#and then i was gonna just dump what was in the washer into the dryer on top of those close

[kawaiianimeredhead]

I am so something right now

[eddiesghxst]

A one shot of Mechanic!Eddie x F!reader

Established relationship, Eddie loosing his mind and relentlessly fucking you NASTY into your shared bed all because of how turned on he was by seeing you bent over moving laundry to the dryer in a pair of jeans that hug your ass so nicely🙈💗

stink…. don’t do this to me

18+ — MINORS DNI

————

Those devious, cheeky little shorts of yours will be the death of Eddie, honestly.

Everytime you wear them he ends up balls deep, mumbling promises to knock you up and start a family. He wouldn’t be surprised if one of the few pregnancy scares you’ve had were a product of those fucking shorts.

He’s just getting home from work so he’s tired, but the second he sees you bent over the washer with your ass practically hanging out of your shorts, he’s pumped like a goddamn energizer bunny, so god knows how many rounds he’s fixing to pull out of you tonight (you both lost count at 5).

He’s stepping up behind you with a hum as you toss the clothes in the dryer and shut the lid, pressing his body to yours and nuzzling his face into your neck. His hands coast over your hips and stomach, greedy fingers searching to palm at your tits over the flimsy tank top you have on.

“What’d I tell you about these goddamn shorts, hm?” He nips at your ear, squeezing at your skin when you lean away from him with a grin and a roll of your eyes.

“I didn’t have any clean clothes left, okay?“

Eddie hums, pressing a kiss to your neck as he pushes your hips back against his growing bulge, “Mm, and these just so happened to be the only clean pants?”

“…Maybe.”

Eddie huffs out a laugh, giving your ass a quick tap and causing you to yelp, “Maybe.” He mocks.

You roll your eyes, somehow slipping out from between him and the dryer and Eddie groans as you pick up the laundry basket, “I’m busy, Eddie. The laundry isn’t gonna fold itself.”

As if Eddie believes you’re really that eager to fold laundry.

He’s on you as soon as you dump the clothes onto your shared bed, pressing himself to you once again and ignoring the whine you give him. “I’ll be quick, come on. You can’t wear these and expect me to not hump you like a dog, are you serious?”

“Self control, Eddie. It’s a thing.”

“Fuck off.”

You’re giggling as he reaches forward and pushes the clean laundry out of the way before pressing you face first into the bed.

“Ass up, come on.” He pats your hip, “You wanted to wear these cute little shorts, now put them on display for me.”

Eddie watches as you arch your back out for him, softly swaying your hips in a taunting manner as he palms himself. It’s like Eddie looses his mind, honestly.

He nearly ripped these same shorts one time, but he realized if he did then he wouldn’t get the privilege of seeing you in them again and god is Eddie so glad he thought that through.

His palm comes down on your ass quick and hot, cock stirring in his jeans at the moan that slips from you. He gives your other cheek a slap, squeezing and pulling at the fat skin before he decides he can’t wait any longer and he has to fuck you.

The shorts are off in record time, and Eddie thanks whatever shitty manufacturing company made those as he flings them to the ground. He makes even quicker work of unbuttoning his jeans, growling when you sway your hips and wriggle a hand down to your pussy, teasing yourself in preparation for what’s to come.

Eddie doesn’t even bother taking his jeans completely off, he lets them rest at his thighs as he wraps an adrenaline-shaking hand around his throbbing cock and shuffles forward. “Move your hand.” He sharply orders, placing a hand on your bare hip as he aligns his tip with your entrance. You oblige without question, hands sinking into the sheets to hold as Eddie sinks into you.

You’re so fucking warm and hot and wet, and the moan you let out is sinful enough to make Eddie want to do the unthinkable.

“Oh my god,” You gasp as Eddie presses in to the hilt. You’re mumbling and babbling about how big Eddie is, your pretty cunt squeezing and fluttering around him as he settles. “Yeah? This what you wanted, huh?” Eddie teases as he slowly drags his cock out before pressing in again, balls pressing snug to your clit as you squirm.

You pant, whimpering and failing to answer Eddie, so he leans forward, hips working up a toe curling pace as he talks into your ear, “Baby just wanted a good dicking down, huh?” He hotly whispers.

You whimper loudly, clenching around his cock as you desperately nod into the sheets. “Yes, yes please.” You beg.

Eddie peppers kisses across your neck and shoulder, dragging his teeth across your soft skin as his hips relentlessly pound into you. “You know you just had to ask, baby. Instead you wanna slut yourself out—“ “F-fuck off.” You gasp, drunkenly grinning when you hear Eddie chuckle.

Eddie presses himself back up, calloused hands pressing into your hips to pin you to the mattress before he begins drilling into like it’s the last chance he’ll ever fucking get.

Wet sloshing, skin slapping and needy moans fill out the air and Eddie’s practically bouncing you onto his cock with the help of the bouncy bed and you’re just speechless— grappling back at Eddie with shaky hands as Eddie fucks you into oblivion.

“Gonna cum?” Eddie huffs. You answer with a loud moan and your warm walls clenching around Eddie, and he hums, “Give it to me, baby, come on. Want you on top after so I can see your pretty tits bounce in that lousy excuse of a shirt you’ve got on.”

He strikes a hand down on your ass, watching as the skin ripples beneath his force— and suddenly, you’re cumming and tensing around Eddie so hard that Eddie almost struggles to fuck himself into you.

And Eddie didn’t plan on cumming yet, he wanted to hold off for a while longer, but you feel so fucking good Eddie can’t even think of holding back.

He cums with a loud groan, pressing his weight onto you as he spills himself deep inside of your pulsing cut— and there’s so much that it spills and drips down onto the laundry that Eddie failed to move out of the way.

“Jesus— fuck,” Eddie moans as he pulls out, still cumming in lazy spurts as he fists himself, painting your pretty folds. You’re shaking beneath him, back and thighs quivering with pleasure, and Eddie curses at the sight. He barely lets you come down before palming your ass, cock twitching when you let out a drawn-out moan as he speaks, “Flip over, baby. We’re not leaving this room for a while,” He drawls, “Gotta knock you up, remember?”

[thefuzzzz]

Jasico Bingo Challenge #14!!

Prompt: Boyfriend Sweater

Jason had been searching for his favorite hoodie for about twenty minutes. He searched his closet, and the laundry basket, and had dumped out the contents of both the washer and dryer in his quest to find it.

His search led him to the living room. Why he would leave it there, he had no clue, but he was scatterbrained these days and still searching desperately.

Between his job in alter architecture, his and Nico's upcoming wedding, and just generally being a demigod, he had his hands full. Sometimes he just left things in weird spots and had to scrounge for them later.

Nico was usually helpful in remembering where Jason put his things, but Nico was napping on the couch and Jason didn't want to disturb him. Being King of Ghosts was hard and had a surprising amount of paperwork attached to it, so Jason knew he needed the sleep.

Jason glanced over him during his initial search of the room, ensuring he was asleep. He checked every nook and cranny of the living room before retiring his search to the bedroom.

His search was fruitless, earning a "Where on Olympus is it..." muttered from his mouth as he checked the closet for the millionth time.

"Where what?" A tired voice asked from the doorway.

Jason looked over. "Oh, hey babe. I was looking for my...hoodie." Jason looked at Nico, who was currently wearing the hoodie he'd spent thirty minutes searching for.

Nico looked down. It went down a little past his thighs, way too big for him. He was wearing shorts, but they were engulfed in the hoodie so only his pale legs stuck out.

"You found it," Nico laughed. Jason laughed too. For a second, he was mad about the wasted time, but it quickly passed when he saw his fiancée swallowed whole in the purple fabric.

"You little thief!" Jason laughed, throwing him onto the bed. Nico laughed between words, but couldn't manage to say anything between being smothered by Jason.

Jason tired himself out and laid down next to Nico, holding him and the extra fabric of the hoodie close. He kissed the top of Nico's head and laughed.

"What were you looking for it for? Going somewhere?" Nico asked, curling into Jason's touch in a way he had only recently started to do.

"I was gonna go grocery shopping, but lying here with you is way more fun."

Nico laughed lightly and swung his legs to wrap around Jason’s. “I’ll go shopping with you if you let me sleep for like thirty minutes.”

Jason started to stand. “Alright, get your beauty sleep you freak-”

Nico grabbed his arm. “I don’t know where you think you’re going,” he laughed.

“Oh, does the Ghost King want to cuddle?”

“Shut up and get under the blankets.”

This is also on AO3:

My Card:

[thenarrativefoil]

ugh 4am anxiety dump

I bought a used car yesterday and I'm gonna pick it up today and the anxiety/guilt is chewing on me. I literally couldn't drive my current car without being in pain after 20-40min (car too short for me) and I need to be able to drive for 12+ hours to move in 2 months.

And I did my research, price watched for months, got the carfax, and had it checked out by a good mechanic. I didn't get a deal, I paid the average price for the vehicle. It's a nice car, with good gas mileage. I like it a lot.

Okay I'm feeling better *deep sigh*

It's hard to choose to not scrape by, even when I don't need to. That broke ass bitch trauma sure can kick my ass. The kind of fishbowl thinking like, well I don't deserve nice things so how dare I get them for myself?

I've kicked that in regards to smaller purchases; I know the value of clothes that fit and keep me warm, of food that doesn't hurt me, of housing where I'm comfortable walking outside and in unit washer dryers, of medical care from practitioners that know what I'm talking about.

I just haven't dealt with it in regards to cars/transport before. So. doing things that make me uncomfortable for the overall improvement of experience IS A GOOD THING 👍

I am patting myself on the head and telling the anxiety that I appreciate it looking out for me; it did a good job and I made good choices as a result. I am equipped to deal with any kerfuffles that happen that I couldn't predict. I can allow myself to enjoy the car.

[olde-scratch]

needed an art dump for all my (admittedly not very good) sketches for souichi from my saiki k/junji ito crossover so heres his house layout

and no it's not harsh black on white its ao3 dark mode colors (very pleasing to the eye) so u don't need to worry abt eyestrain

heres the whole house and its layout

i dont actually know if they would have a wall around their house, but i assume they would bc that seems like a staple in Japanese properties regardless of price. their yard is smaller than pictured, i just didn't wanna obscure it too much.

the house looks bad but it gives u a good idea of what it looks like so

in case u cant read my writing bc of the stabilizer, next to the tv in the 1st floor is the shrine. next to the stairs is the washer and dryer and then the bathroom.

the 2nd floor notes explain that the hallway is covered in various framed pictures of the tsujii family with a significant jump from right before fuchi's attack to after. (ill probably go more into depth if souichi ever brings anyone over, but souichi is normally smirking or obviously annoyed in most pics pre-fuchi, but just looks miserable or actually in pain in any after)

the attic. i havent decided whats up there, but ive decided that the door is locked and souichi stole the key. i might have mentioned that the house didn't have an attic, and i like that idea, so i think the attic's totally unuseable due to the insulation and stuff. souichi probably would have cleaned it up if he wasn't injured, but yk.

the downstairs is def inspired by the anime "inuyashiki" it's so heartwrenching i watched it twice and cried both times. highly recommend. it's basically if light yagami got turned into a robot alongside an old man and it's only 10 or 11 episodes but GOD im gonna make more references to it at some point.

souichi's bedroom

souichi’s the standing thingy while the other thingy standing against his wardrobe is that weird statue thingy he has which ive decided it a halloween prop he got and decided it was a hone onna he captured and sealed

for reference, souichi's about 5"4, but his hunch (which is probably more dramatic than shown) makes him seem a lot shorter. canonically, he's like 4"9-11 but everyone thought he was 5"4 so i figured i'd make him 5"4.

theres stuff in the bookshelf i just didnt feel like putting anything in there. the emptiness on top of the shelves and the actual shelf is intentional bc souichi cant comfortably reach them!! he also doesn't have that cloth over his light bc once again he can't reach it. that's also why his hone onna is propped between the dresser and the wardrobe rather than hanging, bc he couldn't put it up and no one helped him

i also hope that the proportions are right. souichi wouldn't be able to reach a top shelf within the wardrobe and i think he's a bit too tall in the second pic but u know what i mean

the thingy with the wheels by the door is actually a thingy i have irl! its got three levels of tiny shelves with abt 3 inch walls. i use it to store my sewing stuff and any fabric or yarn i need for current projects. its also a lot taller. (sorry that its blurry and the lines are thicker than the other stuff i had to resize and didn't feel like redrawing)

his wardrobe's got clothes in it, but i think his bookshelf would probably have a few books and then his dolls everywhere else. his kokkuri geisha is top-shelf and constantly berates him when he talks to it about giving it a proper place to sit. souichi can't move her tho bc her box is so heavy and no one wants to touch it anymore. (it was put there temporarily and misako and shuji kept putting off putting her elsewhere)

if anyone wants a closeup of any room just ask!! ive got heights for all the characters planned and i might sketch out some of the pictures on the walls

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, JANUARY 31, 1999 Unbelievable! After all I ate yesterday, I still woke up at 109 pounds. Maybe a big part of why I haven’t been over 110 in a while is because I’ve been quite regular for a while now. Until today. I’ll have to have some bean soup!

Paula left a message asking me to call her back. She sounded like she was in a good mood, too. I guess I’ll go see if I can catch her now while Tom’s taking his nap.

Later…

Luckily, I’m still keeping my record of being regular. I just took a dump.

I called Paula too, and got a message saying, “If you need to get a hold of me, call me at…” So, I called the number. It was her friend Carmen’s, although she answered. She said she was doing laundry over there. She’s also moving again for the millionth time. She and Fran must hold the records for moving the most often! And they both have phones on and off. She’s gonna lose her phone again for a while, I guess, cuz she ran up a big bill. She gave me her PO Box address which she says she’ll have for quite a while cuz of her SS checks (she goes to it every other day). That’s smart. That’s what I should’ve done; gotten a PO Box since I was moving a lot myself. Not nearly as much as her, though!

My allergies are going spastic on me today! I don’t want to deal with them anymore, so I threw my nose clips on. Can’t they fucking go off when I can afford to take a Benadryl?! I can’t be taking a Benadryl in the middle of my day when I have an appointment the next day. It probably wouldn’t throw off my schedule, but I can’t be taking chances. On the other hand, this is a pretty bad allergy attack. The kind that goes on all day. So I may say fuck it and take a Benadryl.

Later…

I just broke down and took a Benadryl. If it fucks my schedule up, it fucks it up. I’m hoping this will be one of those times where it doesn’t knock me out, but right! That’s not the way life works. It’ll knock me out cuz I don’t want it to. If I didn’t care or wanted it to, it might or might not knock me out.

Anyway, Paula says she’s moving cuz her neighbor’s nosy in one breath, and in the next breath, she says she’s moving cuz of that married guy she’s seeing. She’s moving to Main St. in W. Springfield. She says she’s also leaving for Florida on Tuesday and will be gone till the 17th. Her father lives down there. She still says she’s gonna leave Justin with his father and come out here this summer, but we’ll see.

Tom pulled out the old, big washer for hopefully the last time. I washed the comforter I bought and will use that and the one Dureen sent till we move. Then when we move, we’ll have a full-size washer and dryer and I can wash them easily whenever they need it.

Another unbelievable thing is that not once during the weekend so far, did I hear or see a freeloader next door. The bitch must’ve taken off for the weekend, although we’re just entering their PT, so we’ll see. I don’t have a bad vibe, though. I doubt there’ll be a Superbowl scene like last year. You never do know, though, if a white car with little kids in it may pull in at any second and hop out to play ball and talk like everybody’s fucking deaf! It’s nice to know that there are only five hours left of light.

I thought the Super Bowl weekend would bring out lots of bangers, but nope. It’s been pretty good lately. The Super Bowl doesn’t start till 3:00 or 4:00, though. Gloria’s to be singing at it cuz it’s in Miami. I hate sports, though. Gymnastics and skating, I like, but I hate TV in general, cuz it only consists of three things - sports, reruns, and sad news. I still tape movies on the commercial-free channels whenever they have something new every few months or so. I also watch shows about crime cases periodically, too.

Later…

Wow. We got all the way to nearly 3:00 and there’s still not a sight or sound from next door. I can’t believe they’ve been this non-existent during a weekend I was on days.

I’ve been trying to fight off sleep by having two cups of regular coffee and keeping busy, but I’m still pretty woozy. As long as I don’t lay down, except to have our predictable sex when I get Tom up from his nap at 3:00, I should be OK. Just drowsy. My allergies have improved, but not entirely. I still sneeze here and there.

Later…

All weekend long neither of us saw or heard anything next door. However, there is a light on next door now, and I’ve never known her to leave lights on when she goes out, so I’ll check at about 9:00 or so, her typical weekday bedtime, to see if the lights go out. That’ll tell me if someone’s there unless she got the living room light rigged on a timer recently. If she’s been there all weekend, I’d be truly and utterly stunned. How could this bitch, of all people, stay home all weekend? And stay home with no company? She must be really sick in there, but I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like enough of an excuse to stop her from having company and besides, if she were that sick, wouldn’t her cronies be over there nursing her back to health? Maybe she did get contiguously sick, got a touch of consideration for others, and decided to keep people away. Or maybe she fucked over the people she knows one too many times and they got fed up with her.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 30, 1999 Let me describe the toys I got yesterday. There are three different vibrators.

There’s a microvibe that’s really small. About the size of a tube of lipstick. It only takes one AAA battery (the others take two AA) and as cute as it is, I don’t see how the hell it could get me off. Not unless I was really horny.

The one that’s supposed to simulate oral sex doesn’t feel anything like oral sex and is more of a nuisance that’s not worth it. You have to hold the thing in place, too. I like to have my hands free. I’ll use the vibrator part of it, though, which has got a so-so kick. More kick than the micro vibe. I have it in the bathroom for if I get horny while Tom’s asleep.

The one with the most kick is in the bedroom.

The pleasure panty is great. It’s a red vinyl G-string that has a pocket in its crotch for inserting the vibrator and it really holds it in place.

I’m not a video fan, so I left that for Tom to check out.

Tom’s working this morning as part of the end-of-the-month thing where they all go in on a Saturday. He said he should be home around 2:00. Prime freeloader time (PNT). Although the freeloader’s peak time is from about noon till sundown. Oh, there’s some door slamming and yelling after dark, but only for a few minutes. When it’s light out, there’s room for more activity - even longer bouts of yelling, more door slamming, and ball games. I know how these sick fucks operate. Whether or not there’s a Super Bowl commotion, they’re not done paying us back for the roofing noise, so there’ll be ball playing either today and tomorrow or definitely at least one of these days. They’re not gonna let a weekend go by where we don’t hear from them for quite a while. I know these people, like I said, but their hear-me-too scenes better not include music.

Later…

So far, the only activity at the freeloaders is that they’re having their yard done right now by the people who usually do their yard. Why the fuck are they doing their yard in January? They have Bermuda grass too.

The white car should be showing up anytime now.

Later…

Holy shit. It’s already 3:00, yet no cars have been next door. They’ll make up for this quiet time. Trust me.

I guess we’re gonna screw around later. Or tomorrow. Whichever he chooses. I told him to decide and I’d go along with it, but I don’t want to. I just don’t want to. I’m sick of sex with him and I totally prefer the vibrators. They do everything I like/want and they’re available whenever I want them. They don’t get sick, tired, or make excuses.

How do I tell this to Tom, though? How do I tell him how I feel? I just can’t bring myself to. Maybe a big reason why I can’t bring myself to discuss this with him is knowing how he’ll feel about it. It won’t faze him. He won’t care, and he may even get off on it deep down. He’d never do anything to try to spice things up, and I know him. If he did, it’d only be for a week or two, then it’d be right back to the usual. He just has to control the sex. He has to make sure he doesn’t cum and make sure we do it part-time just so he can be in control, although there are some things that are out of his control. That is out of our control, like my sleep schedule and his work schedule, for example. It’s not that I have a problem with him not cumming and us doing it part-time, it’s that I have a problem with his controlling things and with the damn predictability of it all. Almost every time we get into bed to screw, I know what’s gonna happen. There are no surprises. It’s a bore. I get him hard either by hand or by him rubbing against me, he goes in there lying on his side, then he goes in there from on top, then he pulls out without cumming. Maybe another reason I don’t tell him how I feel is cuz I want him to be happy. His ways obviously make him happy or else he’d have tried to change them a long time ago. So, although I’m tired of the same old routine and predictability, I don’t want to bitch to him about ways that he enjoys, will not and cannot change, when I have the vibrators to supplement me very nicely.

I woke up at 109 pounds today and yesterday, but if I don’t wake up over 110 tomorrow, it’ll be a true miracle. I haven’t been over 110 in a while, but I will be for damn sure! (I weigh myself when I get up) They gave everybody treats at work, so I ate several of the little candy bars Tom brought home. I had to have had an easy 2000 calories today. Maybe I’ll take a water pill tomorrow to kind of compensate.

Tom says my lips and the area around them look thinner, but I haven’t noticed.

I wrote letters to Tammy and Paula using the papers with different pictures bordering the tops. These were the pages I was originally gonna use for printing out journal stuff. So, I’ll be using some for Tammy, some for Paula, and some for the freeloaders but unfortunately, none for Andy since I know he’s not going back east. I told him so in a message too. He’s not gonna give up his house and this weather.

I believe that deep down, Andy doesn’t want David cuz of his age. He’s in his 40s. Andy likes boys, not men. He likes college kids. And druggies. David just drinks. Andy would never admit it, but he wants a pothead just like himself. So, if you do pot, cigarettes, and are skinny and youthful-looking, you can be with Andy. Andy doesn’t want a decent man. He wants a drugged-up unstable boy who lives on the edge.

Evie told me news that I expected to get sooner or later and that did not make my day and it only reinforced my hatred towards God. Pam got Jennifer back. I knew she would. Thanks, God. Thanks a real lot, God. You’re such a terrific, empathetic God, who has nothing but love and fairness in his heart, huh? You want to do the right thing, don’t you?

Well, if there even is a God, he sure doesn’t care to win over my love, trust, respect, and faith. And Tom said not in a million years would she get her back. Ha! I knew she would. If they took her away 20 times, then that’s 20 times they’d give her right back.

God, I hate God! I have absolutely no respect for God. I have no faith in him, and I hate his guts. His ways are sick, cruel, and totally wrong. I know he’s gonna punish me for swearing at him and for saying mean things about him, but you know what? I don’t care!

Later…

I can’t believe it’s coming up on 6:30 and not one car has been seen/heard next door. I wonder if the bitch is even there. Did she get sick and tell people to stay away so they wouldn’t get sick too? Nah. She wouldn’t be that considerate. Does this mean they’ll make up for this peace and quiet tomorrow?

Later…

I can tell exactly why it’s been quiet all day. Cuz no one’s there. Now that the sun had set enough, I went and looked, and the living room lights were off. But when did she leave?

FRIDAY, JANUARY 29, 1999 I guess Melanie will be calling me to remind me of our appointment on Monday.

I can’t believe how fast these teeth move! They don’t overlap anymore, and from the looks of it, only one tooth is still out of place. Are these things really going to need to be on till December? And aren’t the top ones due to come off soon? I’ll have to ask her.

I lost four nails this morning while doing housework. I took off the comforter that I bought when we got this bed, which is going to be washed this weekend, and put a floral one on that Dureen sent.

I’m doing one load of laundry today, and soon I’ll do the dishes.

I haven’t been nearly as tight as I had been for a while there. I guess in the end, the flu brought up all the pollution that was stuck down in my lungs. The little bit of rain we had helped, too. As far as we know, it didn’t leak in here, but it was only a light rain which didn’t last long.

Butterscotch bit me. I went to stick my finger in their cage like I always do and he bit the tip of my finger, drawing blood. I had to wear a Band-Aid for a while. I didn’t bite him back, of course, but I scared the shit out of him by chasing him around the cage and poking at him, so hopefully he’ll learn by this that biting me is not acceptable. If he does it again, I’ll want to swat him good!

Time to go online now and get my six Evie messages.

Later…

I decided to put AOL on hold in case Melanie calls. She hasn’t yet so I think that means that the other lady will be calling. Melanie usually calls by 9:15. The other lady usually does her calling at just after 10:00.

I ditched some more stuff that we’re not taking with us, like Norah posters I’d made, puzzles I’d taped and hung up, animal pictures from calendars, etc.

Every few months they pick up bulk stuff and the next run is in a couple of weeks. We’ll be putting stuff in the alley that we won’t need till we move and that we won’t be keeping, of course. I dragged out the two worst chairs that go to this pitiful kitchen table and the chair to the drawing table. I dragged them out in the backyard for us to put in the alley when it was time.

I’ve gone through the sheets and towels and ditched extras we’ll never use.

I propped open the back screen door. Before we take it off, as we plan to do and not bother to replace it, I want to make sure the cat doesn’t claw the hell out of the door. I doubt he will. If he’s at the back door, he usually just meows and it’s only when he hears us bustling about the house and wants to come in. I doubt he’ll claw on it for hours when we’re not available to let him in, but this will be a good test.

Later…

It’s 10:30 and still no call from the dentist, so I went online, and wow! Only one Evie message. It was a cute joke.

I was just hanging out clothes, and Jesus fucking Christ! Those collies are lucky I don’t have a gun!!

Later…

Maria’s here! And I was right about packages coming in groups too, cuz I got my vibrators as well. Maria’s gorgeous and I took a couple of pictures of her for Tammy and the girls to see. One of her full body and one of her face. She’s about Bailey’s size and I can’t believe that despite her being the same size, and having all the detail she’s got, she cost $50 and Bailey cost $300. Maybe the price cut is in her hands, as Tom mentioned. Both her hands aren’t as realistic as Bailey’s. She’s got a gold net-like veil trimmed with a black fringe that goes down her back. The veil is attached by a pretty gold fan clip that stands up on top of her head. Her dark curly, soft hair came in a ponytail, but I took it down. It looks good curly too, so I’m not gonna straighten it. Her curls fall to her waist, which is still long enough for me, even if it’s not as long as Bailey’s and Rapunzel’s. As Tom said, she has good lips for a doll. Lips are something that doesn’t always look good on a doll. Edie’s got the worst lips of all. Anyway, they’re nice and full and it looks like she may have lip liner. Her eyes are the most gorgeous shade of light brown I ever saw. I was worried about this at first, cuz I couldn’t tell their color on TV too well. I thought she had hazel eyes which isn’t very Hispanic. She has black eyeliner along the lower lashes. Her necklace is a thin red strand with gold threads, and her shoes are red with gold buckles. She has white net-like stockings with some kind of pattern. The main color of her two-piece satin outfit is off-white. It’s not quite what I’d describe as pearl or crème colored. Maybe ivory. There are two layers of ruffles at the shoulders trimmed with red and black. The bottom of the dress has three layers trimmed in red and black. The dress comes to above the knees. She has matching pantaloons. On the chest of the dress is a clump of three red flowers. A major hit to the entire outfit. One hand is flexed upward sort of like one of Sunshine and Lollipop’s. Why, I don’t know. I put a bracelet on this wrist that I made of red shiny beads. Her other hand has its palm turned sort of upward cuz this is the hand that holds the fan I didn’t realize she came with. The fan is white, covered with black and gold netting, and trimmed with the same red and gold that’s in her necklace. She’s not a sitting or a standing doll. She’s more like a leaning doll. I have her leaning against a jewelry box that’s about 8” high. Her legs don’t move at the hips like Bailey’s do and her arms don’t move at the shoulders, either. Both their heads move, though.

I’m psyched to have my first Hispanic doll. She looks much more Hispanic in person. Especially when I put her next to Bailey. You can see the color in her compared to Bailey’s whiteness.

It looks like I’ll be doing my doll shopping from the home shopping channel from here on out. They have mostly boring dolls, but their sizes and prices are quite a hit with me. If you like more expensive dolls that are smaller, then this place isn’t for you.

I still have hopes of having a doll that’s about 30” standing someday. And more as far as a variety of outfits and colors go. More hair and clothing colors. I’d still like someone wearing pink and I’d like to have a black doll, an Indian doll, and maybe an oriental doll too.

The cranberry-colored car was here again. Same scenario - the passenger went into the house for a few minutes, came out, then they left.

I missed Melanie’s call just before 11:00 cuz of all the excitement of getting Maria. She and the toys came just after 10:30, then the regular mail came just after 2:00.

Andy called asking if I could mail the papers Donna gave me so he could try to call some of these businesses to set up appointments, but I told him I dumped them. He said not to worry about keeping them, that Donna would have copies, and she never called about picking them up, so I dumped them. I also don’t see how this would work out for him either, but if he can get another copy from Donna and have it work out, more power to him.

I had a vision where the scale said either 106 or 107 before 2-3 weeks is up. That’d be nice.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 28, 1999 My vibes were right. No Maria. Tom says he thinks we’ll have to end up calling them to put a trace on it by how shocked the rep he spoke to was. The rep was shocked cuz we should’ve gotten that damn doll by now. Why the fuck is there always a problem with getting dolls?

This month is the direct opposite of last. Last month I had major PMS as far as pre-cramps, water, and sore tits went. This month, I’m just four days away from my period and I have not one stitch of PMS. I think I know what that means. I’ll probably start spotting a few days late. Therefore, I won’t get a full flow till about a week later than I was originally supposed to.

I have an idea which may reduce the irritation I get down there, which I told Tom. I told him that since he too, seems to be content with sex on the weekends, since I haven’t heard him complain or seen him scramble to try to change our sex habits, I’m gonna insert a couple of fingers in there every Friday. That way, I should be more open and ready for the weekend. If we have to miss a weekend, I’ll keep myself as open as possible with my fingers, so that when we do get back into it, it won’t be such a shock to my crotch, since we’ll probably miss about one weekend a month. Meanwhile, the toys will supplement me during the week.

Overall, my appetite’s usually kind of low, but I do have horny spurts, so since my husband usually can’t take care of me, those toys really help! I just wish they too, would hurry up and get here! Of course, all three vibrators will be broken by the turn of the century.

Later…

Woke up at 110 pounds today, so I’ve got to watch it.

Typing’s rather difficult for me now cuz I put those airbrushed nails on again.

Tom’s on vacation from the 8th-12th of next month. Supposedly, we’re gonna go look at land, but I don’t know. It seems God’s always determined to steal his vacations. If it’s not the roof, then it’s an illness, and if not that, then Ma needs him. He has jury duty on the 8th as it is. Hopefully, God will let him have this vacation, but with our luck, his mother will fuck things up by having to go into the hospital at the start of his vacation. How much do you want to bet, though, that he’ll still want sex only on the weekends? Well, it suits me well, and whatever turns him on, turns on him.

Changed the rats’ cage yesterday. One of these days soon I’ll have to do the pig and mice.

It’s still a bit early, but so far, my vibes say there’ll be no doll, toys, or CDs today. Packages typically come in groups, anyway. So when we get the doll, we’ll probably get the toys or CDs too.

Later…

We’re getting closer to mail time and my no-doll vibe’s growing. Who did you give it to, you little fuck of a mailman? To the wrong street? The freeloaders? Someone else?

Tom got in about an hour ago and has gone to bed.

He doesn’t think Maria was misdelivered. He thinks she got lost in the mail. Whatever. I’m just sick of having to have such a hard time with getting dolls.

He says Mary’s talking to Mom about giving each of her kids $10,000 of the money she’s to leave after she’s gone. Just think, we could’ve had a total of $100,000 if he was an only child! It’s just my luck he has to have so many siblings! Anyway, you don’t have to pay taxes on anything that’s not over $10,000. I had a dream about this, too. He says, though, that this probably won’t happen until the end of the year. God, can’t we just get on with it here! Can’t you just take this burden of a woman who no doubt would love to be joined with her soul mate and let us get out of here and on with our lives? June or the end of the year just seems too far away right now, even though time flies.

Tom says they shouldn’t raise hell next door this Super Bowl Sunday, cuz the teams that are playing aren’t very popular compared to last year. Yeah, but there’ll be something. There’ll be at least half a dozen kids playing ball, even if it’s only for ten minutes.

Later…

The mailman isn’t here yet, but I just know my doll isn’t coming, and I’m getting pissed. I’m really getting pissed. What? Am I being teased when it comes to dolls and things I really want? It’s like something’s dangling the dolls overhead just out of reach saying, “You want it? Come and fetch it? Fight for it.” Well, I’m tired of having to fight for stuff in the mail, and what pisses me off even more is that there’s not a damn thing I can do about it! From now on, I’m not ordering any more dolls unless they’re to die for. Only then will I fight for them.

Got a free porn video from that company that’s to be sending the toys. They say they’re on their way, so maybe I’ll get them, maybe I won’t. It’s hit or miss.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 27, 1999 I had that T-bone and was surprised to wake up at 109 pounds and not 111-112 pounds.

Tom overslept, so he won’t have time to call about Maria till he gets home.

Two black guys in a cranberry-colored car came over next door yesterday while Bill was there, but was only here for a few minutes. I’ve recently seen these black guys in this car visit quickly. They haven’t played music, but they make sure to announce their arrival by door slams and loud talking.

Lately, I’ve been bored. Yeah, believe it or not, my usual hobbies just aren’t enough lately. I need some fun, new project, but what? Can’t think of any.

Later…

It’s looking like it may rain out there, but the barometer doesn’t say so. Sometimes I wonder if the thing’s broken.

Yesterday, I shooed three kids out of our front yard by an old tree stump we have. They may have just stopped to innocently chat there, but I couldn’t know this for sure, so I opened the door and asked what they were doing. Without a word, they moved on. Why do kids today have to do their thing in other people’s yards?

Later…

The renters just gave me a ten-minute concert, but it was nothing compared to what I’d get from the freeloaders. Some dude is apparently working on his car out front. They got the front door open too, and at first I couldn’t be sure if the music was coming from the car or from inside the house, but anyway, the doors of the car were open and the guy was doing something in the hood. He’s hosing it down now. He killed the music right before he went to hose it off.

A young woman just came out to join him. They’re white and very young. Early 20s. Maybe even 18 or 19. What’s weird, though, is don’t they ever work? Every day there’s a vehicle in that driveway. In fact, four of the houses across the street always have a car or two in their driveway. Does anyone on this street work during the day? Anyway, hopefully, any music will be rare and as soft as that was. It was soft and not all bass. I could drown out its beat very easily with a soft fan.

Tom called about Maria. They say she’s on her way and that if she doesn’t come by Friday to call them and they’ll put a trace on her.

Tom still has a sore throat. I wonder why. That’s an awfully long sore throat.

How many people are living over there? The red car’s gone, but the woman and the dude are still there bopping around the white car they’ve been working on.

Andy just left me a message telling me how happy he is in Phoenix and that this is his home, etc. Yeah, I know. And as I told him in my reply, he’s not going back east. He knows it, I know it, so, so be it.

Please, Maria, be here today! The only problem with that is that I don’t sense her. I’m usually pretty good at sensing when packages are coming. Every psychic has their hot spots. Mail is one of them for me.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 26, 1999 We got the bed frame back on the bed. I forgot just how high this bed is!

Got a message from Marla and five from Evie. Yeah, she couldn’t send just one message to save her life. Most of them were jokes.

A white city pickup was next door yesterday, but not for long. It had the city emblem and the word housing on the door of the truck. Probably just inspecting. Making sure the bitch wasn’t up to any more no-noes. Bill was there when they came. I wonder if they think he lives there.

I dread this coming weekend as much as I dreaded the last three-day weekend. This is Super Bowl Sunday coming up, and even though the cock isn’t living there, it still means carloads of kids and company playing ball, and maybe even some bass, too. Well, once again, I’d rather they stay here till we move, but if they have to go, then they have to go. I have a right to live in peace while I’m still here, too.

Later…

I gotta really watch it now. I woke up at 110 pounds today cuz I ate like a pig yesterday. Yesterday was the first day since getting sick that I was starving. I was doing just fine on my veggie diet today till I felt a little drained and had Tom pick me up a T-bone when he called from Ma’s to ask if I wanted anything. He said I lacked protein. Whatever. I had around 1500 calories today and that’s gonna put me waking up at 112 pounds, so after today, I’ve really gotta watch it. At least I’m not stuck. I’m gonna get watery, though, at this time.

He’s gonna call an 800 number when he gets up to find out why my doll never came.

MONDAY, JANUARY 25, 1999 Andy’s being a pest again with his constant messages. That’s cuz he’s not working till Wednesday unless the temp agency calls. How can he expect to live? How can he make ends meet by working just a few hours a week? He just has no life whatsoever. I don’t see how he can afford his rent alone. Forget about utilities, car payments, pot, cigarettes, and food.

He said he was in this area with Laura looking for an apartment for her, but couldn’t find one. I thought apartments were plentiful out here.

Then he also said something about meeting Barbara Nicks at her house to give her a demo tape of Stevie’s. Something like that. I may’ve misunderstood what he said the meeting was for.

Tom went to begin working on the patio roof yesterday, but he not only found that he didn’t have enough roofing, but he also felt too weak and his cough returned, so he had to stop. This was what he told me in his message to me at 7:30 last night right before he left for work. I crashed at about 1:00 yesterday and didn’t get up till midnight. Guess I was zonked! He didn’t say anything about how the freeloaders returned, so I take it there was nothing to report on. I’ll still ask him when he comes in which will be a couple of hours from now.

Yesterday’s sex hurt like hell. I guess I used too much KY jelly cuz he went flying in there and it felt like I was being ripped apart and I felt a lot of pressure too. Tom says it’s because it’s been two weeks. Yeah, I know, and this part-time screwing has to stop for once and for all. My crotch just can’t take it. We just can’t screw consistently. Period. Maybe after we’ve moved and settled in the new place we can, or maybe when he retires, but we have never been able to yet and I don’t see us able to in the near future, and this isn’t what God wants for us cuz he’s never helped us find ways to screw consistently, so we need to find other alternatives. Maybe toys. Maybe just lying in bed cuddling and talking. Maybe oral and hands.

For the third time in a row, I woke up at 108 pounds. Getting thin again is nice, but it worries me. What will going back to being thin bring since it seems I always swap one problem for another one? Will it bring back the baby desires? Or will it bring some whole new problem? God, just don’t let me go back to wanting that child I can never have, please!

Later…

Tom told me he didn’t hear the bitch come in yesterday at all. Not even door slamming. However, he assumed she did come in at some point, cuz there were lights on when he left for work. Wow. And I didn’t even hear Bill pull in this morning and I was in the back room. The room that you can hear the door slamming the most in. Then again, Bill parked outside the carport. That makes a big difference.

Now here’s something really fucking weird. The cock parked on the corner of W. Weldon and N. 21 and walked to its bitch’s place from there. Now why on earth would it do that?

Tom and I were discussing reasons why Maria might not be here, besides my rotten doll luck or the mailman misdelivering her. They could’ve been wrong with the date they gave as to when she’d arrive, or he accidentally could’ve given the wrong credit card number. But if that were the case, why didn’t they call? Well, Tom will call them today or tomorrow about it.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 24, 1999 Tom said there was no activity next door yesterday. Yeah, but I also slept from 1 PM, which is about their time to come to life for the day, till late in the evening. Only God would know if there would’ve been any activity had I been up.

Woke up again at 108 pounds. I doubt I’ll shit today cuz of it.

Another thing Tom and I wondered about when we were going through all the different possible causes of sterility could be his having meningitis as a kid. He doubts it and so do I, but could it have damaged his testicles? Well, that’s OK that we’ll never know for sure if there was anything wrong with him, my eggs, hormones, or whatever, cuz fate is fate and that’s fine with me. I love my freedom.

Well, I was wrong. I just had to shit. Be back to write more after I eat.

Later…

Wow! Just like old times. I get full before I can finish my food. For a while there, after quitting smoking, I’d eat every bite and still be hungry.

Maria still didn’t come. Who’d the mailman give her to? They said she’d be here by the 24th, but did they know that the 24th is a Sunday? Tom said if we don’t get her by Monday, we’ll call them. Always a problem getting dolls. Always.

Later…

A long time ago Tom said he’d set up a thing that allowed me to choose which pictures to tile and which to center for my wallpaper. Right now, they all have to be one way or the other. Since that was one of the many things he never had time to do, I found a way around having it be one or the other. I went into this program that allows me to select a screen-size background and center the ones I wanted to be centered that way. I put pretty colorful backgrounds on the ones that wouldn’t quite stretch to fit the screen.

I had Mickey in the pink ball that Tom got while I was sick.

I got five animal cards in the mail from that pushy Humane Society, so I used them for my nieces, Tammy, and Paula.

I told Tom I’d like to put the bed back on its frame since taking off the frame ended up serving no purpose like I should’ve known. He’ll have time for it hopefully in a month or two from now.

Yesterday I was tight again, but this time, it wasn’t just cuz of the pollution. It was cuz of the congestion I had. So far, I’m better today. My cough is almost all gone.

Once again, Andy’s so rude and selfish that I wonder why I even bother with him! He left a message saying he got my mail and agreed I looked thin and have lost weight. Then he said that that was a crock of shit how I said I’d come over and take care of him if he got this flu. So I left a message telling him that that was rather insulting of him to call me a liar like that. I really would do everything I could to help him if he needed it. As long as Tom didn’t need me more than he did at the moment. Then he started smacking in my ear and admitted that he’d just started munching, so he was gonna hang up. Of course, he couldn’t just wait the two extra seconds. He deliberately had to start eating right before he hung up, not right after. People just can’t do the simplest little things! He never asked how I was feeling, either.

In an earlier message to me, he mentioned Laura moved back in, but only for a little while. He said he’d explain that one to me some other time.

Once again, I decided to give printing out these journals a break. Meanwhile, I still have all those pages made up of picture borders of family pictures, animals, journals, drawings, etc. So I picked the ones I didn’t want to send Tammy or anyone I know to use for the freeloaders. Pictures without us in it, naturally.

Later…

We’re gonna be screwing in a little while, which I have no desire to do. It’s just that I’d feel mean by saying no, even though he doesn’t want to get off with me any more than I want to with him. I prefer vibrators nowadays. He just went into the bathroom to do a duty, so he says, but I know why he really went into the bathroom.

Freeloader update: Miss Bitch and her slew of company were off to an early start today. I looked out to see two white cars (one on the street with the rack on its trunk and one in the driveway with the thick black trim), three adult women, and at least four kids. The kids were playing ball for a few minutes, but mostly, they were just wandering about with the adults who were all clustered around the car on the street. They were there for about ten minutes, then the car on the street quietly left, and the one in the driveway left a few minutes later playing soft music. I don’t think the bitch was in this car.

Are they testing me? Slowly pushing the music back on me to see how much I’ll take? Well, I won’t take hardly much at all. Trust me, you fucking freeloaders!

Anyway, the bitch was wearing a green sweatsuit, and her little friend was wearing a royal blue or purple one. One of the women was around the bitch’s height and had on a white long-sleeved shirt with denim overalls and a cap. The other woman was very tall.

One of the boys headed into our yard and got to the center of it before the bitch called it back. One of the kids’ names is Jordan.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 1999 And here I was saying how I was sick of him being sick. Well, I guess my tough immune system exists no more, cuz I got sicker than a dog! We both did.

Let me get the quicker subjects out of the way first. Those that don’t take much to write about. At 8 AM on MLK Day, I had a feeling that there wouldn’t be any trouble from next door. I was right. Till 7:30. Yeah, as they do every MLK Day, they had to make their MLK Day salute by banging in for about two minutes. It was the white car this time. Not the cock. I haven’t seen him lately, but that could be just because of my schedule. They came in just two hours after I’d gotten up. God held them off till I got up cuz Tom said he didn’t hear anything else. There weren’t any ball games either since I was on nights. I’m kind of between nights and days right now so who knows what’ll go on this weekend as far as ball games go? Anyway, the white car was dropping the bitch and the mistake off and of course, they made the big deal of it they usually make. Had to slam doors and yell for about five minutes, but the music was only a 90-second thing. Yeah, they were about due for their little music scene they give us every few months, and of course they’d pick MLK Day to do it. If we all were here for 20 more MLK Days, then that’s 20 more MLK Days that they’d do something to get attention. Like I said, though, we’re pretty sure it’s just their I-gotta-rebel-against-her-every-few-months thing since they know one time every now and then won’t get them in trouble, but this weekend will be a test to see if they’re planning on reverting back to old times. If they do, I’ll take care of it, naturally, by doing two things. I’ll beat the shit out of them and I’ll contact the city. Once again, I really hope I don’t have to do this, since according to the stock market, we’re looking at a 75% chance we’ll be out of here in what he says is May, June, or July. I vibe June, July, or August. I want us to go first. Not just so I can make my little delivery to them, but cuz I don’t trust that they’ll leave this house alone. Tom says it’s awfully hard to burn down a brick house. Then they’ll shoot it up, I said, but he disagrees. He said if they went first, they might play loud music while they were loading up, but that’s all they’d do.

I’m so sick of these blacks and Mexicans! If I never see them again it’ll be too soon. All they want to do is deal drugs, kick ass, and gangbang it while they mooch off of welfare and our tax dollars and cry racism. If Abe Lincoln were resurrected tomorrow, I’d put him in the ground again for freeing these subhuman pieces of sheer shit!

We got the pictures back and what a huge difference in these pictures of me compared to the California ones from last April! I didn’t look all that fat at all and when I asked him if he thought I looked fat, he said not even close. So I scanned copies for Andy and Tammy. I also enclosed a couple of pictures of Tom giving himself a haircut with the home haircutting thing we have.

Even Dureen and Art will be getting mail from me. Yeah, you heard right. Tom’s big on not throwing things out, so instead of ditching that big picture of Dureen, Art, Larry and his kids, I decided to mail it back to them and have Andy stick in a message with a couple of those pictures of me we just got. Andy really doesn’t have a damn thing to do with this, but I said I was Andy typing the message, which was only about five lines long. I said I saw Jodi as she was about to throw away that picture and I urged her to address an envelope to you and let me send it to you. She just stepped out at a neighbor’s and doesn’t know I’m also enclosing this message and these pictures. She still doesn’t smoke and is thin again, she had fertility testing and her uterus and tubes are OK, she and Tom are doing great, she’s now into doll collecting, getting ready to move in a few months, and still doesn’t want to talk to you.

In other words - she’s doing just fine without you!

Maria still hasn’t come. Tom said maybe they really do have a set system where they know exactly what day she’s gonna get here. Also, if we don’t get her by Monday, we’ll call them. And maybe we should take a visit to N. 21 Dr. too.

Later…

I forgot to mention the very vivid dream I had the night before I called and canceled the consultation with Dr. Wells. In the dream, I had a test confirming the mucus within my uterus was so bad that I could never conceive. Now that was a definite sign from God or from something. Maybe my uterus mucus or anything else isn’t necessarily fucked up, but the point’s the same - a reminder of what’s meant to be. This, along with logic, helped me to make the decision to cancel. I always believed that God guides us throughout our lives in the ways that he wants and that if we stray onto the wrong path, he guides us back to the right path.

Do I think I’m meant to resume testing at a later date? No. I mean, I know I wasn’t meant to deal with my ear back when I first went to Boston about it in the late 80s, and I know I wasn’t meant to deal with the impacted tooth when I first checked into it in 1994 (at least I think it was in 1994), but this is different.

OK, now about this flu we’re just getting over. It was a killer! I haven’t had the flu or been this sick since the very early 90s. I’ve never had a fever like this either. He got up to 104º and I got up to 102º. The fever kept going on and on, too. Every time it’d lower, it’d go back up again. It was the longest sore throat I’d had too, and a cough just like when I smoked. My lungs burned and stung like hell when I’d cough, and we were both coughing up blood. We had the exact same symptoms. He’s a day or two ahead of me, though. He still has a cough and a sore throat. I still have a slight cough. The cough was weird because I didn’t feel congested till I’d cough. You’d think your lungs were empty till you’d cough and find that there was a lot to cough up. It was high up, I guess, rather than deep down in the lungs. I wonder if the constant tightness I was having prior to getting sick had anything to do with this.

Anyway, I’m really glad to be feeling better. I was quite miserable. I could only sleep for three hours every twelve hours till the night before last. I was too sick to be functional in any way. Tom had to wait on me a lot. If I were still alone, I’d have been fucked! I couldn’t read, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t sing. All I could really do was listen to music or lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

As I told Tom, this shit’s gotta stop. I can’t keep playing cold and flu with him, now that I know that if he gets sick, I get sick too. He has to do something about his getting sick so often. It’s not only hard on us both when just he would get sick, but now that it’s gonna be both of us, that’s gonna really put a damper on our lives and make things tough. So, he’s starting with changing his lousy eating habits. Hopefully, he’ll do this for more than a week, and hopefully God will let this be the answer. Then we’ll worry about what shit he replaces his colds with once we find a way to get rid of them if we can. I can see one or two colds a year, but his five or six colds a year are absolutely ridiculous for a man who doesn’t smoke, doesn’t have a wife who smokes, or has kids wearing him down.

I’m down to 108 pounds. I had almost no appetite whatsoever while I was sick, but the reason I didn’t drop down to 105 or lower was cuz I also didn’t shit while I was sick. My body hung onto all it could. Its shit, its water, its everything.

I’m gonna begin a veggie diet. I got a good idea that’ll let me eat regularly to keep me from being hungry, yet that’s very low in calories. I’ll eat five times a day, every three hours. Popcorn, soup, and small cans of peas, green beans, corn, and things like that. I’m gonna give up the TV dinners for a while. I’m a little sick of them.

I’m looking a lot better, even if I still do have my share of flaws. My hair’s dead and uneven and I still have craters. My face is out of proportion cuz of my big eyes, average nose, and little round hole of a mouth. I also have a pointy chin, wide cheeks, and a narrow forehead.

Tom said he heard a report saying that if you do journaling, it’ll build up your immune system. Then why was I sicker than a dog back east? I was doing journals there. I asked him this and he said to compare how much I wrote before moving in here and how my health was before moving in here. Well, he has a point. I’ve been writing much more since living with him and I’ve been much healthier, too.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 17, 1999 I have so much to write about but don’t know that I’ll get to it all in one sitting.

The text in this word processor can be centered, aligned to the left, aligned to the right, or aligned on both sides. I always had it where it’s lined up evenly just on the left side. However, I changed it so it’s lined up evenly on both sides and it looks so much better.

Saw a doll show again last night. Out of the 30 or so dolls they showed, only 2-3 of them were nice, but I can’t believe the prices! So cheap.

I also saw Dean Koontz’s Phantoms which just came out in a movie. I read the book a while back. The book I’m now reading is More Than You Know by Judith Kelman.

Andy called yesterday to tell me he received the doll and rat pictures and that the dolls are beautiful. Not what he had pictured.

I think that’s pretty much it as far as little tidbits of trivial stuff are concerned.

Now onto the shit that’s going on around here. Same old, same old. He’s sick again! Yeah, you heard right. Damn! I am so sick of his sicknesses! This guy’s either sick, or dead tired, or busy taking care of his mother, and I’m sooooo fucking sick of it!!! Is this same old shit ever going to end? That’s a stupid question, huh? He’s wondering if all this sickness might not end up building up his immunities as it did with me. Because I had had one cold or flu after another for so long, my immune system is now tougher than all hell, but I also had a pneumonia shot. He didn’t. I can see if he was a smoker like I used to be, but he’s not. There’s no reason he should be getting this sick this often. I urged him to go to a doctor about it, but I don’t know. He had a fever of 104º before and said he’d have gone to the ER if it had hit 105º. Still, I wonder, am I gonna get sick again? And if I do, will it be as easy as the last cold I had which barely counted as a cold and barely lasted 30 hours?

I’m just really bummed out here and even a bit scared. How many more years is his time gonna be tied up in his mother and his colds? And what would God replace him with if his mom and colds were suddenly gone? See? We couldn’t have a kid if I still wanted one and were OK, not just because God wouldn’t allow it, but because there’s no time to have sex more than once every week or two, and therefore, there certainly wouldn’t have been time to raise it. He says he disagrees with all this, but I’ve always felt he just loves to disagree with me. It’s like he’s obsessed with it.

Before I go do other things, let me just say that I’m canceling the consultation and further testing because I don’t want a kid, a child is not meant to be no matter what, and we can’t meet the testing requirements. There’s no way we can screw 2-3 times a week. He’s just too sick, too tired, or too busy. As always, he overestimates us and says things can change. If they’ve been the way they have been for as long as we’ve been together, then they’re not changing. I still have a relatively low drive compared to when we first met, but thank God for the toys that are on their way. They really help fill in the huge gaps here.

How are we ever gonna do what we’ve got to do in this house in order to sell it and get enough money out of it, move, and build our dream house if he’s always sick, tired, or busy??? Again, he totally disagrees with this, but thank God I didn’t get pregnant back when I wanted to. Not just because I couldn’t have handled carrying it, having it, and rearing it, but because if he’s so tired, sick, and busy now, imagine what it would’ve been like for him then!

Unfortunately, I’m on a night schedule now. Got up at 6 PM. I say it’s unfortunate because I’d really like to be up for tomorrow’s antics next door. I’m afraid that if they wake me up, however slim of a chance that may be, I won’t be able to control my actions. I’d lose control for sure if they woke me up in this day and age.

Why the fuck couldn’t they have waited just a little longer to acknowledge MLK Day out here?! Instead, they had to fucking acknowledge it the very same year I came out here. They haven’t acted out today or yesterday, according to Tom, but it’s tomorrow that they will. However, as Tom pointed out, things are different this year. Last Labor Day was the first one that they didn’t make a scene on, so maybe this will be the first MLK Day they won’t make fools of themselves. We’ll see. I don’t have a bad vibe right now, but we’re gonna have to get closer to morning before I can tune in to what may occur over there. I’m surprised there haven’t been any ball games yet this weekend, but there’s another force at work here. It’s not just them that’s harassed me, but it’s also God using and allowing them to badger me. So in a sense, I’m not surprised there were no ball games today. God knew I wouldn’t be up to hear it, not that I would’ve gone and cranked the fan or music up, but it’s just the principle of the point - neighbor’s noise. Deliberate neighbor’s noise.

In due time, God. In due time. That’ll all change. Of course, he’ll go do something else, but I’ll deal with that then.

Another reason I want to push my schedule onto days is so I can be up when Maria arrives. Unless she comes towards the end of the week, I probably won’t be up to get her if she comes on Tuesday. That seems a little too soon, though, even though they said by the 24th. Meaning, she could come sooner. I just hope that if she comes when I’m asleep, whoever delivers her leaves her out front. I don’t know if she’s coming by regular mail, UPS, or what?

SATURDAY, JANUARY 16, 1999 I started doing some exercises with the leg weights on. The leg weights really make a big difference in my ability to really feel the muscles working. I think that extra resistance really helps. It was kind of boring doing the exercises to the music, so I'm now reading while I work out. The only ones I can't do while I read are the arm exercises. The rest, I can hold the book while I do them. Unless the print is large, I do one exercise per page. I'm now doing a total of 15 exercises.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 15, 1999 It’s been a quiet Friday night. So far. The bitch isn’t out or expecting company from the looks of things. The porch light is off, and there are lights on inside. Usually, this means she’s home and expecting no one.

I dread this long MLK Day weekend. I know there’s gonna be some kind of scene from over there if not all three days, then one of them. I mean, with the fans, headphones, and knowing we’re out of here this year, I don’t “dread” weekend ball games, but you just never know if they’re gonna revert to their old ways and thump this house down with their fucking bass. Well, if they do, that’s their eviction notice and their problem. Not mine. From here on out, they won’t directly meet with me and my fists unless they begin waking me up constantly, and if they haven’t done this yet, I’m sure they won’t start. Meanwhile, when they go screaming and ball-playing, I’m not gonna give them the reaction they’d like, but I will have the city evict them if it’s ever necessary. The consolation in it, though, is that it’s our last one. Our last MLK Day here.

I received the latest Ashton-Drake catalog. I was surprised at how many new dolls they’ve got. They have a lot more boy dolls.

They had a couple of cute new dolls. One named Melissa and a cute two-doll set, but they were just too small. I prefer the bigger dolls. The stores are too expensive and the catalog’s too small, so I guess I’ll be doing business with the TV doll shows for a while. I told Tom to let me know when he thinks money’s available again and I’ll watch the show. Their dolls are bigger and cheaper.

Thank God I got Rapunzel and Patrice when I did, cuz they weren’t in the catalog. I don’t know if this means they broke their molds and they no longer exist, or if they put them in every other catalog or so, so they can feature more dolls, but I’m still glad I got them when I did.

Paula called again last night, so I called her back (I didn’t hear the phone ring when she called). Again, she didn’t want anything. Just to tell me that she got it on with this guy who’s already involved in his car in the middle of a snowstorm. I was surprised to hear her say she kind of felt bad for his girlfriend since she seemed nice. I didn’t know Paula was capable of considering someone else’s feelings. Anyway, she said he said they argue all the time. Paula said she’s gonna give him an ultimatum - it’s either her or the girlfriend. I told her that I felt that if he could cheat on his girlfriend, he could cheat on her. I don’t think she believes or wants to believe that, but it’s her life. She said I’m the only one that knows about this, too.

She’s also looking at apartments in Springfield and W. Springfield. Yeah, she sure moves around a lot like Fran did. I’m surprised she’s been where she is for as long as she has been. She says the people are too nosy where she is. Everyone’s nosy, I told her. Especially in apartments and even more so in projects.

I also got those fertility papers. It’s not as complex as I thought it was. Meaning, there aren’t a bunch of complex tests. However, since he rarely gets off, is constantly tired or busy, has to chauffeur his mom to appointments, and since I can’t keep a schedule to save my life, it’s complex for us. Meaning, they’re saying to screw 2-3 times a week. Yeah, right! Then they’re saying to screw every other day during mid-cycle. Ugh-huh. Sure.

I would never have known, though, that position can affect conception. They’re saying the best is the missionary position. That’s about the only thing we got right. However, they’re advising the woman to put a pillow under her hips and that the man stays still inside the woman while he’s having the orgasm. OK, two things we got right and are capable of doing, but that’s about it. They say KY jelly can weaken or kill sperm and they advise you not to use it, but I have to. I’m too dry nowadays during sex. That’s mainly why I get so irritated down there.

It looks like there are about five tests and I’ll be damned if I’ll do the fourth one, cuz that’ll be just as bad as the first test, the HSG (hysterosalpingogram). This is where they scrape uterus cells to see if your hormones are off-balance, but why didn’t they just do that while they were already in there doing the HSG test? The postcoital test is the second test where they test the cervical mucus. This test should be no worse than a regular pelvic exam. The last test is where they check his sperm if he’ll let them have a sample of it.

Anyway, I’m really sick of this stuff. I’ve really had enough. I don’t want a child, I’m not meant to have one, so I’m leaning toward calling it quits here. I see no need to put myself through any more shit when I got my answers. If my uterus isn’t fucked up, then there’s probably nothing visibly wrong at all. Like I said, you don’t have to visibly be fucked up for fate to carry itself out. On top of all this, we can’t meet the requirements for testing. He won’t cum that often, and we’re just too busy, too tired, or off schedule to even get together in the first place.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 14, 1999 Got a steal of a deal on the home shopping channel! As you know, Bailey’s a sitting doll, 24” long, handmade, at a cost of $300. Well, they had a doll just two inches shorter, also sitting and handmade, for just $50! She’ll be here by the 24th. She’s Spanish and her name’s Maria! She’s got on red shoes with gold buckles, white stockings with a nice little design in them, a white dress with ruffles and a rose on the chest, a necklace, and some shiny veil-like thing on the head. She has brown hair and hazel eyes. Most of the dolls they have suck, but the dolls they do have are mostly bigger and cheaper compared to Ashton Drake and the doll stores we’ve been to. Way cheaper!

I’m also getting three vibrators. So, we have four things on their way; pictures, CDs, vibrators, and Maria.

The first of the books I got this time around is good. It’s called One Last Kiss.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 13, 1999 Evie left me a lengthy message all about how Parker needs constant watching and is in his terrible twos early. It’s things like this that make me not want a child and that reminds me that I could never handle it. How would I not run out of patience and beat the snot out of the thing? Thankfully, I’ve been my usual self and haven’t had a bad day since the 7th. As long as days like the 7th are either never again, or far and few between, I’ll be perfectly content to remain childless. Still, I’m determined to meet with the doctor and hear what she has to say. I’m gonna rebel against God, even if I know what’s meant to be and what’s not. It’s like if I were in a fight; even if I knew the person could beat me, they’re gonna have to beat me down. I’m not gonna just bow down to them the instant they’re onto me just cuz I know they’ll win. Well, I’m not gonna run away from God anymore either, and be his little puppet. He may always win and I may be on his side with this issue, but I’m not gonna just lay down and accept his ways and be his victim. He controlled me and made me how I am for a reason and I want to know how he did it. Not just why. He’s taken enough from me. That’s all I can say. He’s allowed enough bad times to occur in my life. Although he took my plumbing for good, correct reasons, he’s not taking any more. Not if I can help it. I gave my ear, my plumbing, my childhood, and enough’s enough.

I still haven’t gotten that fertility info so naturally, I’m wondering if it was misdelivered.

Woke up at 109 pounds. God, when I was 125 pounds, it was hard to imagine me ever being 109 again, and now that I am, it’s hard to imagine I was up to 125 pounds! I still don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. I still see someone who’s not downright fat, but who’s chunky, and who’s pure flab. I really should do some toning exercises, but I guess I’m lazy. I do wear the leg weights, though. Well, I know I’m not doing too bad overall. I may not look like I used to, but compared to your average woman, I’m pretty skinny and fit. Especially since most women do have kids and I haven’t.

I worry about Tom. His cold’s been dragging on cuz he hasn’t been able to get enough sleep. His mother made sure of that today and yesterday. Yesterday he went over to fix her light switch. When I asked why Mary or Dave don’t fix their own fucking light switches, he said he wouldn’t want them to. Today, he had to take her to get her staples out of her stomach. At least she’s doing really well and the swelling’s gone down in her feet. She can feel them again, too! Still, I wish God would have her move on and go join Dad. I’m sure they’d love to be together.

I haven’t worked on the puzzles I have on the vanity table in the music room, so I think I’ll go do that now.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 12, 1999 Just changed the rat’s cage around again. I also moved them by the back door so I could see them from the kitchen.

Tom took some nice pictures today before I got up. He took a couple of good ones of Shiny and an excellent one of Shiny. Took a couple of good shots of Porky too, and even a good one of Velvet. I was surprised, cuz Velvet’s hard to shoot cuz he’s just this big black blob.

Anyway, I went through the pictures we’ve been taking and cropped some, and put them where I want them. Some are just being stored on the computer and some are in my subdirectories.

I went to take a picture of Bill’s car at 3:30, but when I stepped out, there was a woman at the collie’s house who saw me, and I’d prefer to be discreet if I can help it. So, I’ll shoot the picture some other day, then enclose that in their little packet, be it superimposed with something or not. That really ought to creep them out.

I’m mailing Tammy and Andy some cute rat pictures and some of my favorite dolls. Stamps just went up a cent to 33¢, so we’ll have to get a few 1¢ stamps to add to the few old 32¢ stamps we’ve got. Like the PO really needs that extra precious cent! I’ve also got Lisa’s birthday card going out to her.

Got my jury dismissal notice in the mail, which is great.

I’ve picked out about 5 vibrators from a catalog that sells them that just came. Perfect timing. I’m really hooked on these things for when Tom’s unavailable. They won’t last long, though.

I asked Tom if he still wanted to take ibuprofen and get off when I’m mid-cycle, even though I know he could get off every day and I’d still get every period, and he said yes. So I made my best mid-cycle guess and that’s on MLK Day. So, we’ll have to screw with the fans on for sure, since they’re gonna be playing ball or whatever the fuck it is they’re gonna do to get my attention and recognition for that day. Yeah, they just gotta rub their color in that day.

I emailed Kim, Evie, and Marla and let them know the HSG test was negative. I told Andy too, on his machine. In his reply message to me, he said it was nice to know that there’s nothing wrong with me, so maybe Tom’s the problem. In my reply message, I told him that just because my uterus and tubes are OK, doesn’t mean my eggs aren’t or that there isn’t some other problem within my plumbing, but I could very well be OK since God doesn’t have to sterilize a woman to make sure she never conceives. All he has to do is just make sure she never conceives no matter if her parts are good or not.

He also said a prayer to God right on the phone for us to have a kid, and says God always comes through for him. If he always comes through for him then why is he still alone? And why isn’t he a rich and famous singer? Anyway, I told him he can do what he wants, but he’s wasting his time praying for a kid. I should know. I didn’t tell him I don’t want a kid and that I just want to rebel against God and go through the motions and play this thing out, even though I know how it’s fated to play out, cuz for a variety of reasons I’m not so open with Andy these days. I don’t discuss much at all with him anymore, whereas in the past, I’d tell him everything. It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s just that a lot of the time he’s too baked to get it or to remember a damn thing I tell him. He also tends to argue and challenge a lot of what I say. However, he’s been really supportive of this fertility shit I’m wasting my time with, and for that, I’m appreciative and grateful.

He didn’t get together with Juliet cuz she was sick. I hope they’ll get together some other time soon.

Later…

I haven’t heard from Evie lately. Maybe David decided he didn’t like those jokes I sent after all? Well, you know what? I don’t care. If her feelings have been hurt or if I’ve made waves of any kind, if it isn’t just a case of her being busy, I don’t care. My days of being overly sensitive to people’s feelings are over. All that matters is Tom’s feelings.

I decided to grow my bangs out. All of them. Not just on the sides. I got impatient with those sides sticking out and cut those, but now I’m gonna let them all grow out. I need something different, even though Tom and I both like bangs better, and I’m sick of having to always trim them and have them look good some days and dorky other days. Eventually, I’ll cut bangs again after they’ve grown out for a while.

Last night Paula called. She didn’t want me to look up another name for her, either. She just wanted to chat, and it had to have been our best chat yet. It was really nice. She was still her usual ditzy self, but we were giggling and talking about all kinds of things, and I even had a moment where tears stung my eyes over missing her. She talked again about coming out this summer, but who knows? We asked each other our ritual questions. I ask her if she’s experimented on the other side yet, and she asks me if there are any babies yet. She says she knows I’ll have one someday, but it’ll only happen when it’s time. Then she also said she’d find a way to get out here to help me through it if I did have a kid, which I thought was so sweet. I know I’ll never have a kid and that her getting out here isn’t as easy as she may think, but still, that was sweet of her. I know she’s sincere about it.

She’s going to Florida for a couple of weeks to visit her father.

She says she’s up to 140 pounds, has her hair short, and dyed maroon. Yuck. Maroon? Short? She looked so good with her long brown hair. Anyway, I told her about Chromium Picolinate and how it usually suppresses your appetite.

When I hung up, I said “love you,” as I do to those I’m close to and it was the first time she said it back.

MONDAY, JANUARY 11, 1999 Let me do the freeloader update thing first. Bill was here today, and he left at the usual time of 4:30. Then a little while later, a black car was parked in the driveway that we’ve never seen before. Tom saw it as he was pulling in from getting me wax and getting a new filter for the AC duct. He said he saw a lady. During this car’s visit, I saw the bitch talking to the light blue car on the street for a minute. As I was going to listen to music, I heard the bitch yelling and saw her through the music room window talking to the lady who obviously just got into the black car. Yeah, as usual, she was pretty pissed. I don’t know if she was pissed at the lady or if she was just bitching to the lady about something that had her pissed off.

After the black car left, I could’ve sworn I heard a car door next door as I was in the bedroom talking with Tom, but when I went and looked (it was now dark) I saw no car. I saw that she did replace her porch light, though, and that that was on. It’s on right now, so I take it the cock or someone’s coming over. Maybe the car was over there but is in the carport and is just too hard to see in the dark, but I doubt it. Sometimes, though, their low cars are hard to see over that wall, even if I climb on a chair, cuz I’m so short.

Why is she always such a mean, mad, aggressive bitch? I can only imagine just what kind of mother she must be, and boy is it scary! The bitch changed her hairstyle. She’s got it in lots of braids, but it’s still tucked under at the nape of her neck. She looked sort of ridiculous from what I could see earlier (she was only about 10’ away) with some of the braids sticking out and hanging down. Her hair’s gotten long, though. To the middle of her back. Maybe a bit longer.

In my letter to Tammy, I enclosed some pictures of my dolls and some cute rat pictures I took last night. Just of Butterscotch and Ratsy, though. The two bravest. Porky and Mickey were camera shy. As I told her, though, I’ll get them shot sometime, and soon I’ll send pictures of us, too.

Tom and I didn’t get to have sex today as we’d planned, cuz he was too tired. Like I said, something up there does not want us to have sex during weekdays, but my crotch is basically only good for the weekends anyway, or else I’ll get sore. We did chat a bit, though, and we put together a list of the shit that’s gotta be done with this house. Here it is:

Pick up roofing bits from the side and back of the house

Gravel the front

Replace the bathroom sink

Fill in the AC hole in the back room

Tear up back room carpet

Finish the front security door (take off back screen door)

Paint the inside and the outside of the house

Fill in the holes in the back room ceiling

Put a vent in the bathroom

Sand the bedroom closet door

Put a fence around the pool

Repaint the pool steps

Later…

Lights off next door. I noticed this a few minutes ago, so maybe she just forgot they were on.

Thanks to Butterscotch, I had to wash my hair just now and it’s not even a wash day. That’s cuz I literally “scared the shit out of him.” I went to pick him up and he freaked. He squealed and shit in my hair and all over my shirt. Not the usual hard duties, but runny shit. So I had to shower and wash my hair. The poor guy. I made it up to him as best I could with some extra lettuce and cheese.

Paula and I have been playing more phone tag. I’ll try to call her earlier tomorrow.

I just left Andy a message telling him of my test results, that my cold turned out to be the easiest cold I ever had, and that I hoped his visit with Juliet went well. I told him I wanted to hear about it and to leave me a message. When I told him Friday that I had a cold, he asked if there was anything he could do for me. That was nice of him.

I’ll get on with the test results which are sort of unfuckingbelievable in a moment.

First, let me cover Tammy’s latest shit. Sarah passed out cuz of some lung problem, Tammy’s got lung fluid that leaked out of her lungs and into her ribs (if I heard her right), Lisa’s still rebellious, and a young mother (always a young mother), and her two sons died in a fire that lived nearby. Tammy’s worried they’ll all die like they did cuz Lisa’s throwing spent matches onto the floor which is littered with papers. She said Lisa will not clean her room or do anything she was supposed to do and is asked to do, so she called the state on Tammy, then Tammy blew up and called her a bitch. Lovely. Just lovely. I thought my sister’s motto was that two wrongs don’t make a right It’s a waste of time I know, but I told her that name-calling and pitching fits won’t help solve anything. Of course, the state’s not gonna do anything like they almost never do, and Tammy says she’s gonna kick Lisa out when she’s 16 on the 20th of this month. If they call us about taking Lisa, well, I don’t know if I want to anymore. I still love Lisa and I always will, no matter if I never see or talk to her again or not, but Tammy’s right about Lisa’s lying. Tammy may be a shit mom who makes a million mistakes, but she’s not bullshitting when it comes to Lisa’s lying. Even Lisa herself admitted to me she’s lied, and she lied to me about not contacting Larry, so now that trust has been damaged. Maybe we wouldn’t have the same relationship we have on the phone if she came to live with us. Maybe Tammy’s right and maybe Lisa would walk all over us and raise hell.

I reminded Tammy too, that she really ought to smoke outside if she’s not gonna quit. Sarah and Becky don’t need that secondhand smoke. Again, though, it’s her life and she’s gotta do what she’s gotta do. No one can tell her what to do.

Maybe I’ve got more Dureen in me than I’d like, cuz I’m still leaning toward walking when we move. Then again, Dureen would stick around and try to change the person rather than just walk away, whereas I say - if you don’t like someone, don’t have anything to do with them. Don’t try to change or control them, just walk away. It’s not that I don’t like her, Lisa, or the girls, of course. It’s just the same old shit that brings me down and sometimes pisses me the fuck off. Maybe I’m a wimp, but I can’t deal with the anger and with the same old problems with Bill and all that shit (although I guess he kept his paws to himself in Florida). Tom, naturally, doesn’t think I should walk. He said that’d be like my dumping Andy just because someone pissed him off. In other words, that’d be his problem that he’d have to work out. Yeah, I know, but still, it’s that last remaining tie to the past that I really feel needs to be severed. It’s not that I wouldn’t feel bad about walking cuz Tammy wouldn’t do that to me. And also, I know it’s gonna hurt Lisa. But they don’t need me any more than I need to be a part of their problems and a part of that painful past, and as they know and will learn, people come and go throughout our lives. The only problems I can deal with right now are any that may arise within my own household and even that can be hard. This sterility shit I’ve been dealing with for years can really take its toll on me. When it isn’t downright reducing me to tears, it’s still playing on a back burner within my mind. That feeling of being abnormal and being controlled and punished by God is still lurking within my subconscious.

I got my card reminding me it was time for a cleaning/check-up so I first called the dentist to see if I could schedule an appointment with Charlene the same day I see Melanie on the 1st, but couldn’t get in that day. Melanie answered, by the way. So I made the appointment for the 8th. Then I saw that Tom had jury duty that day, so I called back and got Tisha who’s the receptionist that’s always there when I go in, and told her I couldn’t make it that day. So she moved me to the 22nd, and the good of it is that I can see Melanie right after it and hit two birds with one stone.

Then I called Dr. Well’s office and left a message saying that I wasn’t too happy that I haven’t been called back since leaving the message I left last Thursday and to please get back to me. So Monique, doctor Well’s nurse, called me back explaining that she had a family emergency, my HSG test was normal, she’s mailing me papers all about their fertility work-ups that they do, the next step will be to see if I’m ovulating and check his sperm after we’ve had sex, and that one-hour consultation with the doctor.

In other words, if I want to keep going, even though I know damn well what the end results will be, I have to lower myself to more painful tests and deal with his not cumming on command. Not that we’d have the time to screw around for this test if I was mid-cycle during the week. I don’t know if this is no worse than a regular exam, or what. I guess he’s supposed to get off when I’m mid-cycle, then I’m supposed to go in there and have them scrape a sample of his cum from me to see if his sperm count’s too low. Maybe to see if I have that bacteria that kills sperm, too. The doctor’s also gonna do something to see if I ovulate, but I have no clue as to what this could entail. Maybe she’ll give me pills to make me ovulate, then use an ovulation predictor test to see if I ovulated like I’m supposed to.

Tom’s insisting that cumming on a schedule will be no problem just like how he told me he’d cum when he did the last time he did, but I don’t know. Sometimes he keeps his word with that, but most of the time he doesn’t. He even said that he can’t cum under pressure. He can’t just cum on cue.

How can my uterus be fine? This is what I don’t get. Does this mean the DES didn’t affect me in any bad way? If my uterus and fallopian tubes are OK, does this mean my eggs are fucked up? My first guess was the uterus, but my second guess is the eggs since they made a guinea pig out of me for so long with so many different medications. Tom said it could be anything from the way I wash myself down there after sex, to my body temperature. But I thought I gave it enough time in between sex and washing. Is it body chemistry? Hormones? Or am I perfectly normal? Maybe I am normal after all. Like I said, God doesn’t have to visibly alter one’s plumbing in order to make sure they never have a child.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 10, 1999 I just called Paula who says she’s gonna call me back. She left a message earlier wanting to know if I could find a number for some guy in Texas. This time, instead of saying no, I’ll tell her I found a match and give her a bogus number. I know it’s dishonest, but the ditz won’t know the difference. It seems she only calls when she wants me to look for someone on the Internet. If it was as easy as snapping my fingers and having Paula here for a little visit, I would do it in a heartbeat. But if I were to never hear from her again, I can’t say I’d miss her. She’s just there at this point in my life. Just someone who exists that I know. I’ve known her since I was about 19.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a shitload of updating to do, and in the midst of taking breaks to sing, read, and watch some movies, I’m gonna get started. Let me back up and try to go in order of events.

The 7th, as I said before, was a nightmare. It was totally, totally miserable and just like old times. I felt like it was somewhere between 1994-1997 all over again. I just cried and cried and was so pissed off at God for taking away my right to choose what to do with my life/body. I was both sad and angry.

As my anger mounted and peaked, I decided that saying “You can’t fight God and win” would no longer cut it for me. I was gonna take back my rights as a woman, fight back, and beat God for sure. I was gonna get fixed, become all woman no matter how excruciating, and make that mistake that should’ve been mine to make a few years ago. And I was gonna soak up every miserable moment of that mistake, too.

The next day, and since then, I was back to my old self, thank fucking God! I know I can’t fight God and win and change fate. Also, I do not want a child. I want to live. I want to be free. I just hope to hell that the 7th was a rare setback and that it’ll mostly, if not completely, remain a thing of the past. There’s nothing like being as angry and as depressed as I was, feeling cheated, feeling controlled, and cursed by this non-empathetic, controlling God! Never do I want to experience that hopeless despair again!

Tom was very supportive, reminding me that it’s OK to feel as I did. He heard a report on TV about how fertility clinics should really keep in mind that women are angry. They’re angry if they can’t conceive, they’re angry if they do conceive and have to go through all that shit just to do it when no woman should have to in the first place. No one should have to work for or pay for getting pregnant. People should have the right to do what they want with their own lives and with their own bodies. Period.

Anyway, I’ll never have a child, I know that, I’m OK with that as I have been for about a year now, but I still do intend to call this doctor’s office Monday and give them a piece of my mind. Tom says it’s like this everywhere nowadays where it’s a battle just to get a doctor to call you back. Do I think it’s a sign anyway? Yeah, I’m sure it is, but still, I called Thursday and I should’ve been called back by now. Tom says there’s a chance she may not have worked on Friday, but nonetheless, I’m gonna make it clear in my message that when I leave a message, I want to be called back. Also, I want to know what the test results were (in her words) and find out what the next step is if there is a next step. This isn’t over till I say it is!

I’ve got to take charge of my own life and of my own body. If I don’t, God will just keep taking and taking and controlling and controlling. I’m not gonna be God’s little victim. His character that he uses in a script that he wrote out. Fuck that shit! He gave me this life and this body and now it’s mine! All mine.

Tom put in Plexiglas strips around the sides of the floors in the rat’s cage, but plenty of sawdust still seeped out and made quite a mess. So, I took the floors out and was gonna have him make wire floors so that their shit would fall down through to the bass, which is like a huge litter box, but then I got an even better idea which I set about doing. I love it and so do the rats. Tom thinks it’s cool, too. Instead of having the shelves make complete floors for them to piss and shit all over if they’re bare, knock sawdust out if I put any in, and be hard for me to clean, either way, I put shelves in, but not from one wall to another making a floor. I made steps instead, and this way, the shelves are easier to pop out and clean. This is so much better! They make much less of a mess, it’s easier to clean, and that’s less sawdust I have to deal with and vacuum up.

This cold, which is practically all gone now, turned out to be the easiest cold I ever had. I had a sugar craving just like Tom did with his and ate like a pig for two days. I had two candy bars and lots of little donuts. Can’t believe I’m not over 111 pounds.

We got our digital camera a few days ago and it’s great! I love it! It’s easy to use, too. Tom showed me how to shoot pictures, then transfer them to the computer and into the folder I want them in. I took some doll pictures, and sometime soon I’ll take some animal pictures and some of us. That way Tammy and the girls can see the weight I’ve lost and how long my hair is!

Tom and I laughed together over my idea for the freeloaders. I thought I’d shoot some pictures of their house, then superimpose a mouse or something to make it look like they have a giant rat on their roof and a giant mouse on their porch. Something like that. I tried to shoot pictures through the blinds today of the bitch and her sister, but all I got were the blinds since it focuses on what’s closest. Still, a picture of one of them ought to really creep them out! I’ll have to learn to manually focus it. A shot of Bill’s car and the house would be lovely for them to have, too.

I guess tomorrow it’s back to the usual weekday routine for the freeloaders. Today, the cock came in at around 2:00 to watch a football game. I heard two door slams while I was in the bathroom. One for the teenage boy? Anyway, it was here till 5:00. While the cock was here, the sister in the white car was out front fighting with the bitch. At least it looked like the bitch was arguing with her and mad about someone. She was born mad, I swear! They were standing by the car, which was parked on the street since the cock had the driveway. Part of it, anyway. The sister was holding a baby and then I saw the bitch’s mistake and some other kid about that same size. They’re so fucking weird, cuz at one point, the sister started walking down the street and the bitch was kneeling down doing something to the ground, but I couldn’t make out what the fuck it was. Amazingly, there were no ball games today.

It looks like Kim got her computer back together again. She sent me a few messages. One updating me on her life, then a couple with jokes. It sounds like her life is typical. She’s just living with Walter in Northampton, instead of alone in Deerfield.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 9, 1999 Got quite a bit of updating to do. For starters, the freeloaders have been doing exactly what I knew they’d do, but at least we haven’t had setbacks with the music. Or with the bass, I should say.

The bitch got back at 6 PM on the 7th, which turned out to be a miserable day for me, but I’ll get into that later. Anyway, it looks like Bill went with the cock and bitch to the Midwest. I assume Bill went too, cuz I never saw him checking on the house while the bitch was gone, and what’s the bitch doing - leaving her father alone every Christmas? Somehow, I don’t think so. I think the three of them went to the airport in the cock’s car. When they returned, I think the cock dropped Bill off, then its bitch. There wasn’t much in the way of door-slamming that night, and the cock didn’t stay long. After a long flight, I’m sure the cock was sick of its bitch and of its mistake, and just wanted to get the hell home. I saw the cock pull a large duffel bag from the trunk, and that’s about it. Just a few door slams. The cock wasn’t even here for an hour.

Meanwhile, the bitch has been making up for lost time as far as company and door slamming goes and has begun the payback for the roofing noise. I knew she would. Like I said, I know these freeloaders. I can anticipate just about their every move.

The bitch didn’t work yesterday, but it went out with Bill at 2:00. Probably to do some grocery shopping. At 4:00, the cock was in and out, and at 5:00 Bill brought the bitch back. At 6:15, part of the payback began. For about five minutes, I heard really loud voices. Yeah, the bitch had to make a big fucking production out of the light blue car’s picking her up. All I could make out, though, was “I’ll get you something at Wal-Mart.” Anyway, I heard about two kids and two adults. There were at least ten door slams. If these people were normal in any sense of the word, her ride would pull up and maybe honk if she weren’t looking for her ride or standing out front, then there’d be just two door slams. One for her and one for her mistake, and that’s it, but no. She’s gotta make a big show of it in regard to me.

I could’ve sworn I heard two door slams when the cock came and went while she was out on Friday with Bill, and I think I know who that other dude is that he sometimes comes over with. I think it’s that teenage boy I spoke to when I’d had my fill with the dog sitting outside my bedroom barking. I think that her lease allows that house only to her and her kid and that both he and this kid got kicked out. I think the kid moved in with the cock. Well, where is its mother? In jail? Too doped up to give a shit? Or was she killed by an enemy or fellow gang member?

Anyway, the way I know the bitch went out last night when that car came in at 6:15, is cuz there were no lights on inside the house. She had to have gotten back after I crashed, though.

The biggest thing I figured the bitch would sic on me for the roofing noise would be ball games. More so than voices and door slamming. She’d really love to sic the bass on me, but she can’t, cuz she knows she’ll get evicted if she does. Well, I was right about the ball games. I just knew there would be ball games this weekend, next weekend at the latest, but it didn’t go on for hours and hours like I thought it would.

Today, the light blue car came and went and came again a few minutes later. Then a black boy in a dark green sports shirt about 12 years of age came out to play ball, but only for a few minutes. The fan in the bedroom and the air cleaner in the living room, do a great job at drowning this out, so since we haven’t got much time left here (I hope) I don’t give a fuck if they play ball every day from here on out. I’ve got fans and I’ve got cordless headphones for music and even for the TV if I just had to watch something while they were out balling around. And I’ll bet you anything that that bitch coaxed him into playing, too.

So then after a few minutes of him slam-dunking, out comes two black ladies putting shit in the trunk. I saw a bright blue stroller, and what looked like party bags being put in the trunk. The back seat looked like it was loaded with 2-4 kids. I couldn’t tell for sure who the hell these girls were. One had braids and that might’ve been the bitch. After all, she needed a change of style and had had her old style for way too long. The other had nice hair for being black. They usually have lamb’s wool for hair. It was loose, kind of one length, and about an inch or two below the shoulders. She wore a dull-colored outfit, though. A long-sleeved olive blouse, and was it dull orange/yellow pants? Or jeans? Someone had jeans on. Anyway, they were both around the same height and weight and I think it was the bitch and its sister.

So, they take off and it’s about noon. At 5:30, just as the sun was setting, it was back. And so was the dark green sports shirt and its basketball. It played for about 20 minutes, then bye-bye went the car and the dark green sports shirt and its basketball. Some would say I should’ve sabotaged the damn hoop while they were gone, but it wouldn’t have done me any good. If a giant hole opened up in the ground and swallowed that thing right up, they’d just replace it. And if not, they’d just dribble the ball in the driveway to get at me.

The night is young. It’s only 7:00. Got more company to go for that bitch. I just checked and although it’s not as bright as usual, there is a light on over there, so I think the bitch is home and that any more company will go inside the house to see her there. And I’d think it’s too dark to be playing any more ball today.

I’m sure tomorrow will be a repeat of today. Cars in and out, door slams on and off, and 2-3 spurts of ball playing. God help them if they ever even think of returning to basing me out!

I have much more to write about, but I’ve got a little cold that I came down with on the 7th, thanks to Tom and his constant colds, so I’ll do it later. This has been an easy cold, though. I’m not nearly as bad off as I got last year when I had a cold.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 7, 1999 Right again, as usual. I did get my full flow today. However, it’s so wimpy! Nothing hits the pad. It’s just what I wipe off. On the bright side, what I wiped off was too much to be pregnant with, but I’m really wondering more and more about a hormone imbalance or early menopause. So I left a message with the doctor about this. I was told she’d call me at the end of the day. Fine. Maybe she can tell me about the tests I took while we’re at it.

Once again, I am totally, totally sterile! No fertile woman should’ve gotten her period when I did if she had sex just two days prior to being mid-cycle, but you know me. Nowadays I see it as a gift. Not a curse. I just wish God would’ve left the choice to me! Yeah, but while that’s easy to say, we know damn well I’d have made the wrong choice in the past had it been mine to make, and today I’d be lifelessly sitting around regretting it. I just wish the doctor would call and tell me there were no choices to be made, cuz my uterus is that fucked up, cuz that’d just make this whole thing so much easier. Just tell me what I know isn’t meant to be so I can move on in life! No more excruciating tests for nothing! I’m not meant to have any say in this matter, and my days of struggling for what’s not meant to be are over. I’m going with the flow of God’s plan for me, like it or not, and that’s that.

Later…

Tom installed a new modem on my computer that’s faster for when I’m on AOL or the web or something like that. It’s not lightning fast, since phone wires can only transmit information through them so fast, but it is faster than what I had before.

It’s also supposed to have caller ID and when someone calls, the number’s supposed to show up on the monitor, but I haven’t gotten any calls in which to test it out yet. Of all these fucking sales calls we get, none has called yet since I’ve been awake and functional.

Tom’s taking his mom to an appointment today.

Tom doesn’t think Mom will make it throughout the year. Well, I hope he’s right and I’m wrong, cuz regardless of how nice she is compared to most people, she needs to go. She’s done her time here on this earth, there’s nothing more she can do or live for except to burden others, so she needs to pass on and we need to move on. I know God’s gonna really get me for this by making sure no one’s around to take care of me and help me out when I get old, but I already knew he’d do this to me no matter what I felt about his mother. I’m just sick of her and her needs. They may have lessened greatly since she sold that fucking house, but still, she needs to go, and God help Mary and Dave or someone else if they think Tom will then wait on them left and right after she’s gone.

Andy, for whatever reason, isn’t able to come over anytime in the near future to get that extra comforter I have for him, his notes, and to see the place. He’s gonna be busy doing temp work for the next two weeks, so maybe he’ll come over then. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel like it or trust his junky car. He did mention only driving when necessary. So, I’m gonna mail him the notes.

He left a message yesterday saying he was sorry the phone appointments didn’t work out. Donna was bummed too. I knew it was too good to be true; simply making appointments all day and getting $10 a pop, but that’s OK, cuz as I told Andy and Donna, the work was dull and I’d rather make dolls and do something more uppity, even if it’s for shit money. Although, if it had worked out, I’d have done it for a while anyway. Meanwhile, Donna’s gonna pick up the papers she gave me some time over the next few days.

Andy says his friend Juliet’s coming in from California. The one I met back east a couple of times. We all went to the beach together once, and she was with us at one of the bars. Anyway, he mentioned coming over for a visit with her this weekend. He just doesn’t listen or get it when I tell him I’m tied up on weekends! So, I simply told him I’d be busy, which is true, and that she’s his friend. I still don’t want to get into buddy sharing with him, although Donna’s an easygoing enough person to have done business with.

He says he does not want to give up Phoenix but he has to cuz he wants love. Andy, you are not gonna give up Phoenix for nothing and nobody! You know it. I know it. So end it. You’re not destined for a relationship, and if you were, you still couldn’t have one cuz you’re too damn selfish to have a successful one.

Today, the collies are doing a fine job of making up for lost barking time.

Later…

Wow. If you ask me, these teeth are moving really fast. They’re not overlapping anymore, on the bottom, and there are only three teeth that are out of place.

I hope Tom gets home soon. He needs to work tonight, so he can’t be out catering to Marjorie all day. Maybe he’ll give her the last remaining bits of his cold and she’ll die now.

Later…

Oh, how I hate that woman!!! I’m soooooo fucking pissed off right now, I can barely type! Marjorie, drop dead you fucking asshole! Drop dead! I need my husband right now. I’m depressed and I really need to talk to him now, but no! He has to be catering to you. Well, who’s fucking husband is he, Marge? Gee, I thought he was my husband! God, I hate you, you fucking burden! I’m sick of you interfering with this relationship. I’m sick of you taking my husband’s time when I need him. I’m sick of you causing him to lose sleep, to lose more of his valuable time, his life, and I’m sick of you!! God, why won’t you kill this woman, NOW!!! I could scream, I’m so fucking furious and fed up with this user!

That depression’s really turning into anger and frustration pretty fast, that’s for damn sure. Still, I need my husband. I need to talk to him and vent these emotions. It won’t change a damn thing, but it helps perk me up. It’s like an alcoholic who drinks when she’s upset. It doesn’t fix her problem, and maybe nothing can, but it helps to temporarily make her feel better so she can cope and get through the tough times.

I don’t know why I’m so depressed today. I haven’t been this depressed in a long time. It feels just like old times, and this is scary. Is this gonna be a rare thing? Or am I gonna go back to being depressed over being controlled by God on a regular basis? I thought having periods was supposed to take away depression. Anyway, no, I don’t want a kid, but I still feel depressed, confused, angry, frustrated, and cursed at the way God’s dictated my life for me in so many more ways than is the norm. I don’t have a full bag of rights as a woman, I never will, and that still pisses me off and saddens me, whether I want a kid or not. How can God do this to a woman, and why me? What did I do that was so horrible that I deserve this? Why? Why?! Why me? He gave this body to me, so why can’t I use it the way I want to? He gave this life to me, so why can’t I do what I want with it? Well, the truth is my body and life don’t fully belong to me and they never will, so when the fuck am I gonna just get over it and on with my life? I mean, I did such a good job of it last year. I came to accept myself as I am and I was content to live life as I am, half-woman and all. I came to see how wonderful things would be without a child. I still see how wonderful they’ll be, but when am I gonna get over not having a say in the matter and get over the depression and the feeling like God’s picking on me?

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 6, 1999 At 10:00 I’m gonna call Donna. I called Tom at work and asked him if he wanted me to have Donna come over when he’s home so he can be there too to hear what she has to say, but he said no. He trusts my judgment. Just be careful of what I get into. Of course.

Although I only had a little spot on the 4th, and one on the 5th, and today, I think my period’s getting ready to start. It may be a half-assed one, but I think that by tomorrow I’ll have enough of a period to drain the soreness from my chest. Thank God!

I’m pretty bloated right now and I guess you could say I’m watery too. I didn’t go over 1000 calories yesterday, yet today I’m up to 111 pounds.

I don’t know how long I’ll give the doctor to contact me before I contact her, but we’ll see. I don’t know why I even bother. I know what I want. I know what’s meant to be, so why put myself through more hell? I got my questions answered, as far as I’m concerned. I have a bum uterus. Time to move on. Time to follow God’s plans for me. Just like I have all along, and just like everyone else in this world does.

If there was just one more thing, I’d change about this new rat cage, I’d take out those solid plastic floors and put wire floors in. That way the duties would fall to the bottom, and I wouldn’t have to worry about sawdust. We may as well take these Plexiglas strips out Tom wasted his time and money putting in, cuz they’re still making a mess, kicking sawdust out all over the place. I think an all-wire cage would look better, too.

It fucking figures that my shows didn’t get taped last night. That’s another common VCR problem I’ve had - it doesn’t record anything. Why do electronic things only work half of the time for me? Anyway, I’m not gonna play VCR hit or miss. If I’m up on Tuesdays between 7:00-9:00 PM I’ll watch the shows live if they’re on.

Later…

Tom was right, and so were my vibes. It’s not that this thing of Donna’s is illegal or anything complicated. It’s that it doesn’t get me anywhere. As Tom and I figured, I can’t get appointments set up cuz either the person who handles that is out, or they’re just not interested. The work is also pretty boring. I rather make dolls, even if it’s not good money! But I said I’d try it out and I did. It would’ve been an OK job to do if it could be done, though, and Donna would’ve been a nice person to do business with, but oh well. You can’t make something work that’s not meant to be. I hope Andy won’t let this influence his decision to ever make appointments for her, cuz what may not work out for one person, may work out for another.

Tom got our new digital camera! He says it’s not gonna be a complicated deal to use and that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. All I want to do is take pictures, put them on the computer where I want them, and that’s basically it.

Later…

The white car just pulled out from next door. I never even heard it pull in in the first place. Guess the bitch will be back anytime now. Tom says the storms have let up.

Fucking cat. He’s so fucking weird! He won’t come in and eat unless someone’s in here with him, and you practically have to invite him over to his bowl. If you just open the door and walk away, he sometimes just sits there and whines, rather than eats. If you let him in, then go right outside yourself, he’ll just stay at the door whining. He can’t even walk by himself to his fucking bowl and eat! Why do I always attract such weird cases? At least he’s not into things and being all destructive like Shadow was.

Now here’s something totally shocking, that I didn’t sense, and that’s absolutely wonderful. I haven’t heard the collies. I noticed how quiet they were yesterday. So yesterday and today I haven’t heard them. Are they there? Are they just being unusually quiet? Or did someone finally get fed up and kill them? If someone killed them, they’d be over here blaming me, so I doubt that. Maybe someone took legal action against all the barking, though, but I don’t know. It’s been great. I love being able to go out back and not have to listen to their deafening barking bounce off of those block walls. The dogs would sound like they were just over the wall in the freeloader’s yard when they’d go off, and any dog barking in the freeloader’s yard is like, oh my fucking God! It’s like it’s right in front of your face. It’s too soon to say for sure what the scoop is, but if they’re gone, I hope it’s at least till we’re out of here! I hope they don’t come back. Or two new dogs to replace them.

I wish to hell I wouldn’t have to have such long drawn-out PMS like this! Why do I have to spot for a handful of days first? Can’t I just get my period normally and be done with it? This is two extra days of the backaches, the water, the bloating, and the pre-cramps.

Initially, I was gonna wait till February to call the doctor if I hadn’t heard from her, and I asked Tom if he thought that’d be too long. He said he felt it’d be too long and suggested the end of January. Maybe I’ll shoot for Lisa’s birthday, which is the 20th. Although, what can she tell me? She can only tell me what I already know. Even if they could fix me, and even if I were willing to pay the price to be fixed, and even if I could handle the fixing, went back to wanting a kid, and was made so I could conceive, then did conceive, God would only make me miscarry that child, so what’s the point? He’s not gonna allow me to get into anything I can’t handle or that isn’t a part of his plan for me.

Later…

They’re there. Yeah, I knew the absence of the collies was too good to be true. They were just having a quiet spell. As soon as I heard the school bus, I ran out back knowing that the kids usually set the dogs off when they go down the back alley. Sure enough, they went off.

I didn’t sense the dogs leaving like I would normally sense something like that. If there had been any money to make with this appointment-making thing, I’d have sensed that too. I do sense I’ll have my period by tomorrow. Thank God!

Tom also got me a faster modem, which God knows I could use.

Later…

Now that was weird. I happened to have stepped up to the window in time to see the white car come in. Not the typical white car, but one with blond hair in it. I knew it was the lady from the red pickup right away. Whoever the driver was stayed in the car the whole time cuz I’d hear her talk to the driver as she passed by him. She got out of the car, walked through the carport to the back gate, then apparently had trouble opening it. She walked up the carport, said something to the driver I couldn’t hear, then went and got a chair off the front porch and brought it back to the back gate. She stood up on that to open it and was in the back for about two minutes. She came back out and brought the chair back to the front, said something inaudible as she passed the driver, and got in the car and left. Why would this bitch need two people checking the house? She must be really fucking paranoid!

Later…

Tom just got up with a duty belly and told me his opinion on the freeloaders. He thinks that due to her and her cock being stranded, the white car’s probably showing up daily just to see if she’s back yet, and the blond lady’s probably from the church and came to pull her mail in so it wouldn’t jam up in the slot. Tom said it’s not uncommon to have different locks for your front and back doors, so she probably only has a key to the back door. He said the two minutes fit. That’s about how long it’d take to open the back sliding door and put the mail on a counter or something like that.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 5, 1999 Still no jury dismissal notice. I hope they know I’m not going. I don’t do courts. Period. And if I ever do step foot into a courthouse again, it’s gonna be to sue someone for a rather large sum of money. Of course, I hope to hell neither of us is ever fucked over that bad that we’d need to sue like that, cuz usually, that’s why you sue for a large amount of money.

I added more icons to my desktop. For quite a while, I had just one vertical row of icons, but now I have two and a half. I put more things on there that I frequently use.

I woke up two days ago at 108 pounds, yesterday at 109 pounds, and today at 110 pounds. Gotta watch it, I guess.

All I had so far was that little spot yesterday. Am I gonna be a few days late or a week late? So far, I’ve never been more than a week late, except for that time in ‘96 when I spotted for two weeks before getting my period two weeks late. You never know with my screwy periods. I could end up skipping regularly! That’d be nice. Still, maybe my hormones are a little screwy and maybe I am going to have early menopause. I haven’t had as many pre-cramps today, but I sure did yesterday! I could swear my period was starting at times.

As I knew it would, my last vibrator broke. Why are these things so undependable? I don’t think that’s really the case, though. I think I’m just as hexed with these things as I am with other things. When it comes to sexual-related stuff, I’m always hexed. This is the third vibrator that didn’t last very long, but hey, nothing good sexually ever lasts for long when it comes to me if it even comes to me in the first place. I doubt I’ll ever get vibrators again, but if I do, I’m gonna get about four at once and not two since they’re just gonna break on me so soon. Everything breaks on me sooner than it should!

The CD club that Tom and I have used several different times over the years now claims you don’t have to send in monthly selection cards anymore, which was a hassle. You now only send in forms when you want something. I’m sure there’s a catch and I’m sure they’re gonna get pushy and send CDs we didn’t even order to try to push more sales, but we’re gonna go for it anyway. You get to start off with 15 free CDs! You only pay shipping and handling and 40% of the cost of one CD.

Linda has a new album out and I didn’t even know it. Andy didn’t tell me either, so I guess both of us aren’t keeping up with these things as much these days. It’s called We Ran. I hope it’s not as bad as her last English album which had all shitty songs on it. Her second to last Spanish one sucked too, that I didn’t even get her last Spanish one.

Linda’s smartening up as far as her weight goes. Since she’s too fat to really look good on an album cover, she just shows her eyes on this one. So does Gloria on her last one. Gloria still looks much better than Linda. Gloria’s about 120-135 pounds and she’s about 40 years old. Linda’s 50 years old and weighs around 180 pounds.

Tom and I did some errands yesterday. We went to Petco and got green sawdust for the mice (I use white for the rats and pig), alfalfa, food, nibble sticks, another bottle and holder (although it turns out I didn’t need the fucking holder!) and that’s it, cuz they didn’t have the bigger balls. We’ll get one some other time.

Then we went to the bookstore where I got eleven books for $14. I looked more in the movie section, but they were just too predictable. I did get The Guardian, though. The one Norah was in and that I think she looked the best in. Also, one of them is a good book, but it turns out that I already read it.

Lastly, we went to Walgreens where we got a variety of stuff. He got some junk food and some orange juice for his cold. He says it helps him to feel better if he drinks juice. He got some cold stuff, too. We got me that chromium picolinate, which Tom says he read that anyone with diabetes in their family should take. Yeah, leave it to Dureen to still affect me from across the country! He read that they’re still not sure whether or not it controls appetites and causes weight loss. I think it helps with hunger, but it doesn’t help with losing weight.

Got a couple more nail kits. The same design as before - red with black, white-tipped swirls.

Got a steamer too, and it helped to get Patrice’s wrinkles out better than I thought it would. It’s a good thing to have. Especially if you’re a doll collector.

Got some pistachio nuts that I shared with the animals, some filters for the water filter, and other odds and ends.

Later…

I saw the white car with the rack on its trunk next door yesterday at 5:30. However, once again, it’s a ghost town over there. Bill isn’t there, and I haven’t heard any car doors. She could be still in the house since it’s still only just after 10:00, but I get an empty feeling from over there. Well, we’ll see what happens, but I don’t sense she’s moving, and there’s no blasting music coming from over there which would be a moving sign. Unless they were to remain dependent on the city and move from one subsidized house to another, which I can’t see happening, she’s not gonna obey the city’s shut-up commands if she were suddenly detached from them.

The collies have been quieter since the freeloaders have split.

Later…

It looks like one of my guesses about the bitch may be right. I felt she either went to L.A. or Chicago. Well, I think she did go somewhere in the Midwest. And if she did, that’d explain why she’s not back yet. She can’t get back with all the ice storms they’ve been having. The white car only came to check on the house. No wonder there wasn’t a ton of door slamming and no wonder the car wasn’t here long.

Someone with the last name M had to have had this number at one point. You know how we used to get a lot of calls for a Carol M? Well, one just came in looking for a Michelle Marie M in regard to her high school reunion.

Later…

I just talked to Andy and Donna about a potential job for me that’s at home and that’s under the table. Well, supposedly all I have to do is call businesses and try to set up appointments for her to meet with them to sell them legal services and I’d get $10 an appointment. It sounds too easy, though. There’s got to be a catch. I mean, wouldn’t most of these businesses say they weren’t interested, or that they already had services? Anyway, Donna gave me her number and I’ll call her tomorrow either way. I won’t leave her hanging. I’ll give her a yes or a no. If I give her a yes, and I very well might, she’ll be coming over here to give me the list of businesses to call since she has a car, and since Tom will be gone when I get up. She’s gonna have her 2½-year-old with her and that thing’s not coming into this non-baby-proof house to break my dolls and more. They are way too destructive at that age, so she agreed to meet outside the house with me. Anyway, I won’t write anymore about it till I find out more.

Later…

The same white car just pulled in and left shortly after. The sun’s setting now, and once it gets dark I’ll be able to tell if the bitch is over there by if there are lights on, but I doubt it. These trips with the white car have just been way too quiet. Whenever the bitch gets picked up or dropped off, there’s a whole slew of door-slamming, but not this time. No unpacking sounds. I haven’t seen anyone or heard any voices, and that bitch has a loudmouth. This car is quietly coming and going with just one door slam. Guess it’s just one person. There’s been no music, so she’s not moving. Thank God. I never thought I’d want her to stick around this bad!

MONDAY, JANUARY 4, 1999 Destiny has arrived. Yup, still as sterile as a doorknob and still as psychic as can be in that department. Thank fucking God! Of course, I can’t just get my period normally. I have to spot 3-4 days before getting a half-assed flow.

Tom got in about an hour ago and he just went to bed. I’m gonna get him up at 10:30, then we’re gonna go to Walgreens, Petco, and the bookstore.

Later…

I was just checking out my teeth in the mirror and could see what I felt last night. When the teeth move, you suddenly notice it. You’ll feel them with your tongue day after day, and then just suddenly, you’ll notice a difference. Well, last night I noticed another area in the bottom teeth that’s shifted. Of all the bottom teeth that are crooked, there are only five. Three of these five teeth are close to where they’re supposed to be and at this rate, it’s hard to believe it’ll take a whole year, now ten more months, to straighten these teeth. Maybe the next time I see Melanie on February 1st, she can give me more of an accurate time frame as to when the top braces will come off.

Tom says there are sick people where he works, but just like with his last cold, I’m wondering about Shiny. He sneezed a couple of times a few days ago and I promised to kick him right out of the house if he sneezed again, but he didn’t. Could he be giving Tom colds? I don’t know. It seems inevitable that Tom gets so many colds regardless of whether we have a cat or not. He sneezed again today, but only once.

Where are these freeloaders? I cannot believe this bitch isn’t back yet! If she’s back, she came in after I went to bed. Well, we’ll see if Bill shows up, but I have an empty feeling coming from over there. It’s been great not having to listen to the door slamming that goes on over there every day, but shouldn’t this bitch be back by now? I never thought I’d be getting antsy for this bitch to return! We need to be the ones to move first and I need to make her a certain delivery!

Anyway, I’d say that bitch definitely went with its cock to its cock’s parents’ house. It’s obvious that the bitch’s mother is dead, and that the cock’s parents are out of state. Bill’s the only parent figure I see visiting. If the bitch’s mom existed, even if it existed out of state, wouldn’t we see it come to visit from time to time? The cock’s parents probably couldn’t afford to come visit when it lived here, so that’s why he and its bitch went to them. I don’t know if the cock’s parents are really old, married, or what, but they’re in someplace like L.A. or Chicago. Another way I can tell she’s with the cock, is because if she had taken off herself, the cock would be coming over here daily to check on the house, do its laundry, etc.

Today’s the day we find out what our stock options are. Tom says it won’t be till the middle of the month before he’ll be more sure about us moving in June, or unsure. I don’t have a good vibe about this, nor do I have a bad one. I still think we’ll move in June. Definitely between June and August. I just hope those freeloaders are here to see us do it!

We found the reason why Shiny’s been limping. We thought it was some sort of arthritis at first, but it appears his claws are fucked up. One of his back paws has claws overlapping.

I threw the old foam mattress out back and rolled it up making a sort of a muff. He really likes to nestle in it during those cold nights and early mornings.

Later…

Andy left a message saying he got my “nasty” letter, which was well written, and he wasn’t mad over it. He selfishly admits, though, that that’s great that he can eat on the phone with me and that I accept him as he is because as I myself said, he’s gonna do the opposite of what people ask of him, anyway.

So in other words, what he’s saying is - don’t ask me A cuz I’ll just do B. That’s how he’s always been! I do accept him as he is and I don’t want him to feel like I’m trying to control or change him, but I still think that people should comply with the wishes of their loved ones as long as they’re not too much or unrealistic. If they’re simple little requests that were asked of them and not demanded of them, what’s wrong with compromising? Andy can’t even do that, but we all have our selfish points. Still, if he wants a successful relationship, he’s gonna have to learn to compromise.

Anyway, he says he wasn’t even eating when he left that last message to me. He was chewing on his nails. Whatever. He also says that eating on the phone is a regular habit of his. Well, to each their own, but how does he enjoy his food that way, and how does he not choke? Also, if he’s so hung up on youth and thinness, especially thinness, why does he eat like a pig?

I sent him another letter as a little compensation for the last one. This one’s more of our old kind of letters without the lectures. I enclosed a few notes too, from the bunch I made up for him for whenever the fuck I see him, and put some pictures on the back of the envelope, but he’s too stoned to really want to do much of anything, although he did say something about helping out his friend Donna at a company she works at. Something about making appointments. I’ll have to ask him more about it. He didn’t really get into it.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 1999 Another day off from the sales calls, then I’ll have six days of them calling constantly.

I went to bed at around 6:00 last night and from what Tom’s said, who stood up a little later, the freeloaders still aren’t back yet. They’ll be back today then. Thank God they waited till Sunday. I was hoping they’d come back today and not yesterday or the day before. So, lots of door-slamming today! Not only are they gonna slam doors as they usually do, but they’re gonna slam them a little harder than normal, so they can really let me know they’re back.

I was really watery yesterday and took a water pill. I woke up at 108 pounds.

Later…

Today we put the 2” high strips of Plexiglas around the base of each floor in the rat’s cage. This should help keep sawdust in better than it would’ve otherwise. It was really gross how they’d piss on the bare floors before. They need something to absorb their piss.

Tom said Evie lost a lot of weight. That’s not what she told me when we last talked, but good for her.

Yesterday, there were some weekend bangers, but nothing too bad. I saw the little girl in the rental, along with some teenage girl, roller-skating down the street and in their driveway. Tom said he saw many people out and about yesterday as he was coming home. It was a beautiful day. A beautiful and polluted day.

I still can’t believe that any kids at the rental haven’t waltzed on over to play ball at the freeloader’s. It’s obvious they aren’t home, but kids don’t need someone to not be home in order to just go play on their property. Even more so, I can’t believe the collie kids haven’t played in months. Where are they, anyway? Those kids are wild. I usually hear them out front or out back, but not lately.

We had sex earlier. It was predictable and typical. Of course, it didn’t help that he’s got another one of his fucking colds. I’m sorry he doesn’t feel well, but God, I’m so fucking sick of these colds of his! Every 3-4 fucking months! He said it’s because he works with people who go to work sick, which people don’t normally do. Yeah, leave it to me to have my husband working with a bunch of freaks. Well, can’t someone talk to these people? They should make it a general rule that if you’re sick, you should stay home. You’re not only risking making the people you work with sick, but you’re risking making their families sick too, but that’s our selfish society for you. So now I have to deal with his cold too, and have our lives put on hold for the millionth time. Either someone needs something, something needs fixing, or he’s sick. God, it gets old! I haven’t had a cold since last January, so I’m hoping that I get as lucky as I was with his last few colds and don’t get this one. I’m not the one here, though, with an immune system as weak as a child’s or an old person's. I used to be that way, but what is this? Now that I get over my catching one cold after another, I have to live with someone who does just that?

I prayed to God twice to help take away this constant anger I have almost every day. I could be doing whatever, then suddenly, I want to kill Larry or Bill or someone. The last thing I want is to be angry at these subhuman losers for the rest of my life. They’re in my past now, and I want the anger to be a part of the past, too. God, life isn’t fair! I mean, I know these people aren’t going through this. They don’t have me suddenly pop in their heads and get so angry that it eats at them. Why me? Why is it always me? If it isn’t, I sure feel like it is. Since I have to give in order to get, I tried bargaining with God and agreed to accept the fact that these people invade my dreams constantly, if he’d just curb my constant anger.

Two nights ago I prayed to God to show me in my dreams a sign as to whether or not Measles was alive, and if there’s any way possible, that I don’t see or sense, that I could be wrong about being destined to remain childless, like it or not. This stemmed from my asking for his guidance once again, as far as the sterility issue is concerned. I told him that I still don’t want a child, accept his decision to keep me childless, and will do the right thing and not fight him should I ever find myself wanting a child again someday. However, is there a chance I could be wrong about God’s intentions? I don’t see how I could be wrong any more than I see Tom killing 20 people, but I asked for a baby-related dream if I were wrong. I also asked for a dream with Measles in it if she were still alive.

That night I had no dreams pertaining to these things. The next night, last night, I did. I did not dream of Measles, but I did have a baby-related dream. It was weird, though. It wasn’t about me or someone else getting pregnant or having a child. It was about me thinking about how I could never handle childbirth. On top of it all, the dream took place in the second house we had in Longmeadow, and guess who was downstairs while I was upstairs in the dream? You got it. Good old Dureen and Arthur.

Upon waking up, I realized that if God was showing me anything at all, he wasn’t showing me a kid is meant to be. He was reminding me of one of the reasons it’s not meant to be. Makes perfect sense to me.

Tom was telling me earlier, after I asked him what he thought, if he thought my trying to be a singer, if I still wanted that, would interfere with our marriage. He agreed it would probably interfere with our married life since I’d still have to perform in a band somewhat full-time. Not that I could get into a band, though! I’m sure if I did, they’d make some excuse later on as to why they had to disband the band. What happened back east - that was certainly God’s way of saying it definitely wasn’t meant to be! The signs were that obvious.

Anyway, if he can agree that my trying to be a singer would get in the way of our relationship, how can he feel that a child wouldn’t? It’d interfere a million times more.

What I wonder is this - God wouldn’t let me be a singer, God wouldn’t let me be a mother, so will he let me be a doll maker? I hope so, although this one’s quite material in nature, and I don’t feel the need/desire to do it as bad as I once did with the other things.

The Crib didn’t go over very well with me, so now I’m trying Life Penalty.

There goes some desperate soul with its bass pounding away.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 2, 1999 Still no freeloaders. Not yet, anyway.

Tom’s working now. You know how they have to work during the daytime on a Saturday at the start of every month, so in he went at 8 AM. He’ll be home around 3:00, then we’re gonna have our cumless weekend screw.

Tom and I were talking earlier about the difference between a resolution, a goal, and a dream. To me, a resolution is something that’s within your control that you hope to change such as quitting smoking, losing weight, or eating better. A goal is something you hope for that’s not unrealistic like hoping to move by June, hoping to get into making/selling dolls. A dream is something you wish for that’s impossible. That’s why they call it a dream when it comes to things like wishing I was tall, and how I used to wish to be a singer and a mom.

My current goal is to be able to have a little more control over my schedule. Maybe not as much control as most have, but still, it’d be nice to be able to keep a schedule most of the time. That way, I’d feel like I had more doors open. I could make plans, for example, to go to Vegas on a particular date that was months away. Now, I can’t do that, cuz I don’t know what the hell my schedule will be months from now. I know, though, that this is just a dream, and I accept it.

Another dream of mine is to be able to sleep with my husband. If he woke me up once or twice a month, that’d be fine, but I wish I could sleep with him most of the time. Again, just a dream, I know it, and I accept it.

My current goals are to move and to get into making/selling dolls.

I don’t really have any resolutions this year. Just to wear my leg weights as often as I can, although I still don’t see how the hell they’re gonna change how my legs look, but I’ll give it six months or so.

I wish I could say that my resolution was to quit eating two bites a day, for the most part, eat normally, and let my middle-aged fat come on, but I’m not ready for that yet. I think forty is a good age to let go and that’s when I probably will. I can’t keep working this hard and dealing with hours and hours of hunger every day for the rest of my life!

Although I’m very watery right now, I ended up waking up at the same thing I woke up at yesterday - 111½. That’s because that hamburger and fries ended up being all I really had. I had some bean soup, a part of a chicken TV dinner, but that was it. I didn’t stuff myself all day.

Later…

I dusted, vacuumed, and changed the mice’s cages. Maybe that’ll help with the tightness I’ve been having. I fucking slaved my ass off, gained weight, and went through hell to quit smoking. Yet half the fucking time, I still feel like I did when I smoked! Thanks, God!

I’m having rotten book luck this time around. Now I’m trying out The Crib and hopefully, it’ll be better.

Will the doctor call me this week? I wonder. And what will happen from here? I know my problem lies within my uterus, I know that guy that did the HSG test played down the severity of my uterus problem, I know I don’t want a kid, I know one’s not meant to be, so am I really that curious to take this any further and see what’ll happen next? Most of me doesn’t think so, but I’m not gonna make any decisions right now.

We were going to go to the store today after he got off work. I need to go to the pet store to get another bottle for the rats and a few other things, but we’re gonna go on Monday instead when it’s less crowded.

Oh, fuck! If there’s anything good about holidays, besides being able to spend more time with Tom, it’s that I get a wonderful break from the fucking non-stop sales calls, but they’re back. Tom said today’s the day they’d start up again, too. Well, he was right. That’s the second call that just came in, so I’m sure there’ll be at least four more.

I ran out of patience with Andy and wrote him a letter expressing my feelings and all that since I’m better with words on paper than I am with words out of my mouth. I know it won’t do me any good. Andy’s a stubborn, selfish person in his own way, who’ll mostly do what he wants to do, but keeping it to myself and holding it in was getting a little tough to do. I basically told him what I’ve said in these journals - that I didn’t think I was making any ridiculous requests or him, nor that many, and how it makes a person think they don’t give a shit when they don’t do what a friend asks of them. Also, I asked these favors from him. I didn’t demand. Once again, if he can’t handle the little things, what about the bigger things? What if we were going away for a week and he was the only one available to feed the animals? Would he really feed them? Or would he just say he would? And of course, I know I can expect him to counter-lecture me and to get all defensive. In the last letter I sent him, he said he was too baked to remember. Why is it that baked or not, I really feel he’ll remember this one since it’ll probably piss him off even if it’s just a little? It’s human nature to remember more of what’s important to us, but I’m starting to wonder if his memory problem is a little more selective than he lets on. He forgets the things he doesn’t care about or care to listen to.

As I told him, though, I wasn’t gonna lecture him in the way that Marla said she did about his staying home and getting baked. If he wants to stay home and get baked, that’s his choice. I’m not gonna tell him how to live his own life. He bitches that he’s such a loser who can’t get ahead in life, yet I never see him really try to move on. Even he admits he doesn’t really try. Therefore, as long as he’s not willing to move on and try his best, he won’t stand a chance of finding a decent job/love and it’ll be his loss. If he does all he can to sober up, get a good job that he keeps, meet better, cleaner people but doesn’t succeed, that’d be different. Then it’d just really not be meant to be for him, but he then would’ve at least tried!

That’s the third sales call. Just three or four more to go!

FRIDAY, JANUARY 1, 1999 Starting my writing early this year! Just backed up my stuff and completed my subindex for 1998. Well, the last two months of 1998, anyway.

Tom had to take Mom to the doctor yesterday cuz her feet swelled up. Actually, I think Mary brought her, but he was at the house doing things. She didn’t have to be admitted to the hospital, so that’s good.

I crashed around 3 PM and had Tom get me up at 9:30. That way I could have a half-hour to have coffee and wake up a bit before watching the ball go down in Times Square for the last time. They’re gonna be making a new ball next year. Tom couldn’t get a station covering Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, but MTV was there, so we watched that. It was 10º there!

At 11 PM our time, I went back to bed till 3 AM. I was surprised to have slept past midnight our time since people tend to shoot guns and firecrackers off, but all we heard was a few minutes of Mexican music about a block away just before 10:00.

I don’t understand how after shitting twice yesterday, eating around 1000 calories, not eating for twelve hours, how I could wake up just one pound lighter at 111 pounds, but that’s just my barely moving metabolism for you.

I had massive pre-cramping today and yesterday, but still no spots yet.

I’m now reading On My Honor.

I forgot to mention that Pam’s husband died of a bum liver from alcohol abuse. He asked for it if you ask me.

Andy left a message yesterday and said he was sorry he didn’t acknowledge Ma’s being ill before. That’s nice of him. He also said he was only working at Red Lobster this week. Damn! That’s only a few hours of work! How’s he gonna afford his bills and food, let alone his pot? In Marla’s email to me, she said she was lecturing him about getting a job, rather than staying home and getting wasted. Lecturing him won’t do anyone any good. He doesn’t want to work. He wants to stay home and get stoned.

Marla also sent us a New Year’s greeting card, but I’ll let Tom activate this thing. I don’t want to chance fucking things up.

I typed up a New Year’s card for Tom, as I want to finish off the cards Dureen sent. I even typed up Andy’s birthday card already and typed up about four for Bob.

Here are my predictions for 1999.

We will move this year on approximately June 19th.

The braces will come off this year, both top and bottom (he disagrees with this).

Tom will be at BOA throughout the year.

Tom’s mom will live throughout the year (he disagrees with this).

I don’t see much on doll making, which means it either won’t work out or it’s more towards the year 2000 that it’ll happen. Most likely, it’s still too far away to really see into (he disagrees with this).

Tom may be in a car accident but it could be avoided if he pays attention. If it happens, though, God won’t kill him, thank God! He’ll be OK, save for a few bruises. It’ll be more of an annoyance and a hassle, than anything serious.

I see us having an average two-person income (he disagrees with this).

It will remain just the two of us.

I think we will talk to the doctor who’ll tell me that if I’m fixable, it’ll take major surgery that’ll cost many thousands. Many thousands we don’t really have and that’d stall the move for 2-5 years. So, it won’t be a simple case of hormones or something that I’ll magically outgrow like Tom said. I will refuse any major surgery that may fix me since I do not want a child (he disagrees with this).

The sex will be the usual - on the weekends. We’ll have sex about once a week and he’ll cum 3-4 times this year (he disagrees with this).

I’ll be about 100 pounds on my birthday. I may even reach 100 pounds by this summer (he disagrees with this).

As for my 1998 predictions - I got most of them right, as usual.

I was right when I said he’d still be at BOA, we’d still be here, and his ma would live throughout the year, and I was right about the sex being typical. He came less than I thought he would, though. An all-time low of three squirts for 1998. I sure was wrong about the blacks moving in 1998, but at this point, that’s great. Speaking of them, are they coming back today?

Later…

Tom and I treated ourselves to Jack-n-the-Box. Once again, the hunger was so intense that I just didn’t give a fuck about the weight I’d gain over it. Yeah, I’m pretty watery now too, and am gonna try that chromium picolinate again. It helped curb my hunger before. Now that I have a good diet plan, I’ll see if this will help me stick to it.

New Year’s Day has been a pleasant one, save for a few of society’s desperate using their stereos to cry out their loneliness and ring in the New Year with a little notoriety from the city.

Tom got the rats’ cage up on wheels and man is it tall! It’s just a couple of inches shorter than Tom who’s 5’ 10”. I popped out the shelves, which make up the second, third, and fourth floor, so I could wash them. They were really crapped up with duties and piss! Tom’s gonna put a little Plexiglas around the sides of the shelves and create enough of a base to put sawdust in without them kicking it out. For now, I’ve got them out and they’re all down in the bass on the first floor. It’s plenty big enough even for four rats. I was able to entwine one of the wheels in the side and I stabilized it with bag ties. The bass of the wheel went in between the wires. The other wheel is in the bass along with their burrow and nest, but no one ever really wheels anymore. We’re gonna go out tomorrow to get another water bottle for the top level, and one of those big balls I saw.

I kind of renamed Cutie to Butterscotch with his coloring. He also has one cloudy eye like Piggy did before he died. Is this contagious? Are they all gonna die? God, I hope not! Anyway, Butterscotch doesn’t appear to be in any pain, but we’ll see. Maybe he and the others will be OK.

I asked Tom how he could agree it’ll be just the two of us this year when he’s supposed to believe that what’s wrong with me is minor and that we’ll have a kid. He said because it takes nine months and there are twelve months in a year. Meaning since it’s January, getting fixed and pregnant by March is a wee bit too soon. Well, I hope I’m right about Tom’s subconscious being anti-kid and I hope he’ll always be able to live without one just fine because I absolutely refuse to allow myself to conceive even if God would allow it. I do not want that!

I also don’t want those freeloaders coming back. Not now. It’s too soon. Fortunately, there’s still no sign of them and I hope to hell they come back late on Sunday, but with my luck, they’ll be here prime time tomorrow. Around noon-2:00. If they come back today or tomorrow, though, that would probably mean I’ll have to deal with a three-hour ball game with ten kids participating. I’m gonna have to deal with that shit on MLK Day as it is. I’m sure just about every black ass in the country will make some sort of spectacle of themselves that day. It’s still a miracle that that two-minute ball game those two boys played was all that’s occurred since last - what? April?

Anyway, whenever the hell that bitch does get back, she’ll let me know it. I can only imagine how much door-slamming there’ll be!

Tom’s showing zero desire for sex, but it isn’t the weekend yet.

[cicimunson]

Sweet Child of Mine Part 4

Series Summary: You’re Eddie’s former best best friend. The two of you drifted apart freshman year of high school and now you’re more enemies than anything else. Despite the hostility between the two of you, you still come around to help out with his eleven-month-old sister, Emma, who he and Wayne keep most of the time due to his father being in jail and his mother being an addict.

Also, I know Sweet Child O’ Mine didn’t come out until 1988, but the song is just so perfect for the story.

Characters: Eddie Munson x Female Reader, Wayne Munson, OC Emma Munson, Wendy Munson and Greg Thompson

Warnings: Eddie and the reader get into a huge argument (as usual), Eddie is sick and reader takes care of him.

Word Count: 2.k+

Part 1|Part 2|Part 3|Part 5|Part 6

Fuck. Fuck.

Eddie sprints through the house, hunting frantically for something clean to wear. He was already late for school and he was supposed to sell some kid a dime bag before the first bell.

"Eddie, it's almost nine a.m." Wayne chides him. "You were supposed to be at school an hour ago."

"I fell asleep before I set my alarm. I had a bad headache. And now I can't find any clean clothes."

"That's weird, Y/N did laundry last night while she was here."

Eddie checks the dryer, nothing. Where did she put my clothes?

Then he sees them. Sitting in the basket in front of the washer, untouched.

She didn't do my laundry? Why didn't she-

The words from your last conversation dawn on him.

I didn't ask you to do my laundry. You act like my girlfriend, it's weird.

He runs back to his room and digs around in his drawers, finding a white t-shirt that's about two sizes too small. He throws it on and sprints out the door, stopping to kiss Emma on the cheek on the way out.

Emma immediately starts fussing as he leaves. Wayne picks her up, patting her back.

"He'll be home before you know it, sweet girl, and then I can get some sleep.”

__________

You stroll into the cafeteria, adjusting your ponytail as you sit down. Your friends greet you, talking excitedly about a party coming up the next weekend.

You're halfway through your sandwich when Eddie walks in. You almost choke as you take in his skin-tight t-shirt, so small on him it looks like a crop top. Even with his jacket and vest on, you can see the lower half of his stomach and his happy trail that disappears into his dark jeans. Your mouth goes dry as your gaze lingers on his belly.

He makes eye contact, points at his shirt, and flips you a bird. You grin mischievously.

"Flirting with the freak?" Greg asks, slinging an arm over your shoulder.

"Don't be ridiculous. I played a little prank on him, that's all."

"That's my girl."

You push his arm off you. "Just because we hung out this weekend doesn't mean we're back together."

His eyes narrow. "Come on, baby. We're perfect for each other. You can't let one indiscretion-"

"Is that what we're calling it now? You getting balls deep in another girl is just a simple indiscretion?"

He grimaces. "You really need to stop hanging with that freak. Your language has gotten so vulgar. He's rubbing off on you."

"Why do you have to bring him up all the time? I told you, I work for his uncle. That's all."

"You two were friends before high school. And you know what they say, old habits die hard."

You roll your eyes and stand up, dumping the rest of your lunch in the trash.

Eddie sees you leaving and hurries after you. You yelp when his hand wraps around your elbow, tugging you into an empty classroom.

"If you're just gonna yell at me-"

"I should do more than that. Are you kidding me, Y/N? You could have at least told me you weren't gonna wash my clothes."

You cross your arms and glare at him. "You told me to stop doing shit for you. So I didn't do your laundry, I didn't tidy up your room, I'm sure you noticed Wayne's lunches are in the fridge, but I didn't make you any."

"You're such a bitch."

"Hey, I'm just doing what you said. You want someone to cook and clean for you? Start paying me. Or find a girlfriend.  Wayne pays me to care for Emma, not you."

"I swear I hate you sometimes."

"That's fine considering I hate you all the time."

You see a flicker of hurt in his eyes. He hides it quickly, standing up straight, squaring his shoulders.

"Forget it. I don't need you to do shit for me. I don't need anyone to do anything for me. I'm used to handling my shit myself." He starts coughing.

"You don't get to guilt trip me for doing what you told me to do! If you were ever nice Eddie, if you ever said thank you, just once-"

"Thank you for what? For what?" He yells, and you flinch. "Thank you for ruining our friendship? Thank you for becoming friends with the people that torment me? Thank you for abandoning me freshman year, when I needed you the most?"

You freeze. So that's what this is all about. That's what it's always been about.

"Eddie, I did not abandon you. My interests changed, yes, but I was here. I tried to be your friend. You pushed me away."

"You were gonna leave me behind!"

"I wouldn't have! I'm not like your mom, Eddie! I care about you!"

He flinches, taking a step back.

Shit. That came out wrong.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean that the way it sounded."

He laughs bitterly. "No, you're right. My mom doesn't give a shit about me. If my own mother doesn't care, why should you?"

"Please, I didn't mean it that way. I would never say that. I wouldn't-"

"You just did."

"I worded it wrong, Eddie, I just meant-"

"Don't. We both know what you meant."

"Eddie. Listen to me." You plead.

He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a crumpled ten dollar bill, slapping it into your palm.

"I don't want your money, Eddie, that's not what this was about. I just wanted some appreciation."

"I'll be home late. So if you can have my clothes done by then, that would be great. Don't worry about tidying up my room or making my lunches, I can handle that on my own."

"Eddie." You start to reach out for him, forgetting yourself. He slaps your hand away, visibly recoiling.

"I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." You apologize, take a few steps back from him. "I won't touch you."

He looks down at you with a pained expression. "Don't. Ever."

"I won't. I'm sorry. I just wanted you to listen to me."

The bell rings and Eddie steps around you, walking out the door and into the hall.

You blink back tears. You'd really fucked up this time. Any chance you and Eddie had of reconciling was done. He really hated you.

__________

You're sitting in Eddie's room, rocking Emma to sleep when you hear him come inside. You lay Emma in her crib and pat her bottom a few times.

You walk into the living room. Eddie is slumped on the couch, eyes closed.

"Emma's asleep. Your clothes are folded on your dresser. There's spaghetti in the fridge."

Eddie groans in response.

You sigh. If he's high or drunk you can't leave Emma alone with him.

"Eddie, take a shower. I'll make you some coffee. You need to sober up."

He shakes his head. "I'm not drunk."

His voice is raspy, crackling as he finishes his sentence.

"High, then, whatever. Come on, get up. I can't leave Emma with you when you're like this."

He lifts his head and you notice how flushed his cheeks are. He's shivering, you realize, as he tries to sit up.

"Eddie, are you okay?"

He coughs, taking a deep breath as he wheezes. "I'm fine."

"You aren't fine. You're obviously sick."

"Said I'm fine." He mumbles.

"Don't be stupid. I'm not leaving you to take care of Emma while you're ill. And I don't want Emma getting sick, either."

"S'not sick." He protests, but lets his head fall back on the couch.

Damn it.

You go into the bathroom and wet a washcloth with cold water, then come back into the living room and lay it over his forehead. He whimpers and tries to knock it off, but you shove his hands away.

"It's cold!" He groans. "So cold."

"You have a fever. We need to cool you down."

You hunt through the house and find some Tylenol and cold medicine. You get a glass of ice water and hurry back to his side.

"Eddie, sit up a little. I need you to take some medicine."

"S'not gonna. I hate it."

"Eddie, don't be a child. You need medicine to get well." You scold. "Now sit up!"

His eyes fly open when you raise your voice. He struggles to sit upright.

You shove two Tylenol in his mouth and hold the glass to his lips. "Swallow. Now."

He does as you say, furrowing his brows.

You measure out the cold medicine and make him swallow it. He gags at the taste.

"Do not throw up." You warn. "Swallow it down."

He scowls at you. "Mean."

"Yeah, well, you'll thank me when you feel better."

"S'will not."

"Yeah, you probably won't." You sigh.

He lays back and tugs the blanket off the back of the couch. You wrestle it away from him.

"Eddie, no, your fever is high. We gotta cool you down."

"I'm cold." He groans, trying to get the blanket back from you.

"You'll be even colder when your temp goes up. Listen to me, please."

He sighs.

You check on Emma, who's thankfully still sleeping peacefully, before rewetting the washcloth and putting it back on Eddie's forehead.

He whimpers but doesn't protest or open his eyes.

You sit on the floor beside the couch, watching him closely. A half hour goes by and he's still red-faced and groaning in his sleep.

You know you have to get some of his clothes off and cool him down. You just aren't sure how to do it without upsetting him.

"Eddie." You say softly. "Could you try to take your jacket off?"

He grunts.

"Eddie." You say louder. "Your temp isn't going down fast enough. We need to get some of these layers off you."

No response.

You sigh. You know he hates being touched and you don't want to violate that boundary. But at the same time you've got to get him cooled down.

You start by slipping his shoes off, then his socks. He mumbles but doesn't try to stop you.

You tug on his shoulders and his eyes shoot open.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry." You whisper soothingly. "We just need to get this jacket off, okay? I'll stop touching you after we get you stripped down, I promise."

You manage to tug the jacket off without too much of a struggle.

Eddie catches your hand as you start to pull away. You stare down at him, surprised.

"Thank you." He murmurs.

So all I gotta do to get a little appreciation around here is get him sick? Wow.

You don't say that though. You squeeze his fingers, and offer him a warm smile. "You're welcome."

You sit back down on the floor. Eddie rolls on his side toward you.

"Emma-"

"I just checked her. She's fine. Get some sleep, I got you both."

He nods and drifts off.

You watch over him until his fever breaks. You wake him once more to give him more Tylenol, then let him rest.

Eventually you give in to your own fatigue and your head slumps back on the couch as you close your eyes.

That's where Wayne finds the two of you the next morning. He smiles to himself when he sees Eddie gripping your hand.

He checks on Emma before gently shaking your shoulder to wake you.

"Y/N, everything okay? Why are you asleep on the floor?"

You open your eyes. "Hey, Wayne. Eddie was sick last night."

"And you stayed over to take care of him?"

"Someone had to watch Emma, he was in no condition to." You explain. You’d never admit that you stayed for Eddie.

"And yet you're in here on the floor, instead of in the bedroom with Emma." He observes with a knowing smile.

You blush slightly. "I'm gonna go now that you're here. Will you make sure he drinks something every hour or so? And he needs more Tylenol around 9am."

"I will. Thank you for looking after him- I mean, after Emma."

You stand up and start coughing.

Motherfucker.

Tag List: @aedicn @sidthedollface2 @saramelaniemoon @zahra10999 @natasha84 @harrys-tittie @urallidjits @neewtmas @harrystylesandthegoobs @cancankiki

[frankchurchillsaysrelax]

Eddie hasn’t said a word to him aside from on calls since Buck told the team the news halfway through their shift. Buck spots him on the weights in silence, he lays awake next to him in the bunks in silence, and come morning he follows him home in silence.

Eddie doesn’t wait for him to enter behind him and Buck has to open the door for himself. He turns the lock and takes a moment to press his hands against the hard wood in front of him. Chris is at school and the silence that follows them into the house is big and suffocating, the space suddenly too small for the two of them.

Buck watches as Eddie moves around, taking his bag and all but dumping its contents into an empty laundry basket. He disappears into his bedroom and returns a few moments later with an armful of dirty clothes. Buck’s eyes follow him as he heads over to the closet housing the washer and dryer. He tracks his movements as he goes through the motions of loading the clothes and then the detergent before taking his time adjusting the settings on the machine. Buck clocks the tension in Eddie’s shoulders, the tick of his jaw as he clenches his teeth.

The closet door clicks shut, muffling the noise of running water. Eddie walks down the hall, his shoulder brushing Buck’s as he passes and Buck’s hand shoots out to grab Eddie’s wrist before he can think better of it. It feels like holding onto an exposed wire.

“Eddie?” he whispers, a shot fired on the street in the middle of a sunny day.

“Hmm?” Three heartbeats thrum against the spot where Buck is touching him before Eddie pulls away and continues down the hallway. Buck takes his acknowledgment and runs with it.

“Are we gonna talk about this?” Buck leans against the kitchen counter and wills Eddie to turn away from the sink and face him. Instead, Eddie turns on the tap and runs his fingers through the stream to test the temperature.

“There’s nothing to talk about, Buck,” he says as he picks up a dish. He hasn’t seen Eddie this closed off since his breakdown and for some reason he feels nothing but shame for it. Buck walks over and grabs a towel. His arm presses against Eddie, a familiar warmth passing between them. It feels like a burn, a brand from the tension surrounding them, pushing the walls in too close. Eddie doesn’t move away. “You already said yes.”

“And you think I shouldn’t have.” It’s not a question but Buck finds himself holding his breath for an answer anyway. He watches out of the corner of his eye as Eddie’s jaw ticks again.

“I think that you haven’t thought about this at all.” Buck doesn’t think that’s fair. He’s done nothing but think about it since Jeremy asked him. “This new philosophy has you just saying yes to anything no matter the consequences.” He practically shoves the plate into Buck’s hands and grabs another. Buck thinks he can see Eddie’s hands shaking beneath the water. “I mean, Jesus Buck, it’s a baby.”

“I wouldn’t be raising it.” He ignores the dull throb in his chest that always follows that thought.

“Exactly!” Eddie turns to face him and Buck finds he can’t look anywhere else. Eddie’s eyes are golden in the light but his gaze can only be described as piercing. “Can you really imagine having a kid out there, your kid, and not being part of their life at all?”

“It wouldn’t be my kid, not really. People do this all the time, Eddie.”

Abruptly, Eddie drops the plate in the sink and turns off the tap with more force than strictly necessary. “I’m not talking about people, Buck, I’m talking about you.” He turns and rests his hip against the sink, arms crossed in front of his chest. Buck continues wiping non-existent water off the first dish. “It would kill you.”

“It wouldn’t,” he says quickly. Too quickly. He sighs, setting down the plate and resting his palms against the counter to steady himself. “You should have heard him. He feels like he’s failing Claire, not being able to give her what she wants.” Buck understands the feeling but he doesn’t tell Eddie that. “If I can help him, help them, then shouldn’t I?”

Eddie’s hand is suddenly on his shoulder, turning him so they’re facing each other. His eyes are sad now and Buck drowns in them a little. “It’s not your job to fix everything. I keep waiting for you to see that.” He takes a step closer, his hand squeezing Buck’s shoulder. Buck’s breath catches as Eddie’s thumb shifts to rest against his collarbone, looking up at Buck through his eyelashes. “You don’t have to keep giving away pieces of yourself and expect nothing in return.”

Buck sits with the words running over and over through his head and he almost misses it. He thinks maybe he imagined it until it happens again a second later. Eddie’s eyes slip down to Buck’s mouth, his tongue appearing for a split second to wet his own lips. The tension surrounding them snaps. Buck is swaying into his space before his brain can catch up.

Eddie takes a step back. His hand slides down Buck’s arm to cup his elbow, keeping contact between them, but the damage has already been done. Buck can’t breathe. Maybe if he doesn’t breathe time will stand still.

“Buck,” Eddie starts but Buck doesn’t let him get any further.

“I’m sorry,” he chokes out. Something flashes in Eddie’s eyes as he shakes his head but Buck is already moving before he can even begin to wonder what it all means. Buck likes to consider himself a fighter but right now everything in him is screaming at him to flee. “I’m sorry,” he repeats and all but runs from the house.

Fuck.

[sukifans]

May I request a Zuko x Reader with prompt number 2 from the 50 cliché prompts? I'm desperate for some fluff

SWEATSHIRT // zuko

WC: 1.8k

PROMPT: “your shirt/jumper was in the laundry pile and i couldn’t help but steal it”

WARNINGS: none

A/N: if you want fluff you came to the right place—tooth rotting fluff is my specialty. the title may or may not be a jacob sartorius reference. yall remember when tik tok was music.ly?

��� 𝘔𝘈𝘚𝘛𝘌𝘙𝘓𝘐𝘚𝘛

Living with Sokka certainly had its ups and downs. On the one hand, he always kept things interesting—you never knew what you might come home to find, and he often made you laugh so hard you had tears streaming down your cheeks. He could also MacGyver just about anything that broke in your apartment (usually broken by him, however). You’d only had to call maintenance once, when you’d found him stuck under the kitchen sink, absolutely drenched, and shouting for help as water viciously sprayed from the pipes and the garbage disposal made some sort of ear-splitting shriek.

On the other hand, his mind moved a hundred miles a minute and he often forgot little things, like closing the kitchen cabinets or starting the dishwasher. One such thing he tended to forget was to finish his laundry. Often you’d find his still-wet clothes in the washer or his clean clothes in the dryer, having finished several hours ago. The two of you had worked out a deal: if Sokka did the dinner dishes and bought the snacks for Movie Fridays, you’d make sure the apartment ran smoothly despite his forgetfulness.

That’s how you found yourself dumping a load of his clothes onto his bed after finding them in the dryer while trying to do your own chores. You picked through the shirts and boxer briefs before settling on stealing a deep burgundy sweatshirt—an unspoken part of your deal was that if you found his clothes, you were allowed to steal a t-shirt or sweatshirt of your choosing because he knew you liked to wear the oversized tops on lazy days.

He came back later that night to find you standing in the kitchen, scrolling on your phone while you waited for your tea to steep. Your wet hair hung around your face and you wore the red hoodie with sleep shorts and thick, fuzzy socks.

“Hey,” he said, dropping his backpack on the ground by the door and kicking off his shoes.

“Hey.” You looked up at him as he bustled around the kitchen, tossing something into the microwave. “How was work?”

“Annoying,” he sighed in irritation, making you grin. He turned to you and frowned, reaching out to tug at the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “Where did you find that?”

“I stole it from your laundry, stupid. You left your stuff in the dryer again. I’ve never seen this one before, did you just get it?”

“Uh... yeah. Thanks for doing that for me.”

“Mhm.” You slipped your phone into the front pocket and cradled your mug. “Why do you ask? Do you want it back?”

“Nah, it’s okay. In fact, keep it. Red doesn’t suit me, I don’t know what I was thinking when I bought it.” He had a smirk on his face that made you very suspicious.

You raised an eyebrow while you slowly sipped your tea. “If you say so, Snoozles.” You flicked his arm as you passed him to retreat into your bedroom for the night. “Don’t forget to pick up your bag. And snacks for Friday night!”

“Yeah, yeah,” he responded through a mouthful of noodles.

You and your friends were gathered in the living room like every other Friday, this week to watch Jurassic Park (yet another classic that neither Aang nor Zuko had seen, much to everybody’s disbelief). Katara and Aang sat together on the armchair, Zuko sat between you and Sokka on the couch, and Toph sat on the floor with her back against the sofa next to her service dog, Badger. You had your legs thrown across the guys’ laps and all eyes (except Toph’s) in the room were glued to the screen. Well, for the most part—Zuko kept looking over at you all night. You tried to keep your attention on the dinosaurs, but you could feel him staring at you. Eventually you caught his eye and raised your eyebrows expectantly. He simply flushed and looked away. You furrowed your brow and turned back to the movie, pulling your hands inside the sleeves of Sokka’s red sweatshirt and sticking them in the pocket.

“Did you guys know that Spielberg wanted the raptors to be taller for the movie and then a few months after they wrapped shooting, paleontologists found a new species of raptor that actually fit the movie portrayal really well? They almost named it after him,” Sokka said with his mouth full of popcorn.

“That’s nice, Sokka,” Katara responded absently, obviously not listening.

“Yeah, and they made the T. Rex sounds with an alligat—oof!” He wheezed when you jabbed your foot into his stomach. “Asshole!”

“Pack it up, IMDB,” you huffed.

“I just thought it was interes—ouch, Toph!” he yelped when Toph punched his shin.

“Stop talking, I can’t hear anything!”

“Just watch it!”

“I can’t!” Toph barked. Sokka crossed his arms and slumped down, grumbling to himself. You and Zuko glanced over at each other and broke out in grins, pursing your lips to hold back your laughter.

As the movie progressed, you noticed the tension in Zuko’s shoulders. He had his jaw clenched throughout the whole scene with the kids trapped in the car with the T. Rex attacking. You nudged him with your knee and he turned to look at you.

“You scared, Zu?” you teased in a low voice, leaning forward to squeeze his bicep. “You want me to protect you from the dinos?”

He rolled his eyes but still lifted his arm, inviting you sit up and tuck yourself into his side. As you leaned against him he seemed to loosen up, settling into his seat and resting his head against yours. Sokka noticed this and looked around Zuko to waggle his eyebrows suggestively and very conspicuously, making your face heat up in embarrassment. Unfortunately, the idiot had caught wind of your crush on his best friend and had been relentlessly tormenting you about it ever since. You glared at him until he sat back, looking disgustingly smug.

After the movie finished, everyone got up to stretch and refill their drinks before the next one started. While talking with Toph in the kitchen, you noticed Zuko standing outside on the balcony by himself. You excused yourself from the conversation and made your way out to him while all your friends hooted in the background. It seemed everyone knew about your attraction to the boy, except for the boy himself.

“Hey,” you said softly, stepping outside. He looked around at you and gave you a small smile that made your head spin. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” he sighed, “just getting some air. It’s getting hot in there with everyone in the room.”

You nodded and stood next to him to lean against the railing. After a few beats of silence, you could feel his stare on you again. You met his gaze curiously. “What’s up, Zu? You’ve been looking at me all night.”

“Nothing, it’s just—“ he narrowed his eyes and cocked his head to the side as if inspecting you “—is that my sweatshirt?”

You frowned. “No, I took it from Sokka.”

“Lying bastard.” His eyes widened at your offended look when you rounded on him. “Not you! I—um, it is mine. I gave it to Sokka the other day and when I asked for it he insisted he already gave it back to me. The fucker gaslit me over a sweatshirt.”

“Sounds about right,” you giggled. “I’m sorry. I’ll give it back before you leave.”

He pulled at one of the drawstrings. “You can keep it, if you want. It’s, uh—“ he cleared his throat “—it looks better on you.”

You stood facing each other now, barely a breath away from being chest-to-chest. “I can’t take your sweatshirt.”

“You take Sokka’s all the time.”

“Yeah, because he always forgets his laundry in the machine. He owes me.” Zuko laughed a little at that, still fiddling with the string. You could feel your heart racing at his proximity. He sucked in a breath and seemed to brace himself for his next words.

“I kind of like how you look in my clothes, though. Might have to start leaving my stuff around here so you stop wearing Sokka’s.” The confidence in his voice was betrayed by the rising blush on his face that surely rivaled your own as you stared up at him with wide eyes.

Your lips parted to speak, but no words came out. All you could squeak out was a soft, “Zuko,” when he raised his hand to brush a loose piece of hair back behind your ear. You felt frozen, rooted to the spot, when his fingertips grazed your cheekbone. His hand lingered there, palm radiating heat into your already flushed cheeks.

“I—“ he pulled his hand back and chuckled nervously, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly “—sorry.”

“For what?” you asked.

“I don’t know.” You grinned at each other and in that moment it could’ve been just you and Zuko left on the planet and it wouldn’t’ve mattered; everything you wanted and needed was right there in front of you, if you were bold enough to take that final step toward it.

“Zuko—“

“Hey, we—oh!“ Both of you whipped your heads around when the door slid open to reveal Aang standing there. His whole face went red and he laughed in embarrassment. “Sorry! Just wanted to tell you guys we were gonna start the movie, but no rush! Take your time!” He started to back away and you felt yourself release from Zuko’s magnetic pull now that your small bubble had been invaded.

“It’s okay, Aang.” You smiled gently at your friend and started to make your way back inside. “We were about to head in anyways.”

Aang shot Zuko an apologetic look before nodding and hurrying away. Zuko couldn’t find it in himself to be bitter about the ruined moment when you reached out towards him and gazed up at him with those warm, bright eyes. “You coming, Zu?”

“Yeah, right behind you.” He took your outstretched hand and laced your fingers together, squeezing his palm against yours.

Maybe you weren’t the last people on Earth, and maybe you hadn’t taken that leap just yet, but something between you two shifted and finally clicked into place out there on that balcony. Everything would work out just fine—he knew it in the way you kept your fingers slotted perfectly between his as Jaws played on the television, and in the way you quickly rose onto your toes to press a kiss to his cheek in the hallway before he left. He couldn’t wipe the dreamy little smile off his face for the rest of the night, even as he laid awake in bed thinking about you.

Yeah; everything would be just fine.

ATLA TAGS: @hotgirlazula @octophopi @simpinforsukka @protect-remus @akiris @sunflowerazula

ZUKO TAGS: @fiantomartell @avatarayeaye @hypercakeiii @sher-lockedmarvel @emeraldpotato @september-ctd

[refinedbuffoonery]

Quarantine Moments (7)

These little drabbles are some of the most self-indulgent things I have ever written in my life. I love that y’all love them as much as I do. 

*****

Riley slid down the hallway in sock-clad feet, laundry basket perched on her hip. Bozer had been on her and Mac’s asses about not leaving clothes in the dryer, so Riley begrudgingly paused her T.V. show and got up to retrieve her laundry right when the buzzer went off. 

Moving quickly so that she could fold the clothes while they were still warm and wrinkle-free, Riley moved the next load from the washer into the dryer and started it before retreating to her bedroom with the clean clothes. 

She dumped them on the bed, humming softly while she folded, faltering when she picked up a shirt that definitely wasn’t hers. The plain gray t-shirt was warm and impossibly soft. Riley wasn’t sure which of the boys it belonged to, so she left it on her bed, promising to put it back in the laundry room later, and continued folding. Eager to get back to her T.V. show, Riley left the folded clothes on her bed. She could put them away later. 

She'd just sat back down on the couch when Mac yelled her name from the garage. Groaning, Riley got up to see what he needed.

She found him on his back, working on the classic motorcycle he owned and never rode. Tools littered the garage floor, and grease stained Mac's clothes. Riley squatted beside him. "What's up?"

Without looking up, Mac asked, "Can you hand me that wrench over there?" He vaguely gestured with his knee.

Riley pressed her lips together. Lazy ass. "Okay." She dragged out the syllables as she handed him the tool.

"Thanks."

"Need anything else?"

"Uhh, hang on." Riley heard a cranking noise, and then Mac started to slide out from under the bike. It wobbled, and her only warning was Mac's mumbled "Shit" before the motorcycle started to tip.

Riley lunged forward, barely catching it in time before it fell onto Mac. At the same time, his hand shot up blindly, landing square on Riley's stomach.

They both froze.

Riley was kneeling over him, holding the bike upright. She didn't let herself question why, in his adrenaline spike, Mac reached for her instead of trying to protect himself.

"Thanks," he said again, slightly breathless. Mac removed his hand, leaving a large, greasy handprint behind. His eyes widened as he scooted out from under the bike. "Shit. Sorry."

Riley frowned. The shirt was one of her favorites, but all she said was, "It's okay." She stood. "If you're done trying to squish yourself like a bug, I'm gonna go change."

Back in her room, Riley carefully removed her greasy shirt. Without thinking, she grabbed the closest clean one off her bed before bringing the stained one to the kitchen to hopefully save it with some dish soap.

Mac was already there, scrubbing grease off his skin. His eyes immediately focused on her as she rounded the corner, before narrowing. “That’s my shirt, isn’t it?”

Tensing, Riley glanced down at the gray shirt skimming her thighs. She owned plenty of oversized t-shirts, so she hadn't realized she'd managed to grab the one shirt that wasn't hers.

Of course, it was Mac's.

Maybe she could still get out of this mostly unscathed. Riley played dumb. "Is it? It was in the load I just took out if the dryer. I thought it was mine."

Lie. Lie. Lie. Lie.

Mac suddenly looked just as uncomfortable as Riley felt. "I'm, uhh, missing one that looks just like that. It probably got stuck inside the washer or something." He cast his gaze downward as he dried his hands. 

The situation got more awkward every second. "Oh," Riley said. "I can give it back now if you want." Not that she actually wanted to give it back, now knowing it was Mac's.

Mac's ears were slightly pink as he stuttered, "No. It's fine. You can wear it. It—" He swallowed. "It looks good on you."

"Okay," Riley squeaked.

Mac walked away, and Riley scrubbed her grease-stained shirt until her fingers went numb, desperately wishing she could scrub her embarrassment away too. 

[themadlostgirl]

When It’s Cold (8)

*Felix has always been a fast learner. wink wink nudge nudge

Come indulge in the smut you nasties! Yes I know I wrote it so I am the originator of the nasty but we’re not gonna dwell on that. Smut ahead!*

~~~

Morning broke with soft light streaming in through the windows and the melodious songs of bluejays and chickadees chirping happily. The warm covers of the bed were pulled up to my chin and next to me was Felix still fast asleep. I took the moment to look at his face and how peaceful it was when he slept.

I’m glad I sucked up my courage and came to his door last night. My bed alone had been so lonesome. I didn’t want to come off as clingy but then he opened the door and invited me in to sleep with him. He wanted me next to him just as much as I did. I hope that this can become a regular thing. I rather like waking up with him.

I traced the scar across his face and his eyes fluttered open. He gave me a lazy smile before pulling me closer and pressing a kiss to my nose. “G’morning,” he mumbled sleepily.

“Morning,” I giggled at the affectionate gesture, “Sleep well?”

“Very well,” He yawned, “Makes me not want to get out of bed.”

“Well we can certainly do that. Not like we have any obligations.”

“Kinda hungry though. Wish I didn’t have to go all the way downstairs to have something to eat.”

A spark of heat curled inside me when his gaze flickered over my face. Memories from yesterday flashing in my head. Words he had said echoing back to me.

I knew you would taste good too.

Nope! It is too early for this!

Stop hiding, if you can’t take it when I lick you off my fingers how are you going to handle when I have my head between your legs drinking it up straight from the source?

I pressed my legs together in an ineffectual effort to stave off the ache that was starting to grow. I had overreacted a tad yesterday when Felix had said that to me. I would not say that the thought had not come to me when I was alone in my room fighting off the loneliness of my bed. To hear him say it though had thoroughly flustered me. How was I supposed to react to such a blunt statement?

Perhaps I should have said, “Yes, please, for the love of every deity do that right now! Let us spend all day in bed doing nothing but slating each other's urges until neither of us can breathe let alone walk.”

“Darling?” Felix said and I realized that he had been trying to capture my attention for a while, “Morning fog not lifted from your head yet?”

“Apparently not,” I laughed off my real thoughts, “What were you saying?”

“I’m gonna go make breakfast. Do you want anything?” He asked.

“Oh no. I’ll be fine with just some cereal.”

“Okay,” He pushed back the covers of the bed and got up. I watched from the bed as he stretched and made his way out of the room.

My body was still twisted tightly with needs. I tried to hide away from them under the covers but it was no help. The bed reeked of Felix’s scent. I groaned back in my throat. Fantasies of Felix taking me in this big bed flitting about in my head. Being completely consumed by his presence. His body, his heat, the noises he makes, the feel of his--

“AGH!” I screeched into the pillow. I either need to cool down or get that boy back in this bed. There’s no other option.

I went to his bathroom and splashed some cold water on my face before meeting Felix downstairs in the kitchen. He had already set out a bowl and spoon for me for my cereal. I smiled at the gesture and grabbed the cereal and milk. Felix sat across from me flipping through one of his cookbooks. No doubt thinking of more dinner ideas.

I couldn’t stop staring at him. My mind wandering away from me as more lecherous thoughts befell me. All he was doing was eating some toast. It was hardly interesting yet when his tongue flicked out of his mouth to catch some jelly at the corner of his mouth my toes curled.

My own tongue crept out of my mouth to wet my lips. Felix looked up and I almost fell back off my chair at having been caught gawking. Get a hold of yourself! I stabbed my spoon into my now soggy bowl of cereal. I finished about half of it before I decided it was a lost cause and dumped out the rest. I need to get some space between Felix and I before I combust.

“I’m gonna do some laundry.” I announced, “I’ve been neglecting it so I may be a while.”

“No trouble. I’ll be up here.” Felix said.

I nodded and grabbed the basket from the basement then went to our rooms to collect the dirty laundry. I was rushing to get to the privacy of the basement where the washer and dryer resided. I was hardly breathing easier now that I was alone. It felt like there was a coil tightening inside me just waiting to be sprung.

Don’t think about it. Just do the laundry.

I started chucking clothes into the washer not really paying much attention to what I was grabbing. I held up a pair of pajama pants and froze when I realized that these were the ones that got dirtied yesterday. The cum stain still on the thigh.

“Fuck!” I hissed before chucking them in the washer as well. I slammed the lid down.

I can’t function like this. I’m too wound up and turned on. I need to do something to relieve the ache and set my mind right. I checked to make sure the basement door was closed before sliding my pants and underwear off. I hopped on top of the washer.

My eyes slid closed as I touched all my favorite places. I let the memories of yesterday and the fantasies I wanted to guide me along. My body was especially sensitive and I was close to cumming in a matter of minutes. I covered my mouth with my other hand so my moans couldn’t be so easily heard.

“Don’t bother stifling yourself, darling.”

I literally screamed at the sudden voice. Felix was standing on the steps. I couldn’t see his expression but I knew one thing was clear. He had caught me masturbating. Considering what we did yesterday I feel like I shouldn’t be so concerned about him seeing me like this but it almost felt like an intrusion. This had been my private moment and he waltzed right into it. My cheeks burned and I pulled at my shirt trying in vain to cover my exposed lower half.

“I was just--” I stammered.

“You don’t need to justify yourself to me. It’s not like it’s a bad thing to take care of yourself when you need to.” Felix said. He started coming closer and I froze. “That being said, if you were so damn horny, little girl, why didn't you just come to me? I would have been more than happy to help alleviate you.”

I couldn’t find anything to say. Things I wanted to say and things I feared expressing whirling around my brain like a hurricane.

“Perhaps,” Felix said, his tone softer than before, “I misread the situation. You prefer to take care of this on your own and I should have quietly excused myself when I saw you. Apologies.”

He turned to leave. I jumped off the washer and grabbed his arm. “Wait!” My heart was hammering painfully hard in my chest. “I did want to come to you but I--but I--”

“Yes?” Felix asked, turning to study me.

“I was nervous to ask you. You haven’t seemed to show any urgent interest in being intimate with me again so I never asked. I want to do more but you...I didn’t want to pressure you into something you didn’t desire.”

“Didn’t desire?” Felix grabbed me and pulled me flush against him. Something hard poked against me and heat flooded my body once more. “It seems my words were not explicit enough yesterday so let me make this clear now. I desire you. I want you. Every damn second of the day I want you.”

A small whine pressed past my sealed lips. “I never let on about how much I want you because I said I would go at your pace. Whatever you wish of me, I will give you. Understand?”

“Oh…” I finally found my tongue, “That’s uh, that’s great.”

“Just great huh?” He brought the hand that I had pleasured myself with up to his face. Fingers still wet with arousal. He sucked the juices clean from my fingers one at a time. Hooded eyes watched me the entire time. “You have me at your disposal, darling. Is there anything that you wish for me to do for you?”

“The other day when you spoke of um,” I swallowed back the embarrassment. It’s just us here. There’s nothing to feel embarrassed over. “You said that thing about your head between my legs...did you still want to do that?”

His grin cracked his face in two. “I’d certainly like to try.”

I nodded for him to go ahead. He grabbed me and hoisted me back on top of the washing machine. He pressed close to me capturing my lips in a ravenous kiss. His hands were in direct contrast to his mouth. He kissed me with a hunger that bordered on desperate but his hands were gentle. Caressing my torso and holding face so carefully while he ravaged my mouth.

His mouth trailed hot and wet down my neck. He sucked hard on my pulse and hands pressed my hips towards him. His clothed erection rubbed against my naked slit and I moaned into the air. “Felix…”

“Believe me now?” Felix asked, his words hot in my ear. “Believe that I always want you.” He thrusted hard against me and I swore. More. I needed more.

“Yes,” I whimpered, “Please, Felix, please it feels so good.”

“What do you want?” He thrust again and I scratched my fingernails along his back. He groaned into my neck. “Tell me what you want, little girl.”

“You. I want you.”

“Want me to do what?” His gaze met mine with that dumb teasing smile of his. I cannot believe that he has the gall to tease me like this right now. He laughed at my soured expression and caressed my legs up and down. “If you don’t tell me what you want then how am I to know?”

“I told you what I want already.” My legs started tingling and every time his hands hiked higher on my thighs the wetness between them grew.

“Not explicitly and I want to make sure that I give my girl exactly what she wants.”

“Your girl,” I grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, “Wants you to stop teasing her so.”

“I’m not teasing,” he ran his hands under my shirt to fondle my breasts. “I’m simply waiting for a reply.”

“Felix!”

“I love the way my name sounds coming from your lips, darling, but that’s still not an answer.” He hiked my shirt up and pulled it off. His head dipped down to kiss at my breasts. He bit and sucked on the supple skin leaving tiny bruises in his wake. “I don’t want to tease you but if I do not receive an answer I’m afraid that’s all I’ll be able to do.”

“Have I ever mentioned how much of a jerk you can be when you want to?” I snapped, trying to keep some composure. His hips still kept a gentle grind against me so I couldn’t think straight.

“Maybe once or twice.” One of his hands trailed down my stomach and rubbed softly on my clit. I yelped at the sudden sensation. “Just tell me what you want. It can’t be that hard, can it?”

There was no other way to get what I wanted without asking for it. And here I thought that he wouldn’t be so damn cocky about it. My pleasure was steadily building but it was a light simmer that kept me wanting without making promises of giving me release.

“Felix,” I whispered, “I want you to put your mouth on me. I want you to devour my cunt and make me cum.”

“As you wish,” He kissed me hotly one more time before slowly dropping down to a knee in front of me. He peppered kisses along my inner thighs, occasionally stopping to suck and bite at them until he was facing my cunt directly. I looked straight ahead so I wasn’t witnessing him stare at my dripping core with those glazed eyes. I could feel his breath puff against me and I whined wishing he would just touch me already and rid my body of the anxious anticipation.

"Darling,” Felix's voice shook me and I made a noncommittal noise of response. “You should know that while I have envisioned this numerous times before I have no idea what I am doing.”

“Huh?” I looked down at him between my legs and saw him watching me with the same intensity he had when I was guiding him along my body for the first time yesterday.

His face was bright red, even his ears burned. It made me feel better knowing he was just as nervous, if not more nervous than me about this. Excited but still cautious. “Sooooo, I'm just gonna go with god and hopefully this is enjoyable."

“I have no doubt you’ll make me feel amazing,” I wove my fingers through one of the hands on my thigh. “And if for some reason you don’t then that just means you can keep practicing.”

“I adore you.” He squeezed my hand back. Our hands stayed interlocked as he drew his attention downward once more. “And you’re all mine.”

I barely made out what he said before he dove in to devour me as promised. I squeaked and almost squirmed away but Felix kept me tethered, squeezing my hand in reassurance. The flat of his tongue licking a stripe up my cunt. He moaned against me and the vibrations sent a new flood of arousal pooling out of me that Felix happily lapped up.

God this was such a strange sensation but it felt so good. My free hand wove into his hair and he groaned again. I was going to get addicted to this I know it.

Stars danced before my eyes as he drew his attention to my clit. The tip of his tongue tracing patterns around it that had me blubbering praises and made me grip his hair tighter. “Fuck, Felix! Feels so good! Feels so fucking good!”

“That’s it baby,” he muttered as he pulled away to breathe, “You taste divine. I could die happy with my head between your legs.”

“Not before you make me cum like you promised.” I said. His eyes met mine, that rakish grin of his glistened with my arousal on his lips.

“Of course, darling,” He kept his eyes locked with mine as he attached his mouth back to my cunt. I couldn’t look away now. Not when his eyes bore into me like they did. The fact that he was watching me as he ate me out had me spiraling farther from sanity.

His free hand joined his mouth, running his fingers up and down my slit like a tease while he sucked hard on my clit. My legs were shaking and I didn’t know if I was trying to push myself closer and farther away. A single fingered entered me and I gripped his hair harder, pushing him ever closer as that single long finger pumped inside me at a pace that was incredibly slow compared to the quick swipes he assaulted my clit with.

A second finger joined the first, scissoring and curling inside my cunt to stretch it open. “Yes, oh god, yes!” My hips started to grind down against his face, chasing the orgasm I was building towards faster. “Faster! Please Felix go faster!”

He grunted and started pumping his fingers faster. He gave a playful experimental nibble to my clit and I yelped. He started to pull away before I forced his head to keep put. “Do that again! Please do that again!” I begged.

He set back to his task switching from nibbling to sucking to tracing patterns across my clit as his fingers continued to fuck my pussy. I was losing any coherency, my words a blubbering whimpering mess of praises, pleas and Felix’s name. All the while Felix kept his eyes trained on me. The only thing keeping me tethered to reality being his grip on my hand.

“Felix,” I moaned, “Felix, I’m gonna--fuck--fuck I’m gonna cum!”

With that he sucked even harder on my poor abused clit. My orgasm hit me like a ton of bricks. Felix’s name the only thing I could say as the shockwaves of the experience continued to roll through me. Felix wasn’t letting up any either. He kept fingering me and licking my sensitive cunt until I was driven into another orgasm. Not as powerful as the first but nonetheless electrifying.

My grip on Felix eased as any energy I had slowly seeped out my body. Felix finally pulled away with a self satisfied smile. He licked what was left of my arousal off his fingers before looking me over. I can only imagine the image I presented. Naked, flushed, legs weak, and my arousal still leaking onto the top of the washing machine.

“Still with me, darling?” Felix asked, gently caressing my face.

“Yeah…” I whispered. Even my voice was hoarse. “Thank you, that felt amazing.”

“Glad to hear it.” He kissed me. I moaned slightly at the taste of me on his tongue. “I hope now you understand that you don’t need to suffer in silence if you get like this again. Whenever you will have me, darling, you can.”

“Care to help a girl back upstairs?” I asked, sheepishly. “My legs feel about as weak as pudding right now.”

“Come here,” He grabbed my shirt from the floor and slid it back on me. I was able to keep my wits together enough to slide on my own panties and sweatpants again. My legs were plenty wobbly once I jumped off the washing machine. Felix kept an arm around me as he walked me back upstairs to my room.

He turned to go and I grabbed his arm to halt him. “Need something?” He asked.

“Can we sleep in the same bed again tonight?” I asked. “I just really like falling asleep with you and waking up next to you so…”

“Of course, darling,” He smiled softly, “You’re always more than welcome in my bed. To sleep or to play.”

“And I hope you know that the offer you made me about being there to sate my needs also applies to you.” I told him, “Don’t think I didn’t notice that you were left wanting after our fun downstairs.”

“Rest assured,” he inched his face closer so we were a breath away, “I’ll be sure to let you know when I want your attention, little girl.”

“Not now?”

“So eager to please me?”

“And if I am?”

“Then I am more fortunate than I thought.” He placed a kiss to my cheek before turning me around and pushing me towards the bathroom. “Clean yourself up and come downstairs. It’s my turn to choose the movie today.”

I nodded and scurried into the bathroom. My heart full and my body still abuzz with pleasure. I could get used to this sort of treatment every day.

---

(Previous) (Next)

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

"Reader notices that every time they use the common laundry room, they're missing a piece of clothing." w/ andy?

Laundry Day

Warnings: nonconsent sex, stealing, perviness lol, unedited

Wednesday night was laundry night. You came home, changed into your sweats, and gather up your clothes into your hamper. There was little that changed about your mid-week routine. In fact, as you loaded your clothes into the washer, the same familiar face appeared through the door.

He greeted you with the same smile; the same lame joke.

"Funny seeing you here again," He chuckled as he opened the machine next to yours.

"Mmhmm," You continued to dump in your wrinkled clothes as he filled the other machine. "I keep running into you, I'm gonna think you're stalking me."

"Only on laundry day," He kidded as he measured out a cap full of soap.

"Oh so the most interesting day of the week," You closed the lid of your machine and swiped your card before choosing the cycle.

"Oh yeah," He said. "Although, I always find the dry cycle is more fun. Exciting!"

You shook your head as you neared the door. "See ya then."

You left him and hurried back down the hall. You hated that every time you saw him you were in your baggy grey sweats and your tweety bird shirt but you weren't going to change just because he seemed to lounge around in business casual.

Andy moved in only half a year ago. You didn't get much further than your laundry day small talk but you'd heard gossip from the old ladies on the floor who had nothing better to do. He was a recent divorcee; he moved into the condos after they set his alimony; an attorney with a broken family. You took it all with a grain of salt.

And as you expected, he was there when you returned. Your timer went off and you went to switch the load over. As you did, you turned back to close the washer and Andy stopped you, holding a lacy pair of panties.

"You dropped this," He said and you took them with a hidden cringe before shoving them in with the rest.

"Thanks," You laughed nervously. "See ya after the dry?"

"Yep," He opened the door for you. "Hope you don't mind that I borrowed a dryer sheet when you weren't looking."

"Borrow?" You asked as you stopped just as the hallway would lead you down different paths. "That might work in court but not here."

"Jury's out," He shrugged.

You rolled your eyes and walked away. You didn't look back as you continued on to your apartment and set another alarm. Too many times before you forgot and left your load for too long. You had started to realise that others had taken it as an opportunity; a couple socks, a nice cotton camisole you wore on hot nights, and way too many pairs of panties. You couldn't decide if it was a perverted or covetous tenant.

When your timer chimed, you awoke with a start. You laughed at yourself as you nearly jumped off the couch and caught yourself. You rubbed your eyes and shook out the cobwebs. You took your time as you searched for your slippers and got a glass of water. A few minutes wouldn't hurt.

You strode down the hallway with a yawn and shoved your key in the laundry room door. As you entered, Andy was bent before his machine, emptying it into his tall basket. There was an odd shock of pink hanging out of his pants pocket. You ignored it and neared to opened your own dryer. He smiled over at you as he stood straight and the lace fell to the floor.

You looked down and his eyes followed. He cleared his throat and you slammed the door of your machine. As you bent to snatch your panties, he did the same and caught your hand.

"What the fuck?" You hissed as you tried to pull away.

"It's not... it wasn't--" He squeezed your hand.

"You've been stealing my clothes?" You hissed. "What would you call that?" You wrestled with him and he grabbed your other wrist. "Let me go."

He stood and pulled you up with him. He tightened his grip until the panties slipped from your grasp. His jaw ticked as his nervousness turned to irritation. He kept a hold of your right arm and twisted it around, turning you to face the dryer.

"You know what I've learned these last few months?" He asked as he knelt, his hand still tight on your arm, and retrieved your panties. "That no one else does their laundry on Wednesday night. Just you." He reached around and bunched up the lace. "And me."

He balled the panties up and pushed them against your lips. You tried to your head away and he smother your with his palm, the lace rough against your mouth.

"Still, better to be quiet," He snarled as you gasped and he shoved the panties inside your mouth. "Hmm?"

You tried to talk but your protests were muffled by the fabric. He kept his hand over your mouth so you couldn't spit them out as his other hand let go of your arm. He pinned you against the machine with his body, kicking your legs apart and inch at a time.

"Even in that ridiculous shirt," He snickered. "You know, I can see you poking through, just a little."

His large fingers slipped under the elastic of your sweats and he yanked them down past your ass. You slapped the metal of the dryer and tried to push back against him. He ground his pelvis against your ass and squeezed your jaw.

"You just can't wait, can you?"

He forced his hand between you and unbuckled his belt. He swiftly undid his pants in turn and you began to panic, nearly choking on your panties. He kept your feet apart with his and you felt the smooth tip of his cock against you as he pulled it free from his pants.

"Always thought the rumble cycle would be good," He purred. "But I suppose it doesn't matter."

He lined himself up and pushed against your entrance. You slowly stretched around him, your walls straining as he impaled you.

"Next time, I want you to wear these," He shifted his hand and brushed his fingers across the lace poking past your lips. "I'd love to see them on."

[sincerelyella]

Guy’s Day Part 2

Book: The Royal Romance (AU)

Pairings: Liam x MC (Ella)

Song Inspiration: I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner

Characters belong to Pixelberry; Ella Brooks belongs to me.

A/N: An AU based on the show New Girl (my favorite can you tell?) Just a collection of one-shots and shenanigans that allude to the show. This will NOT be canon, that means this won’t be in Cordonia and Liam isn’t a King. If you have watched the show before, you know they are in Los Angeles, California. Just a little background info, Liam and Ella are dating, Max, Drake and Leo are single and they all live together in The Loft.

Summary: Ella and Liam go to London for a nurse conference so the guys declare it Guy’s Day in the Loft … but Drake ends up finding out secrets about Leo and Maxwell.

This is part 2 guys → part 1 and the rest of the masterlist can be found here

Warnings: Adult language; sexual innuendos; drinking alcohol

Words: 1752

It took less than five minutes for Drake to show Max how to read a ruler.

“That’s all?” Max asks incredulously.

“Yeah, Beaumont. That’s all,” Drake chuckled and walked away.

Max let out a loud laugh and began running around the house to measure random items. *measures beer bottle* “Nine inches. Ha! Rappers are lying; nobody is nine inches!”

** Down the hall **

Leo attempted to wash Liam & Ella’s comforter correctly under Drake’s watchful eye.

“Okay, so … I’m pouring to the line, right?” *pours soap*

“Rys! Do you think the line is a suggestion?! Do it again!” *pours the detergent on the ground*

“I’m trying!” Leo grabs the cap and begins to pour. “I did it! Right at the line!”

“Again!” Drake shouts as he grabs the cap and dumps the detergent on the floor.

** 10 minutes later **

“So now I press the ‘Start’ button, and the washer will fill with water … oooh,” Leo watched the water fill and begin to swish the blanket around. “It’s so bubbly in there!” He giggled and continued to watch in awe.

“Uh, yeah, so when the washer is done, then what?”

“Guys!” Maxwell skipped over, waving his ruler in the air. “I tried measuring the couch with this, but it’s too small. Do we have any measuring tape?!”

“In my top drawer with my undies, but don’t mess them up, they’re in a certain order!” Leo commanded as Max galloped off.

Drake tried again. “So what happens after this is done, Rys?”

“Oh! When the washer is done, it goes in the dryer, and we put some of those lint catchers in them. Then press 'Start,’ but for the dryer this time, not the washer. They have two different buttons!” He exclaimed proudly.

“They’re called dryer sheets, so the clothes don’t get all static-y. But you’re right. Good job, dude.” Drake wandered off into the living room, sat on the couch, and let out a sigh of relief. “I need a fucking beer after having to deal with this shit all afternoon,” he murmured.

“Drake, how can we repay you for helping us?” Leo and Max walk into the living room, Max, with the measuring tape draped over his neck.

“Don’t mention it, like ever again … please,” Drake shook his head as he wandered into the kitchen looking for beer.

“Seriously, tell us how we can help? Anything with a girl?” Leo prodded as Max got to work on measuring the couch.

Drake chuckled as he took a swig of his beer. “There is no girl.”

“Draaaaake,” Leo sang as he walked around the kitchen island. “Come on, a buff manly man like you has to have a girl. You were dating that one chic weren’t you? Mandy? No,” Leo tapped his mouth with his finger. “Candy? Sandy?”

“Tammy, you idiot,” Drake seethed.

“Aha! Tammy, with the ass! Yes, I knew there was a 'Y’ in there somewhere. So yeah, what happened to Tammy?”

Drake drained his beer and tossed the empty bottle. “I need some whiskey if we’re gonna talk about Tammy,” he rummaged into one of the cabinets, found the whiskey bottle, and decided to forego on drinking from a glass. He pulled the top off and drank straight from the bottle.

“Oh, so no glass tonight, you’re just putting your whole ass mouth on the bottle?” Leo arched his brow as he chided Drake. “Do you know how unsanitary that is? You’re fucking disgusting.” Drake gave Leo a warning glance and gulped down another swig of whiskey. “Sure, you go ahead and do that, you heathen.”

Drake shrugged and walked to the living room where Maxwell was sitting with a big grin on his face. “You guys! The couch is 72 inches long!”

“Great job, Max, you can graduate the second grade now,” Leo said dismissively. “Walker, spill it. What happened with Tammy?”

Drake opened his mouth to speak but stopped when he caught sight of Max.“Beaumont, why are you wearing that shit? That hat makes you look like a girl. That’s Ella’s, isn’t it?”

Maxwell was wearing one of Ella’s beanies that had pineapples all over it with glitter. “Am I a pretty girl?!”

“Why are you like this?”

“Quit changing the subject, Walker!” Leo yelled. “Answer the damn question!”

Drake sighed. “She broke up with me because she told me she loves me and I didn’t say it back. There! I said it!” He took another swig of whiskey and grimaced as he swallowed it.

“Well, why didn’t you say it back?” Maxwell inquired as he took the beanie off and tossed it onto the cushion next to him.

Drake was quiet for a moment as he stared at the floor in front of him. “I … I’ve never been in love before,” he said quietly.

Leo and Max stared at Drake for so long that Drake stood and began to walk to his room. “Forget I said anything.”

“No, wait!” Leo yelled and ran after him; Max followed. “How is that even possible, Walker?” Leo turned to stand in front of Drake. “Are you sure?”

“Yes!” Drake threw his hands up in frustration. “I’m fucking sure! I don’t love Tammy, and I’ve never loved anyone. I don’t know what love is! Are you happy?! You know my secret!”

“So … that’s why she hasn’t been around? And you haven’t had any girls over in months. Do you miss her?” Max asked as he stared at his friend.

“I don’t miss her in general. She was too needy, and I haven’t brought anyone over because I haven’t wanted to. Thankfully all the things my girlfriend used to do can be taken care of with my right hand.”

“Ugh, TMI, Walker,” Leo turned Drake around and pushed him back towards the living room. “We are taking care of this right NOW!”

** 45 minutes later **

“Youths!” Leo yelled out. “Maxwell, how have you never tasted a woman before?!”

“I thought we made this pillow fort to talk about Drake and his problems?!”

Drake threw a pillow at Max. “Beaumont, this is a pillow fort of secrets! Everyone’s secrets are safe here, okay?!”

“Watch it! You almost made me spill my sangria!” Maxwell whined.

“Back to the subject at hand,” Leo slurred. “Max, tell us, why have you never tasted a woman’s magical fruit? Do you not know what to do? Is it because there’s so many buttons and holes? I thought that before too.”

“Oh my God, Beaumont, don’t answer that. Mostly because I don’t want to know.” Drake covered his whole body with a blanket.

“Answer it, Max, how are we supposed to help you?”

“Don’t answer, Max! We aren’t helping him with anything, Rys!” Drake yelled. “I’ve done enough helping for one day.”

“Okay, fine,” Leo turned back to Max. “Answer me this then. Do you have a small dick? You wear a size extra small in boxer briefs.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” Drake and Maxwell bellowed at the same time.

Max huffed in anger. “Can I respond now, Drake?”

“Do it.”

Max cracked his knuckles. “You mess with the bull, you get the horns. I’m about to show this guy just how horny I can be.”

“Somebody else do it.” Drake fell backward onto the plethora of pillows they laid out on the floor.

“Okay, okay, scratch that question,” Leo sipped his sangria as he thought of something else to ask.

“Well,” Max said quietly. “I have had some man problems lately.”

“Man problems?” Leo looked at him quizzically while Drake sat up and took the blanket off his head.

“Are you talking about a clog or a leak?” Drake asked with a frown on his face.

Leo looked at Drake. “Maybe he’s got the Wet Tuesday’s?”

Drake shrugged. “I think it’s because of his tight denim pants.”

Leo turned back to Maxwell. “Did the squirrels get into the tulip bulbs?”

“I have no idea what all of those words mean. I just meant I haven’t gotten laid in a while, and when I jerked it, the jizz was … jello-o like.”

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait,” Leo waved his sangria in the air as he pondered what was just said. “You mean to tell me that your semen was ... gelatinous?”

Max nodded.

“How the fuck did we get from me not knowing what love is to Beaumont and his fucking jizz?!”

“Hush, Drake,” Leo’s brows furrowed in concentration. “I’ve had that before too, Maxwell. I think as long as it’s not a toothpaste consistency, we’re okay.”

“Jesus Christ,” Drake murmured. “I’m out.” He moved to crawl out of the pillow fort.

“No, wait! We still haven’t figured out what’s wrong with you, Drake!” Max said. “I know the perfect song we can listen to to help you!” He thumbed through his phone and found the song. “It’s I Want To Know What Love Is by Foreigner!”

“That sounds perfect, Maxwell, nice choice,” Leo grinned as he drained his sangria. “Before you play it, I’ll make us more drinks.”

** 15 minutes later **

Hana pushed open the loft door with the key Ella made her and frowned. Her task was just to make sure the loft didn’t smell like anything died in there and that all three men were alive and well. She saw a pillow fort in the living room and heard music playing … but it wasn’t just music. She heard Drake, Maxwell, and Leo singing at the top of their lungs and slightly off-key.

In my life, there’s been heartache and pain

I don’t know if I can face it again.

“It’s okay, Drake, you can cry if you need to,” Leo said, and Hana heard sniffling.

“I’m good; this is just such a good fucking song, you guys.”

Can’t stop now, I’ve traveled so far, to change this lonely life.

I want to know what love is, I want you to show me.

I want to feel what love is, I know you can show me.

Hana’s eyes widened and began to walk back towards the front door slowly. She carefully closed it behind herself and reached into her purse to call Ella.

“El, hey! … I’m here at the loft … it smells fine, and they’re alive, but they were having some sleepover kumbaya moment in there … not sure if they were drinking, but Drake was singing so I’m gonna go with yes … just be safe, and I’ll see you next week!”

[dcbbw]

Six Sentence Sunday January 3, 2021

I haven’t posted a Six Sentence Sunday in forever! Fortunately, for the first Sunday of 2021, I have managed to get words and thoughts out of my head and onto paper (or screen).

Everything is under the cut (and it’s a little bit of a lot)

The Life We Lived, Chapter 3:

His wife nodded and reached over into his plate to grab his fish sandwich. She wasn’t a fan of the seafood, but it was deep fried, and the bread was loaded with mayo, lettuce, tomato, onions, and jalapenos. It looked delicious.

She was on her third bite when her husband returned. His eyes widened in disbelief at seeing both of Riley’s hands gripping half his sub sandwich, mayonnaise dripping from her lips. Without a word, he sat down, pulled her beef lo mein in front of him. and began eating it.

“What did Thomas want? Is the job offer at the firm still open?” Riley licked her lips before taking another hearty bite.

Liam twirled flavorful noodles around the tines of his fork before spearing tender pieces of beef. His expression was thoughtful when he looked at his wife. “He offered me a case, but it isn’t immigration. It’s criminal. Murder.”

Riley’s eyes widened. “You’re not a criminal attorney.”

“I know enough to be a public defender,” Liam argued. “And it’s pretty open and shut. Apparently, the accused is admitting guilt; they just want to not get the death penalty or life with no chance of parole.”

Riley snatched her beef lo mein away from Liam; she shoveled a huge forkful in her mouth. “How much?” she asked suspiciously.

Liam’s eyes held hers. “One million even.”

Riley choked on her food. “What the FUCK?? When do you start?”

Liam chuckled softly before leaning over and kissing Riley with the slightest hint of tongue. “Not so fast, there. That’s a lot of money from a person admitting they’re guilty of murder, of all things. Which makes me think there’s more here than meets the eye.”

Riley nodded slowly. “So, you’re gonna think about it?” she asked hopefully.

Untitled #WackyDrabble #76:

The King stood at his study’s window, his dark eyes peering up at an even darker sky. He held a glass of scotch in one hand; he absent-mindedly shook it, causing amber liquid to swirl gently. In his other hand, he held a black velvet ring box. His eyes left the starry sky to look down at the box.

Inside was a symbol of his devotion, loyalty, and commitment. That he would slide onto his fiancée’s finger tomorrow morning.

He would have a wife. Cordonia would have a Queen.

Except Cordonia was an exacting mistress, not easily appeased. Demands for an heir would soon follow, then a spare would be required.

This wasn’t supposed to be my life.

With a sigh, Liam tucked the jewelry box into his suit jacket pocket before closing the curtains; he turned away from the window and sank into the chocolate leather of his oversized chair. His eyes roamed over his desk: personal photographs, stacks of paperwork divided by progress and priority, a Bible of the Orthodox Church.

He lifted his head at a knock on the door; hope and eagerness flooded his body as he called for his visitor to enter. It fled as quickly as it came when he saw who his visitor was.

White Sock Fuckery (SGL Ask):

The October evening was damp and chilly. Streetlamps glowed pale yellow against the night. The heavy rain that had drenched the nation’s capital from sunrise to sunset had finally eased into a light mist. The few leaves left on the trees lining Rhode Island Avenue at Logan Circle were bent and downward facing with the weight of moisture.

A figure slid from the vehicle double parked in the street, a large bag filled with purchases clutched in one hand. They didn’t turn around to watch the vehicle drive away; they were too busy searching for keys. With an audible gasp of relief, fingers pulled out a keyring and the person entered the building.

In the lobby of the apartment complex, the person headed directly up the stairs to Unit #2. The hall was quiet, the lighting dim. More keys were inserted into locks, and the person was inside. They leaned against the closed front door, exhaling a sigh as they inhaled patchouli and the faint smell of cigarette smoke. Their eyes traveled quickly over the darkened rooms.

Unopened wine bottles on the kitchen counter, remote control tossed carelessly on the sofa, a pile of laundry tossed atop the stacked washer/dryer.

Still clutching the bag, the person traveled the short hallway that led to the bedroom. Flipping a switch filled the somewhat spacious area with bright light. Tossing the bag on the bed, the person went to the chest of drawers placed in the exact center between two of the room’s four windows. A quick glance at their watch informed them they had 15 minutes before their ride returned.

Pulling the top drawer open, the person’s eyes widened in a hybrid of horror, disbelief, and humor.

What the actual fuck?

Dress Up (SGL x Riley B Kinktober ask)

“You know I wouldn’t do anything you’re not ready for,” he assured her. “But I think we’re both ready for something. Let’s call it a tension breaker.”

“Tension breaker?” Riley arched a brow as her arms circled his neck.

“It has to be done,” Liam affirmed as his lips pulled hers into a deep kiss.

When they parted a full minute later, Liam whispered in her ear. “I want to touch your body, Riley B.”

Riley looked at him with eyes dark with desire and clouded with wariness. “No sex!”

“I know,” Liam nodded.

“You think I’m silly. And I probably am, but …”

Liam shook his head. “No. You’ve been hurt. I’m fine with going slowly. I just need you to remember I’m not those other guys. I’m not gonna dump you in Target or pop in for 15 minutes of your time every six months like Bootycall Keith.”

Riley kissed him softly on the cheek. “Thank you. I just … I wanna get it right this time.”

“Me too.” His fingers raked through her hair.

“And it’s Keith the Bootycall. Like Chance the Rapper.”

Liam rolled his eyes as he shrugged out of his shirt; he didn’t see why he had to get that scrub’s name right.

Sunday Bruch, Chapter 10

Olivia ate a hearty forkful of her roasted quail and root vegetable casserole. “Hamid wanted to join us, but I thought it best that this luncheon be girls only.”

Riley looked at her confused. “Why? I’d love to meet the man who took you away from Court.”

Olivia set her fork down; she leaned across the table so she and Riley were practically nose to nose. “First, no one took me away from Court. I am still very much a member; I just choose not to socialize with you heathens. Second, you’re pregnant with no idea who the father is. You don’t want this to become an international scandal! You do realize Hamid has his own kingdom to oversee? And he can be a Chatty Cathy with an especially … juicy tidbit.”

Riley nodded as Olivia pulled away. A pale hand swept across her crimson locks before the Duchess of Lythikos brought a wine glass to her lips.

“So, what are you going to do?”

Riley shrugged as she scooped venison, rice, and gravy. “Honestly, I don’t know. I want to stay with Maxwell. Thinking all the men have brown hair; all of us except Maxwell have brown eyes. Maybe Max is the dad by default?”

Olivia blinked. This woman cannot be this fucking stupid! She lightly cleared her throat.

“How were you ever Queen?” Olivia huffed. “You do know none of these men look alike, right? As much as I love a good drama, the smart thing … the responsible thing to do is to have a DNA test done. Then sit down and have a talk with Maxwell and the child’s father.”

“NO!” Riley exclaimed, bits of food flying from her mouth. “I can’t do that! That’s just … out of the question!”

“You should have thought of that before having a threesome with Drake Walker and Rashad Domvallier.”

“It was just something to do,” Riley muttered.

“Now it’s become someone to raise.” Olivia sliced into a savory yam. “THIS is why I no longer come around. You people are a circle jerk of messy sex and share relationships. I have found keeping your circle small helps keep your hole tight.”

Untitled Laxwell:

In the kitchen, he found his lover sitting in the dark at the  dining table. The flipping of the light switch revealed a decanter of scotch sat beside him, and a glass of the liquor was in front of him. His blue eyes lifted long enough to take in his boyfriend’s slightly disheveled countenance.

“Rain wake you up?’ he asked as he took a swallow of his drink.

Liam shook his head, frowning slightly. Maxwell wasn’t a drinker; he wanted to be, but the most the younger Beaumont could handle was a glass of wine. Two, at most. Anything more or something stronger went to his head immediately. And Maxwell tended to be a belligerent drunk, his ire fueled by jealousy.

Liam sat down cautiously across from his boyfriend.

“What are you doing up? And drinking?”

Maxwell shrugged while tugging at his wrinkled tee shirt. “Thinking.”

“About what?”

Maxwell said nothing as he picked up his glass to drink more scotch.

“How many glasses have you had?” Liam asked suspiciously.

“This is my second.”

“So, what are you thinking about that has you up in the middle of the night, drinking scotch?”

Liam settled back in his chair, outstretching his arm so his hand covered Maxwell’s .A slight smile quickly flickered across the young Lord’s lips. When he raised his face to look at Liam, his expression was blank but his eyes sad.

“My mother.” It was simply said, but Liam knew the pain that lay behind the two words.

Untitled JGL one-shot:

One night, soon after Liam Rys started, I found myself staying late to help out the accounting team. Quarterly reports were coming up which meant every broker needed their monthly numbers. Of course, a good broker keeps their own numbers, but with Barthelemy as Managing Director, there are no good brokers.

Just a bunch of good old boy club members who like to smoke cigars, drink liquor, and grope tits.

And then there are the rest of us.

I run the numbers for my team and go to drop Liam’s reports off at his desk; when I reach his cubicle, I stop short. It’s after 8 pm, and he is hunched over his desk. His cheeks are flushed, he’s  gnawed his lower lip raw, and wears a scowl of vexation on his face.

“What are you still doing here?” I ask as I lay the reports in his inbox.

His dark eyes glance up at me before falling back down to the computer screen. “I have to put together a portfolio for a new client by tomorrow morning. Came straight from the Managing Director.”

“And it has you looking like that?”

“He has very specific stocks he wants to invest in, but none of them are going to give the client the yield the MD insists upon.”

I roll my eyes and hold out my hand to see the mock portfolio. With a sigh, Liam passes it to me before leaning back in his chair. He rubs his eyes, and glances at the clock. He pulls open a desk drawer and grabs an apple.

I look around for a place to sit in the small cubicle, but there isn’t any. Liam’s bicycle takes up all the available space. Instead, I kick off my heels and rest against the cloth-covered partition as I quickly review the documents.

“They’re playing you,” I state flatly as I pass the papers back.

Liam looks at me,  confusion and an underlying hardness in his eyes. “What do you mean by that?”

“What they’re asking of you is impossible. All the stocks are duds, poor performers. They set you up to fail. Or go crazy, whichever one comes first.”

 Not tagging folks; if you see it and want to play, feel free to do so!

[myheartrevealedocs]

Untouchable Ch 27: The Instincts (S4E6)

Warnings: kidnapping, murder of children, nightmares

Ch 26 | Ch 28

~ ~ ~

It took a few weeks of just talking. About anything and everything with each other. But Spencer was finally certain that Lydia was his other half. 

They were just so similar. It was eerie to him, because ever since he’d met her he’d thought she was everything he wasn’t: outgoing, brave, and impulsive. But in all the ways that mattered, they were exactly the same. Ambitious and moral and smart. And all his fears and anxieties couldn’t keep him from loving that about her. The good and the bad. They were perfectly matched in their passion and their stubbornness.

Eventually, Spencer had to leave for yet another case and it turned out to be far more difficult than he had foreseen. Upon boarding the jet, he’d fallen asleep, which was unusual enough as was. But he was woken up from a very strange nightmare by Rossi, who was concerned about him mumbling in his sleep.

He had almost forgotten entirely about his dream by that evening. The case they were working was a child abductor case. The unsub had kidnapped a 5-year-old boy and called the parents to torment them once or twice, before suffocating the child seven days later. They had just taken another boy, by the name of Michael Bridges.

Hotch had ordered Reid and Morgan to stay with the family that night in case they received another phone call. So Spencer and his coworker were drifting off on the couches downstairs when something caught his eye.

There was a door in the hallway parallel to the stairs. He could have sworn that hadn’t been there when they arrived, but nonetheless, he felt compelled to go check it out.

Quietly getting up, he walked over and found that the new discovery led down to a basement. As he stepped down, he reached for his gun, a sinking feeling coming over him.

The basement was for the most part empty. Directly across from the entrance was a washer and dryer, their bright white color standing out against the beige walls. And just peeking out behind the washer were two tiny feet with jeans and black tennis shoes on.

Spencer approached, but stopped short before he could see any more of the body. At the sound of footsteps, he turned and found Morgan and Rossi behind him. He didn’t for a moment question why Rossi was there.

“We couldn’t find any evidence of forced entry.”

“Why would that matter?” Spencer asked. Something was wrong. Everything about this was insanely familiar. He’d been here before. Seen this before.

“‘Cause it means he most likely knew his attacker,” Morgan argued, but at that point, Spencer had stopped listening.

There were strange lumps forming on his chest. Ripping open the front of his button down, he was horrified to find multiple leeches attached to his torso.

“Get them off me!” he shrieked. “Morgan, get them off me! Morgan!”

“Reid!” Morgan’s voice was fainter than he remembered. Morgan was right behind him, wasn’t he? “Reid! Wake up! It’s Morgan.”

Spencer’s eyes flew open and found himself back on the couch of the Bridges home, his arms crossed protectively over his chest. Morgan had turned on a nearby lamp and was hovering over him, concern filling his face.

It was the same dream he’d had on the jet. The only difference was the first time he’d woken up trying to get JJ’s unborn baby off the scene and this time, he’d woken up while covered in leeches. Reid didn’t believe in dream analysis… but why did it change?

“What the hell’s going on?” Mr. Bridges demanded, him and his wife rushing down the stairs.

“Sir, ma’am,” Morgan addressed, “everything’s okay.”

“You wake us up screaming and you think everything’s okay?”

“Look, I understand we startled you and I’m sorry for that.”

“You’re the FBI!”

Spencer ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re right,” he stuttered. “You’re right. I’m, just, I’m really sorry.”

Morgan watched him for a moment, seeing his shoulders shudder up and down as he caught his breath. Then he turned back to the couple. “Sir, please, go back upstairs and try to get some rest. It was just a misunderstanding. Everything is fine, I promise you that.”

Mr. Bridges stormed off in a huff, but his wife stuck around for a moment, shuffling her feet on the steps. “Are you okay?”

“It was a dream,” he said, then gulped. “I’m really sorry.”

“Was it about Michael?”

Spencer didn’t know. He hadn’t seen any more than a small pair of black sneakers. But for her sake, he shook his head.

“I’ve been afraid to close my eyes,” she continued. “I’m scared I’ll see him die.”

He opened his mouth. The words ‘Don’t worry’ died in his throat. They weren’t true. He didn’t believe them. The chances of finding Michael were so slim. So he stood there with his mouth hanging open.

“Ma’am, I know it’s hard,” Morgan interrupted, softly. “But I need you to go upstairs and try to get some sleep…” Her eyes never left Spencer. “Please. I am sorry for the disturbance.”

Finally, she turned on her heel and left, turning off the hall light as she went.

“I’m making everything worse,” Spencer sighed.

“Reid… these cases get to all of us.”

“I’m losing it in their living room. And I’m dreaming- I’m dreaming about dead kids and being covered in leeches.”

“What the hell is scaring you?”

It took a few moments for Spencer to phrase his feelings into a coherent thought. “This boy’s going to die and there’s nothing I can do to stop it.”

~ ~ ~

The next day was the funeral for the first boy who’d been kidnapped. With the amount of remorse the unsub showed with his body, they figured it was likely they’d be at the funeral to show respect to the child they’d killed.

Hotch wanted Michael’s parents there as well. It was possible they’d recognize the unsub or even just be able to tell if someone was watching them. And the unsub… The unsub would definitely by watching.

After getting changed into dark clothing, Spencer went upstairs to look around Michael’s room again.

“Hey kid,” Morgan called, appearing in the door not moments later. “We’re almost ready to go.”

“You know, they’re right. Odds are we’ll catch the unsub when he dumps the body or when he tries to snatch another kid.”

“I know the odds, Reid.”

It was so negative. Spencer wasn’t normally a pessimist, but the whole situation was bullshit. It was his job to save this kid. Why couldn’t he just… just save him? “It’s weird. Some things never go away.” He stepped away from his friend to pick up something off Michael’s desk to show him. “When I was a kid, every boy I knew had piles of dinosaur toys.”

He set down the green tyrannosaurus where he found it.

“Not you?” Morgan asked knowingly.

“I had books and notebooks. My mom filled hundreds of them with poems by W.S. Erwin and songs by Bob Dylan. She liked it when I memorized them. She was convinced that they were watching us and writing songs about our lives.”

Where are you going with this? he asked himself. What is bothering you so much that you’re sitting here tossing around a six-year-old’s dinosaurs?

“Basements are the first part of a house to be built, right?” he blurted out. “So, if you’re having a recurring dream about a basement, kinda speaks to the core fundamentals of who you are as a person.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in dream analysis?”

“Freud’s been discredited, but Jung still has his merits… My dream? The dead boy? I’ve been having different versions of it since I was a little kid.”

“Hey.” Morgan made a few steps closer to him. “Have you talked to Lydia about this?”

“Why would I talk to Lydia about this?”

“Because you trust her,” Morgan insisted. “You love her a lot and I have the feeling she might be able to talk you through some of this. You know, no one would think less of you if you took a little time off to talk with her and get your head together.”

Spencer knit his eyebrows together. How would that help? It was a stupid dream anyway, wasn’t it? “I just want to find this boy,” he insisted, then stepped around Morgan and headed downstairs towards the car.

~ ~ ~

As Hotch handed the young Michael Bridges off to his family, Morgan was frustrated to see Spencer standing apart from the group, clearly lost in his own thoughts. This is what he wanted. They found Michael alive.

He wondered if it was a mistake to show him the Riley Jenkins case. Riley Jenkins had died at six, when Spencer was four, and many of the case details lined up to Spencer’s dreams: he was found in his basement, behind a washing machine, and lived in Las Vegas, very close to where Spencer lived.

“You know, this is about as good a day as we’re gonna get on this job.”

“I know,” Spencer mumbled.

“And yet you’re still thinking about a boy you’re not even sure if you really knew.”

His grimace didn’t reassure Morgan in his statement. “When I was four, my mother had a sense that I was in danger.”

“Reid, your mother wasn’t well.”

“I know facts about the case,” he argued.

“Reid, you’ve got a photographic memory. Odds are, you saw the story-- he was just a kid like you-- and it caught your imagination.”

“I don’t really think that you believe that.”

Profilers. He should know better than to lie to Reid. “You want to know what I really believe?” he mended. “I believe you could have done anything in this world with your life, and you chose to do this job. Your man Carl Jung says our unconscious is the key to our life’s pursuits.”

It took Spencer a moment to confirm that what Morgan said was correct. “Yeah… Yeah.”

“So, for whatever reason, that case was stuck in your brain all these years, and it not only led you to this career choice but to the same city where your mother lives, and for us to have the opportunity to save this child.”

It finally seemed like he was breaking through. Spencer gave him the smallest smile. But Derek knew that he wasn’t going to really get through to him. That’s why he had a backup plan.

“Like I said, this is probably as good a day as we’re gonna get, man. Enjoy your moment.”

Hotch appeared from around Morgan’s shoulder to join their group and Spencer seemed to think of something. “Hey, Hotch? Do you think it would be possible to wait until tomorrow to return home?”

Hotch looked down as if contemplating, then turned to Morgan. “Do you think you could find something to do in Vegas for the night?”

Derek didn’t try to stop the grin that was spreading across his face. Hotch knew that no one on the team would argue about a night off in Vegas. Especially not him. So the two of them wandered off, but as they left, Derek could tell Spencer was still thinking about Riley Jenkins.

Alright, plan B then… 

Hotch gave him a questioning look as he pulled out his phone and dialed a familiar number, but Morgan didn’t care. The whole team could listen for all he cared, if it meant Spencer got out of this slump.

“Hello?”

“Lydia? When was the last time you spoke with Spencer?”

“Uh… he sent me a goodnight text last night? But that’s been our only communication while he’s been in Vegas. Why?”

“I think you should give him a call and ask about his nightmares.”

“He hasn’t told me about any nightmares…”

“I know. But he’s woken up shouting twice on this case so far. He told me about it, but I just can’t seem to help.”

“How do you propose I bring it up to him?”

“You can tell him I told you. He’s gonna know I interfered either way.”

“Okay… Thanks, Derek.”

“Good luck, kiddo.”

Tags: @kris-stuff​, @wooya1224​, @bispences​, @anotherr-fine-mess​, @eddysocs​

[willows-adventures-in-words]

I’m gonna try to get the rest of the chapters I’d written for this posted before the end of the year.

Life is Never what you Expect Chapter 9 Word Count: 2823

_______________________

As Jackie was getting himself ready to leave his thoughts went back to what Anti had said. Jack had wanted Anti to come here. Jackie was so unsure. Nothing felt right. Maybe he was paranoid and Anti was just a reclusive weirdo. Cause otherwise Jack would know. Right? And Jack would never put them in harms way like this. Not purposely. It's been three full days now; there was no sign of Anti hurting any of them... Nothing. Was... would that be normal? Three days without food. Humans can last... what was it? Two weeks? Jackie sighed and rested his hands on the bathroom counter as he leaned against it. Maybe... maybe he should find some common ground between them. Looking up at the mirror, blue eyes greeting him. Jackie let out a sigh and turned away. Shutting off the light, he left the room.

Marvin exited their laundry room. It wasn't that he didn't want Jameson to wash his dirty clothes. He actually didn't mind, since the two of them had done each others laundry countless times back when they were roommates in university. Marvin just didn't want him to be busy doing everyone's laundry if it could be avoided, since he knew he would. “Hey, you ready to go now?” Chase called over to him.

“Yeah, yeah, let me grab my keys.” Marvin listened to them joke around, taking a jab at Marvin, who shook his head with a smile. Finally, he started over to the door, where his friends were waiting, and couldn't help notice Jackie's eyes. It wasn't his business, or anyone else's for that matter, but sometimes he couldn't help think that it was a shame that Jackie didn't feel comfortable with how he looked. When he was here at home he was fine, but once he would leave the house he always hid his green eye behind a blue colored contact.

“You're finally leaving?”

Marvin looked over at Jameson. “What do you mean finally?”

Jameson gave a smile as Jackie spoke up. “Yep. You sure you don't wanna come?”

“Mm. Yes I-” There was a pause that didn't go unnoticed. “You guys are busy. Getting the housework done is the least I can do.”

“Sorry. I know we usually clean house on Sundays but-” Chase barely finished the word 'but' before Jameson motioned for him to stop.

“There's no need to apologize. I understand that this is important.”

Jackie rested a hand on Chase's shoulder. “Yeah, exactly. This is more important then housework. I'm gonna make sure you get to have your kids no matter what.” Chase glanced between the three of them. Marvin and Jameson both voiced their agreement and Chase nearly started crying on the spot.

“I couldn't have asked for better friends than you guys...” Chases voice cracked slightly by the end of his statement.

“Damn right,” Jackie stated as he pulled him into a hug.

“You don't have to do any of this alone. You've always got our support,” Marvin told him. Jackie reached out to him and, barely catching his shirt, tugged him over to join in for a group hug.

That's when they heard the sound of an old-fashioned camera. Pulling away they looked to the source of the sound to see Jameson holding up his phone. He smiled. “I apologize. It was such a candid photo opportunity.”

Chase laughed then rubbed at his eyes for a second. Taking a step back towards the door, he said, “You sure you don't wanna join us?” Jameson nodded and told him he was sure. “Send me that picture, alright?”

Jameson chuckled. “Will do.” He waved them off as the group of three headed out the door before looking down to his phone to do what he said he would. Afterwords, he finished cleaning up the living room before heading upstairs to get his clothes in order. When he was done tidying up his room, Jameson carried the clothes hamper out into the hall before he paused and glanced over to Anti's room. He set it down, then walked over.

The door was cracked open. Even so, Jameson knocked and waited for an answer. “...What?” the response sounded tired.

“I'm sorry. Did I wake you?” Jameson asked, his hand resting on the door frame.

“No.”

Jameson paused for just a moment before asking, “May I come in?” The other man gave an answer of indifference. He hesitated for just a moment, before slowly pushing open the others door. Anti was seated with his back against the armrest in the corner of the futon looking at his phone. He lifted his eyes to Jameson. “Is there anything you need washed? I will have space with mine if you don't mind if our clothes are washed together.”

Anti shifted his gaze to the hamper sitting next to the dresser. It was a cloth one that could be folded up and put away when not in use. Each of the rooms had one identical to it. Anti got up and stuffed his phone in his pocket. “I guess I don't care.” He picked up the pair of jeans, which were carelessly deposited on the floor, and dumped them in the hamper. Pulling it off of its stand he left the room with Jameson.

The curtains were open, Anti noticed as they got back downstairs. Barely any sun managed between the clouds so it didn't really bother Anti much. The two lingered in the laundry room and talked as they waited for Marvins clothes to finish in the washer. Jameson told their guest about some of the households usual routines. How Sundays was the day where most of what they did was pre-decided. If nothing else came up, they would get together for breakfast before cleaning house and, in the afternoon after dinner, they would all hang out in the living room and watch movies. “...That's why Marvin was the only one I saw cleaning?”

Amusement shone on Jameson's face. “He likes to keep his work space clean. I can guarantee you his room is not nearly as neat as the kitchen.” Jameson nearly missed the faint smile that touched Antis lips as amusement shone in his eyes. Though both were temporary and quickly hidden away.

“I bet he's happy I'm here then.”

“I'm sure. He can take a break with the work divided between the two of you.” There was a slight dip in their conversation. Anti opened his mouth to speak but stopped and instead muttered something about taking care of the dishes. Jameson, curious, watched him walk over to the sink before glancing over at the dial for the washer and concluded it wouldn't do to just wait for it to finish. So instead he stepped into the bathroom attached to the laundry room to start cleaning there.

Stupid. That's what he was. Why was he even thinking about asking for his phone number? Potential friends? It wasn't going to happen. It's pointless to make friends; especially with normal humans. He should have just stayed home. There was technically nothing Jack could have done to force him to come here. Just like there was nothing stopping him from leaving and going back home. He could just walk back at night. It wouldn't take that long. “You don't have a certain way you wash your clothes do you?”

Anti paused, his train of thoughts stopping as he looked back. Jameson was emptying the washing machine. “...No.” The man looked back at him. Anti shook his head. “It doesn't matter.” He turned back to the dishes. “Wash it however you want.” It wasn't long before he heard both the washer and dryer running. Anti worked quickly to finish the dishes.

“...Shit,” he muttered when he realized he finished in less than half the amount of time it should have taken. Grabbing half of the clean dishes he dropped them back into the soapy water. Anti sighed, frustrated with himself. He was getting complacent around Jameson. That wasn't something he could afford to do around people who didn't know. Who he didn't want to know. He leaned over the sink exhausted. All he wanted was peace and quiet. Especially right now...

“Anti?” He blinked a few times before he turned around. Jameson set the window cleaner down on the counter-top. “Are you alright?”

Anti turned away and for a moment didn't answer. Since the answer wasn't something he wanted to discuss. Finally he told him, “I'm just tired,” as he turned back to the dishes.

Jameson was quiet as Anti got back to work. Though his silence didn't last long. He stepped up next to him and lightly touched his arm to get his attention. “Maybe you should rest. I can finish these.”

“I don't want to sleep,” he told him knowing well enough what he meant.

“...May I ask why?” Antis silence was enough of an answer. He hesitated, wondering if there was something he could do without being intrusive. “Do you want to be alone?” Jameson asked him, almost cautiously.

Anti opened his mouth to respond but stopped. He stopped his work as well. After a silence not quite uncomfortable, he said quietly, “I don't know...” Without another word on the matter Jameson picked up the dish towel and proceeded to help with the rest of the dishes.

During the next few hours, Jameson stayed close by Anti as they worked through the rest of the house. Other then the music he put on, Jameson offered small talk. From the responses Anti gave him, he learned a few things. It seemed his initial impression of him was pretty accurate. Being alone a lot and not caring for crowded places. And from how he seemed earlier, Jameson suspected that something must have happened in his past. Something that still hung heavily over him. That made him want to isolate himself. But it also seemed like he was trying to get past some of that. Or just having a couple people around was helping him out of that. Either way Jameson hoped that he would decide to join them in the evening for their weekly get-together.

By the time the others came back Anti was sitting on the corner of the couch wearing headphones playing the Last of Us. Jameson was seated on the two seater, closest to where Anti was, with a book. Looking back, Jameson asked, “How did it go?” Chase eagerly told him about one of the apartments they went to. Jackie glanced over at Anti before leaving to the bathroom. Marvin took off his shoes and lingered joining in the conversation.

Anti had sent a slight glance their way but otherwise was quiet, pretending not to hear them. It was difficult for him to sit there when all he wanted was to leave the room. He'd saved his game not even a half hour ago so he wouldn't be repeating much if he quit. “I agree that the first one was nice but you need to keep in mind how much it would be,” Marvin spoke up.

“I mean, yeah, it's a little more expensive but it has more space for my kids. And you remember what the lady there said about...” Chase trailed off as Anti took off his headphones and got up. Dropping the headphones and controller onto the couch, Anti ignored the stares as he headed for the stairs.

Jackie stepped out of the hallway just in time to see Anti heading upstairs. He glanced after him for a second before looking back to the others. Opening his mouth to speak, he hesitated for a second before asking, “Did, something happen?”

Chase let out a sigh. “No. He's just avoiding me,” he muttered. Jameson looked back to Chase for a moment before turning his attention to Marvin.

“Marvin.” Marvin, relieved with the break in the awkward tension, turned to Jameson. “I've taken care of your laundry and dropped it off in your room.”

“Let me guess, it's neatly folded on my bed.”

With a hint of a smile Jameson told him, “It might be.”

“And they call me the house-wife.” Chase snorted and tried to refrain from laughing at Marvins response.

Jackie, however, didn't try as hard to hide his amusement. “That's because you do the most housework.”

Marvin turned to Jackie. “I have to if we ever want clean dishes.”

“You really don't though.”

“Yeah,” Chase said jumping into the conversation. “You only let me take care of them a few times since I've been here.”

Sending a glance between them, Marvin stated, “In case you forgot, it's my job to take care of the kitchen.”

“I thought it was your job to do the cooking?” Jackie asked.

“Yes, the cooking,” Jameson stated. “Marvin, I do understand, but try to keep in mind that you do not need to tend to everything in the kitchen. Let us help from time-to-time.”

“I just...” his voice drifted off as he swallowed and turned his attention anywhere other than them. Marvin gripped the hem of his shirt as he spoke again, though in a quieter voice than before. “I just, want to feel like I'm useful...”

Jackie stepped over and lightly rested a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I didn't mean...”

Marvin shook his head and looked up. “It's okay. I'm fine. I just- I'm gonna-” He just motioned aimlessly towards the kitchen before stepping out of Jackie's touch and ducked out of the room. Jackie opened his mouth to object only to turn to Jameson and Chase silently asking for help.

Jameson had already gotten to his feet by the time Jackie had looked over. He hesitated, at first unsure, before he gave Jackie a reassuring smile before following Marvin. The man knew his friend has self-esteem problems but hadn't been aware it was so bad. It wasn't something either of them went out of their way to discuss. Marvin stood aimlessly looking for something to do when Jameson approached him. “...Marvin?”

“I'm fine, really. I just-”

“I'm sorry.”

Marvin looked at him fully. Part of him wanted to laugh. Wanted to force one out and tell him that there was no reason he had to apologize. Tell him it was fine and he didn't mean how it sounded. He couldn't quiet manage the laugh. “Why are you apologizing? I was just... I didn't mean to make things weird.” His voice drifted a bit at the end as he shifted his gaze away from his friend.

“...I didn't mean to make you upset.” Marvin opened his mouth to speak but refrained himself when Jameson held up a hand to stop him. “I do understand Marvin. I know saying it is not true does not help. We did not mean ill of you. We were teasing and just wish to help so you can rest from time-to-time.”

“... I know.”

Stepping the extra couple steps over, Jameson rested a hand on his arm. Marvin looked up at him. “I think you are doing a fantastic job. And I'm not the only one who thinks so.” Marvin's lips twitched and a hint of a smile touched his lips for a second. Jameson silently offered a hug which Marvin accepted.

They were quiet for a minute before Marvin took a deep breath. He swallowed after then pulled back. “Um... I'm gonna get started on some of the prep for dinner.”

Jameson nodded then told him, “Let us know if you need some help.” Marvin offered a smile before Jameson turned and left him to his work.

Though it didn't take long before Chase entered the kitchen. Chase hesitated for a moment then asked, “Hey, uh, Marvin?” Marvin's motions faltered. “Sorry, I can ask later if your busy.”

Marvin turned to face him. “No, it's fine,” he told him, not really wanting to admit that Chase startled him. “What's up?”

“Well... could you, teach me how to cook?” Marvin blinked, confusion and surprise clearly showing. “I mean, I know how to cook. But just the easy stuff. And I can't just make my kids mac and cheese everyday.”

His expression softened and he smiled as he told Chase, “I'm sure they'd like that though.”

Chase chuckled. “Yeah, I don't doubt it.”

Marvin hesitated, wondering if he was good enough to teach someone else. “...You want to help me with dinner tonight?” Chases expression lit up and, really, that was all the answer Marvin needed.