics from the party. Check those for evidence." Ray hoped that would make him feel better, but it didn't.

"Are you going to the party?" (y/n) questioned him, putting the pieces together when she remembered that it was Saturday evening.

"No, check the pics." Ray laughed off her question.

"Okay." She and Henry didn't sound too convinced, but they started to flick through the photos. Whilst they were preoccupied, Ray took his gum tube out and popped a gumball. Putting it into his mouth, he began to blow and then sneaked towards the tube once he had transformed.

"HEY!" (y/n) shouted at him as she turned around, knowing the only time he was quiet was when he was up to no good.

"I knew it. I knew you were going to Debbie's party." Henry yelled at him too, and they stalked towards Ray.

"Miss Swellview's gonna be there!" Ray wailed. He wanted to be around other girls, so he could take his mind off how (y/n) would never go out with a guy like him. The friendzone was where he lived and he hated it, so he might as well knock on other doors. 

"You better not go! Think of Henry's feelings." (y/n) warned him with a pointed finger, still hating the idea of him being all over the beauty queen.

"Okay, I won't go," Ray mumbled and shuffled his feet.

"Good." Henry dragged (y/n) back to the computer by her wrist. With their backs turned again, Ray stepped back into place and hit his belt, causing the tube to come down.

"Up the tube." He whispered as the two looked at him again in horror.

"RAYMOND!" (y/n) shouted after him, but it was no use.

"Hey! Where I come from, a man who lies about socks is no man!" Henry yelled too, but he just let out a sigh when he knew that Ray was long gone.

"He really pisses me off sometimes." (y/n) grumbled under her breath, as she and Henry plodded back to the computer.

"I suppose we should check the pics." He said to her in a bored tone and plopped down into the computer chair. He scrolled through the photos, most of them just selfies, but then something caught (y/n)'s eyes.

"Wait, wait, wait! Go back to that last one!" She said, and Henry flicked backwards, not seeing what she saw.

"What?" He asked with his eyes squinted.

"Look, those two pictures. See something peculiar?" She smirked down at him and pointed at the screen. Henry's eye's widened in realisation and he smiled up at her.

"Oh my god, we got to get to that party." He said, swiftly getting up from his chair.

"We?" The young woman's eyebrows rose.

"Yeah, you gotta talk to Ray. Straighten things out." He said as he downloaded the photos to his phone.

"Like he'll be able to hear me over Miss Swellview's giggling." She said bitterly.

"You're his best friend, he'll listen to you." Henry insisted, and they walked to the tubes.

"He irritates the hell outta me." She told him as the tubes fell down.

"You love him," Henry smirked at her.

"Shut up!" (y/n) blushed and tried to deny it, but Henry just gave her a coy grin.

"Up the tube!" They shot upwards, with the hope that they could prove Henry's innocence and patch up a friendship.

~Debbie's party~

The party was buzzing, as Ray posed for photos with all the kids. There was a trampoline at the back of the floor, with Jasper and Charlotte bouncing on it. It was a dangerous spot to leave it, so close to the edge, but no one seemed to care.

"Excuse me, Captain Man?" Mr and Mrs Putch walked up to the superhero.

"Yes, hello, citizens." He greeted them.

"We're Debbie's parents." Mr Putch introduced them.

"And this is Debbie, our birthday girl. She's so excited that you're here." The young girl rushed over, excited to meet her idol.

"Well, it's great to meet you, Debbie, and your wealthy parents." Ray smiled, knowing that his appearance tonight meant that he was in line for $12,000.

"Oh, don't you remember? You and I...We met a long time ago." The blonde lady smirked at him, her husband frowning at the new knowledge.

"We did?" Ray had flirted and gone out with so many women in his 33 years of living, he wasn't sure which one Debbie's mom was.

"What?" Mr Putch looked at his wife with a frown, the information apparently being a surprise to him.

"Yeah, remember the Swellview rodeo? I was a waitress and after the rodeo, you invited me back to--" Her story made the memory click together in Ray's mind.

"Ohhhh, yes. It's so great to see you again, here with your husband." The superhero felt awkward, but suddenly, everyone's eyes were on Henry and (y/n) as they came through the door. Ray's smile fell when he saw the two asking the DJ for the mic. He recalled how he left them in the Man Cave to come party, and how distraught the girl's face was as he went up the tube.

Henry snatched the mic from the DJ's hand, after (y/n) gave him some very select words.

"Hey! Everyone! Over here! Hello?" The teen called out to the crowd, and everyone looked at the two colleagues. For once in her life, (y/n) didn't feel nervous in front of the crowd. She knew she and Henry were in the right, and they were in the wrong.

"That's Henry Hart."

"Why is he here? And who's that girl?" Debbie and her mother objected.

"What happened with you and Captain Man after the rodeo?" Mr Putch asked his wife, wanting to know just how far they'd gone.

"Okay, I know everyone's freaked out to see me here 'cause of what happened last year." Henry started off.

"Sing Wrecking Ball!" Oliver Pook shouted at him, and (y/n) looked at him with a weirded-out face.

"No, we're not here to sing." (y/n) told him, pulling the microphone in Henry's hands to her lips.

"Yeah, we're here 'cause you all think I did something that I didn't do." The boy carried on from her.

"You were the only one standing by the ball machine!" Debbie yelled at him, and the people around her vocally agreed her.

"Hey, Henry! You got to try some of these meatballs!" Jasper said to him through a mouthful of food.

"Look, I get why you all thought I was the one who turned up the ball speed, but maybe it wasn't me. Maybe it was someone else. Like Charlotte." The crowd gasp at the accusation.

"She was always jealous ever since Debbie beat her in the Swellview spelling bee." (y/n) told them.

"Well, you all know that trophy should've been mine." Charlotte hissed to the crowd.

"Or, it could've been Jasper." Henry pointed to the boy who was still preoccupied with the meatballs.

"Who's never forgotten that Debbie used to mock his buckets." (y/n) decided she was the one who got to spill the tea.

"Never forget," Jasper said to Debbie as he ate another ball.

"Or maybe, it could've been Piper." Henry wasn't beneath accusing his own sister.

"Hey, I didn't even want to come to this party last year. Or this year. What am I doing here?" The little girl complained.

"Or maybe, it was Sydney or Oliver." The boys looked petrified at the allegation.

"They got detention after Debbie told the teacher that they were eating bugs." (y/n) looked to the crowd, who then stared at the gross boys.

"The point is, we know who really changed the ball speed and knocked Debbie off the roof. And we have proof!" The two smiled at the crowd and gave each other a high five when the crowd burst into a gossiping chatter.

"Then show us!" Debbie snapped.

"We will, girl, chill!" (y/n) growled back, not liking how bratty the birthday was being.

"But first, we're gonna go get ourselves a meatball. We'll be back after a short break. And then, everybody's going to know the truth!" Henry shouted into the mic, wanting to keep them all in suspense.

"Sing Call Me Maybe, lady!" Oliver yelled to (y/n).

"I'M NOT SINGING!" She screamed, making Henry grabbed her wrist and drag her to the snack table. Stuffing a few meatballs in his mouth, he looked up at the young woman and wondering why she wasn't eating. Following her eyes across the busy floor, he saw Ray talking to Miss Swellview.

"How can I apologise when all he can focus on is her?" She mumbled with glossy eyes.

"Just go up to him and say "Hey Captain Man! Can I bask in your awesomeness and speak with you for a moment?". And then he'll be all yours!" Henry joked at her, and she took in a deep breath.

"Are you sure he doesn't hate me?" he looked at the boy in his eyes.

"Yeah! He lo--knows you care about him and that you were having a rough day." Henry corrected himself before (y/n) could hear his mistake. Whilst she was mulling over his words, the teen blew out his cheeks, stressed that he nearly gave away Ray's biggest secret to the one person he wouldn't let find out.

"Okay, I'll do it. I'll go over and tell him I'm sorry and we can be friends again." She said, more to herself than anyone else, trying to gather her courage.

With a final nod to Henry, she worked her way through the crowd, dodging dancing kids and various staff members. Seeing Ray through the sea of people, she timidly walked up behind him and tapped his shoulder. He turned around, still smiling from his conversation with Miss Swellview, but when he saw who wanted him, it dropped. His stomach felt queasy, wondering if she was here to argue with him.

"Captain Man, can I speak with you?" She said to him as softly as she could. He saw how clammy her hands were and how she'd them tangled together to stop them from shaking with nerves. 

"Of course, citizen, please excuse me, Miss Swellview." Ray gave a dashing smile to the young girl, who promptly went off to talk to the birthday girl, leaving the two alone.

"So, what do you wanna talk about?" His voice was more like his normal one since it was just the two of them. He no longer needed to be a superhero despite the uniform he was wearing. When he was with her, it was like everyone else in the room disappeared and he was no longer Captain Man, just Ray and his (y/n).

"I---" Her voice broke, and her face crumpled as two days worth of tears broke free of her emotional dam. Ray reacted instantaneously, grabbing her elbows and taking her further into the shady corner. Seeing that no one was paying them any mind, for the time being, he brushed the tears off her cheeks with gloved fingers and she swallowed the lump in her throat.

"I'm so sorry for being m-mean to you these past couple days, I'm s-sorry." She managed to say through her hiccups. Ray didn't reply, just gathered her in his arms and curled her into his chest. Nuzzling to his shoulder, they stayed like that for a couple minutes, just holding each other in a silent apology. Her sobbing eventually came to a stop and she pulled back with a sad smile.

"I got your shoulder wet." She said, gesturing to the dark stain on his costume.

"It's worth it to have my friend back." He smiled at her, and she giggled, everything falling back into place for them. They gave each other one final hug when she saw that Henry was ready to reveal the real culprit behind Debbie's fall.

"I should go wrap this thing up." She said to Ray and he nodded in agreement.

"Yeah, the kid needs you." She gave him one last smile and walked over to Henry by the door.

"Hey! How'd it go?" Henry asked her with a smirk. In truth, he'd watched the whole thing from across the room and saw how Ray clung to her like he was afraid she would disappear if he let go.

"Good, everything's fine." She grinned at him.

"Then let's do this thing." He lifted the microphone and addressed the crowd.

"Okay, first I'd like to say... Great meatballs." He said looking at the Putch family, who all had their arms crossed.

"And now the proof that one year ago today I was not the person responsible for Debbie being knocked off the roof." Henry carried on.

"Using this phone, we will now show you actual photos taken just before Debbie's party last year." Everyone mumbled amongst themselves at (y/n)'s words as she pointed to the phone Henry was holding up. She noticed that Ray was with Miss Swellview again, but for now, she was just happy to not be fighting with him. 

"Pic one. Here you see Jasper wiping his sweaty hand on Charlotte." Henry described the picture that he mirrored on a large monitor. Charlotte turned around and looked at a guilty Jasper.

"And to the left, you can see Sydney and Oliver eating bugs. No surprise there." (y/n) pointed at the boys in the photo.

"I haven't eaten a bug since Passover!" Sydney protested, even though his words didn't help his case.

"I'm eating a bug right now," Oliver said in his monotone voice, crushing the insect between his teeth. Everyone stared in repulsion.

"But look closer and...what's that we see in the background? Hmm?" Henry refocused the group, zooming in on the picture, so they could see Piper.

""It's Henry's little sister Piper upset about something as usual," Piper said nothing but bit her lip in irritation.

"Pic two. Here we have a clearer image of Piper. And as you can see, she's really mad about her broken phone. So she's throwing it." Henry flicked to the next image, one where Piper was launching her phone across the floor, a deep scowl etched on her face.

"So what?" She yelled, starting to get nervous.

"We're glad you asked. Pic three!" Henry put up the final photo, the one with the revelation.

"Here, we can see Henry, standing innocently by the ball machine. And when we zoom in..." (y/n) had butterflies in her stomach, ready for what was coming next.

"You can see Piper's phone hitting the 11 button," Henry said. The truth was out. 

Everyone's mouths fell open in shock and Henry and (y/n) shook their hands in success, glad they had each other for support.

"Oh my god!"

"Piper did it!" Charlotte cried.

"Security!" Debbie called for the men on the doors to come and take Piper away.

"But--but...it wasn't my fault! I didn't know my phone would hit the button! I'm a victim! I'm a victim! I want to talk to a lawyer!" She shrieked as the men picked her up and dragged her through the door kicking and screaming. Once she was gone, the party resumed and Ray turned to the woman beside him.

"So, Miss Swellview, since I assume there isn't a Mr Swellview, I was wondering if you might want to..." Ray was cut off as a man came next to the beauty queen and put his arm around her.

"Walk away." He said, knowing that his status as Captain Man was imposing. With the man backing off, Ray smiled and put his arm around the girl's waist.

~

"Hey, ignore him and come party with us," Henry said, noticing that (y/n) was watching them with a downcast expression.

"I'm not so bad that I need to party with teenagers to get over how stupid I am." She chuckled, her heart softening at how sweet the kid was.

"When was the last time you just let go and had some real fun?" Henry put his hands on his hips.

"Hey! I'll have you know that I'm a real party animal under this sensible exterior. But when you run a superhero's secret hideout, your fun side falls to the back burner." She said to the boy, a hand on his shoulder.

"So let the animal out! Just come and have a good time!" She looked at Henry, then at Ray who was cuddling up to Miss Swellview and finally at the joyful kids dancing and eating their hearts out.

"Fine, but don't hold me to anything I do from here on out!" She laughed and they mixed into the crowd. 

(y/n) hadn't danced like that in ages and Henry could see the young woman in her bursting out. Her job was stressful and it meant that she often pushed the youth in her heart out of the way, so her logic and rational brain could take the reins. The kids didn't seem to mind the age gap, her bubbly and exuberant personality making her seem so much younger.

"Henry, we are so sorry we blamed you." Mrs Putch pulled them out from the dancing and Debbie looked at them with an apologetic face.

"Especially me." The girl said, but Henry and (y/n) weren't going to be angry on her birthday.

"Well, I'm sorry that my little sister almost killed you," Henry said back.

"Hey... things happen." (y/n) settled between the teens and Mrs Putch nodded at her words.

"Absolutely. Sorry I don't believe I got your name?" The blonde woman held out her hand for (y/n) to shake.

"Oh right, I'm (y/n). Henry works for me and my friend. We worked together to figure everything out." She quickly explained as she shook her hand with a smile.

"Then you're welcome to stay." Debbie smiled at the older girl.

"Mom, I'm going to jump on the trampoline right by the edge of the roof," Debbie said, turning to her mother. (y/n) thought about how bad of an idea it was but, Debbie was off before she could mention it.

"Hey, Mrs Putch?" Sydney approached her.

"Yeah?" 

"A balloon got stuck up there by that light." He pointed to the ceiling, drawing their attention to the trapped balloon.

"That could start a fire." (y/n) pointed out and Mrs Putch looked worried.

"Hey, no worries, I'll climb up there and get it." Henry offered, but (y/n) looked at him in concern.

"Woah, woah, woah, that sounds dangerous." She said, stopping Henry before he could dash off.

"Eh, this kid can handle danger. Hold my meatball." He smirked at her with a knowing look and passed her the snack. 

The two adults watched as he climbed up the lighting rig, Debbie still jumping on the trampoline.

"Yay! This is my best birthday ever." She exclaimed. Henry dislodged the balloon and threw it back onto the floor.

"I fixed it!" He yelled.

"Thank you!" Mrs Putch beamed back.

"Hey, Henry! Jump down!" Sydney shouted at his friend.

"Wait, Henry, no!" (y/n) saw what was about to happen, seeing the physics that revolved around two people jumping on a trampoline at that same time. Sadly, Henry had already let go by the time she cried out, leaving her to just what the disaster that unfolded.

The rebound from Henry hitting the opposite end of the trampoline forced Debbie over the side of the roof, echoing what happened one year ago. Everyone rushed to the side of the ledge, as Debbie screamed and Henry looked horrified. 

The poor girl was laying on top of a puppy, groaning in pain.

"Whiskers? Whiskers, are you okay?" The dog walker tugged on the leash, but the dog had been squashed by the impact of Debbie's fall.

"My name is not Whiskers." She grumbled as Mrs Putch phoned for an ambulance. Looking at Henry, (y/n) shook her head, joining him on the trampoline. 

"You really know how to find trouble, don't you?" She said to the cringing boy, who looked at her in despair.

"Oh boy, am I gonna get in trouble?" He panicked.

"Ehhh, maybe, I don't know. Technically, it was Sydney's idea, so Mrs Putch might forgive you." The woman reasoned.

"And Debbie?" They both looked down at the girl.

"Yeah, no. She's gonna hate you forever." All Henry could do was throw his head back and groan.

[toasterrrr]

shubble is actually so brave for coming out this especially to so many people like its not like its just a few friends this is the whole fucking intertnet like the whole world knows now yknow its increably hard for victims to make statements and shit and to do thsi is actually so fucking shout out to her

but the amount of people ive seen defending wilbur soot is fucking mental. use ur brain and fuck ur parasocial relationship off,, hes committed a CRIME a FULL CRIME “oh but my wilby would never 🥺🥺” YEAH WELL HE FUCKING DID DIDNT HE hes addmitted it its all be confirmed dont even bother at this point these arent “allegations” this is real life plus the tosser made the worlds second worst apology ever actually maybe idve rathered he pull out a fucking uke

“im sorry you feel that way but i dont” is the whole plot summary sorry i dont wanna support that actual bullshit fuck how can that man sit there and type out how much of a “changed man” he is in his “apology” are you thick??? say ur sorry first up ?!?! nah noone even wants ur apology say thag to shelby and all ur other mates who uve manipulated and abused not some 13 year olds on twitter who will fall to their knees no mayter what u fo

also this is coming from someone who actually really looked up to this guy, one of the only ccs i genuinely liked and he was actually a fucking big role model to me,,. hes fucked up what he did was genuinely disgusting and disturbing and i hope he gets the worst payment ever i hope all his mods quit lovejoy disbands everyone unfollows he loses all his friends. money and fame truely get to people and this is such a real and clear example of this shit

i will NOT be supporting anything he does form this momet on. ive unsubsrubied unfollowed i wont be listening to lovejoy and if i do ill probably piarte it ngl thats a thing we can do ill burn a cd or some shit idk but i wont be giving anymore money than the cunt needs you can live with out it “it saved my life HE saved my life” i can not express this enough but and fully no offense if u say that but he reallt didnt u just liked his stiff and it gave u something to live for again he did NOTHING hes just some british guy in a screen who plays some video game and sings some song hes noone he doesnt know u u dont know him

hes a fucking freak and if you think thats okay that what hes done is okay and can actually be defended your just as much of a freak and fucked in the head as he is and u need be grow the fuck up and realise how this shit is mental behaviour

to conclude:

‼️‼️‼️ FUCK WILBUR SOOT ‼️‼️‼️

[sweetdreamsjeff]

The Rebel: Patti Smith

--I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.--

---

Ben Edmonds, MOJO, August 1996

To R.E.M.’s Michael Stipe, she is "one of the premier artists of my lifetime – I’ve blindly stolen from her for years." To Bob Dylan, she is "still the best, you know." She is one of rock ‘n’ roll’s true originals, and on her return to the fray after eight years of joy and tragedy lived out of the public eye, Patti Smith grants Ben Edmonds the most revealing interview of her career.

PATTI SMITH IS IN FULL SWAGGER, WORKING THE ROXY Theatre stage in LA with relaxed authority. She takes the stage alone, wearing a shapeless warm-up jacket with hood tightly framing her face, to deliver a fiery reading of ‘Piss Factory’. With each succeeding song she adds band members until her musical complement is complete. Left-hand man Lenny Kaye and drummer Jay Dee Daugherty are Patti Smith Group confederates, while bassist Tony Shanahan has played with Kaye and John Cale (and backed Patti on some solo dates last autumn). This core trio is augmented by Patti’s 23-year-old poetry protege Oliver Ray on rhythm guitar and — seated stage left behind impenetrable shades and cradling his guitar like some old CBGB's bluesman — Tom Verlaine.

Smith has a couple of wild cards up her sleeve as well. She introduces Bob Neuwirth as "the person who encouraged me to sing and gave me my first start," after the legendary personage – Bob Dylan road companion, Jim Morrison babysitter, painter, filmmaker, composer of ‘Mercedes Benz’ for Janis Joplin – has sung a typically wonderful song called ‘I Don't Think Of Her’. "Bobby has a new CD out [Look Up on Watermelon Records] on which I appear," Patti announces. "It's available almost nowhere."

Her son Jackson, 13, appears plugged in and joins the troupe for a romp through – are you ready? – ‘Smoke On The Water’. Jack and guitar stand nose to nose with the amp, noodling noisily as Lenny Kaye sings Deep Purple's stirring lament for the tragic death by fire of recording equipment. Mom makes the most of her vocal cameo, belting out "Fire in the sky-eee" in the most godawful screech you've ever heard. It's a small glimpse of what the future might have held had Patti chosen to become the singer of Blue Oyster Cult (for whom she wrote songs) instead of setting off on her crusade to save the soul of rock'n'roll with The Patti Smith Group.

The band has a homemade, slightly ragtag quality that reminds this audience member of nothing so much as the earliest Patti Smith Group when it consisted of Patti, Lenny and Richard Sohl. That trio "toured" California in 1974 to "promote" ‘Piss Factory’, and you felt like you were watching something invent itself right before your eves. This mini "tour" follows almost exactly the same path, and once again you feel like you're watching something in the exhilarating process of becoming.

They attack a fair number of familiar songs – ‘Ghost Dance’, ‘Rock'N'Roll Nigger’, ‘Dancing Barefoot’ (although, curiously, nothing from Dream Of Life) – with gusto. The 10 shows opening for Bob Dylan last winter seem to have jump-started this aggregation's chemistry, and they're now also capable of moments of transcendence that rival anything Patti's bands have attained in the past. ‘About A Boy’, her meditation on the loss of Kurt Cobain, has grown from humble acoustic beginnings into an oceanic noisefield than tonight is staggering. And their ‘Wicked Messenger’ ranks with the great rock rearrangements of Dylan songs. It's a treat that such a thing remains possible in 1996.

The small acoustic shows and guest spots she's done sporadically over the past year have been tentative in tone and occasionally awkward. She is not – nor does she have the slightest inclination to be – the punk tornado who ripped through this room 20 years ago, when the Roxy was LA's premier showcase club, hosting legendary engagements by Neil Young, Bruce Springsteen and Bob Marley, and live recordings by Frank Zappa, Talking Heads, Warren Zevon and others. But she has certainly regained every bit of the belief that the space is hers to command.

The sold-out house is evenly divided between the older soldiers who served in the rock revolution Patti Smith heralded in the early '70s and those who wish they could have been there, having heard their own heroes like Michael Stipe say that were it not for Patti Smith he wouldn't exist. The R.E.M. singer has been all over MTV News this week, quoted as saying that Patti's show at the Wiltern Theatre a few days earlier had been not simply the greatest concert he'd ever seen, but one of the greatest emotional experiences of his life. *

THE PATTI SMITH RESUME: ARRIVED IN NEW YORK FROM New Jersey in 1967 and wrote herself a new identity in concert with photographer Robert Mapplethorpe; wrote plays like Cowboy Mouth with Pulitzer Prize winner Sam Shepard one line at a time, pushing a battered typewriter back and forth across a Chelsea Hotel tabletop in a game of attitude chess; published small press volumes of hallucinogenic verse inhabited by James Joyce, Johnny Ace, Jesus Christ, Harry Houdini, Joan of Arc, James Brown, Georgia O'Keefe, the Paragons and the Jesters, Picasso and Rimbaud and Bob Dylan's dog; wrote poems, profiles and record review reveries for Creem and Rolling Stone; put her big ideas into embryonic practice at her Rock'N'Rimbaud readings accompanied by guitarist Lenny Kaye at St Mark's Church, New York's new poetry nirvana; released ‘Piss Factory’ b/w ‘Hey Joe’ in 1974 on their own Mer Records, now regarded as one of the first shots fired in the punk/indie revolt (though at the time it was a shot barely heard in the next block); released in 1975 a debut album Horses, a parable in spoken word and song for the declaration of self that adolescents itchy to slip their skins will probably respond to for generations to come; sounded a clarion call with her amped-to-the-teeth Patti Smith Group that has been answered only in part by punk rockers, alterna-nerds and riot grrrls; fell from a Tampa, Florida stage in 1977 to a concrete floor 14 feet below, breaking her neck; came out of traction and back into action with ‘Because The Night’, a hit single co-written with Bruce Springsteen, yet always gave equal time to noisy improvisational epics like ‘Radio Ethiopia’ that were unplayable on any radio format (and guaranteed to scare the living piss out of anyone attracted by her Brucie ballad); announced her retirement from public life in the shadow of her biggest-selling album (Wave); and immediately following her biggest concert ever (85,000 in an Italian football stadium on September 10, 1979) quietly married former MC5 guitarist Fred 'Sonic' Smith in 1980, and moved to an unassuming Detroit suburb to raise a family. In the next decade she raised her head above the parapet only once, with her 1988 album Dream Of Life.

Since 1990, Patti has suffered the loss of four of her closest comrades. Her best friend Robert Mapplethorpe was claimed by AIDS. Her piano player (and, after Lenny Kaye, longest-serving musical ally) Richard Sohl succumbed to heart failure. Then in late '94 her husband, soulmate, and hero of so many of her best songs (‘Because The Night’, ‘Frederick’, ‘Dream Of Life’), Fred 'Sonic' Smith, suddenly passed away, a shock compounded by the death of her brother and crew manager Todd Smith only a month later.

The release of a new album, Gone Again, and a limited return to live performance is part of a plan she and Fred had mapped out before his untimely passing. Yet there's no denying that these activities have now become, at least in part, a memorial to all her fallen comrades. This mission was launched in earnest last December when, at the personal invitation of Bob Dylan, she opened 10 of his shows on the East Coast, a pairing he dubbed The Paradise Lost Tour.

"A lot of girls have come along since Patti started," Dylan told a Boston audience the first of many times they duetted on his song ‘Dark Eyes’. "But Patti's still the best, you know." Then he kissed her. *

DRIVING TO PATTI'S HOUSE, I WAS THINKING ABOUT something she had told me recently. The subject was her desire to play only those places where she'd been treated well. I wondered, then, what places this might disqualify.

"Detroit," she said without hesitation. "They've never been that supportive of our work. I don't think Fred got the support from the music community that he was entitled to. The radio stations knew who he was and what he'd done, and they should've tipped their hat to him. I guess I feel somewhat bitter about that. Not for me. I don't care; but it hurt Fred deeply."

Patti will soon be moving back to New York. This move is not unexpected. Detroit was where she came to make her life with Fred. It was his town, his family, his roots, and there's probably no place she can turn here and not be confronted by a reminder of her late husband.

This has got to be especially true of their home, which they bought, furnished, and within which they created a family. Patti and Fred even saved it together, sandbagging the place when torrential rains and a rising lake very nearly flooded them out. Because the family was so reclusive, all sorts of rumours circulated about their domestic refuge. One had them living in a sumptuous lakefront estate, another pictured them in utter sub urban tract home anonymity. Neither turns out to be accurate.

They're not on the lake, though they could most certainly see it if there weren't so many other houses in the way. They live in a normal middle-class neighbourhood where many of the smallish homes sport obvious additions to accommodate expanding families, resulting in houses that are a little too big for their modest plots but never quite big enough to contain all the kids' stuff which litters the porches and short driveways. Yet there's no doubting which is the Smith residence. It's easy to spot, being the only castle on the block. A small castle, to be sure, really no bigger than most of the surrounding homes, but a towered and turreted castle all the same.

Seen from the insight, the tower contains the winding staircase that leads to the upper floor. The house is sparsely though comfortably furnished, in casual boho. The usual family stuff is posted on the fridge and scattered about; handmade birthday and Mother's Day cards, postcards, school meeting notices. If it weren't for the guitars and amplifiers in the living room, you'd never know this was the lair of musicians. Where you might expect to find a portrait of some revered family elder hangs a picture of honorary uncle Allen Ginsberg.

Once past the idea of amps in the living room, the closest we get to rock'n'roll excess is an extravagant selection of teas. Oliver Ray brews some camomile for Patti, whose stomach is acting up.

At 48, Patti Smith's hair is unashamedly lashed with gray and worn in simple braids. Her interview demeanour is pretty much as it's always been. She considers each query carefully and answers at length, not looking at her interviewer but staring at some private point beyond the opposite wall, a safe place she always returns to. Though Patti is never at a loss for a forcefully expressed thought or opinion, whenever the conversation touches on her late husband – which is frequently – her voice falters and she has to bear down hard on her words to get them out.

I bring Tim Buckley's unreleased demo of the old folk tune ‘Wayfaring Stranger’ for Patti, and she talks about how the singer/songwriter was a favourite of Robert Mapplethorpe’s back in the early Brooklyn days, and chuckles when she recalls how she and her first partner in artistic crime would neck like high school kids to the Goodbye And Hello album. She was delighted when Jeff Buckley stopped by the recording sessions and added a high, ghostly vocal part to ‘Beneath The Southern Cross’, and even more delighted when he raced home and returned to the studio with an essrage, an Egyptian instrument he used to texture the track ‘Fireflies’.

You find yourself wanting to somehow crack the fog and get her to smile. During the second of our two interviews, conducted at her Michigan home, it is her eight-year-old daughter who unintentionally provides the cue. Patti is expounding on the divine bliss of parenthood when Jesse, who's been yakking to a friend in the other room, suddenly calls out, "Mommy, can I have a cellular phone?"

"No," Patti immediately shoots back, rolling her eyes at the cosmic timing of this interruption, and then dissolving into the best laugh I'd heard from her in a very long time.

In the words of one of those Irish poets, "the healing has begun." *

This album is unique for you in that it has so many solo songwriting credits.

Fred was giving me guitar lessons. He had taught me some chords, basically so I could write songs. We studied song structure and things I didn't know a whole lot about. He taught me enough on the guitar that, after a lot of practice, I could write simple songs. When he passed away...I just…um… I used to spend a lot of time by myself at night with the acoustic guitar just making up little songs. A lot of the songs on the record – ‘Farewell Reel’, ‘About A Boy’, ‘Raven’, ‘Dead To The World’, ‘Wing’ – were written that way late at night. They're all in waltz-time, 3/4, which is the only time signature we worked on so it's the only one I know.

The version of ‘About A Boy’ you played at the Roxy is already far beyond the album version.

That song has really grown in performance. It's the closest thing to anarchy – controlled anarchy – that we have right now, because we let the song completely open up at the end. I always like having a piece where everyone goes out but then returns. That was the beauty of John Coltrane, and what separated him from the noisemakers and indulgent jerk-offs. He would go out there and stay out there as long as he could, but he always returned. That's what we strive for.

When Kurt Cobain took his life, Fred and I were extremely disturbed about that. Both of us liked his work. We thought it was good for young people. I was happy that there was a new band I could relate to, and looked forward to watching them grow. He had a future. As parents, we were deeply disturbed to see this young boy take his own life. The waste, and the emotional debris he left for others to clean up.

I was also concerned how it would affect young people who looked up to him, or looked to him for answers. I guess that's the danger of looking to anyone else for answers, but I perceived that he had a responsibility. To himself, to the origin of his gifts, to his family, to the younger generation.

So I wrote the song for two reasons. One was as a well wish, even after what he did, that his continuing journey be beautiful. But it was also written with a certain amount of bitterness. The chorus says "About a boy/beyond it all." One way of looking at it is that he's beyond this particular plane of existence. But it's also a wry statement, a frustrated refrain. It relates to my sorrow for the various boys we've lost. Whether it be Jim Morrison or Brian Jones; any of these young, gifted, driven people who do feel they're beyond it all, that they can completely ravage and ruin their bodies or have no sense of responsibility to their position and their gifts. We all were pioneering some kind of freedom, but I don't think what's been done with it is all that constructive.

When you were that age how did you deal with those feelings?

All young people feel sometimes that they can't take it, that they'd rather die than get up out of bed. But there was always something that reminded me, it could be anything. The handiwork of man. I could be feeling totally desolate and then look at a beautiful prayer rug or a Picasso, and that would be enough to make me want to live. That's what other people's work did for me. When I say that The Rolling Stones got me through this, or Bob Dylan got me through that, they did. That in itself is a motivation for working. The act of creation is a beautiful thing. That belongs to the artist; he's got that moment of illumination, when a kernel of an idea erupts and blooms. But after he creates it, it ceases to be his. It's really for other people.

What brought you back to New York to record?

I love Electric Lady, which is where we cut Horses; it's intimate but highly developed. It's right on 8th Street, so you can walk out at three in the morning and there are people on the streets. It's a good energy. I don't require privacy and silence when I'm recording. It's the first recording studio I was ever in. The first time I ever went there was also the first rock'n'roll party I'd ever been to. Jane Friedman invited me to this party for Jimi Hendrix because he'd just opened the studio up. I was so excited because I'd never been in a recording studio before. But when I got there I was too nervous to go in, so I sat on the steps. Then Jimi came up the stairs. He was incredibly beautiful; tall, very... he was Jimi Hendrix, y'know? A great-looking man. But really shy. He came up the stairs and I was sitting there so he sat down next to me and just talked. He asked me why I wasn't going down and I told him I was too nervous. He said, "Me too, I'm too nervous to stay." Then he told me some of the things about the studio, and how he wanted to work on a more global kind of music. He said that he was going to London, but that when he came back he was gonna go up to Woodstock with new musicians and then bring them into Electric Lady to record. But of course he never came back from London... That was a great moment for me. So when Robert Mapplethorpe gave us money to do ‘Piss Factory’, even though it was not much money I had to go to Electric Lady.

The equipment has been updated, but it's got a lot of the same things – the late '60s psychedelic paintings and bad murals of Jimi Hendrix playing right-handed. It didn't really occur to me how cyclic it was until I was in the middle of it. I was standing by myself in the hallway looking at those murals, when I remembered standing in that same spot in 1975 and Robert Mapplethorpe taking a picture of me and John Cale. Lenny came out and stood next to me and said, "Amazing, isn't it?" It was like he could feel what I was feeling. The first time we were back in the studio, just hearing those Lenny guitar tones and Jay on the drums, it was so... from the subconscious. It triggered so many memories.

How was this one as a recording experience?

This album was both joyous and heartbreaking to do. We were 80 per cent done with the record and I had to stop. I couldn't take it any more because... I just really missed Fred. It was so difficult, and I was so emotionally depleted. So we stopped for a while. When we did that little mini-tour with Bob Dylan I was supposed to be finishing the record, but I still couldn't face it. But I got a lot of energy and positive feelings from the Dylan experience, and then we went in and completed the album. Those dates gave me my confidence back.

Do you know what made Bob reach out to you?

What I gleaned from Bob is that he felt it would be good for me to come back out, that he thought people should see me. I wouldn't presume to speak for him, but he has been so highly influential that he knows probably what it tasted like to be influential and then get shuffled around somewhere. I guess he felt I could use some encouragement.

We weren't prepared, but I wanted to do it so badly that we prepared ourselves practically on stage. I think we had about five hours of rehearsal. But all of us had pretty much played together, and we all pooled the things we could do. The first night was pretty shaky, but after that I felt like I was back in familiar territory. My mission on that small tour was to crack all the energy, crack the atmosphere and set the stage for him, to get the night as magic as possible, so that when he hit the stage – 'cos he hits a lot of them – that maybe it would feel a little more special. I think we did a pretty good job and I know that he was happy.

Had you been in touch with him over the years?

No, not really. I met him back in the '70s, before we even had a record deal. It was at the Other End on Bleecker Street in the Village. I was told he was in the audience, so I made a few obscure references that I knew the crowd wouldn't get, but would let him know that I knew he was there. It was kinda presumptuous, but that's the way I was then. I was thrilled that he was there, but I wasn't gonna let him know it. When he came backstage I was kinda snotty. "Any poets around here?" he said, so I said I wasn't into poetry anymore – Poetry sucks. Can you believe I said that? But he was very gracious, and even put his arm around me to have our picture taken. The next week it was in the Soho Weekly News, right on the cover, and seeing that was definitely one of my best moments ever. But it also made me kinda sad, 'cos I knew I hadn't treated him well and I felt like I'd kinda blown it, y'know?

A little while later, I was on 4th Street and I saw him walking toward me. I tried to shrink but he saw me anyway. And he was really nice. He pulled out that picture and said, "Who are these two people? Do you know them?" And he gave me this beautiful smile, just to let me know it was all right. So he's been incredibly generous and understanding toward me from the very beginning.

I've admired Bob Dylan since I was 15 years old; he's been an important part of my life for two-thirds of it now. So to have someone like that give you encouragement is... beyond words. [On the tour] we sang ‘Dark Eyes’ almost every night, and singing with him was just like being in heaven. I was so happy. I kept thinking…sometimes it made me think of Fred, because Fred really liked and admired Bob too. He often said that there were only two people that would be able to pull him out of his self-imposed retirement, Keith Richards and Bob Dylan. He'd say, "Now if Keith or Bob call and want me to play with 'em, I might have to come out." So how could I not answer the call? It was a great experience.

Do you still regard Bob with a fan's awe?

Meeting him again, I can't say I'm in awe of him. The way I relate to him at this point in my life is that he's a man that has a fine presence, a very noble presence. He's an extremely attractive man. When I talk to him I still feel sort of like a schoolgirl, but also like a friend and a colleague.

After Fred passed away, the record I most listened to for solace was Bob's album World Gone Wrong, which is all those great old blues and other songs from the trove of his knowledge. I listened to that almost continuously. Once again he helped me through a difficult time with his music. And then to have him reach out to me as a human being... I'll be forever grateful.

And this gave you the confidence to finish the record.

We'd pretty much recorded everything; most of the vocals on the record are the live vocals. It was just a question of pulling all the threads together and presenting the record. But I just... I just needed time to think about everything. We had pretty much everything cut except the title track ‘Gone Again’, which we did right before we came out here. That was Fred's last music and...um...I just wasn't able to...write the lyrics. And finally I…I marshalled my energies and did it. Lenny had a lot to do with making certain ‘Summer Cannibals’ and ‘Gone Again’ came to light. We had a lot of cassette tapes with Fred playing acoustic guitar or chanting or giving some direction...to me, 'cos he often made tapes like that so I could write lyrics. Lenny had to lovingly piece those songs together.

So many people haven't yet discovered Dream Of Life, which I think is your best album after Horses. People are going to be discovering that album for years.

I hope so, because it's the only real document we have of Fred's range, though it's still only a partial account. It's pretty much his album; I look at Dream Of Life as his gift to me. He wrote all the music, arranged everything, a lot of the song titles, the album title, the concept of the songs, especially ‘People Have The Power’, were all Fred's. I told him we should call it by both our names but he wouldn't. But he had promised me that on this album he would sing on it and we'd put both our names on it. So I was really looking forward... I thought this was going to be a great album because people would see his face, hear him sing, and he was getting interested in performing live again. But...ah...it didn't happen. Which has been the heartbreaking part of making this album for me.

There was one thing released under both your names: the atmospheric piece ‘It Takes Time’ that you did for the Wim Wenders film Until The End Of The World in 1990.

Thank you for remembering that one! I love to hear it, because Fred's reciting poetry. Again, that's almost entirely his piece. Not only did he write the music and some of the poetry, he actually dictated how he wanted me to read my parts. Oh yeah, we had some friction, some healthy friction, in the recording of that song. He was the suggester in the family. He was clearly the boss, although he liked to pretend that he wasn't...

How did you first meet him?

It was March 9, 1976, and we met in front of the radiator at that hot dog place, Lafayette Coney Island, in Detroit. The Sonic Rendezvous Band was opening for us, but I didn't know anything about him. Lenny introduced me to this guy. I heard that his name is Smith, and my name is Smith. We just looked at each other and I was completely taken by him. I had no idea who he was or anything about him until afterwards when Lenny told me. Lenny introduced me to him and said, "He's one of the great guitar players." I said, Perhaps you'll want to play with us tonight. And he said, "Maybe so." Then he left and I asked Lenny if he was really any good, and Lenny said, "The best". So I was playing with him that night, and I had a lot of bravado in those days. I didn't have respect for anybody. But I totally submitted to his reign. He came on the stage and started playing, and after a while I just set my guitar down and let it feed back. I just let him take over because I felt that I had met my match, that I had met the better man.

As I understand it, the original plan you'd developed with Fred called for you to begin re-emerging now anyway.

Yes. This would've happened. It was according to plan. A couple of years after Dream Of Life, Fred wanted us to go out with just a percussionist, Richard Sohl, him and I. It would have been more spoken art, more poetry with them doing interpretive things behind me. Fred really wanted to do that, but then Richard died suddenly. It really broke his heart, 'cos Fred was really close to Richard. So we withdrew from that idea.

Then, after a time he really felt it was time for me to walk back on stage. In his own way he had a somewhat competitive nature, and he was watching how the arena of female artists has really widened. The girls have done a great job. Now, I don't consider myself a female artist – I'm just an artist – but Fred had that bit of competitiveness. He wanted me to take a stand, I think. I actually was the one who was reticent. He felt it in me before I did.

We were gonna do pretty much what we're doing now: do a record, do dates in the summer, do things when we could. But he was... actually (her voice slows down)... looking forward to…that. So…

Are any of the songs from that period on this new album?

Two. I didn't do a lot of them, just because I couldn't. It was just too painful. Even doing those two... They're two rock songs. Fred really wanted me to do rock songs again. For all the knowledge and sophistication that Fred had acquired over the years as a musician, he always said there was always room for one more great rock song, and he never stopped trying to write it. It's just so happened to work out that the pivotal rock songs on the album are the two that Fred and I wrote together.

It's funny, but I really always wanted him to go back out. I would've been happy staying at home taking care of the kids. I really wanted the world to see him. I really loved his work, and I do regret that people didn't get to see his full range. But he was his own man, he did what he wanted. He wasn't a guy trapped in a family situation. He wanted a family deeply, and he committed himself to his family... to a fault, I think. He was a great father.

One of the main reasons that I'm able to feel no guilt, nothing but pride when I'm performing, is that I know he wanted me to do it. I never regretted my decision to stop performing. I spent the '80s studying and writing, and becoming a far more facile writer. I learned quite a bit about everything from sports to cooking, whatever I needed to learn at any given moment. And I really treasure those years. I didn't yearn for or regret the past. I didn't even think about it. I was too wrapped up in our present.

What I often did was to wake up early and write from five to seven or eight when the kids got up. I always allowed myself a time, and continued the work ethic that I had developed with Robert Mapplethorpe. No matter what was happening, even when we were sick, Robert and I always worked. Every day. It was sort of a pact we made, and I've kept to that.

I've learned that I don't need to smoke pot all night and then at three in the morning write my poem. I had to learn a whole different system of creation. If I have from five to seven to do my work, then that's when I'll do it. I've completely grasped the fact that it comes from within me, and I take it wherever I go. Whether I'm in a prison in French Guyana or in my laundry room. You don't have to be the victim of inspiration. I learned a lot of things from Fred...

The recent Mapplethorpe biography painted you as a prisoner of Fred's tyrannical whims.

Oh, please... I made a decision about the kind of life I wanted to live. I made it, and I have never even once – never! – regretted making it. I mean, I missed my friends, I missed the camaraderie of the band, I missed certain things. Even though sometimes it was difficult, to me it was a privilege to be with him. I only regret that he's gone. I don't regret nothing else.

It was a treat to see Bob Neuwirth at your Roxy show.

I met Bobby around 1969 at the Chelsea Hotel. I was still kinda hoping to be a painter at that time, but it was beginning to become clear to me that it wasn't my beat and so I was writing quite a bit. I was in the lobby of the Chelsea and I had a notebook. "Hey poet," I remember him saying. "Well, you look like a poet. Do you write like one?" Defiant, very challenging. I thought, Whoah, Bob Neuwirth! He was in Don't Look Back. That's his leg on the cover of Highway 61 Revisited! So I gave him my notebook, and he read it and actually thought about it. He took me under his wing. He was a bit older than me, and really like a brother. He was very kind to me, but tough too. He taught me a lot, and helped me start to develop some sense of myself as a writer. At the same time he introduced me to a world that I hadn't been privy to. He introduced me to all kinds of people – Janis Joplin, the Grateful Dead – and introduced me in a way that they treated me respectfully.

After that I met Sam Shepard and he was the same way. He really felt that I was a good writer. He encouraged me to the point of conceit, nearly. He really made me feel good about myself, and made it seem important that I keep writing. He and Bobby did a lot to instill in me not only the desire to keep writing, but they made me feel that I was a writer. That's an important step. I had always felt different from other people, a misfit and an alien, but I never really gleaned myself as being special. Other people seemed to pull it out of me, whether it was Robert Mapplethorpe, Sam Shepard or Bobby Neuwirth. I've been very lucky in my life to have people perceive something in me that I didn't always perceive in myself.

When I called your hotel in San Francisco, you were out and they told me that Todd Rundgren had come by with his kids to pick up yours. That seemed like another nice full circle.

Yes. He was very important to me in those early New York days too. I think it was Bobby Neuwirth who introduced me to Todd. And Todd had been so good to Jackson. He let Jack play this beautiful Gibson of his on stage, and then let him take it on the rest of the tour. Todd's another person who really encouraged me. Todd actually thought I had a future as a comedian. I did too.

You mean we almost had Patti Lee Smith in stand-up comedy?

I had that daydream for years. I used to pretend that I went on the Johnny Carson show. He really liked me, and then he got sick and asked me to take over the show until he got better. And I did so well that when Johnny retired he gave me his show. It was one of my favourite daydreams. I still make use of my Johnny Carson studies, as you've probably realised. All the sparring I do, being able to take what hecklers dish out and one-up them, is from years of studying Johnny.

I wasn't really a '60s person. I had lived a fairly sheltered life in South Jersey. I came to New York in 1967, but I lived with Robert Mapplethorpe in Brooklyn. I spent that time working to be an artist or supporting Robert, and I really didn't go through all those '60s changes. I wasn't really involved in the political scene. I was frightened by the '60s, really. The masses of people and all the assassinations and the drug culture and the war in Vietnam...I found all of this overwhelming.

The one positive thing is that I did get a sense of the collective, that there was some sort of unspoken unity thing happening. Even though I was chronologically the same age, I felt younger because I was a bit behind. So I observed it from a slightly different perspective. What I like about it was how it produced its own networking tools, whether publications like Crawdaddy, Creem and Rolling Stone, or underground radio. Number one, of course, was the music itself, which was something new. Generations before us went wild over Benny Goodman or Frank Sinatra, but they didn't necessarily say anything. But our music was in concert with who we were.

So I did learn some good lessons from the '60s. I looked at the best of it, and what I thought would happen is that the '70s would come along and be even better. But then what I saw was the people losing interest, becoming more self-oriented, and I was very concerned. I was sort of disappointed with my own people. I didn't like what I saw, and that inspired me to do the kind of work that I did.

I understand it was Lenny and your brother Todd who helped you through the desolate time after Fred passed away.

Between Lenny and my brother, they wouldn't let me get too deep down. The minute Fred passed away, my brother got on a plane and came out. He devoted the rest of his life – which only turned out to be one month – to getting me back on my feet. Todd was one of those workaholic types who work around the clock and never take vacations, but he left work immediately and came and stayed with me.

Then at Thanksgiving we all went back to my parents', and I was having an extremely difficult time. We always went back to New Jersey for Thanksgiving, and this was the first time without Fred in 16 years. I could hardly even rise in the morning. So Toddie came in and said, "C'mon babe, get dressed," and he made me get in the car. He rolled down the windows – he actually had a car where you had to roll down the windows! –and put on a cassette of the Natural Born Killers soundtrack. Our song ‘Rock'n'Roll Nigger’ is on that, and he turned it up as loud as he could get it, and we drove around to all our old hangouts and the places we used to play when we were kids.

Todd really loved that song, and he played it over and over, singing at the top of his lungs. He was going, "You're gonna be all right. You're gonna get back to work. Fred wanted you to and you're gonna do it and I'm gonna help you do it. Even if I have to quit my job to go on the road with ya, we're gonna pull everything up." He was so full of energy and love and enthusiasm that he made it difficult to disbelieve him. I wasn't familiar with that soundtrack, and he said, "There's another little song on it you'll like." So we parked in front of Hoedown Hall and Thomas's Field where we used to play, and this song came on. It was Bob Dylan singing "See the pyramids along the Nile..." [‘You Belong To Me’]. Fred used to sing that song to me, and I sat there and cried listening to Bob sing it. We had been talking about Dylan and how great he was; again, Toddie would have loved being a part of that tour.

We talked and talked, and he stayed for another couple of days. He wouldn't let me not feel good; it was his mission. He said, "We're gonna spend Christmas together and we're gonna get back on our feet." Todd went back to Virginia, and right after that he suffered a stroke and passed away. Which isn't at all uncommon on my side of the family. It was really terrible, but after the shock of losing him I found that he had made me feel so good, and had brought up my spirits so much, that I made a decision. Since his last mission in life had been to get me feeling good, I wasn't going to have his mission be in vain. So even now when I feel... you know... I just think about that.

You have to let your loved ones go, even as you cherish their spirit as you move forward. Which is difficult, but very important. Then, because of the kind of person I am, I also feel it is my mission to do something in their honour. Like I keep working and collaborating with Robert. [The Coral Sea, her tribute to Mapplethorpe featuring many of his photographs, will soon be published by W.W. Norton.] I have many things to do for Fred, not only in terms of work but of course the lifelong mission of watching over our children. With my brother, my mission is to feel good, be happy and do my work. So in those ways…as deeply as I miss all of their earthly presences, they're still around. Very much around.

"Jesus died for somebody's sins but not mine" is a line that will forever be associated with you. How do you view it now?

I wrote that line when I was 20 years old. A lot of people misinterpreted it as the statement of an atheist, somebody who doesn't believe in anything. I happen to believe in Jesus. I never said he didn't exist. I only said that I didn't want him to take responsibility for my actions. Because I was young, I perceived myself as an artist, and the artist as a sort of cerebral criminal. I wanted the freedom to pursue all the things I imagined. Things within my art, not in life. In my art, I wanted the right to be misguided, misdirected, slightly criminal, utterly promiscuous, even a murderer. Within the realm of my work. I didn't want to be weighed down with such a conscience that I couldn't trample the earth, every junkyard and every cloud. I wanted to be free of conscience. I wanted free rein.

Over the years I got into studying Christ, reconsidering Him in Pasolini terms: Christ as revolutionary, a person who felt akin to our people. I found, as I got older and studied deeper, His roles, His ideals, His philosophies a lot more interesting. To the point that at our last show in Florence in '79, which was the last time I did that version of ‘Gloria’, I sang, "Jesus died for somebody's sins, why not mine?" I probably would not sing that original line now. Not because I think there's anything wrong with it, just because I don't identify with it now.

You always operated from the belief that rock'n'roll was a force for good. With all that's happened in the culture, do you still think that? Or has this belief in some way been perverted?

Well... I think everything gets perverted. But I'm not really concerned with how it gets perverted up in the mainstream, because that's business. I don't have the time or energy to pioneer against big business at this point in my life. Young people can do that.

I like the way young people are interacting globally. I like the alternative networking they're doing. I'd like to see them develop that, and start seeing what they can do collectively to better our situation on the planet. This planet is in deep trouble. What are we seeing? A resurgence of communicable diseases like tuberculosis, we have AIDS; the whole planet is becoming very viral. I'm not saying we can stop it, but only we can reduce all of these things.

Is music the same energy source for kids today that it was for us, or is it even possible that it can be?

I think there's so much stuff now. Look when we grew up. When I was a kid TV was black and white and there were three stations. They only had cartoons on Saturday morning. The records would come out, it's a big album, you have a big record player, you go home and put it on the record player, you sit and listen to it and really digest what the music’s saying. It was its own experience.

Music is still a powerful force – if you have a powerful individual – but I think it's a lot more convoluted now, if that's the right word.

You and Fred talked about not doing anything for personal gain, that it would have to benefit someone else. How do you reconcile that with everything that's happening now?

With this little tour we're not making any money; we're pretty much breaking even. We did a benefit for an AIDS hospice in San Francisco, and benefits will continue to be a big part of our agenda. I have to get back on my feet, truthfully. If it starts building and things go well, I look forward to a time where I never have to take a cent for hitting the stage. I'm watching people in rock'n'roll make millions and millions of dollars. I see a lot of my friends who've gotten extremely prosperous, and I think they should be doing a lot more. I don't mean giving an autographed guitar to charity. I mean, if you already have $20 million in the bank, take 10 million and find the people that are doing the strongest AIDS research and just give it to 'em. I would encourage performers to take the money they make on stage and give it to the people who need it.

When you first came around the mission was to keep alive and free a certain rock'n'roll spirit. Is the mission this time about this different, though related, spirit? The responsibility that comes with freedom?

I think so. A lot of the things we attempted to do in the '70s were accomplished. Like T.S. Eliot said, each generation translates for itself. I done what I was supposed to do when I done it. It's not my place to do it now. I wouldn't even know how to. All I know is that the planet is full of hands needing to be helped, and I'm trying to see what I can do to get things motivated in a new way. I still think it has to be revolutionary. We still need to redesign stuff.

People are making comeback tours and farewell tours, they're going on Unplugged and they're picking up their lifetime achievement awards. But what are they really doing? I think we've gotten way too cute with all these tons of awards we're giving to each other. Too much bullshit, too much cute stuff. The Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame. It's another money machine. I did appear at one of those to induct the Velvet Underground. I did that out of respect to the Velvets, and because that recognition meant something to them. But I feel about the Rock & Roll Hall Of Fame pretty much the way Fred did: that we should be ashamed. The spirit should be the museum.

‘Piss Factory’ is still one of your more resonant works. But those women you described with such disdain – "these bitches are just too lame to understand/too God damn grateful to get this job to know they're getting screwed up the ass" –with all you've lived since, I'm wondering how you'd regard them now?

Oh, I'd be a lot more compassionate now. Not necessarily for their stupidity, because some of their rules and codes I would still rail against. But being hard-working women... maybe their husband's dead, or their husband took off and they've got six kids to look after. So yes, much more empathy, compassion. Much more respect.

When I was younger, I really felt completely there for the misfit, the person outside society. Artists, and people on the fringes, whether because of their philosophies or sexual persuasion or politics. And I still feel akin to those people, 'cos I'm still one of them. But I've been through so much... life – being a mother, being a widow, being a laundress, all the things I do – that I definitely feel more empathy, a more common bond with people. When I was younger I had so much intensity that it got to the point where I felt I was in a whole other realm. I don't feel that so much – I feel a lot more human these days.

© Ben Edmonds 1996

Michael Stipe on Patti

UNLIKE THE OTHER GUYS IN THE BAND, WHEN WE started I didn't have any particular understanding of the standard history of the pop format, so I pretty much learned as I went along. I had virtually no musical background. I pretty much ignored music until I was about 15 years old, and at the high school that I went to – which was in Illinois in the very heart of middle America – heavy metal ruled. My parents listened to Gershwin, Mancini, Wanda Jackson and the soundtrack to Dr Zhivago. That's all I heard.

I accidentally got a subscription to the Village Voice when I was 15. Right about that time – middle to late 1975 – they were talking about this thing that was going on in New York with Television and Patti Smith and the Ramones and CBGB's. I distinctly remember the November 1975 issue of Creem magazine. Someone had left a copy in study hall under a chair. It had a picture of Patti Smith, and she was terrifying looking. She looked like Morticia Addams. And I think it was Lester Bangs or Lisa Robinson writing about punk rock in New York and how all the other music was like watching colour movies, but this is like watching static-y black and white TV. And that made incredible sense to me. I read about those bands before I ever heard them, and it just sounded so amazing.

Horses, the first Patti Smith album, came out soon afterwards and it pretty much tore my limbs off and put them back on in a different way. I was 15 when I heard it, and that's pretty strong stuff for a 15-year-old American middle-class white boy, sitting in his parents' living room with the headphones on so they wouldn't hear it. It was like the first time you went into the ocean and got knocked down by a wave. It killed. It was so completely liberating. I had my parents' crappy headphones and I sat up all night with a huge bowl of cherries listening to Patti Smith, eating those cherries and going. Oh, my God!... Holy shit!... Fuck!... Then I was sick.

© Michael Stipe 1996

[coffeecat1983]

Then and Now: Library (Mario movie fluff)

A fluff piece about the Bros first visit to the Brooklyn Public Library, feat Tony and Arthur.

8-year-old Luigi held tightly to his mother's hand as he stuck close to her side, eyes wide as he looked around the big building. Mario, meanwhile, was taking it all in with a vibrant excitement. Both were clutching their own red and green book bags.      "We can really get our own library cards?" he asked. Giovanni nodded, a smile on his face. It was the weekend and Giovanni and Marianna decided to treat the boys to their first trip to the main Brooklyn Public Library. Arthur and Tony had tagged along.      "You boys are old enough and have shown you can take care of your things, so I think you can have the responsibility of taking care of library books." Giovanni said.      "Not just the books, either," Marianna added, "there's music and movies, too."    Luigi perked up. "Music?" he asked softly, squeezing her hand. He looked around again. "It's so big here." he shrunk back, trying to hide in the folds of her skirt. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder, and he looked up at his Uncle Tony's understanding smile.      "How about you stick with me, kiddo?"    Marianna gave them an approving nod as Luigi took Tony's hand. She glanced around.      "Looks like Gio went over to the movies already." she commented. Arthur reached for Mario's hand.      "Hey kid, lemme show you where the comic books are."    Mario practically bounced as his uncle led him off into the Brooklyn Library. 

   Marianna turned to Tony and Luigi. "I'm off to the fiction section, you two have fun!"    They waved to her, and Luigi tightened his grip on Tony's hand. His uncle squeezed back, kneeling to get eye-to-eye with him. "I know it's a big place, and kinda scary, but I promise you'll like it here. C'mon," he stood, "lemme show you around."      "Ma said there was music here?" Luigi kept his voice soft, having seen the 'Please, quiet when in the library' signs that were placed around.      "There's lots of it, we can go there first, if you want."    Luigi nodded, so they headed that way. Reaching the rows of CDs and Records, Luigi let out a soft "Wow" at the sight. He let go of Tony's hand but stayed close by, looking through the collection. Tony meanwhile began flipping through the vinyl. Luigi recognized the records; he had seen them and the turntable in the Twins' apartment. Moving from the CDs, he spied hanging bags with something small in them. He picked one up.      "Uncle Tony, what are these?" he held it up. Tony snort-laughed, reaching for it.      "Way to make me feel old, kiddo. That's a cassette tape. You remember that big stereo your Uncle Art and I have? The one you're allowed to put CDs in?"    Luigi nodded. He liked that stereo; the speakers were big, and he could feel the music travel through the floor and into his feet when they were allowed to play it.      "Remember that little door on it?" Tony continued, "That's the tape player. It can play those. In fact, let me see here..." he came over and looked through the tapes. "Ah, here we go." He held one up, Luigi could make out the names 'Abbott and Costello' on the label. Tony slipped it into his own book bag. "This'll be a treat for you boys."    After browsing and picking out more music, Tony led the way back towards adult fiction.      "Just want to grab something from here then I'll show you the kids section." he explained. This part of the library was older, the lights not quite as bright, windows looking out to neighboring buildings that blocked the sun. As Tony looked over the books, Luigi clutched his little book bag tightly, nervously glancing around. Another patron walked past, their echoing footsteps making Luigi squeak. He ran over and hid behind Tony, grabbing onto his coat.      "Hey, hey it's okay, kiddo." Tony soothed, putting an arm around him. "Nothing's gonna hurt you here."      "A-Are there ghosts here? Like in G-Ghostbusters?" Luigi asked urgently. Tony's shoulders slumped.      "Hoo boy, maybe your Uncle Art was right, we should have waited with that movie." he muttered. "No, kiddo, no ghosts, just old books, I promise." He dropped a book into his bag.      "I found what I wanted, how about we get out of here and go find some comic books or something?"    Luigi just gave a faint nod, still looking nervous.

   The children's section was bright, well lit, and a bit louder than the rest of the library. Luigi's eyes lit up when he spotted Mario sitting at one of the little tables with a stack of graphic novels and comic books. As he rushed over to sit with him, Arthur came over to Tony, clapping a hand on his shoulder.      "Like lookin' into a mirror from way back, isn't it?" he said. "We were about their age when we first came here, right?"    Tony pushed on his glasses. "Yeah, seven or eight. Speaking of their age, got something here I thought we could read to them." he reached into his bag and held up the book. Arthur grinned, his eyes sparkling.      "I call dibs on Gandalf's lines."      "You can't call dibs!" Tony grumbled, "We each get a few pages, you know the rules."  Arthur rolled his eyes. "Fine, but we do the songs together."      "Works for me, just don't go singing out of tune."      "The old movie songs?" Arthur asked.      "You know it." Tony smirked. The twins turned as Giovanni and Marianna came over to get them and the Bros.      "Looks like you boys had fun," Giovanni said, eyeing the stack of comics that Mario was loading into his book bag. Marianna took Luigi's hand. "Did you like it, sweetheart?" she asked. Luigi beamed at her. "Yeah, can we come back again?"    Giovanni laughed. "Every two weeks, we gotta return stuff then anyway." As they headed up front and began to check out, Tony showed Giovanni the book he had picked out. His older brother's expression softened at the sight.      "Thought Art and I would read it to the boys." Tony explained.      "Just like I read it to you two. Care if I listen in sometime? It's been a long time since I read it."    Tony felt a rush of excitement at the thought. "I'd like that, Gio. I'd like that a lot." He glanced at his twin. "I think Arthur would, too."

   That night, after the Bros were all tucked in for bed, Tony and Arthur sat side by side. Giovanni stood in the bedroom doorway. Tony opened the book and began.      "In a hole in the ground there lived a Hobbit..."

By "CC"

[madisonrooney]

I hope this isn't too personal or anything but what kind of relationship do you have with Dove? Do you have her phone number and actually talk to her or is it more of a fan level relationship? I'm not trying to be mean or anything I'm just a new follower and don't know a whole lot

we're married /j

no youre totally fine!! it is a fan relationship but like to the extent that she knows who i am, remembers me, remembers details about me, etc. and ive met her many times over the last 8 years

ill put it in under read more for the people that have already heard these stories hundreds of times lol

i first met her at d23 expo 2015 when i was cosplaying as maddie. was absolutely sobbing when i met her and she started to tear up herself. she called me honey and sweetheart and rocked me back and forth while i hugged her still bawling lol

my first liv and maddie taping was about 2 months later and when i reminded her who i was (she didnt know right away but i get that since i wasnt wearing glasses or a ponytail) she jumped out of her chair hugged me and said HI SWEETY and wouldnt let me go even when jordan fisher started talking to me lol (he recognized me too) she told me my cosplay made her whole weekend.

we had some more great interactions at the next few live tapings. at the last one with a meet and greet, she said "i know you!!" right when she saw me. i mentioned my mom coming to the following taping (which sadly never happened bc it was cancelled) and she was like "ive never met your mom!!" and the fact that she was aware of that and saw it as something important warmed my heart.

about a year passed without seeing her but i saw her again at the 2017 rdmas which was the first time she said "i love you" to me without me saying it first. this was around when she really started to remember me without me having to reintroduce myself.

the rise of the isle of the lost book launch was the following month and she said she loved that im always at these events. 2 months later was d23 again and she said "hi love!! how are you!?" when i got my descendants 2 cd signed by her.

one of my favorite interactions was 2 weeks after that at the stage door of mamma mia at the hollywood bowl. right upon seeing me she said "hi baby!!," hugged me, and asked how id been in the last two weeks since we'd seen each other. at the time, i didnt know when id see her again so i took a moment to remind her how much she means to me and she said "you are an angel in my life."

a random meet and greet came up a few months later for her hair extension line where i was once again greeted with an immediate "hi baby!!" and hug. when i walked away and waved goodbye she shouted "i love you!!"

another favorite was at a panel for agents of shield the following year that happened in nyc when i just so happened to be there for spring break. as she walked in the room while they were playing a clip, she quietly said hi to people and gasped upon seeing me, gave me the usual "hi baby!" and stopped on her way to the stage to give me a hug. after the panel, she said goodbye to everyone, saying "i love you, i love you, i love YOU" and hugged me again saying "thank you for being here as always"

8 months later was the first preview of clueless the musical which i went back to nyc specifically for. this was another all time fav interaction. her face lit up when she saw me in the stage door crowd. when she was done meeting other fans, i once again got hi baby, "so good to see you," and her telling me she saw me in the audience + proving she meant it by telling me where i was (so she def saw me drooling over her for 2 and a half hours...but she probably expected that from me). i met thomas that night as well and my mom was with me too and she said "hey babe, they approve of you! and theyve been around longer than you have!"

about half a year later was disney channel fan fest where i once again got a hi baby when i was next in line plus a cute little dance over to me that lead into hug when i walked up.

that was my last interaction pre-covid and the only ones ive had since (save for her 2021 concert where we did interact but im not certain she knew it was "me" bc we didnt like talk and i was wearing a mask) have been at the cameron boyce foundation gala where ofc shes still sweet to me but naturally shes not as excited or talkative given that were mourning someone. but last year, she said "hi babe!" and gave me a hug. i didnt get to talk to her much then but this year i wanted her to know that even tho i wasnt able to show it for a while bc of quarantine that im still supporting her every step of the way and she brushed my arm sweetly and thanked me. she blew my friend and i kisses when she left and told us she loved us.

worth noting tho that the only social media interactions weve had have been her liking a handful of my comments on instagram and tiktok, and i cant even be sure that she knows the comments shes liking are from "me." i have too much social anxiety to be on stan twitter, so we dont communicate over social media at all or anything. but she knows me on a face to face basis and knows ive been there from the beginning and have gone to lengths to see her in her biggest moments.

[ota-division]

Chinami's Thoughts on Kobe Division

Ren Nakashima

Sitting on her legs, Chinami silently meditates as she silently breathes in and out. She sits in that position for a prolonged period of time until she hears a small alarm go off to the side of her. Feeling around for the small clock, she pushes a button on it, turning it off. Standing up, she reaches for her walking cane and heads to her scrying table. As always, she begins discerning the futures of one of the division teams. Her choice today is one of the newer teams to appear, Kobe Division.

"Nakashima Ren."

The crystal ball shows a young boy of seven or eight with ebony-colored hair sitting on the shoulders of a man with similar facial features. They are both in a crowd with numerous other people in a large setting. It is loud and chaotic as everyone's attention is on the scene in front of them: a group of up to six musicians are on a stage playing a popular rock song. The boy's eyes shine as he listens to everything that his ears are being subjected to: the shredding of the guitar, the thumping of the bass, the pounding of the drums, and the loud, shrill yet melodic voice of the singer. It was at this moment that the boy made his decision: this was what he wanted to do with his life.

The scene changes showing the boy a little older as he is sitting at his desk in his room. Behind him are a bunch of crumpled-up sheets of white paper. Beside him, standing near the wall was an acoustic guitar, which his father had gifted to him for his 13th birthday. It wasn't as good as an actual guitar, but all musicians had to start somewhere, right? Of course, all musicians also needed to be good at writing songs, which he was struggling with. He scratches his head with his free hand, while his other one writes down some words on the paper. He silently mouths the words, picturing how they would sound in a song. He does that a couple of more times before a familiar frown appears on his face. He takes the paper he is writing on and crumples it up, tossing it over his shoulder as it joins the other discarded papers on the floor.

He sighs as he leans back in his chair, looking up at the ceiling, as if hoping that some sort of inspiration would appear out of thin air and give him something to write about. He sighs again and scratches his head, closing his eyes as he thought about certain themes that may sound good. The war to be a rock legend was not an easy one. Somedays, he was defeated before he even tried. Sighing, he stood up from his chair and lied down on his bed. Picking up some headphones that were next to him, he placed them on his head and hit the 'Play' button on a CD player. Soon after, he let himself drift away as he listened to the lyrics produced by those who had come before him.

The scene changes to show the boy, now a few years older, inside a music room in a studio. He is singing a song into a mic as a producer, outside the room, listens to him, occasionally nodding his head to the beat. He'll admit, when the talent agent first brought this kid in, he thought he was losing his touch. After years of working in the industry, the producer had seen a lot of people with "supposed" talent step into the business, thinking they were "all that and a bag of chips", only to find out that they were just like every other wannabe musician out there, with no talent, whatsoever.

Thankfully, this kid wasn't one of those. He had talent, and though it needed some polishing, he had a good singing voice to match. He gave the musician a nod, which was his way of saying 'he did good'. Of course, the young man didn't need an old geezer like him to tell him that. He knew he was still a novice in the music business. But he was going to make it. He owed it, not only to himself, but also his younger siblings, and his father, God rest his soul. A confident grin plants itself on his face as he walks out of the music room, with the scene ending shortly after.

The final scene plays out showing the boy now in his current form. He is on stage at a concert, playing and singing his heart and soul out, much to the admiration of the thousands of fans who had come out to see the legendary "Vox" in attendance. His hair sways in the wind as he continually moves his body to and fro to the rhythm of the song, whilst still strumming his guitar. As he moves, he spots a young boy in attendance on top of a much older man, and he can't help but see himself in that kid. His life hasn't been perfect, but he is sure that he is living the dream that he wanted to live.

...Of course, as stated before, the boy's life hasn't been easy. Though he has fame and fortune now, those quickly can be taken away from him. In his quest to find one who truly understands him, he has to do away with those who get in his way. Will he someday be able to find the one who he has claimed as his muse? Or will he eventually fade away, along with his music career, into obscurity?

Max Soukoku

"Soukoku Max."

The scene on the crystal blue opens up to show a medium-sized log cabin built in the middle of a large forest. Despite how isolated it is from everything, it still looks hospitable and safe enough for someone to live in. Outside of the shack, a large silver cage can be seen, the kind you'd normally reserve for a dog, a pet, or some other wild animal. But the being inside the cage, it was an animal... just not the kind that walked on four legs. It was a human; more specifically, a young human boy, no more than four or five. He is staring out at nothing, save for what it's front of him as he uses the knife in his right hand to repeatedly stab his left hand.

Most people wouldn't do such a thing due to the pain and anguish one would generally feel. But that feeling was completely foreign to the boy. He never knew anything about pain ever since he was three years old. Did he get weak from blood loss? Of course. But the feeling of being hurt, bruised, or anything else meant nothing to him. And really, he was only doing this because he was upset. Why was he trapped in this cage? Why was he being held like a prisoner? He didn't know, but he knew he didn't like it. The scene ends as he repeatedly keeps stabbing himself, letting the red liquid make a small puddle beneath him.

The scene changes showing the boy a few years older. He is outside this time, walking around a large city. He didn't know where he was, but he didn't care. Anything was better than being caged up like some animal. This wasn't the first time he had been out. In fact, he had escaped many times, after he had learned how to pick the lock on his cage. His father never knew about his escapades. The boy always made sure to return home before it got really dark, which was usually when his dad returned. The boy had never been caught in all of his three years, so why should they change now? And even if he was caught, well... he figured he'd burn that bridge when he got to it.

Today was a day of excitement. It was his first time inside the city, and his first time inside this place... this place filled with many aquatic animals. He never knew places like this existed. It was really fascinating! He was so enthralled by all he saw, he failed to notice that he had caught onto the lower part of his pants, causing him to trip over them. He frowned as he hated falling down. He didn't feel pain, but he hated the ground, especially lying on it.

As he prepared to stand, he looked as a hand was extended to him. He looked up at the person's face, and looked as it belonged to a girl with a black bob-cut hairstyle. As he stared up at her, it seemed as if all time had stopped for him. Being locked in a cage for most of his life, he never had much human interaction before. The only interaction he had was with a man whom he deeply despised. So things, like: love, affection, pleasure. All of those were foreign to him. ...But now, at this very moment, as he took the hand that was offered to him and stood up on his own two feet again, he liked this feeling. It was foreign and weird, but he liked it. He really liked it.

The scene changes again showing the boy, now much older than before. He is standing over the body of an old man in a business suit, a bloody hatchet in his right hand in an office. Of course, calling it an office would be a bit of a stretch. The entire scene looked like something out of a B-rated horror movie. The victim's body was scattered all over the room, with almost all of his body parts thrown this way and that way. And the blood... it never ceased to amaze the boy how a human could have so much blood. Almost all of the victim's blood had turned the royal blue carpet in the room, completely red.

The boy stares down at the man, a neutral look on his face. This wasn't the first man that he had killed, and it wouldn't be his last. Honestly, he didn't even know this poor bastard. He never did anything to the kid. So why did he kill him then, you ask? Simple. It's cause it was his job. Plain and simple. Speaking of which, he knew he'd need proof that the job had been completed. Looking at the dead carcass of the victim, the boy, nonchalantly, picks up the victim's head, his scared features still visible on his face. Figuring that this would be proof enough, he turned around and began walking out of the room. He stopped once, simply to wipe some blood off of his cheek, which wasn't his obviously. The scene ends as he vanishes from sight.

The scene changes once more, showing the boy in his current form. He sighs as he reaches his current destination: a large high school. He was instructed by his leader that he was to attend high school to give him a cover. He didn't know why he had to bother. If anyone found out what he did for a living, he'd just kill them. Simple, right? But the leader's orders were orders. And it wasn't all bad. Most people had the sense to leave him be. And those that didn't... well, he made sure that they wouldn't bother him again after he was done with them. ...Or anyone else, for that matter. The boy's life is certainly not straightforward. But he's not complaining.

...Still, it begs the question of what will become of the boy when both his crimes and his past catch up to him. Though the injuries inflicted on his body are of no consequence, what about the injuries inflicted on his mind? Has the years of so much pain and turmoil done away with what little morality he has left? Is he an unfortunate victim of circumstance? Or the immoral villain in someone else's story?

Kaiji Sano

"Sano Kaiji."

The scene opens showing a young boy of seven or eight walking through a school. ...Though he is a boy, it is very hard to tell due to his effeminate appearance. Of course, his appearance never bothered him or his family. He couldn't help the fact that he looked like a female. He was just born that way. And there was little he could do about it.

...So why did everyone else have to make a big deal about it? Even now as he walked down the hallway to his classroom, he could feel the dozens of eyes staring at him, the murmurs and whispers of not only his peers and classmates but also some of the teachers and staff. He hated it. Why couldn't they just leave him alone? Why bully and make fun of him for something he had no control over?! It wasn't fair! He hated it! He kept his head down as he let his feet, which were getting heavier and heavier with each step, as if they were being weighed down by some invisible force, guide him to his destination. ...Though where he was going was no better. At least outside of a class, he could hide and run away. You couldn't do that in a closed environment...

The scene changes showing the boy a bit older. Unlike before, he seems to be a lot happier. The reason? Because he was finally being true to himself. He was currently wearing a white, flowing dress with his hair in pigtails. He also had some lipstick and makeup on, making him look completely like an ordinary female. He wasn't ashamed or embarrassed. He liked wearing this stuff. It made him feel more... lovable, at least to himself. ...And to one other person. Speaking of which, the boy looked as a bespectacled boy, who was a bit older than him, walked to him, taking his hand. The two smile at each other and walk into the school building together as the scene ends on a happy note.

The next scene plays out, showing the boy again, though he is worse for wear compared to his last appearance. He is walking down a street, jumping out at every little thing that either passes him or makes a noise. It was plain to the naked eye that the boy was suffering from something. He was rubbing his arms, vigorously and looking every which way. Despite it being a cloudy day with the wind blowing, he was sweating profusely and his heart was constantly thumping against his chest as if someone were using it as a drum set. ...Yes, these were all tall-tell signs of an unfortunate disease that many people who had gone long without a certain "need" or "want" suffered from. And that disease was called "withdrawal".

A wise man once stated, 'All it takes is one.' What he meant was, all it took was just one try or one temptation to get a person completely hooked or addicted to something. And in the young boy's case, it was methylenedioxymethamphetamine. That was the scientific name for it, anyway. On the streets, it had a variety of nicknames. The most well-known was 'Molly'. People in the U.K. referred to it as 'Mandy'. Some called them 'happy pills'. And some people preferred to call it 'Ex', as it was a shortened form of the drug name, itself. And that drug was called 'ecstasy'.

But at the moment, the boy, who was still walking down the street, anxious and alert, didn't care what it was called. All he knew right now was that he needed to get his hands on that stuff, ASAP! But with no money in his pockets, he had no way of acquiring it. But he had to get some! He just had to! Even... even if it meant stealing from and betraying the trust of the one whom he had come to admire and adore...

The scene changes showing the boy again. He is currently lying on a hospital bed, which he is strapped in. His condition from the last scene hasn't changed much. In fact, he looks worse for wear. His eyes are bloodshot red, his hair is frazzled and he was breathing heavily. It was obvious that he was still going through signs of withdrawal. Before, his only issue was figuring out how to acquire funds to get the product. But now, he couldn't get some even if he had money! Why? Because his family had forced him into this hell-on-earth called a rehabilitation clinic, or 'rehab' for short.

How could they do this to him?! So he had a problem with drugs. That was no reason to go to these extremes! No one wanted to help him! Everyone was against him! His family, his peers, even his former ex! ...His ex... Just the thought of that bespectacled boy was enough to send the boy over the edge as he felt himself screaming! As if on command, a female doctor along with some male nurses appeared. The boy knew what was coming next as the nurses held him down while the nurse injected him with some sort of strange drug. In a few seconds, all the boy could see was darkness. Pure, sweet darkness...

The final scene plays out showing the young boy in a colorful dress with a black wig on a stage as dozens of cameras flashed at him, taking pictures of him as he continued to pose. After his ordeal with rehab, he came out stronger than ever and began to use his feminine appearance to his advantage, becoming a cosplayer/model. His start may not have started out he'd have liked it, but he wasn't complaining about how his life was now.

...But though he managed to win the battle against his addiction, has the boy truly managed to quell his demons? During his time of struggle, he was forced to burn several bridges, the likes of which can never be rebuilt or used again. They say the only way to turn a white rose red is to dye it the color of blood. White represents 'purity' and 'innocence'. But do those abstracts define this model-like star? Will he be able to continue being a flower meant to represent 'love'? Or will he eventually wilt and be crushed under the weight of the sins he had previously committed?

Lovesick

With all cards of her tarot deck placed in front of her, the blind seeress sighs and lets the spirits take hold of her as her hand slowly glides over each and every one. It stops suddenly at certain cards for several seconds before continuing to search for the ones that she feels are correct. After scanning all 78 of them, she wordlessly and effortlessly flips over three of them, not even checking to see if they were correct; she knows they are.

The first card revealed features eight wands flying through the air (The Eight of Wands). This card represents fire. And as we all know, fire is passion, as well as desire. It speaks that the person seeks to acquire love through the senses, one of which is music.

The second card, like the first, features eight objects; this time, they are cups (The Eight of Cups). This card represents water: gentle, flowing, and the element that brings forth life. It signifies the person is seeking more than just sex. They seek an emotional connection. They wish to find someone who understands them and likes them just for them.

The last card features, like the previous two, eight objects. They are pentacles (stars), being crafted by a worker sitting on a bench. (The Eight of Pentacles). This card represents the earth, and represents sexual attraction, love for the body, and the desire to both touch and be touched.

These three men, all bonded by their desire to find and claim those who caught their eye. They've had to bloody and dirty their hands, their souls, and their hearts to get to where they are today, but they have no regrets. All is fair in love and war, and they seek to be the victors in this battle, no matter who they have to face... and kill.

But will their desires wind up being the death of them all? In their quest to claim their treasures, they've unknowingly placed themselves in the limelight, which means all eyes are on them. And as stated, they've all had to do things that would make them all pariahs if society were to ever find out. Can they keep hold of the skeletons trapped in their closet? Or will their enemies find out their secrets themselves? Only time will tell...

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, MARCH 30, 2000 I’m listening to the Titanic soundtrack as I type. So far, except for one song, it’s not all that great. It’s too classical for me. I also got a Madonna album that I had on tape that I wanted on CD and a Heart CD. This one is of them in concert and it’s pretty good.

I got up earlier today at 1:00. That’s because I fell asleep earlier last night. Was up till 5:00 instead of 7:00.

The latest battle to get the Bowflex is that they had to verify the number we gave them (what the fuck took them so long?). They say that’s the last step, but we’ll see. They claim they’re gonna ship it Monday, which means we should have it by Friday, but you know that they’ll have to call first to be led by the hand to the house cuz they’ll be too stupid to read a map and find it for themselves. Either that, or they’ll get it here OK, but the thing will be damaged or missing a part. Or maybe both of these things will happen. All I know is that it ain’t over yet. Since we can never just have something and pay for it with money, I know there’s more shit to go through to get the damn thing. Verifying a number doesn’t seem like it’d be enough in God’s eyes.

I guess we’re gearing up for a storm. It’s windy and cloudy out there, but I don’t know how much rainfall we’ll actually get. Probably not much. You usually don’t get much out here till the monsoons hit.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 29, 2000 I was going to write this during bingo intermissions, but sometimes I don’t want to be interrupted every two minutes and I just want to write straight through.

They let me sleep till 2:30 today, so maybe I can flip my schedule.

It’s so beautiful out right now, but still too warm to shut off the AC and open the windows. I wish we had a screened-in porch or even just a deck out front.

The fight for the Bowflex has officially begun. Tom called them today. They do ship UPS (and it should’ve gotten here by now) and we know they deliver out here because we’ve seen their trucks pass by, but they couldn’t check on our order because their computers were down. Yeah, I’m not the least bit surprised. With our shit luck, they’ll claim they never had an order for us when they finally do get their computers up and running.

TUESDAY, MARCH 28, 2000 Surprisingly, I got up at 11:30, even though I didn’t crash till around 5:30. I thought I’d sleep till 1:00 or 2:00, but I guess not.

The pinkies should be here by the 3rd, so about five more days to go.

Later…

Shit! They just now started up with their booming. There goes any hopes I had of flipping my schedule over and giving myself a break from the Melatonin. Not if I want to get woken up a few or more times a day. I’m just surprised they didn’t start at 9:30 and wake me up then. I knew they wouldn’t take a few months off like they did when we first bought the land and were in the trailer. Now that we’re here, they’ll never take that long off again.

Later…

Guess I was more tired than I thought. I ended up taking a three-hour nap.

I’m not as excited as I was before about the bingo games. They’re just too fixed and the odds of winning are about the same as the odds of winning millions in the state lottery. They don’t play till someone wins, either.

MONDAY, MARCH 27, 2000 I am in such a great mood! Today was just great!

First, the traffic wasn’t the nightmare it was the last time, second, the hygienist was sick, third, we saw Mom, and lastly, I found a wonderful slot machine game online to play, too. You build up tokens to turn into money. They even have real casinos online where you play with money for money.

When we got to the dentist, Trisha told me she tried to call me, and we asked her what number she had. She looked on her computer and read me the wrong number, but somebody’s got it somewhere, or else Melanie wouldn’t have called me before. Anyway, neither of us could remember the regular line’s number, so we gave her the cell number.

The doctor didn’t need to readjust my retainers, but he gave me more fluoride toothpaste at my request, and I don’t go back till June 20th.

At Mom’s, I played a little solitaire on Mary’s computer and Evelyn was baking pumpkin pie. She gave me some and said I looked like I lost a little weight and looked good. Well, these online games sure are a good way to keep my mind off of food!

We put special hinges on Mom’s bathroom door to make the door even with the wall so her walker can fit through it.

I’m writing in between games, and I love how a box pops up to tell me when the game’s started so I don’t have to keep checking.

I loved Mary’s wildflowers that she has at the side of her house. I was always hesitant about getting flowers cuz of the bees, but we’ve got enough bees as it is, so why not add a little color to the property, I said? So when we can, I want to get some flower seeds.

I don’t envy Mary for the neighbors she’s got across the street two houses or so down. They were white, and as far as I know, they are owners, but even so - there were a ton of kids and adults out playing basketball and screaming up a storm! I’d be miserable next to them. Those houses are about as old as our old one was and also have single-paned windows. At least Mary doesn’t have windows on the bedroom side of the house like ours did.

It was sooooo nice to not have to go back to that house and those Mexicans! Or blacks for that matter. Instead, I got to return to a quiet, beautiful new house!

We stopped at Circle K on the way home and again, my vibes about Jennifer being gone were reinforced by her not being there.

SUNDAY, MARCH 26, 2000 I am having sooo much fun today! Tom showed me how you can play bingo online for money. I haven’t won, naturally, but it’s fun anyway. Some games are for a few bucks, some for thousands. The only part of it that’s a bore is that they make you wait a couple of minutes or so in between games while they run their stupid commercials. I’m waiting for a game to start right now.

True to form, Paula did call this weekend, but only once. Early yesterday morning.

Also, Dan just couldn’t resist the urge to do a little engine-gunning earlier, but fortunately, it didn’t last too long.

I told Tom I wouldn’t be in the mood for sex this weekend, cuz I was bummed about Velvet’s dying. Not too bummed, though, cuz like I said, I love guinea pigs and they sound really neat, but they don’t do anything.

Back again. Got 2 minutes and 37 seconds before the next game starts. As I was saying, GPs just don’t do anything. They don’t have colorful tubes to run through, no wheels to run on, and they don’t run around and explore.

Butter Rum is definitely pregnant, and I think Oreo is, too. Butter Rum’s further along.

I made poor Tom move the den chair into the living room, but it looked stupid there, so the poor guy hauled it back into the den. Yes, having the chair out of the den really does open that room up and make it look bigger, but I like the chair in there better, cuz where I had it, separated that room from the kitchen. Without it there, the den and kitchen sort of blended in with each other.

Later…

Tomorrow’s my appointment to have my teeth cleaned, as well as to have the retainers adjusted, although this time around, they’re still fitting pretty snugly. Anyway, I am not looking forward to this appointment! I know I’m gonna have a ton of cavities!

It’s been two or three weeks now since there’s been peace up in the sky, and God do I pray for just one more week! I need to flip my schedule once and for all to reset it, and I need to take a break from the Melatonin. I’m becoming immune to it and it’s just not working like it used to. Tonight, so I can get to sleep sooner than 4:00 or 5:00, I’ll take a Benadryl. That should work. It’s just that I don’t want to risk staying up till 5:00, then being boomed awake at 9:30, if they’re gonna be flying again, on the day I have a long appointment. After the appointment, we’ll probably swing by to see Mom, who’s just a few minutes away.

FRIDAY, MARCH 24, 2000 Last night I told Tom about the critter I saw and he said it wasn’t a gopher, which is ugly. He said it’s a kangaroo rat, a desert animal I’ve never heard of before, and he showed me a picture of it online. They need almost no water to survive and basically live off of seeds.

Today, we went out and I showed him the hole where she lives and saw that she’d eaten the food I left her. I sprinkled some more of the animal’s food out for her, then we went back into the house. A few minutes later, we saw her running around. She almost came right up to the house. She came as close as the wash and Tom took a picture. It’s very hard to see any detail, but it’s the best picture yet. She’s a cutie, but not as cute as a regular rat. She doesn’t have the pointy nose that rats and mice have. Her head is a lot like a squirrel’s. She’s got a blunt nose like a squirrel and a guinea pig, and the tail isn’t like a rat’s. Rat’s tails are snake-like, but her tail is broad and flat. Tom said he isn’t sure, but it could be a type of groundhog, although definitely not a gopher. Even so, I’m still calling her Gophie.

This weekend I’m just gonna go ahead and talk to Paula when she calls, and she will call. The message I left her about calling on the 1st of every month is no doubt going to go in one ear and out the other. I left her a message last week, in case I forgot to say so, telling her we were getting a long-distance block put on so she won’t keep pestering me with her “call me” messages. I dropped hints, reminding her not to lose her phone and spend too much money if she’s expecting a pay cut, but we’ll see. I think she’s just gonna keep on ringing up her bill till she loses the phone. I’m amazed at how long it takes her to lose her phone each time around, though, cuz I know I’m not the only one she calls that’s long-distance, and if she’s really looking at only getting $600 a month, then she’ll have no choice but to cut her calls back. God tends to pamper these kinds of people, though. Meaning, I highly doubt, if she really gets cut back that much, that she’ll supplement herself by working. She’ll just have welfare make up the difference, and they’ll be glad to do it, too. As soon as they see someone with a kid come in there, they’re ready to hand out the world to them.

Later…

Still no sign of my outdoor friend. The food’s still out there, too. Maybe she really doesn’t live in the hole I thought she lived in. Anyway, rodents are more active at night. That’s when the food will get eaten, I’m sure.

In my final letter to Dureen and Art, I told them Mom moved in with a cousin cuz her daughter’s having health problems, and that I’d instructed all my relatives out here not to give them any info if they called. What I’m curious to see, though, is if Dureen will have the nerve to knowingly go against my wishes, just like she loves to do, and still send Mom a Christmas card to Mary’s house. See, I know she couldn't care less about Mom and sending her cards. She doesn’t send Tom cards, so why would she care more about her than Tom? It’s all to spite me. That’s all it is.

I have such mixed emotions about Tom. I always have and I know I always will. He’s given me so much, yet he’s taken so much, too. He’s given me a home, security, and the chance to do things I couldn’t do on my own. At the same time, I’ve given up a kid for him, I’ve given up the way I normally deal with those that fuck with me (neighbors/contractors), I’ve changed my clothing style for him, etc. Not that I can ever see myself returning to wanting a child (God, I hope not!) or that God would allow it, and not that I still have the body for the clothes I used to wear, but still, I feel like he’s robbed me of opportunities as well as brought me opportunities.

Later…

Wow! Last year it took me 117 pages to get from the New Year up to today’s date, and just 71 pages this year. There hasn’t been as much to write about since getting in the house, and there are certainly no Mexicans a few feet away to give spy reports on!

What a bummer to know that the freeloaders never read my mail. I highly doubt they’d read it before giving it to the cops. This must mean Larry never read my mail either, despite the bluff. And why would he? I wouldn’t read mail from him. If I got mail from him, I’d put it in the trash to be burned as soon as I knew it was from him, without reading a word. And his saying he sent copies to all kinds of people wouldn’t catch my interest either, cuz I wouldn’t care. Someone could send every single human being in this world a letter saying I’m a crazy asshole for all I care.

It’s no wonder Tom’s as tense and as serious as he is easygoing and relaxed. He is soooo neighbor-conscious! He totally regretted saying this to me cuz of how mad I got, but he told me to shut my office window if I was going to blast my music. He said he knows how much I hate it when others blast their music with the window open, and he certainly wouldn’t want to do things to others that he didn’t like done to him. First of all, when Dan blasts his music, it’s not through an open window. He’s taken the speakers outside. Also, I reminded him that if he wants to be all neighbor-paranoid, worship the ground they walk on, kiss their asses, cater to what he thinks they want, have his life revolve around them, and think the world of their opinions and feelings - fine. But that’s him and not me. I have no more respect for neighbors than they’ve had for me. I don’t give a shit if they can hear me in any way or what they think. As far as I’m concerned, I have no neighbors. They just don’t exist for me anymore. And if he’s so worried about what neighbors think, why is the property still trashed? He’s sending a message saying we’re slobs, which I think would make him want to cry. Or is he just rebelling against me? Is he trashing the outside because I demanded that he not trash the inside? Anyway, I’ll be damned if he’ll control me any more than he already has and try to make me into him. He’s not taking/changing another goddamn thing about me.

The ballerina doll I got at the casino never came with a stand, so I put one of the Giselle dolls stand on a 17” doll, and used that doll’s stand for this doll, which is a 14”. I’m glad I got that second Giselle doll, cuz I really fucked the first one up.

THURSDAY, MARCH 23, 2000 Last night it looked like the pig was dying, all thanks to me and my carelessness. Apparently, the bottle he had broke and he couldn’t get any water for God knows how many days, so he was weak and dehydrated. I put a different bottle in, but that one leaked, so now he’s back to a bowl, and I managed to get some water into him. I think he’ll be okay, although I have mixed emotions about that. Perhaps this is really mean of me, but sometimes I wish he didn’t exist. I’m kind of sick of guinea pigs these days, and he’s so lazy. All he does is sit there, taking up space and making more work for me.

Tom woke up really early yesterday at around 7:00, which left him five hours before he had to go to work. At one point I told him I knew having sex 2-3 times a week was overwhelming for him but did he want to screw tonight anyway? I feel obligated to offer, I guess. Sure enough, he flashed that amused grin. That pleased kind of grin that says, I was hoping you’d ask so I could tease you by turning you down (believe me, though. I wouldn’t feel teased). He didn’t quite turn me down, though. Although I figured he wasn’t in the mood to screw till the weekend, he suggested he go down on me. I forgot that a few days ago I had made a comment about getting off sometime soon as part of my let’s-give-Tom-a-taste-of-his-own-medicine routine. I figured if he was gonna lie and play games, so was I. It gets weird, though. The idea was to tell him I’d cum and make sure I didn’t. However, it felt so good that I wanted to cum, but couldn’t! There’s a simple explanation for it, though. I took care of myself earlier, not expecting him to go down on me. He insisted it was cuz he was out of practice, but he did a fine job.

Lately, I feel like he’s trying to face what he’s done to me over the years in his own way, not that he’ll change by asking that we use birth control or by cumming and not worrying about what risks it may hold. But in his own way, he does feel bad. He’s told me he feels bad and always will, but I know it’s worth it to him. He’d rather feel bad about it, then try to change it. Another thing that tells me he’s trying to own up to his bullshitting me over the years, is the fact that he’s done nothing to deny the things I’ve said lately, like how he never wanted a kid, etc. It’s like he’s quit denying it. Maybe that’s the best he can do to fess up to what he’s done because I sure as hell can’t imagine him ever coming out and bluntly admitting I was right about him and his fears all along. He’s too stubborn for that.

Tom’s gonna put in a sell order to sell some stock to pay bills with. Right now we’re pretty current, but he said we could fall behind.

Dan, Dennis, and Steven! I want to fucking smack you! They’re still affecting our lives! Fucking mother-fucking cocks! When that cock brother of mine had a plaque made up dedicating his business to Larry, one of the lines was: always with you, always with me. I could have it backward, but anyway, when I first read that in a picture Dureen sent me, the first thing that came to mind was - my God! That’s exactly how I feel about the freeloaders. They’re always with me and I’m always with them. Like it or not. I lived to get away from them or for them to get away from me. Well, this is how I feel about these cocks, too. We may not be fighting on the phone with them every day, pleading for them to do their fucking jobs, but even so, they’re still affecting us and they’re still a part of our lives. They’re always with us and we’re always with them. Maybe someday – someday - preferably this year, God will free us and our finances from these degenerate fucks.

Speaking of the freeloaders, I still have dreams about them every now and then, but it’s fine. As long as they’re not a few feet away from me, it’s fine. In the dream, we were still neighbors and we were getting ready to move in a couple of weeks. I was ignoring them and their shit, letting them wonder why they weren’t getting a reaction from me over the music since I knew we were moving anyway.

Yes, those blacks, and the Mexicans as well, will always be with me whether or not I’m always with them. I mean, how could I forget these assholes and the stress, anger, frustration, and hell they inflicted upon me for years and then months? At least now they’re a part of my life in my memory only. I can remember them and be sooo grateful to be free of them and their shit.

I’m utterly stunned how Mr. Bias actually kept his word and dropped it the day they wasted their time dragging me down there to discuss shit they could’ve discussed here. I really thought they were gonna subpoena me. Wow! A cop that doesn’t lie! Hmm… I’m also shocked that these people didn’t send us mail through our old address. Especially the blacks. Yes, people do have the nerve to do that. They would commit the same crime against you they’re accusing you of. I remember how Fran actually had the nerve to bring me up on prank phone call charges while he was doing the same thing to me, till I talked him into dropping the charges. Oh, the winners I used to be dumb enough to associate with!

Later…

I was sitting by my open office window when I heard this metallic-sounding hammering. I thought maybe someone had the nerve to be trying to pry the lock off the shed, but when I went outside I could tell it was coming from a neighboring property, probably next door. They may have resumed their building project. Having no buildings or hills between the houses makes sounds appear closer than they actually are. What was so cool was that I couldn’t hear a damn thing with the window shut. That wouldn’t be the case in Phoenix! When there was hammering next door, I heard it loud and clear, even over fans and music.

I may have a new wild animal friend, but I won’t count on it yet. I spotted her about 30 feet from the office window. She was gray and about the size of the rats. At first I thought it could be a baby jackrabbit till I saw its head was shaped like a squirrel and it had a tail similar to a rat’s tail. At least I think it did. I think it was a gopher. Anyway, it looks like she’s living in a hole by this bush that’s near where I spotted her. I went out and left some lettuce around the hole and a short while later I saw her out again. I went out the front door, saw her leap into the hole, then I placed a carrot and some regular food by the hole. Tomorrow I’ll go see if it’s gone. Hopefully, I’ll see Gophie, as I refer to her, again tomorrow.

I tried to take a picture, but she was too far and too small. I even went online to see if I could find a picture of a gopher, but couldn’t. I ended up reading up on a variety of rodents. I like how they say hamsters are antisocial and possibly evil. They rate mice as sociable but say the males fight. They rate rats as social, friendly, and very intelligent. One rat owner said they loved rats and how they chase strings, come when called (sometimes), and really enjoy human company.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 22, 2000 Amazingly, I still haven’t heard from the boomers in the sky. I’ve been sleeping just fine. Maybe they’re on break or something. This peace can’t last forever, though.

Yesterday turned out to be quite a rough day. My allergies just wouldn’t quit. On and on went the sneezing and the runny nose. Obviously, I’m gonna have these vicious allergy attacks every few weeks or so and there’s nothing I can do about them but just live with them. It’s better than deadly asthma attacks.

Tom picked out a portfolio organizer from a catalog for being at the bank for five years.

Later…

Just got our third sales call of the week. It was the Arizona Republic calling. By June we’ll be back to getting several calls a day and I’ll have to turn the ringer off. I could tell it was automated too, cuz of the delay between when I picked up and when the person started talking. I told them not to call again, but I’m sure they will after a few days. And the thing is that they never remove numbers from their system, and also, they give it out to their friends so they can put your number in their system, too. It’s like a mailing list, only it’s with the phone. Now that someone knows someone lives at this number, more people will be given the number. If the Phoenix number is still out of service, it’s still being called many times a day. Once it does get reissued, I sure feel sorry for whoever gets the number.

I still haven’t heard from the people in the sky. I don’t know what’s up with that. I still don’t know why we didn’t hear from them during October, November, and December.

Once I get my book done and out to some publishers, this will be a real test of God. This will tell me if he’s all about stopping me from doing things I wanted to that I couldn’t handle, or if he’s about stopping me from doing anything I want to do. Period.

Soon, Tammy, Dureen, and Art will hear from me one last time. Along with sending the pictures, I will make myself clear as to why I don’t want any contact for the last time, simply because I like to express myself and not because I feel I owe them an explanation. I don’t owe these people shit, and except for Lisa, I don’t regret dumping them. I never felt better. I only wish I’d done it sooner. I can’t stand these people. I just can’t stand them. And I can’t associate with Lisa and have to be reminded of these sick fucks whenever we talk. I don’t want to know Bill, Larry, Tammy, Dureen or Art exist, other than to send them this final piece of mail. I never again want to be a part of their abuse and tall tales. I could never again associate with such dishonest control freaks like Dureen and Art, nor Larry with the way he tried to take over the family’s affairs and with the way he and his folks ganged up against Tammy. Yes, Tammy’s a shit parent, but Larry didn’t just want Lisa for the sake of getting her away from Tammy. He wanted to replace his son and to spite Tammy. And I could never again associate with Tammy and her bullshit either. She lies, exaggerates, and is the moodiest hypochondriac I know.

If I crossed paths with most people that have burned me in the past, I wouldn’t even pay them the time of day, but these people have fucked me up and over so badly for so long, that I still burn with rage at the mere thought of them, and if I ever saw Bill, Larry or Ronnie - I’d beat them beyond recognition in a heartbeat. I hate bully cocks like them that think they’re oh so tough! There’s nothing I’d get off more on than to show these “big tough men” that no, they can’t hit everybody and no, they can’t beat everybody. Some people, including women, could kick the shit out of them and that includes me. I have the rage to do it and do it well. I know I could. I’d bet my dolls on it. In this day and age, they’d never stand a chance against me. Hell, I could take them all on at once with one arm tied behind my back, and oh how I wish I could be the one to teach these little fucks a valuable lesson about what happens when the wrong person is hit/fucked over by them. I’d make them so terrified to even think of fucking with anyone the way Ronnie used to shove me around and the way Bill’s hit Lisa.

Oddly enough, though, I don’t feel extreme rage when it comes to my folks, even though they abused me both physically and mentally more than anyone else ever has. Maybe it’s because of their age. Or maybe it’s because I know that Larry, Bill and Ronnie would be more of a challenge for me, even if I know I could kick the shit out of them easily enough. Meaning that although I know I could beat them all, I could beat my parents with just one punch. The others would take four or five punches. Maybe it’s that. I don’t know. I just know that if I could change two things in my life, I’d erase the resentment I feel towards Tom for lying to me about the kid, and I’d erase my anger towards these people back east and just forget about them. Literally, forget them.

Below are excerpts from my letters.

To the shit sister:

The biggest thing about you that really made my blood boil was how you let Bill go on abusing you and Lisa for years before you finally put your foot down, even if it was in a half-assed kind of way since you do allow Bill access to your kids. Even you yourself admitted that you were miserable for years and wouldn’t address it. I don’t need experience as a parent to know that your job as a parent was/is to protect your kids from abuse, and you DIDN’T! There’s absolutely no excuse for your letting his shit go on like that. Using your childhood is a lame, pitiful excuse, too. You should’ve kicked his ass and thrown him out the first time he laid a hand on her and you should’ve made it the last time he laid a hand on her. Sometimes two wrongs do make a right and sometimes you do have to literally fight for justice. Turning the other cheek doesn’t always work. These violent people need to be shown that if they hurt someone, someone’s gonna hurt them. Instead, you sent this pitiful excuse of a person the wrong message. You might as well have had a big sign made up saying: beat my daughter Bill. I’ll let you get away with it with no taste of your own medicine to come. Like I said, you should’ve kicked his ass, and if you couldn’t do it with your bare hands, you should’ve used a weapon which could’ve and would’ve been justified to the cops - he attacked my daughter and I did what I had to do to get him away from her. Violent people like Bill can’t be helped or changed and yes, someday he’s gonna hit the wrong person who’s gonna make him be afraid to even think of hitting another person (if he lives) but you should’ve been the one to teach him his lesson. If we had had kids and if Tom had ever laid a hand on them, I’d beat him beyond recognition as would be my duty as a parent and I’d never let him near me or my kids again, and I don’t care what the courts said. And you were worried about how I’d be as a parent in the past. Well, obviously all your worries over me were just a cover for your own worries, doubts and failures as a parent, huh? Well, rest assured - I wouldn’t have been a perfect parent who never made mistakes, but I wouldn’t have let my husband beat her year after year either! It’s not your fault Bill’s the way he is, and it’s not your fault that our pitiful excuse of a court system is as fucked up as it is, but that’s all the more reason why we need to take responsibility. What I mean by putting your foot down in a half-assed kind of way was that you should’ve ignored the courts and not let Bill near the kids, even if that meant you had to run and hide. If the courts won’t do their job, then we the people need to do it for them and pick up where they left off. If the courts told you to kill your kids and then yourself, would you do it? And what are you? Attracted to aggressive, abusive, violent men? Where’s your self-respect, girl? I see a nasty pattern here. Dick was violent, Joe was violent, and Bill was. Is Mark gonna hit you and the kids too? And if so, how many years is it gonna take for you to fight back? Well, we can’t undo the mistakes we’ve made in the past, and we all make them. All we can do is learn from our mistakes. Next time a man lays a hand on you or the kids - make him sorry, show him it’s a definite no-no, have self-respect and respect for your kids, and get rid of him! And Tam, I’m sorry if what I just said sounded cruel, but it’s the truth!

To the shit excuse for parents:

I can’t lie to you folks and tell you when or if you’ll ever hear from me again. You could hear from me again in a few months, a few years, or never. I just don’t know. I certainly couldn’t call you and resume a relationship with you if I couldn’t be accepted as I am and cuz I just couldn’t trust you. Not after you’ve broken your word to me a zillion times. You can’t keep personal and private stuff between us. Or any disagreements we have. It was fine when you’d tell people things like “Jodi and Tom went to Vegas,” or “Jodi likes to sing and her nickname’s Mystery,” but to tell them “I’m sick of hearing about the same things and things I can’t relate to. I don’t give a damn if she can’t get pregnant. That’s her problem, I have no empathy for her, and I’m sick of hearing it” is wrong. I can see if you had simply told people that we had a disagreement, but to get into details, half of which you made up along the way, was wrong. Our conflicts were never Marty and Ruth’s business, Larry’s business, or your friend’s business, either. They should’ve been kept between us. If I wanted them to know certain things, I’d tell them myself. Hell, you told the whole town of Longmeadow I jumped. You made me feel like it was more important for you to get sympathy than to protect my privacy. And the fictitious story about me chasing you, Doe, with a hammer (or was it a knife?) When I was somewhere between 15-20 was ludicrous. You had so many people scared to death of me for no reason. No one needs to be or should be afraid of me unless they try to harm me or my husband. Anyway, I already made my feelings clear, and if you read them and if you understood a word I said, you’d know how I felt. In the long run, though, it really doesn’t matter one way or the other what you do or don’t understand or agree with me on because as long as we don’t resume the relationship we had in the past, we won’t clash with each other.

Later…

Tom left a note saying to wake him up at 9:00. So early? Does this mean we’re gonna get together tonight? And are we back to having sex 2-3 times a week? Gee, I can’t wait!

I can’t help but have conflicting emotions about his not cumming, just as I do about God’s deciding to take my reproductive system into his hands and make my decisions for me regarding that.

I don’t want a kid, but I resent God for robbing me of my choice.

I don’t want a kid, but I resent Tom for robbing me of a normal sex life.

Until a professional told him there was nothing that could be done and it was truly out of his control, I’ll never forgive him for denying me his cum, so to speak, when I did want a kid. And he makes me feel like such a cursed freak, too. I’ve never heard of anyone like him. I swear he’s the only one in this world like he is. I know I’m right, just as I have been so far, about his not wanting a kid and that that’s the basis for his not cumming. And I know he’ll never go to a doctor about it. If it were up to him, he’d never discuss the issues of cumming or kids again in his life. But what I still don’t get to this day, is why go to such extremes to see that he doesn’t become the father he never wanted to be and still doesn’t want to be. The only reason I can think of is that he knew I wanted a kid when we met and just didn’t have the heart to tell me he didn’t want that and therefore insisted we use birth control. I think his refusal to cum became a habit he can’t break. Or can rarely break. I’m sure that long after menopause, he still won’t cum. He’s too used to the way he is and too pleased with it. He obviously wants to be the way he is, whether or not there is a pregnancy risk. I can tell by how comfortable he is with the way he is. How many guys are like him, and can’t help it, and are happy with it? No one! Just him. I tell you, there’s no such thing as a case like he’s got. Not medically, anyway. His situation just doesn’t exist. You either can’t get hard to begin with, or you can, and you can cum just fine. No one gets hard but can’t cum. The question is - am I really the only one with a guy who can get hard, but won’t cum?

Anyway, I just try not to think of it, and all the ways God and other people have made my decisions for me or controlled me in any way. I’ve never been with anyone that was remotely normal in bed and I never would be if I went through a zillion more people, be it women or guys. I also never had a say in my reproductive system and I never will. God put the lock and chains on that the day I was born and declared it off-limits to me. All I can do is just live with these facts. They cannot be changed, and even if they could be, I don’t know that I’d want to change them. Not just because my heart is no longer in changing them, but because of my fear of God’s retaliation against me for going against his wishes for me. If there’s one thing I’ve learned it’s never to mess with God!

TUESDAY, MARCH 21, 2000 Just fired up my computer to cover today’s events, then I’m going to listen to music, maybe sing a little, then hopefully I’ll crash. Benadryl ought to help with that. Yeah, my allergies have been going berserk. Tom says he feels bad that he took me out on such a windy day, but it started before we went out. I think the dust in Mary’s house contributed more to it in the end than the wind did. She only cleans once a year at Christmas time. And when she cleans, I think that only means neatening things up, or rearranging them and lessening some of the clutter. Not dusting and vacuuming. I doubt she even owns a vacuum.

Driving through that horrendous city sure brings out the rage in me, but first, we enjoyed seeing Mom. Evelyn wasn’t there when we arrived because she had to go to the dentist. We showed Mom the pictures we burned on the disk we brought her, and Tom set about to connect their two computers, but Mary didn’t leave the stuff he needed. I guess she hadn’t gotten the parts yet, cuz something came up.

Mary, who came in about a half-hour before we left, saw the pictures, too.

I played around with their electric dartboard and saw their new birds. They have a blue parakeet like the one we had and a green one. One of them has a really nice cage.

Dave came in on our way out, so we quickly said hello to him, then headed for the grocery store which was a circus and a half. It took us forever at the check-out, thanks to the slow, stupid Mexican at the register. Non-whites were plentiful compared to the whites, which now seem to be the minority. The blacks and Mexicans totally ran the whites out, or so it seems. They help to run us out.

After the grocery store, Tom ran into Staples, but as I figured, they didn’t have ink refills for my kind of printer, so he’s going to order them online. I’m sure I’ll have to remind him and push him to do it a dozen times before he finally does.

Anyway, as I’ve said before, one of the things I hate about driving in the city isn’t just all its traffic and construction, it’s the fucking assholes that creep! No one can drive the speed limit in Arizona, I swear! Not even in Lavene, a tiny scum town just outside of Phoenix. It’s either a poor Indian tribe town that hasn’t made money with casinos or a Mexican town. Either way, like most scum towns, it ain’t white. Anyway, this couple in front of us had us dragging at fucking 15 miles below the speed limit for miles. When we finally got the chance to pass them, I fingered them out of frustration and Tom blew a fuse over it, getting all paranoid about getting shot for it, etc. I’m not saying this world isn’t full of sensitive poor losers, but what are the odds of that, huh? If we all went around shooting those who flipped us off, gave us dirty looks, or swore at us, there’d be none of us left. I told him I’d keep my fingers down from here on out, but I’ll be damned if I’ll kiss society’s ass and not vent my anger and frustration when I want to. I’m not gonna live walking on eggshells because of society’s poor precious sensitive little feelings. If they can’t handle the things I say and do - tough shit. If you can’t handle a finger or two, you’ll never make it in this world and you don’t belong in this world in the first place. You piss me off, you’ll hear from me about it, and if you can’t deal with it - that’s your problem.

SUNDAY, MARCH 19, 2000 Another quiet, stress-free, peaceful weekend. How many cars were next door at the Mexicans this weekend? Hmm…Ten? Twenty? Fifty? Hee, hee! Well, they didn’t have anything to do with my life!! Not the quiet blue-green pickup, nor the bass-banging Ranchero!!!

My pee is green. I’m pretty sure it’s cuz of the water pills I’ve been taking, cuz the further away I get from taking one, the clearer my pee is. It’s turned out to be more of a help than I thought it would be when it comes to losing excess water, although it doesn’t do shit for pre-period boob soreness. Even more amazing - I woke up at 121 pounds today, but have done nothing lately to lose weight. Again, could it be connected to these water pills? I’d guess so.

We screwed today and he let himself in there again. I was surprised.

He installed a picture viewer on my computer and it’s great. It allows me to sift through them faster. We can’t bring the screensavers to Mom tomorrow because we need to find certain files to make them run on their computer. We are going to bring them a CD of pictures, though.

Scuttles was so funny earlier. Even Tom’s amused by the rat’s behavior. Ratsy was out chasing me again, along with Scuttles, and they both were chasing this strip of paper I’d dangle in front of them like a kitten would. It was so cute.

SATURDAY, MARCH 18, 2000 Getting pretty hot out there! We were outside (he still is) and I cut up some boxes for burning.

As expected, he’s shown no desire for sex. I knew that having sex like we did 2-3 times a week wouldn’t last long. I knew he’d get sick of it. Personally, I think it was all a show. I mean, I think he thought he could tease me big time by thinking we’d have full-time sex regularly, then bye-bye full-time sex and hello to part-time sex once again. Little does he know he didn’t get the bummed out feeling he no doubt hoped I’d get. I’m ever so grateful to be back to the part-time sex. I have no appetite myself. It’s just old and predictable, and it bores me to tears. It’s hard to get turned on by him when I know he isn’t all that turned on by me. I just can’t do the one-sided sex like I used to be able to. He also says he’s worried about having grocery money for the next two weeks. Well, he’s 40 pounds overweight and I’m 20 pounds overweight. I don’t think it’ll kill us to cut back on food for a couple of weeks, but like I said, he’s just looking for excuses. I told you that if we had more time there’d be some other problem and there is. And once we’re doing better financially, he’ll be sick or sore more often. And like I also said, it’s OK if we have part-time, cumless sex. I just hate the lies and excuses. It’s OK that I can’t have a kid cuz I don’t want the burden and responsibility that’d bring, but at the same time, I still resent him for taking away my chance to find out if I could’ve conceived naturally. Because of this stubborn, controlling, scaredy-cat, along with the help of God, I’ll never know for sure. Just have vibes. My woman’s intuition tells me no, I wouldn’t conceive even if he squirted regularly. I’ve sensed long before I ever met Tom that I couldn’t conceive, and I didn’t with the stupid shits I did it with back east.

Paula left a message at 5 AM our time. I guess she’s calling on weekends now. I wish she’d call more like once every month or two, but at least she’s not bugging me several times a day like Andy used to. I don’t miss the long, boring phone calls with Andy. It’s not that he never had anything interesting to say, I just don’t miss his selfishness and his only coming over when he wanted something. Andy was a pest and a half.

Later…

Tom and I watched The Others live. I’m amazed they haven’t had an episode yet with childbirth in it.

Didn’t hear from Dan yesterday or today. I’m amazed at that, too.

Played with Scuttles on and off and now I’m making Tom and I a baked potato.

FRIDAY, MARCH 17, 2000 Not much to update on. No booms today and no Dan yesterday. That doesn’t mean I won’t hear from Dan tonight, though. It’s still early enough. If he does bug me, I’ll just throw my music on.

We’re going over to Mom’s on Monday to do some computer work for Mary and to visit her. We’ll go before Mary and Dave get home. That way the dog will be outside barking its ass off, and not inside to scare the shit out of me. I pity Mary’s neighbors if they hate barking like I do.

I made them screensavers, as I mentioned before, which Tom says they can’t wait to see. Tom also decided he wanted to make them a digital photo album on a CD, so I picked out about 110 pictures of us and things associated with us, like pictures of the land and pets.

THURSDAY, MARCH 16, 2000 Well, they found us. Yeah, we just got our first sales call. When the phone rang I saw it said “out of area,” and because of that and the fact that they left no message, it had to be sales. Another six months to a year and we’ll be back to getting many calls a day. I doubt the call was from the Bowflex people, cuz if they were calling, it’d be because they had something important to either tell us or ask us, and therefore, they’d leave a message, I’d think. Tom said we could expect it in a week, but no way. Money’s never enough, in God’s eyes, when it comes to us getting things. I know there’s gotta be a big song and dance and a big fucking deal involved in getting it. Us getting anything like that always takes a fight, and of course, when it does get here, there’ll be some problem. Something will be damaged or missing.

No booms in the sky today, but I’m sure I’ll be hearing from Dan any moment now. His prime time is in the early evening when he knows most people are more likely to be home. I’m surprised he’s been as quiet as he has been the last few weekends.

Tom got the animals the biggest bail of sawdust I’ve ever seen. It’s got to be a 50-pound bag.

I’ve also never seen an animal love me as much as Scuttles does, and I’d have to say I haven’t loved any animal as much as I love him. He’s so cute, loving and playful. At one point, while Tom and I were sitting on the couch with him, I had to get up for ibuprofen for a headache. After I did, Scuttles jumped down off the couch to follow me.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 15, 2000 They’re booming around up there again. At least they let me sleep till 10:30 when the alarm went off. I got up right before Tom came in with my coffee. I had him get me some since he was planning on stopping at Circle K, anyway. They didn’t have the white chocolate caramel I love so much, so he got the flavor they replaced it with - chocolate mint. Boring.

It is with utter shock and amazement that I can say I finally received Paula’s pictures! She really wasn’t putting me on. If I didn’t know any better, I wouldn’t know it was her, cuz half her face is covered with sunglasses. But knowing it’s her, and looking at the slight cleft in her chin and the shape of her lips, I can see it’s her. They were taken down in Florida. She’s smiling and waving in one picture, against a grassy and pine-treed background, wearing a black, sleeveless shirt or dress with what appears to be a pink bikini top underneath. The other one, the one I like best, she’s not smiling and is holding a small clump of pink flowers. She’s wearing the same thing in this one too, but has a better background cuz there are palm trees behind her. Her hair appeared to be pulled back and was obviously dyed a deep, coppery red.

Now if only I could get a picture of her from a decade ago with her long brown hair! And no sunglasses to hide half of her face!

Tom said that yesterday, he saw that snake in the same spot. He said he couldn’t tell if it was dead or not, but it probably got run over.

I don’t know if I mentioned this yet, but a foul smell would occur and disappear in the second bath for a week or two. We’re not sure what it was, but lately, we haven’t smelled it.

Freddie’s been having no trouble climbing up and down. I haven’t actually seen him screwing any of the ladies, but I hope he has and got a litter or two started.

Speaking of screwing, I’m to get Tom up at 8:00 so we can “try” to screw. Oh, God! I am not looking forward to this shit. I know he’s not going to go in me. In fact, I’ve even stopped using KY.

Later…

Dan’s on my case again, distracting and annoying the fuck out of me with the engine-gunning. What are we gonna do with you, Dan? Huh? Just what are we gonna do with you? God, get this fucker out of this state! Next door is a dream come true; I don’t know they exist. Same with the renters (so far) yet every day, be it for a sec or hours, I’m always reminded of Dan’s existence. It may be better than having a pack of loud and lazy freeloaders on my shoulder, but still, I don’t like it. I wish he’d just shut the fuck up. Having no mountain, hill, or wall between us and this cock is a factor in letting the sound hit the house so easily, just as it would be if we had a wall that was too close to the house, but he’s got some monster of an engine in at least one of his trucks. Totally the kind a desperado would have. Yeah, well I’m sick of hearing it. I’d like to see this little fuck give me one week, just one week, off from the fucking shit he’s been pulling, so obviously trying to get anyone’s attention.

Later…

What a big mistake, not using the KY, although I naturally lubed up in just a minute or two. He stayed hard and went in there, but it goes without saying that he wouldn’t let himself cum. I’m kind of surprised. I started to really wonder if our sex life was over. We’re not any richer, so I’m sure it’s because I’m getting closer to my period and less likely to conceive, not that I could anyway. I swear, though, he acts like an old man at times in bed. After just a minute or two on top, he plopped down on the bed as if he’d just run ten miles. He also seemed suddenly to be depressed, but he didn’t say anything.

TUESDAY, MARCH 14, 2000 Another quiet spell in the sky lately. I thought for sure that they’d wake me up around 9:30 yesterday and today, but I haven’t heard a thing. Yeah, but how long will it last? Just this week, I’m sure. By next week, they’ll be booming by regularly, waking me up. I still can’t seem to get up as early as I’d like to. I’ve been getting up around 10:30 but would prefer to get up at 9:00.

Later…

Tom’s home now. He stopped at his mom’s. Her blood sugar is too low. Nora, Ray and Jennifer were there and he says that Nora and Ray looked 100 years old. Ray has liver disease and Nora recently had a mild heart attack. Jennifer’s the opposite of what she used to be, from what Tom told me. Instead of being the boisterous loud-mouthed brat she used to be, she was rather subdued.

Anyway, after we chatted, he went out to burn some trash, and now he’s unwinding for bed.

When we were chatting, we were discussing how this house was built. I guess I misunderstood some of the details and got some of them wrong, so let me run through it again for the record. It takes 3-4 days to build this house. First they build a metal frame which they then build the house on. After the frame is made, they lay down the floor and run the plumbing underneath. Then they do the electrical, windows, walls, cabinets and doors. I’m not sure if the inside wall boards go in before or after the roof is put on, but anyway, after it’s painted, on goes the roof. It was cool to see them put a roof on a different house when we were there (they work on several houses at once). The roof is suspended on a crane that moves and places it on top of the house after its paint dries. Then they paint the exterior and roll the house through on conveyor belts to where they put its axles and wheels on. When we saw our house, it had plumbing, walls and floors, but no windows, doors, or cabinets, and some electrical. It wasn’t even painted.

MONDAY, MARCH 13, 2000 As planned, we got that male mouse we wanted at the same place we got Scuttles at. We were shocked to see that they had a huge cage with so many breeds of rodents living together in it. They had hamsters, gerbils, mice, and a guinea pig that squeaked bloody murder. I don’t know how these gerbils and hamsters get along when Teddy Bear and Gizzy didn’t. Maybe it’s because these were raised together. There were no rats or ferrets there. I’m not surprised, since rats and ferrets are the most aggressive of the rodents, although hamsters aren’t always sweethearts themselves. They also had some fancy mice that were alone in their own cage. They didn’t have nearly the number of rats this time around, and they had both pet rats and fancy rats, according to their sign. Pet rats don’t get as big as fancy rats, though they’re all pets. I was glad that none of the rats really appealed to me, because giving my attention to the two I’ve got is enough. When one of them dies, I’ll get another rat or two.

Anyway, we got some crinkle paper in a box for them to nest in, which was cheaper than the mall where Tom used to get them. Also, the fancy mice were on sale, so we paid just $3 for Freddie. Freddie’s as tame and lovable as all fancy mice are, walking up and down my arm. I already took his picture. He’s a cross between brown and gold. He’s pretty much what I was hoping to find. I wanted something different than the gold mouse and the black and white mouse I’ve got, for more color variety for breeding. It’ll be interesting to see what colors and markings they create. He’s definitely a male, too. They didn’t fuck up on his sex. You can see the two little balls very easily.

Last night I wish I had videotaped the rats. Scuttles was out playing with me, jumping and climbing all over me, but you should’ve seen Ratsy! He was chasing me and play-nipping me like a cat! He’d chase the hem of my nightie as I rolled on the floor.

Our only other stop was for coffee and soda at Circle K. Although it was only first shift when we got there, I got the immediate feeling that Jennifer no longer works there. Just a vibe I got, but we’ll see if I ever see her again.

Once we got a couple of miles or so from our house, there sure was a cool sight waiting for us in the middle of the road. I saw, from just two feet away, a diamondback rattlesnake, which is now coming out of hibernation. It moved off towards the side of the road and watched us. It was coiled up defensively, ready to strike if need be, but I guess he knew deep down that we weren’t gonna get him, cuz he didn’t even shake his rattle. Not even when I threw an empty Tic Tac box out at him. It landed an inch in front of him, but he gave no reaction. Just continued to sit there and watch us. Snakes, tarantulas, lizards, coyotes, jackrabbits, and roadrunners are what you mostly see out here. Anyway, we almost ran over the snake, and I wanted to see one of these up close so Tom backed up, careful not to run it over, and we checked him out for a while. Tom said they can only strike half of their body length. This one was about 4 feet long. They’re really cool looking, but I wouldn’t want a pet snake. I wouldn’t fancy the idea of having to feed them live rodents, which is what they eat. Also, I like smart, entertaining pets like rats. The rats interact with people just like puppies and kittens do. Even someone who hated rats couldn’t deny they’re cute to watch and smart. Anyway, Tom says that he’ll take a shovel and whack any snake’s head off that he sees on the property. Although you should never get bit as long as you’re careful and watch where you’re going, we have a bite kit that Tom and I checked out and went over. It’s for snakes, scorpions, bees, black widows, and jellyfish. Believe me, though, you won’t run into a jellyfish out here! I’ll bet most people back east wouldn’t believe me if I told them the animal out here that’s most likely to attack. They’re the hardest to see and for every snake, there are millions of them. They’re ants, and out here, they spare you no mercy! Little red ants and big black ants - the most likely to get you. The most dangerous, though, is the rattlers and I think there are copperheads and other dangerous snakes out here too, although they’re big so they’re easy to spot. They’re also slow-moving and they won’t chase you down. They’ll try to get away from you. The most harmless - coyotes and tarantulas. Coyotes are too timid to get near you and tarantulas are virtually poisonless. You can just walk up to them, pick them up, pat their fur, and put them down, not that I’d care to. They’re very slow-moving, too. My personal outdoor favorites, though, are the jackrabbits, roadrunners, and coyotes.

SUNDAY, MARCH 12, 2000 Tom left for work an hour ago.

I spent most of the weekend backing up my picture files. I converted my BMP pictures to JPGs before saving them on floppies and was able to get between 15-27 pictures per disk. It took about 20 disks. Even though Tom does regular backups on CDs, I felt it wouldn’t hurt to have another backup set that I did on floppies. I was mainly after the harder-to-replace pictures, like the ones taken with the digital camera. If I lost copies of the photos I scanned, I could just rescan them. I also backed up most of the wallpaper pictures I got online.

I showed Tom that bridge I saw out front and he told me it’s a cotton gin. Makes sense. There’s nothing but farms out towards the front of us, and the more I looked at it, the more it did look like a gin.

At 2:00 this afternoon, Scuttles decided it was midnight. He must have because he was really having a ball. He not only wanted to be affectionate and get attention from me, but he also wanted to run around the house, too. He loves to nestle in my hair and make it a real “rat’s nest.” I started straightening it naturally, the way I did in the 80s before there were straightening irons, so it was easier to brush the knots out. I straighten it by putting elastics down the length of it, every inch or so apart. Because it’s so damn thick, it takes forever to dry.

Paula called yesterday. We talked about the house, the weather, and that guy she’s seeing. She asked more questions about us and the house this time around. She says that for $70 a month, she’s renting a computer she doesn’t know how to hook up to the Internet or its printer. That’s Paula for you. Oh, and now she claims she mailed those pictures out Friday, so her story’s changed again.

Tom’s still playing games. Yesterday he conveniently had body aches and thought he was getting the flu. He said he wondered if the nasty fumes from the shit he used to clean paint spatter off the speakers in the den did it, but I think it was an excuse to get out of sex.

Today he couldn’t stay hard, and while I was doing him by hand, he suddenly heard fictitious car doors close by and had to get up and check it out. Meanwhile, I heard nothing like that, and again I pointed out to him that he should come clean with me and quit making lame excuses to get out of sex. I can’t stop him from playing games, but I can help him with his fears. If he’s so sure I can conceive and doesn’t want that to happen, he should just tell me so we could discuss some sort of birth control method. But no, he says, that isn’t it. Maybe he’s a nut who’s become like me, he says. Sensitive to sounds. Then he gets back into bed saying, I’m still here, aren’t I? And then he tells me that he’s trying. But I don’t want him to “try.” No one should have to “try” to get into sex. If it doesn’t come naturally to him, then maybe he shouldn’t be having sex, especially with me. Then I asked him if he was sick of me and felt he needed a fling or something, but he swears he isn’t sick of me and doesn’t want a fling. He once told me he and his ex had a threesome once with a woman and that screwed things up, I guess. Anyway, he says he’s never had the problem of not being able to stay hard before. Part of it’s God, who just has to interfere with my sex life no matter what. As I reminded Tom, I’ve been sexually cursed since day one and if I got a new man or woman every year, each one would have some kind of problem or weird quirk. He says he thinks his problem is over money, then went on to explain, although it makes no sense to me, that it stresses him out more to be barely making it, rather than behind. Well, I still think all this is about his enjoying playing sex games with me and his fear of me conceiving. He still swears he isn’t afraid of that, but I don’t know. I suggested, just in case he is being sincere and he does truly have these problems that are out of his control, to just wait till we’re back on track financially. Then, if he’s still having trouble getting hard, he can decide if he wants to go to a doctor (although I think he should’ve gone to one six years ago). I highly suggested he tell the whole story if he does go to a doctor. Not just the trouble with staying hard, but the lack of cumming, too. Let an expert give their opinion. He agreed he’d think about a doctor and tell them everything if he went to one, but I know Tom S. The man would never in a million years breathe a word about his hardness trouble or lack of cumming to a doctor or anyone, and you want to know why? Because I still think it’s his own will that’s doing it, both consciously and subconsciously. He’s had “problems” in bed ever since we met, so why would he wait this long to do something about it if he didn’t want things the way they were?

I wondered for a moment if this weren’t meant to be to get him to go to a doctor, for once and for all. Yes, if he’s sincere, maybe having two problems will give him the gusto to go to a doctor.

Nah. He’ll never go to a doctor about it. Not if his life depended on it.

I can’t help but feel conflicting emotions about it. On the one hand, I’m pissed that because of him I can never see if I can get pregnant naturally if I decide I want that in a few years, and on the other hand, I don’t want that, and God would never allow it to happen, naturally or not. I’m still glad we never had a kid in the past. I’m sorry I went through all the emotional shit over it that I went through. It was miserably horrible. I’m sorry for every rotten thing he and I have ever been through, but I’m not sorry things turned out to be the way they did so I could live life and do the things we’ve done in life. With a kid, I’m almost positive we’d never have been able to get out of Phoenix. At least not till it was older. I also wouldn’t have been able to do, learn, grow, mature, and experience the things I have in life.

We talked about the possibility of moving to a retirement community like Sun City or Sun Lakes when he gets to be at least 55, and I may like that for various reasons. For one, as much as I love this big house in this remote area, it’s a little too far out for old people who need to go to the doctor more often. If we were in one of these places, we could get to doctors more easily and not have to wait an hour for an ambulance, should we need one.

Also, they have rules about barking dogs, but there are not that many in these places. Just like most houses in the city do have dogs, most old people don’t have dogs. Those that do tend to have little dogs like poodles. Not two big vicious collies.

They probably don’t allow people to have pools, but that’s OK cuz they have country clubs you can walk to, and I wouldn’t be afraid of being attacked by a big dog walking the streets there.

I’d want a smaller house when I got older and had a harder time getting around and doing housecleaning, and in a place like that, you’d never have to worry about subsidized freeloaders moving in next door. Oh, I’m sure it’d be just my shit luck to move in next to the old lady whose grandkids came over practically every day and screamed outside, but at least I could do something about that, and since the mother would live there, I wouldn’t have to worry so much about her taking my noise complaint all wrong and making sure the kids got even noisier.

Anyway, I hope to be here for a long time. At least 10-15 years. I hope we’re happy here as long as we’re here, but like I said, that’s not very realistic. It’s bound to get noisy sooner or later.

FRIDAY, MARCH 10, 2000 I discovered Mocha, one of my mice, dead today. Tom thinks she had tumors, but I don’t know. The way she was shaped made me think she was just fat and may have even had a litter before we bought her. We buried her but didn’t bother with a marker.

Tom’s suddenly so sorry for “doing more bad things to me than I have to him,” as were his words. I don’t know how sincere he is, but anyway, perhaps that’s why he suddenly wants the male mouse we’ve been talking about getting. I know he enjoys checking out the animals, and he says he loves all his pets, even if he thinks rats are mean-looking, but we know that the animals are mainly for me. I just don’t get how he can say, year after year, that he’s so sorry for “being a failure in bed” yet not do anything about it. All he does is say he’s sorry. Meanwhile, he just keeps on doing the same old shit.

I guess it’s going to be easier said than done as far as giving Tom a taste of his own medicine. I just can’t do the things he does without feeling guilty. I just can’t jerk him around about sex or about anything like he has to me. Besides, jerking him around sexually, or being predictable, won’t faze him. I guess I’m just forever at his mercy in bed. I either put up with the never-ending predictability and lame excuses in bed, or I don’t have sex at all. At least we’re back to sex in part-time spurts like I knew we’d be, so I don’t have to deal with his shit too often.

We discussed the possibility of moving to a retirement community like Sun City or Sun Lakes in about 15 years.

THURSDAY, MARCH 9, 2000 Tom was a big hero at work last night, fixing stupid people’s mistakes. I guess they threw out stuff they weren’t supposed to throw out. I swear that’s our life’s destiny - fixing other people’s fuck-ups.

I’m not looking forward to all I know we’ll have to go through from here on out to get the Bowflex. Just because they said we could have it, and just because we intend to make payments on it, doesn’t mean we can just have it. It’s gonna be a big fucking deal to get and we’ll have to fight tooth and nail for it. There’ll be a problem with delivery, or it’ll get here damaged, or parts will be missing, etc.

I washed some of my older doll’s clothes.

I also made five screensavers for Mary, Dave and Mom. They said they were curious to see how I do those, so I did up a saver of us, scenery, flowers, dogs and cats, and various animals. No mice or rats, though, since they don’t like them.

I think I forgot to mention the scorpion Tom met last weekend. He was moving the shed onto the frame he made for it of concrete he poured, and he came across it then. He took some cool pictures of it, too, before he killed it.

I don’t know why, but I didn’t get up at 9:00 when my alarm was set to go off. Instead, I got up at 11:00. I don’t know if I subconsciously turned the alarm off or what happened, but amazingly, they let me sleep till then. I haven’t heard any booms at all today. Tom mentioned a change in the jet stream. Maybe that caused them to alter their course.

I checked into Luke Air Force Base last night online, which is where these jets are coming from. They claim they mostly fly in the daytime but do have some night flights, which are usually back by 10:00. They didn’t mention how many days of the week they fly. There was a number to call about noise complaints. What for? They’ll just tell anyone that bitches the same thing they’ve told others that have bitched - hey, we have to train these people, so tough.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 8, 2000 I was lucky enough to have them wait till I’d gotten up before booming by today. At 11:00 and 4:00 I heard a whole series of rumbles. Some were mild tremors and others were loud and thunderous.

Later…

I don’t fucking believe it! Thanks, God. I just knew it, though. They just boomed by. At 9:00 at night? They’re gonna train people in the dark at night? See, it’s only a matter of time before it’s a round-the-clock thing. It won’t matter what my schedule is, eventually, cuz anytime I sleep will be hit or miss. I checked outside to make sure it wasn’t thunder I heard since that’s what it sounded like, but the sky was clear as can be. Nothing going on at Dan’s. Just a minute’s worth of engine-gunning a couple of hours ago. Why am I so cursed when it comes to noise and sleep?! I’ll never be free of it no matter where I go.

TUESDAY, MARCH 7, 2000 He’s gone. Meanwhile, I am gonna get him good sexually! If only he knew just how sexually doomed he is to be in a month from now. I’ve had it with the sex games! Now it’s his turn to get a taste of his own medicine, and believe me, I’m gonna make every lame excuse in the book and do nothing but bitch and complain about how his doing this or that turns me off in bed, and this distracts me, and this stresses me, etc. Let him feel like the little freak he’s made me feel. Let him feel unappreciated in bed. He isn’t the only one who’s quit cumming, that’s for sure.

Tonight he had to have ice cream, something he knows his stomach can’t tolerate well, so he could have an upset stomach and an excuse to avoid sex and laze out in front of the TV. The fucking TV turns him on more than I do, and I don’t care how beautiful he always tells me I am. Of course, I’m sure part of it is because I made the excuse to bail out of the same old bullshit sex last night. It’s like he has to give me a taste of my own medicine when I make excuses to get out of sex and do the same thing right back.

Anyway, his 30 days are up and we’re having less sex and there are certainly no squirts. Yeah, I knew it, the lying SOB. Why does this guy have to lie so much when it comes to sex? He doesn’t lie about other subjects. Why can’t he just come out and face his fears? See, this isn’t just about his not being able to own up to his fears, it’s a game to him. It turns him on to turn me off, and boy let me tell you, I am turned off. I’ve never before felt this turned off. I’ve lost any ounce of sexual interest I could possibly have left for this man. I just have no desire for him in bed. It doesn’t detract from how much I love him, but by God, I’ve had it with him sexually. If we never had sex again, I wouldn’t miss it. He’s so scared and he’s so stubborn when it comes to sexual changes and he’s so obsessed with his games, that he can’t even show a little appreciation for me in bed even just once in a while. It’s a miracle I don’t want a woman. A woman not just inside my head that I fantasize about. I’m just so sick of the idea of sex with anyone. It’s not new and exciting anymore and hasn’t been for years.

Anyway, the liar told me that in 30 days we’d be screwing 2-3 times a week and he’d cum once a week. Well, in my letter to him, which I’ll give him on April 7th, I’m gonna let him know just how I feel for the last time. And I mean the last time. I’m tired of his sex lies and games in bed, I refuse to fight with him over sex in this house from here on out. Also, he is not going to control my reproductive system. Only God can do that. He will not con or manipulate me out of having a kid if I choose to do that someday. I won’t hesitate to use a sperm donor if that’s what I have to do, cuz this guy will never change, but fine. Now he can have his way; he can stay cumless and never hear me bring it up again. He’ll never have to deal with it. He can just stay the way he so obviously wants to be. Even so, I think I’ll always have some bitterness and resentment toward him for what he’s done to me. I mean, I may not want a kid right now, thank God, but how dare he fucking tell me in the past that he wanted a kid, yet refuse to do anything to help himself or to let himself be helped so he could make the necessary changes in order for me to conceive naturally if I truly could like he’s so sure I can. He had a lot of nerve saying he wanted a kid, then I try to help him and suggest he do things to help himself and see a doctor, then he turns around and bitches at me for trying to change him. That’s really fucking cold and insensitive. Meanwhile, I’m the one going through the painful testing. He won’t talk to no one, he won’t try stimulants, and this tells me something quite obvious - that he doesn’t want to change. He wants to be the way he is. Anyone who didn’t would try to get help. Not make up bullshit lame excuses and say that not talking about it, which is really a form of not dealing with it, will be their magic cure.

Later…

Today hasn’t exactly been a thrilling day. I couldn’t get to sleep till nearly 6:00 in the fucking morning, they fucking woke me up at 9:20, then when I got up with the alarm at 11:00 I was exhausted. I still am, too. Meanwhile, to top things off, fucking Dan just started with the engine-gunning. This cock cannot go one solid week without putting on a show, can he?

I started to get all psyched at the letter we did receive, believe it or not, from the Bowflex people saying we have been approved for the complete machine, but as I figured, there’s always a catch to good news. They wanted three references. One related and two personal. The relative one was fine, cuz Mary’s reliable, but as for personals, all we could think of was Paula and Kim. If they call these people, though, we can kiss the Bowflex goodbye, cuz I don’t even have Kim’s current number (I made one up), and you never know what a stupid, brainless idiot like Paula will say.

Again, can’t we just have something without the song and dance? Isn’t paying $53 a month for three years enough of a payment? Can’t we simply just have something?

Later…

Due to the fact that I haven’t heard any booms since being up, I wonder if I may have dreamt that they woke me up this morning. After all, I was kind of having a nightmare. I don’t remember what the nightmare was, but who knows? Maybe I dreamt it, maybe I didn’t. Tom was even insisting that he felt a slight shudder last Saturday morning at 8:30, but that I must’ve dreamt them waking me up an hour later, cuz he didn’t hear or feel a thing. I don’t know. I’m still going to try to get up around 9:00 regularly anyway, both because I want to and to be on the safe side. That way I don’t have to worry about being woken up. Sundays I’ll sleep in till they take my Sundays, too, and if they’ve flown on Saturdays I’m sure they’ll take that, too.

Another thing I’m not sure of is whether or not that was Dan’s engine and music I heard earlier, or was it the tractors that grade the roads? Those sound a lot like someone was revving an engine, only what I heard was softer, suggesting it was further away than Dan. God knows the roads did need grading after the rain. Also, the bass I thought I heard didn’t have a beat, and some big vehicles tend to sound bassy from a distance, so I don’t know for sure what I heard.

Yeah, the rain has finally quit. We had a lot of rain, too! It rained steadily for over 24 hours. No leaks!

Looking through the binoculars out the living room window, I discovered a bridge off in the distance. I don’t know what it is. I’ll have to ask Tom. I don’t know if it’s a bridge that cars drive over, or if it’s just a scenic walkway for people, which would seem a bit odd in such a low-populated area. I wonder where it goes and what’s under it.

I can see a flashing light from my office window at night way off in the distance. I’m pretty sure it’s where the crop duster’s airport is.

Scuttles is so cute in the way he sticks his head through the bars to have his head patted. He can get out as far as his shoulders. Ratsy decided to take an afternoon stroll. I was surprised he wanted to come out and run around at 3:30, being the nocturnal creature he is. He ran around the living room, the dining area, the bedroom, and the bathroom, then went home and back to bed. It still amazes me how these rats go home when they’re done exploring. Most animals wouldn’t do that and would run from you when you tried to get them to bring them home.

I called and left Paula a message letting her know that the Bowflex people may call her and that I used her as a reference.

I can’t wait to finally have that! At least I hope there are no more problems getting it from here on out. I may have lost a few pounds and toned down certain bulging areas lately, but man do I look awful! I’m flabby, sagging, and furrowed, not to mention a good 4-5 inches too big in most spots. I really hate my face and neck more and more. They’ve really gone to hell. I have ugly furrows running from the corners of my lips down, and a double chin from hell. Tom doesn’t think I have a double chin, but I say my neck’s definitely sagging and needs some picking up. He doesn’t even think I’m fat. He thinks my weight’s fine and all I need to do is tone up. I wish that were the case.

Later…

We were just out burning some trash. We could hear an owl hooting nearby. We also heard, but only for half a second, a thunderous rumble that sounded exactly like those jets. Are we getting into night flying now, too? God, I hope not!

MONDAY, MARCH 6, 2000 I didn’t shit yesterday and was so sure that even though I walked and watched what I ate, I’d be back to 124 pounds, but nope. I’m down to 121½!

Although I’ll still walk, today I’m taking a break and plan on treating myself to Dairy Queen like we have been on Mondays when we go to Circle K. I’m starting to doubt we’ll go tonight as we originally planned, but we’ll see. That’ll have to be up to Tom. For once they were right about saying we were in for some serious rain. Well, it’s been raining on and off since last night. I can barely see out my window and the heat’s been on during the day. Usually, it’s off by sunrise and is around 80º in here by the afternoon. Anyway, I guess we can still get out of here OK. He got home, after all. It’s not like it’s rained hard enough to wash the roads out. I can even see Gravity’s tractor tracks still. Hopefully, we’ll go out and I’ll see Jennifer. Then we can have predictable, boring sex when we get home, be it with or without him inside me.

Later…

I woke him up at 6:00 and we left shortly afterward. We had to drive really slowly through the dirt roads. The parts that get more traffic were really bumpy and shaky. Once it got dark, the wet dirt roads gave off the optical illusion of being paved roads with slush on them. It’s been raining steadily since last night and I guess it may continue to do so till tomorrow.

I didn’t get to see Jennifer tonight. She wasn’t anywhere around. They finally fixed the cappuccino machine, so I got my white caramel coffee and some Tic Tacs.

Dairy Queen’s grill was broken so we couldn’t get burgers. That was OK, though, since I am on a diet. I got some fries and that was enough to fill me up.

Right now, it’s off to work some more on my story, then walk, then get some boring sex, then who knows?

Later…

Sounds like the rain’s finally stopped out there. That’s why they let me sleep today. Tomorrow - who knows? I got up at noon today and am determined to get up at 11:00 tomorrow, 10:00 on Wednesday, and 9:00, the time I want to get up regularly on Thursday.

He’s getting ready to leave for work.

SUNDAY, MARCH 5, 2000 I just asked Tom what has become my famous weekend question - how many cars do you think are next door now to our old house? Yeah, how many? Six? Eight? Ten? I love it here! No dogs, no door slams, no banging in and out, no ball games, no nothing. No faint strains of music or Danantics, either so far. But tomorrow, although I’m not going to get up till noon, I’m sure I’ll be woken up by those damn jets a dozen times.

I forgot to mention that Friday night, we had a little campfire at 2 a.m. We burned trash while I toasted marshmallows. It was a moonless night and the stars were beautiful. We heard some distant dogs barking, and nosy, lonely Dan spied on us. Leave it to a lonely boy like that to be up that late. We saw his back light go on and off during the time we were out.

Tom looked online for ways to reink my cartridges, rather than buy new ones, cuz it’s a lot cheaper.

I was online downloading some wave files (sound files). I couldn’t believe the variety they had. They had everything from animal sounds, to weather sounds. They even had the president when he tried to bullshit us by saying he wasn’t having affairs, and lines from movies. I downloaded a couple of song clips, birds chirping, a toilet flushing, horses galloping and whinnying, and a coyote howling. I also got a clip of someone saying, “Hi, Jodi. How are you?” and “Bye, Jodi. See you later,” and “Hi, Tom. How are you?”

I finally got to see it rain in the daylight today. It just looked like water droplets were sitting on the skylight and didn’t rain nearly hard enough to run down the wash. For the most part, all we’ve had is wind, massive clouds, and scattered drizzling.

Woke up at 122 pounds today. Was it because I watched what I ate? Because I walked? Or both? Anyway, I’m sure I won’t shit today because of it, and that’ll set me back to 124.

I told Tom we should wait on the sex till he’s less stressed out over money, although, he’ll have a new problem once we’re not as strapped. Naturally, he went along with this without appearing to be one bit bothered by it. It’s just that I’m tired of the same old shit in bed. I can’t get into it anymore, knowing that he’s not into it. I’m sick of getting in that bed with him and knowing that one of only two things is gonna happen.

SATURDAY, MARCH 4, 2000 Today’s been quiet, save for the faint strains of music I thought I heard. If that’s what I heard, it stopped by the time Tom got to the door to listen to see if he could hear anything, too.

Last night I went to bed at 5:30 in the morning and guess who woke me up at 9:30 in the morning on a fucking Saturday? The fucking fighter jets! On a Saturday?! Now they’ve taken my Saturdays, too? I had planned to sleep in on weekends, but obviously I can’t. What am I going to do when they start flying at night and anytime I sleep is hit or miss as to whether or not they'll wake me up? I tried staying up, so I could be on a schedule where I got up around 9:00 to beat the flights, but I just couldn’t. I fell back asleep with no sound machine and with the door open and only woke up a couple of times during my sleep when Tom was in the kitchen. I’d only wake up for a minute, though.

I totally, totally hate God. I hate him! I tried for years to find the good in him and to keep in mind the good things he’s blessed me with, but I’m sorry. This, along with the hell he let us go through to get into this house was the final straw. The things he’s blessed me with are nothing compared to the things he’s cursed me with, anyway. For every blessing he’s granted me, he’s damned me a hundred times over. There is no place in my heart for such an unfair, hateful, cruel, vengeful God as him. He will never be forgiven by me. Never.

To think that my sleep is more threatened out here in this remote area than it was in the city when I had the freeloaders to deal with totally blows my mind. And what’s scary is that I’ve been right so far on just about everything I’ve predicted upon moving into the house. I was only wrong on my time frame as to when the renters would be a problem. Their time hasn’t come yet. But I was right about predicting more noise upon moving into the house. Since being in the house, we’ve got more bouts of music, the engine-gunning, and now these jets. It really bothers me to have yet another choice of mine stolen. Especially by strangers. I don’t even know these people, yet they’ve butted into my sleep like they own it. I’ll never be able to sleep past 9:00 without the 50/50 chance of being woken up.

Neither of us has had any apparent interest in sex, but I’m OK with that. I need to get cracking on my story. I’ve been neglecting it a lot lately.

Been walking 30 minutes a day starting the 1st and watching what I eat. I don’t know why I bother when I know damn good and well I’ll never lose weight or inches, and if I do, it won’t be enough to be all that psyched about. I guess old habits die hard and I keep rebelling against where my body naturally wants to be: at about 124 pounds. Be lucky I didn’t have that kid when I wanted one, I tell myself. I’d not only have lost my life, but I’d be in the 140s or higher.

THURSDAY, MARCH 2, 2000 Today was like it is 99% of the time around here - dead quiet. Just one little boom after I woke up, no music, and no Danantics.

I’m not looking forward to later on tonight. I almost dread it. Yes, it’s another round of fun in bed with my terrified and stubborn husband. I hate getting into bed with him knowing that only one of two things could possibly happen. Either we’ll have a cumless screw, or he won’t bother going in me at all.

Since we’re obviously not meant to have an exercise machine (and if we are, we’re talking way in the future) I started walking a half-hour a day on the walker. Like I said before - no, it doesn’t cause me to lose weight, it just makes me feel like I’m active. I’ve got to do something. Housecleaning isn’t enough, and the rest of the stuff I do isn’t even physical.

I finally heard from Paula. She called, and believe it or not, she just got the letter with our number. What took it so long to get to her? Anyway, there’s not much change on her end. Still dating married people regularly. This time, though, it’s a black cop, rather than some Puerto Rican. The cop’s been married for 17 years and has a few kids. I suggested that if she wants to play around, which is fine if she doesn’t want to commit, then why not try a single guy so she doesn’t have that third party to worry about? All she did was bitch about how the woman follows this guy left and right. Well, she certainly has a reason to be paranoid. While I was on the phone he called to tell her they had to lay low for a while. I swear, just like Andy, she’s not destined to have a loving relationship.

She was her usual selfish self, talking mainly about herself non-stop, but she did ask a few questions about me and I still did enjoy talking to her. She asked about the weather and if I’d been in contact with my sister or anyone on my side of the family. Oh, she asked about my weight too, after telling me she was up to 160 pounds. Getting heavy, I guess. She said it was cuz of a shot they gave her to keep her from getting pregnant. I asked her why she’d need that if she had her tubes tied, and all she said was that she had problems with that. Well, if she can get pregnant, she will. Not just because she’s a slut, but because God loves to sic kids on people like her. The trouble I predicted with Justin’s already starting. He’s beating up his classmates, thanks to the wonderful role model he’s got at home, and yes, she was threatening him as usual.

She said they cut off his SSI checks, saying he’s no longer handicapped. I guess he’s somewhat slow, but not so slow anymore. Anyway, she was bitching to me that all she’s going to get is $600 a month instead of $1,175, and was like - how am I gonna live! They have to give me welfare! So I suggested she get a job to supplement things since we know she can keep a schedule. She said I got her really thinking about it, but Paula can’t work. She really truly is disabled. Her temper will get her fired in no time if not her stupidity. She’s totally unreliable.

So, as you can probably gather, I have mixed emotions when Paula calls. I care about her and I do enjoy our chats, but she annoys me, too. She reminds me of how vengeful and unfair God is.

She says, for the hundredth time, she’s sending pictures of herself. Yeah, right! She’ll never send me a picture of her. Oh, she may be sending pictures, all right. Yeah, of her son and her car. Hell, she’d even send me a picture of her toilet before she ever sent me a picture of herself.

Later…

What is this? Is this guy on his way to becoming impotent, as well as cumless? He just cannot stay hard! I don’t know if he’s playing games, or what? He said he’s sorry he’s doing badly in bed. I asked him why, expecting him to say it was cuz of me, but he said that if he had to take his best guess, it was because we were financially strapped. But our bills are current, which is what’s most important, so who cares if we can’t get extra stuff right now? As long as the necessities are paid for, who cares? So we wait six months to a year for extras. Then he tells me he feels like a failure when he hears me mention things I want (like ink cartridges) that we can’t get for a while, although he understands I never intentionally set out to make him feel that way. Yes, we screwed up, and yes, others screwed us over, too. But we can’t live in the past and blame ourselves for the things we should’ve done differently or else we’ll all be miserable and have a hard time moving on. He shouldn’t feel like a failure and neither should I. We didn’t deliberately fuck ourselves up here, and like I said, as long as the necessities are paid for. That’s what counts. I understand his feelings, though. There are a lot of things I wish I’d said or not said to certain people in past experiences, and things I wish I’d done or not done. I’d take back not kicking the crap out of Barbara at the NHA any day. I’d take back my talking to Larry in the 90s any day, too.

The thing about it is that he may be having a hard time in bed cuz of money stress, but once we do have extra money, it’ll be something else. He’ll have some whole new problem in bed.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 1, 2000 Tom got a raise which is to be effective beginning tomorrow and will be switching to a day job that was created especially for him (without overtime) within a month or so. He gets more money for working nights, but with the raise factored in, he’ll be making the same amount of money on days that he’s making now on nights. The question is - how much will this new job improve our lives? Will we really have more time to do things and will we do more things? I can forget about it improving our sex lives in any way. That’ll never change, thanks to his fears and stubbornness. It’ll always be the same old, same old, and I wonder if I’ll ever have the desire to cum by him again.

Last night I set up the blue card table in the retreat that Doe and Art shipped out to me when I first came out here (I drew last night, and still want to get another table for that room). That’s where the air bed is too, so he can sleep in there on that when his mother visits. If she visits. I mean, what do we have to offer her? We have no kids to entertain her with. Just rats, mice and dolls, and somehow I think she’d find that quite boring.

My allergies have been picking up lately. For a while, my lungs were even better than they were when I was on the prescription inhalers, but last night they were tight. For the last few days, I’ve woken up sneezing, so I pushed myself to dust and vacuum really well today, concentrating on the bedroom and getting under the bed really well.

Evelyn gave us a housewarming present - a stained glass rose that I hung in the living room window. It’s pretty. She said she figured she ought to just give that to him since we’re obviously not having a housewarming party. No, those are for the freeloaders and selfish people just like them.

We also got a strange thing that was thicker than a sheet, but not thick enough to be a blanket. Tom said he’ll ask Mary some time what that’s all about.

Last night I got pissed at Tom for being so moody that I said he was working on putting me out of the mood for sex and that he could just go play with himself for all I cared. A little while later, though, he came where I was reading in bed and we were laughing and talking and I assumed all was fine at that point and that he knew that, but when I brought up the subject of sex later, he was like - I thought you said no. Then he went on to tell me how he gets disappointed when we don’t do it. Could’ve fooled me, I told him. Then he said that just because he didn’t always show his feelings didn’t mean he doesn’t have them. Fine. Whatever. I just want the sex problems left in Phoenix to stay!

Later…

I woke up needing to pee at 9:30 after going to bed around 5:00. Right as I was drifting back to sleep, they boomed by in the sky. I knew this week they’d be booming as usual. In fact, they woke me up eight times between 9:30 and 11:30. Thanks, God. Nice to know I can always count on you to let me sleep well regularly no matter where I go. Anyway, I didn’t get up till 1:00 and I plan on inching my schedule back so I can be getting up around 9:00 regularly so I can sleep without so many interruptions. I heard them boom by at 3:30 and 4:00, too. It’s fine when I’m awake, though. It’s even neat to hear and feel. I just don’t understand why we never heard them in the trailer. Is this a new route God set up for me upon our moving into the house? Well, I did say it’d get noisier once we got in the house. I just didn’t know it would be due to Dan’s engines and the military. I thought it’d be due to the renters, but they’ll be a problem in time.

At 5:00 Dan was back to his engine-gunning, but fortunately, it was brief.

The address label people sent us seven different boring samples, but I’ll use them anyway, even though they put Tom Jodi Lin S on them and Not Tom & Jodi Lin S.

Later…

Jesus Christ! It’s actually been noisy today. The noisiest day since we’ve been here, anyway. First we had ten booms, and I don’t think they’ve ever boomed by that much in one day before. Then we had Dan’s engine-gunning, and then some music. It was that same music we’d heard three or four times in the past since being in the house. It’s either coming from the renters or from Dan, and it sounds like it’s definitely a car stereo and not a house stereo. Car stereos like that are a renter’s thing, and it’s also something Dan would have because we know he wants attention, so I can’t say for sure whose place it’s coming from. However, why have we heard it only four times in the last two months and not every day? This tells me it might be someone visiting either Dan or the renters. The music only lasted a few minutes, too.

Later…

I just looked out the window and saw Dan’s headlights as he drove in alongside his place, but heard no music. Hopefully, he’ll get out of the damn truck and go inside for the night, but we’ll see. Sometimes he sits there gunning his engine when he drives in from wherever, but I don’t hear him at the moment.

Strangely enough, I still never see lights on at night in the rentals.

[maximuswolf]

Who are your top 2-5 Music idols of all time (explain your level of obsession or passion you had for this artists work)?

Who are your top 2-5 Music idols of all time (explain your level of obsession or passion you had for this artist’s work)? Ok so I’m going to start with my childhood favorites in the 80’s and move on up since I’m gen x…Michael Jackson. I was literally like 5 years old with Michael Jackson posters and magazines and I danced a pretty decent robot for house guests. I loved to put on a good show. Watching the Grammy’s was like an event at my home growing up so when we saw him perform it was absolutely a moment we celebrated and stayed up to watch regardless of school. He was the best performer in my opinion, of all time. Watching the fan obsession was pretty riveting. Madonna. Period. This is when we started making up our own synchronized choreography as kids. I had all the rubber bracelets from every crank vending machine there was. I would roll around on the floor dancing to her music and dressed up like her. Never attended a concert though. Metallica- I had a huge crush on this fellow percussionist boy and saw he wore Metallica t-shirts so I started listening to metal for the first time and learned how to play “enter sandman” on the drums. I became obsessed with Lars Ulrich and had posters all over my wall that I kissed(I have this on video tape somewhere). Had the signature drum sticks and watched every home video they had. My dad took me to my first concert which was them, Guns N’ Roses , and Faith No More in 1992 at the Orange Bowl in Orlando which I still kept the physical ticket to. I just knew one day he would read my insane fan mail and meet me one day at that age😂😂Fiona Apple- words cannot express the musical genius in this woman. When “criminal” came on the radio I went and bought her cd and opened myself up to jazz outside of playing the drums in jazz band. She got me thru a tough young marriage and divorce(with When the Pawn….). I went to see her in concert in Birmingham, AL and sang every word to every song and was blown away by her Bill Withers and Ela Fitzgerald covers. After the concert we waited by the back door for her to come out to her bus with cd covers in hand for her to sign. She approached me and the world just stopped. Literally shaking, went mute, she signed, then I handed her a small gift(cute little Indian satchel). She actually took it and I put a note with my phone number in there telling her to callllllll me. Hahahahaha! 💀I was like 21 (not normal obviously). The singing skills I acquired from her gave me an outlet for life. Billie Eilish- I’ve learned that you can’t be too old to obsess about something you are passionate about. The music skills that Finneas and Billie possess are not typical or to be underestimated. I have been listening to her for 4 years and never thought music could bring me so much happiness again. After losing my husband (died almost 5 years ago) and trying to raise 3 boys on my own at still a young age I have found such peace in singing once again to my Billie. There’s something to be said about child stars that reach heights like this. With music comes power and usually these types of artists are what bring nations together. Submitted June 25, 2024 at 03:14AM by FluffyBowler2030 https://ift.tt/VxS52pG via /r/Music