#being the substitute/stand-in will always be a shitty feeling

[tourettesdog]

Okay

Based on the prompts "Lancer is a good teacher and cares" and "Well, shit. He can't change back!"

For @majorastudios and @lexosaurus Word count: 9,563 Warnings: panic attacks, child neglect (more implied) AO3 Link ~

Danny would be the first to admit that he had a knack for finding himself in stupid situations. 

Or, at least, they had a knack for finding him.

This was all to say that the last place Danny expected to find himself on a bright and sunny July afternoon was trapped in an elevator with Mr. Lancer, of all people.

Now, the situation could have been worse— and it was. For all the shitty luck that Danny possessed in the universe, it seemed that there was always another giant middle finger waiting around the next corner. 

Danny hadn’t thought much when he heard the grinding sound of the parking deck’s elevator as one of the mechanisms securing the cable snapped. He’d been out flying when it happened and simply bolted towards the sound, determined to phase whoever was inside to safety. It had come as a shock, finding the elevator occupied by someone he knew. What came as more of a surprise, however, was the sickly glow of a ghost shield snapping into place before Danny could follow through with that plan.

It had been a close thing, putting on the brakes before he collided, Lancer in tow, with the glowing wall of the elevator.

Unfortunately, the doors had long-since shut and he couldn’t touch the crooked metal without meeting the painful shock of the shield.

Just being inside of it had Danny feeling woozy.

All he could do was stand awkwardly on the elevator floor, his stance a bit crooked as the elevator had sagged into a tilt, off-balance as it was in the shaft.

It was at least preferable to the thing crashing down to the ground floor.

Lancer, for what it was worth, was managing better than most would given the circumstances. At least, he had stopped screaming about a minute ago. 

If there was one positive thing Danny could gleen from the experience, it would have to be hearing his teacher utter a hearty  ‘fuck’  rather than the usual literary substitute. 

Not that he had much time to enjoy it at present.

Lancer’s chest heaved and his knees shook. He leaned against the side of the elevator with his arms splayed out across the metal hand railing on that side, his eyes flickering all around the small cabin. Danny knew that ghost shields never felt pleasant even to humans, but in his distress Mr. Lancer seemed to favor leaning into the buzz of the ectoplasmic energy over standing. Granted, given the shakiness of his legs, they might not hold him much anyway.

The metal of the elevator groaned, dust cascading from the paneled roof as it slid a couple inches down the shaft, eliciting a startled yelp from Lancer as he grabbed the railing with white knuckles.

Danny supposed there was more than one reason he should stay anchored to that railing.

“H–hey,” Danny said, trying to get his teacher’s attention. He wasn’t exactly sure what to say, but he didn’t think that awkwardly standing there, staring the man down, was conducive to settling his nerves.

Mr. Lancer’s gaze snapped up to meet his own. His eyes stretched wide, as if he hadn’t noticed Phantom’s presence until that moment, even though the ghost boy had just scooped him up before unceremoniously dropping him back down when the shield burst to life.

“Ph-Phantom?” he quavered.

“Yeah, um, who else?” Danny said, the words leaving his lips before he could think better of it. He cringed as soon as they did, chastising himself. It probably wasn’t a good time to make sarcastic jibes.

If Mr. Lancer noticed the snark, however, he didn’t comment on it. The toes of his shoes dug into the dirty linoleum on the elevator floor and he licked his lips nervously, eyes still darting around the cabin as though an exit might materialize from the ectoshield.

When he didn’t say anything, Danny felt like he needed to fill the silence. Anything to drown out the low hum of the ectoshield and the rapid hammer of Mr. Lancer’s frightened heartbeat.

“So, I know this looks bad but everything is going to be okay,” Danny said. His voice echoed in the small space, the tinny sound amplified by the metal around him.

Lancer just blinked, his pale green eyes, so much duller than Phantom’s own, stretched as wide as saucers.

“H–how can you be sure?” he said.

Danny’s eyes trailed around the elevator, ghosting over the green glare of the ectoshield. It completely covered the elevator box, though the floor of the shield had been thankfully recessed beneath the linoleum. 

Danny could still feel the hum it gave off through his boots.

“I’ll think of something,” he said, more to himself.

Mr. Lancer blanched, his face practically as pale as Danny’s hair. “Can’t you just—” the words died on his tongue as he glanced at the green shield once more, shivering slightly. 

“Yeah, the shield kind of complicates things,” Danny said with a sigh. “Not their best design choice.”

He didn’t have to elaborate on  whose design choice had crafted this coffin disguised as a convenient mode of transportation. 

Lancer let out a shaky breath. “It probably seemed more practical in theory,” he said, each word as shaky as his legs.

Danny nodded, crossing his arms. “Like, I can see what they were going for, but you’d think after over a year of help from a ghost they’d consider maybe— just  maybe  — that trapping people in a small ghost shield suspended three stories up  might not be a great idea.”

“Oh,  Watership Down,” Lancer said faintly, sliding slightly down the wall, leaning more heavily against the railing. Danny hadn’t realized just how much he was rambling, or how faint Lancer was looking in the wake of his ill-timed tirade.

“Sorry,” Danny said sheepishly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Probably not the best time for that.”  

Lancer nodded, his eyes wide and staring at the floor. “Yes, I don’t think it is,” he said.

Danny let out a long, drawn out sigh. He ran a hand through his mop of white hair, trying and failing to focus his thoughts on anything constructive. He was uncomfortably aware of the small, tight space. Nothing quite as claustrophobic as the thermos, but without any sure way to escape it had Danny’s core thrumming uncomfortably. 

Lancer just stared at him. Danny couldn’t fault the man. For all that Mr. Lancer had seen of Phantom— considering the many times he had rocketed through his classroom wall— Danny supposed that this was probably his first time seeing Phantom up close. Danny could see his own glow reflected in his teacher’s eyes— or perhaps it was mostly the light that the ghost shield emitted.

“I don’t suppose you have a phone on you?” Danny asked him.

Considering Mr. Lancer hadn’t reached to grab one, he thought he already knew the answer…

Sure enough, Lancer replied with a hollow, “Left it in the car.”

Danny tried to strain his ears for any outside sounds, desperate to drag his focus off of the small confines of the elevator. He could hear the rumble of traffic, but not much else besides that. The concrete walls of the parking garage were too dense, and the buzz of the ghost shield too distracting.

“Looks like we might have to wait for someone then,”Danny said nervously, his eyes trailing to the buttons on the elevator. 

Moving slowly, careful not to startle Mr. Lancer, Danny crossed the short distance to those buttons. He was closer than Lancer was and his footsteps much lighter. The man tensed slightly as Danny moved, but didn’t say anything. 

A layer of the ghost shield danced over the buttons, a rippling wall of green that sparked with electricity. It had to be one of his parents’ newer shields, judging by the bright color and the intensity of the static it gave off. Just being near the thing had his own ectoplasm buzzing uncomfortably.

Danny glanced back at Lancer, finding his teacher’s eyes trained on him. There was fear there, though also a quiet curiosity. It reminded Danny that he hadn’t seen Mr. Lancer at his parents' last few ghost seminars. That, for all the nervous fear mongering his teacher had given into in those first few months after the portal sparked to life, he seemed… much more reserved now. He didn’t show the same open support for Phantom that his students did, but Danny would take reserved caution over open hostility any day.

Glancing back at the elevator buttons, Danny bit his lip. He couldn’t exactly ask Lancer to press the buttons himself. Even if he carried him, there was no saying if the elevator would shift again once he placed him back down. 

Steeling his nerves, Danny held out his finger for the emergency button on the control panel.

The ghost shield rejected his ectoplasm immediately, sending a current of electricity through his body in a painful jolt. Sparks shot out where his finger met the shield, and Danny could only watch in horror as those sparks tangled with the control panel itself. He could see the current race through the metal, rippling beneath the buttons in bright cracks and pops. 

One last spark ignited at the top and, with a loud crack, the lights of the elevator shut off.

Danny stumbled backwards as it happened, hardly stopping himself from careening into the opposite wall of the shield. In the absence of the elevator’s lights, the space was bathed in a sickly wash of green. 

Lancer swore again, the sound enough to have Danny spinning around to make sure he was okay. Lancer had crouched, both hands still held firmly onto the railing as he lowered himself to the elevator floor with shaking knees. At a glance, Danny could have mistaken him for a ghost with how the light of the ectoshield painted his skin.

“Are you okay?” Danny asked, his voice sounding rather small, shaky with his building unease. 

He doubted that the elevator had put off much of a distress signal before it lit up like a Christmas tree.

Lancer just slowly shook his head, staring at something only he could see. He was practically sitting now, his hands shaking on the railing, barely able to hold on any longer. Thankfully, the elevator didn’t shift as he sank to the floor.

“I’m sorry,” Danny said, glancing back at the elevator buttons. A thin line of smoke trailed from the emergency button, giving off an acrid scent that mixed with the ozone of the shield.

Lancer looked up at that, the sudden movement in his periphery causing Danny to snap his attention back to him. Danny was surprised to find his brows furrowed.

“What are you sorry for?” Lancer croaked out.

Danny blinked. He stared. He looked between the buttons and Lancer, now shaking his own head. “I… broke the buttons?” he said, confused.

Surely Lancer hadn’t missed that lightshow.

Lancer’s brows drew so close together they nearly formed one line. His frown stretched almost as far, pulling at his black facial hair.

“You just hurt yourself trying to press it,” he said slowly.

Danny nodded his head, still unsure. “Yeah… and I broke it?”

If Lancer’s hands weren’t currently clutching onto the railing for dear life, Danny had a feeling they would find their way to pinch at his tear ducts— a gesture he often adopted when faced with a frustrating situation or student. 

“You… you knew the shield would hurt you and still tried to press that button,” Lancer said, his voice now tinged with exasperation. 

Danny’s own brows drew together, frustration drawing his teeth to clench. “ And  I said I was sorry,” he challenged.

It wasn’t his fault there was a ghost shield. It wasn’t his fault it tampered with the buttons. He’d  tried , and if Lancer couldn’t accept his apology, Danny wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do.

It’s not like he could storm off right now. Even if he could transform back, he had no way of knowing where the elevator was within the shaft, or how easily he could escape it without unsettling the delicate balance. 

Not that he could transform. Not here, not now.

Something strange ghosted across Lancer’s face, the expression hollow and haunted, shadowed oddly by the light from the shield; it glowed so brightly off of his bald head.

“I know you didn’t mean to,” he said, his words hushed, echoing slightly in the enclosed space. “I’m not arguing with you, Phantom, I… Are you all right?”

The question came so out of left field it struck Danny dumb. He fidgeted uncomfortably, noticing for the first time that he was cradling his left hand in his right.

Glancing down, Danny saw that his glove had been singed by the contact with the ghost shield. Just like the buttons, it smoked faintly, revealing angry green flesh beneath.

He was shaking. When did he start shaking?

Clenching his hand into a fist, Danny thrust it behind his back and out of sight. “I’m fine,” he said, locking his eyes onto Lancer, as if challenging him to say otherwise.

That strange expression persisted on his teacher’s face. If Danny had to give it a name, he supposed the closest thing he could compare it to was pity. Something about that squeezed uncomfortably at his core.

Danny was used to breaking things, and he was even more used to being blamed for breaking things— whether he had a part in it or not. That button had been a lifeline, possibly the only real thing that could ensure Lancer a safe reunion with the ground…

Why wasn’t he angry?

An uncomfortable silence filled the elevator. Danny could hear a siren somewhere outside, though it sounded far too distant to be something headed their way. Danny had no way of knowing how long it would take for help to arrive, or if it even would in time.

Danny was still shaking. It had gotten worse, if anything. The glow of the ghost shield was too bright and the walls of the elevator too narrow. The tilt in the floor too drastic, the hum of the shield resonating too discordantly with his core.

Danny had crouched down too, though he couldn’t say when he sank to the floor. He hugged at his knees, suddenly very aware of the summer heat. The elevator had been stifling to begin with, devoid of fresh air and baked by the sun. The ghost shield didn’t help, putting off a crackling heat that seemed to sap the breath from his lungs. Breath he didn’t need but wanted.

When did his breathing get so heavy, anyway? “Phantom?” The voice was quiet, unsure. It sounded both miles away and entirely too close, whispering in his ear. 

Danny stared at his gloves. The shield painted them green, like fresh ectoplasm over his hands. His arm still stung from the shock— still buzzed with the latent energy it gave off.

A distant echo of something far worse that still clung to him, leaving fern-like marks that rippled up that same arm.

“Phantom?”

He was Phantom, wasn’t he? That was his name, but he didn’t feel much like anything right now. More smoke and mirror than boy or even ghost. Phantom was supposed to be a hero, not some child who sank to his knees with fear squeezing tight enough at his chest to burst.

“Phantom, are you okay?” Was he okay? What did it mean to be okay? When was the last time he really was okay?

Somewhere distant Danny knew he was spiraling. He could practically feel his own awareness slipping through his fingers, lost to that tidal wave of fear. 

“Breathe with me, okay?”

He didn’t need to breathe, but he still did— sucking down deep gulps of air, like some awful mockery of a fish gasping on the bank of a sun-baked river.

“In and out. Breathe with me, it’s okay.”

How many times had Jazz said those exact same words? They were practically ingrained in Danny’s psyche, as much a part of him as the hazmat suit had made itself, fused as it was to his ectoplasm.

“That’s it. In and out.”

When had he shut his eyes? For all the green staining his eyelids, they might as well still be open.

“You’re doing great. Just keep breathing.”

An odd thing to say to a ghost (not that Lancer knew the half of that), but not unappreciated. Air felt good, as humid and musty as it was. His core followed the pattern, practically imitating the humble tattoo of a heart.

He could hear a heartbeat too. Faster than his own, though slower and more timely than the pulse of a core. Human. Safe. 

Danny focused on the sound. It almost drowned out the hum around him. It almost was enough to lull him into a safe, comfortable rest.

Almost, but not quite. Not enough to completely dash the ever-present buzz of the shield beneath him, dragging Danny back to the coffin of an elevator and its lurid green light.

Slowly, Danny opened his eyes. The light of the shield was not particularly bright, but it still burned his retinas. The hum seemed louder now, the static of it buzzing against his skin and frayed nerves. He blinked owlishly, his eyes roving over the rippling walls of green—

They landed on the person sitting nearby.

Danny couldn’t help but flinch back, surprised by the close proximity. With how glued Lancer had been to the railing, he would not have expected the man to move, and yet…

Here he sat in the middle of the elevator in front of him. 

"Feeling better?" Lancer asked. He leaned away slightly from Danny, but did not make any retreat.

For a moment Danny wondered if he'd transformed. Why else would Lancer have risked shifting the elevator just to, what, comfort him?

Danny held up his hands, half-expecting to find human skin.

His eyes met the same pair of green-stained white gloves.

"That was quite the panic attack," Lancer said when Danny didn't answer. 

Panic attack… that was definitely the phrase for it. Danny could recognize the lingering fatigue and oversensitive nerves that followed one.

That spiraling sense of losing himself still lingered too, along with tears rolling down his cheeks.

"Sorry," was all Danny could think to say, wiping at his face.

"Why are you apologizing?"

It seemed like a genuine enough question, not that Danny felt he could give a genuine enough answer.

"Dunno," he said, hugging his knees more tightly, rubbing his good hand over the other. "Just seems like a pretty inconvenient time and place for a panic attack."

Of all the places he’d had a panic attack, this one maybe ranked a four out of ten. If he was being generous.

Lancer sighed. He settled down a bit beside him, though did not at all relax. Danny could see how his fingertips dug into the linoleum like cat claws desperately trying to find purchase on a branch.

“I don’t know that there’s ever a convenient time or place for them,” he mused.

Danny rolled his eyes. “I shouldn’t be having one in the first place,” he muttered darkly.

Lancer’s brow quirked at that. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

Danny picked his head up off of his arms, glaring at the man. “I came here to save you, not to, what— have an impromptu therapy session? Whatever this is.” He gestured around the cabin of the elevator, as if this  whatever was some physical concept he could point to.

“Well, we’re not going anywhere anytime soon, I think,” the teacher said. He didn’t look at Danny directly, his eyes trailing over the shut doors of the elevator. “Why not humor me?”

“I don’t feel like any jokes right now,” Danny quipped, pillowing his chin back on his arms.

Lancer chuckled, the sound odd and out of place in Danny’s ears. “No, I don’t suppose you would— frankly, I don’t either, but… humor me. Why don’t you feel like you can have a panic attack?”

Danny wasn’t sure when the script had flipped on him. It hadn’t been that long ago when Lancer was clinging to the railing, shouting in fear while Danny tried to weigh his options.

Now, sat on the grimy linoleum floor of the elevator, Lancer seemed remarkably calm and Danny… he felt remarkably small.

Smaller than usual.

He stubbornly wiped at his face again, hoping that no evidence of tears remained. Lancer might not know it was him, but he still didn’t want to be seen crying in front of his teacher. 

“I’m supposed to be a hero— and a ghost. Why should I have a panic attack over something like this?” he asked petulantly, digging his nails into his knees.

Lancer did not reply right away. He was quiet, seeming to pick his words very carefully before opening his mouth once more.

“Well, what is bothering you? Was it the shock from the shield?”

Danny’s eyes roved from Lancer to the buttons almost absently. He couldn’t tell if the shock was still reverberating through his ectoplasm, or if it was the mere memory now. The phantom feeling of the tide tugging at your waist while falling asleep after a day spent in the waves.

“I don’t… I don’t think so— I don’t know,” Danny stammered, his brows bunching together with frustration as he considered it. 

The glare of the ectoshield taunted him, rippling around him like light refracting through the water of a large aquarium.

“Is it something else?” Lancer asked gently.

Danny didn’t look at him. He stared at the buttons, transfixed. If he looked at them just the right way, they sort of formed an odd face with too many eyes. It reminded Danny of a ghost he saw once while lost in the zone, drifting a little too far past the Far Frozen’s snowy mountains.

“Maybe,” he said quietly. “It’s part of it, I guess, but… I mean the shield sucks, and it’s small in here and reminds me of the thermos, and it’s too hot for my core and—”

Danny stopped abruptly, his eyes locking onto Lancer’s, finding the man watching him with wide, fascinated eyes. It had his core stuttering uncomfortably and a blush rising to his cheeks, no doubt as green as the hazy light from the shield.

Ducking his head down into his knees, Danny muttered, “I don’t even know why I’m telling you this.”

Another sigh from Lancer. He was doing that a lot today— he always did, really. “It sounds like you needed someone to talk to,” he mused.

Danny just shrugged, refusing to meet his eyes. His face positively burned. “I have friends,” he mumbled.

“Are they who you usually talk to about these sort of things?”

Danny clamped his eyes shut tight, trying to calm the unsteady thrum of his core. “I guess,” he said dismissively.

A pause stretched between them and Lancer shuffled uncomfortably in it. Danny tensed as he did, worried the elevator might shift again, but it seemed as though it had found a solid place to rest in the shaft.

“Do you…” Lancer trailed off, sounding very unsure of the question lying on his tongue. 

When he didn’t continue, Danny cracked open one bright green eye. “Do I what?” he challenged, tensing himself for whatever question might follow.

The look Lancer gave him would not be out of place on someone who had just watched a sad commercial with sat wet dogs. “Do you… have any adults to talk to? Any ghosts that look after you?”

Whatever question Danny had been expecting, he hadn’t expected one to strike so surely at his core. It thrummed like the strings of a violin, magnified until it reverberated through his entire being. Danny wondered if Lancer might feel it through the floor, over the hum of the shield.

“What?” was all he could say. No other words would find their way to his lips. His mind had shut down, lingering on the question with an uneasy, empty feeling that resonated from his core and hollowed out his belly.

“Is there anyone that looks after you?” Lancer asked again, his tone firm but no less gentle for it.

Danny stared straight ahead, seeing nothing as he let the question turn in his mind. His first thought was of Jazz. Ever since she found out about him, she’d stepped up in ways he could not have hoped for or imagined. She kept the first aid kit stocked. She checked him over for injuries. Jazz asked Danny how he was feeling, and wouldn’t always let him get away with a dismissive answer. 

She’d even started to cook them breakfast these last few weeks. Her first few attempts were about as disastrous as their mother’s own cooking— no doubt unaided by the tainted ingredients— but she was getting better. She had a little fridge in her room now with ingredients kept far away from the lab samples, and for the first time in a long while Danny was remembering what eggs tasted like without the acidic bite of ectoplasm.

Danny opened his mouth to give Lancer an affirmative answer, but froze when the man’s first question rang in his ears.

“Do you… have any adults to talk to?”

A stone dropped into Danny’s belly as he realized with a sick sense of dread just how much Jazz had risen to the forefront of his mind as a caretaker, completely eclipsing their parents.

Danny’s mouth was dry as he swallowed a lump in his throat. He could feel Lancer’s eyes burning into him as he took far too long to answer— his silence about as much of an answer as anything else, really.

“Y–yes,” Danny said, though his shaky words hardly convinced himself.

They certainly didn’t seem to convince Lancer, either. His brow quirked slightly before he schooled his features into a softer expression. “Do you?” he pressed.

Danny nodded, even as his mind spiraled once more, wallowing through a current of memories. He tried to think of the last time he felt comfortable talking to his parents, but only flashes of uncomfortable silences and nervous lies came to mind. He tried to think of the last time he felt safe in their care, but only the memory of dodging weapons and hiding injuries swam to the forefront of that current.

At some point Danny’s nod turned into a tilt— a shake. He was shaking his head, ever so slightly. His core squeezed and fresh tears pricked at the corners of his eyes.

Lancer sighed yet again, the sound bone-weary and deep with exhaustion. “Where do you go when you’re not in Amity?” he asked. “Where do you stay?”

It was too personal of a question, one that Danny never would have thought to answer from a civilian. He’d been asked so many things by the people of Amity— shouted questions of his death and of his life before then. Each grated at his nerves and his core with an unrivaled discomfort, never something he would think to acknowledge with more than a joke, at most.

Yet… Danny didn’t resent the question coming from Lancer. It didn’t upset him, not in the way it normally did. The discomfort was there, but it had more to do with his own uncertain answer than the fact that Lancer had dared to ask the question in the first place.

It was Danny’s turn to sigh now, feeling his entire body sag into the motion as he hugged his knees still tighter, practically phasing them into his torso.

All he could do was shrug.

He knew where Danny Fenton went at night, but Phantom didn’t exactly have a place to rest his head. 

Lancer shuffled a bit closer until he was sitting directly beside Danny. He didn’t scoot away, almost welcoming his presence.

“I won’t pretend to know what it’s like being in your shoes,” Lancer began, his eyes locked onto Danny as he spoke, “but I’m here to talk if you ever need someone to be there.”

Danny blinked, staring. He hardly knew what to say— could hardly find any words in his head. After a pause, all that would come out was a hesitant, “Yeah?”

Lancer smiled, the gesture small as it tugged at his lips. “Yes. I’m a teacher and part of my job is to be there for my students.” 

Danny frowned at the word. “I’m not one of your students, though,” he said defensively, shuffling his feet. “I’m just a ghost.”

For one gut-wrenching moment Danny wondered if Lancer had figured him out. He couldn’t imagine how. His ghost form changed too much, both impacted by the ectoplasm in his system and by his own thoughts, as Frostbite once explained to him. The sharpened ears, the greenish tint of his skin— the broader shoulders and squared chin, more masculine than he dared hope for.

Even just the glow was enough to throw his features into a differing relief, but above it all there was one factor that Danny knew kept his identity safe:

The difference between flesh and ectoplasm. Life and death. Why ever assume something that breathed would also harbor something as innate to death as a core?

(Nevermind that he had been breathing this entire time, not that he needed it as he was.)

Yet if Lancer noticed the breathing or somehow made that leap of logic that saddled the line between life and death as surely as Danny did himself, he didn’t show it. He simply smiled sadly, meeting Phantom’s eyes with a kindness he rarely had shown to him in this form.

“Maybe not, but you must have been a student in this town at some point,” he said, his eyes trailing to his hands in his lap, fingers nervously rubbing his knuckles. “I might not be an expert on ghosts, but after teaching for as long as I have, I’d like to think that I know a thing or two about teenagers. You stay in this town enough that it must have been your home— that it must still be.”

He wasn’t wrong, of course. Mr. Lancer didn’t know the details, but his words rang truer than he knew. They echoed in Danny’s mind, as hollow and uncomfortable as they were right. 

Amity was Phantom’s home. It was his home.

Just hearing someone who wasn’t Sam, Tucker, or Jazz acknowledge that had the tears pricking at Danny’s eyes spilling over.

A hand tentatively patted his shoulder and Danny leaned into the touch, finding more peace in it than he thought he should.

A peace that, like many good things, did not last very long.

A familiar siren cut through the concrete, the sound grating at Danny’s frayed nerves with a fresh onslaught of fear. He couldn’t help but jolt at the sound, jumping into the air where he hovered, staring at the elevator doors.

“Phantom?” Lancer asked nervously.

The siren practically echoed in his skull, the sound far too familiar and far too disquieting. How many times had he heard it barreling towards a ghost attack, knowing that its presence would only complicate the battle? How many times had he been glad for the warning, if only so he could escape?

There was no escape right now, however. No way for him to slip out of sight, either through the walls of the elevator or into his own human skin. He couldn’t transform, not with Lancer right next to him and his secret already hanging by a gnawed thread.

Mr. Lancer must have heard the siren himself now, judging by the way his eyes moved from Phantom to the elevator doors. Danny couldn’t help but notice that his eyes brightened with relief.

“Lord of the Flies, it sounds like someone’s finally coming,” he said, that same relief carried on a much more relaxed sigh.

Danny bit his lip, unable to answer. He didn’t resent Mr. Lancer’s joy at hearing the siren, though it did come as a dark contrast to his own roiling emotions. 

“I don’t think they’re here to help,” he mumbled darkly, unable to suppress the resentment in his tone as he glared at the ectoshield warping over the elevator doors. “Not met at least.”

Danny heard Lancer suck in a sharp breath of air. He turned at the sound, finding his teacher watching him with renewed concern in his eyes. “They wouldn’t…” he said slowly, his own words trailing off as doubt crept into his tone.

Danny nodded. “They must’ve gotten some sort of alert when this thing went off,” he said, gesturing to the shield. 

“But they wouldn’t… you’re not…” Lancer tried again, his words no less convinced the second time around as he trailed off, his eyes widening when they fixed on the door.

The siren was so close now, echoing around the elevator. Each blaring note of the sound had Danny’s ears ringing and his core stuttering violently with fear. He absently drifted farther away from the elevator doors, watching them warily.

“If I could just explain to them—”

This time Lancer’s words were cut off as a loud, booming voice shouted. It came from somewhere overhead, echoing down the elevator shaft.

“Is there anyone in there!” the unmistakable voice of Jack Fenton boomed. “Our sensors detected that a ghost triggered our shield. Is the ghost subdued? Are any humans trapped?”

Danny stared, wide-eyed up at the elevator ceiling. He sank back down onto the floor, cowering as he heard what sounded like metal grinding as someone tried to force it apart.

His eyes flickered to Lancer, watching uncertainly as the man gaped at the ceiling. He had to be frighteningly aware of his precarious position in the elevator. Jack Fenton’s voice, though it sent fear rocketing through Danny’s core, must’ve sounded like freedom and safety to Lancer in that moment.

And yet… his eyes trailed back to Danny with  uncertainty. 

It was disquieting, seeing that expression on that face of a man trapped in an elevator shaft, who for all intents and purposes should have welcomed any offer of rescue with the widest embrace.

Yet Danny thought back to Lancer’s words as he calmed him down from his panic attack. He thought of his hand gently patting Danny’s shoulder, soothing him as he cried. He thought of how Lancer, once he pushed his own fear aside, had shown nothing but kindness and fear  for him, not of.

He had called Phantom his student. Had called Amity his home. 

“Is anyone down there!” Jack Fenton called again, the sound of metal shifting accompanying his voice once more. 

In that moment, Danny knew that he would have one of two options. There was no way his parents would disable the ectoshield without first making sure that no ghosts lingered invisibly within it. As Phantom, he was trapped, resigned to being seen. Cornered.

If his parents caught Phantom now in this position, Danny’s only option would be to try and explain himself and hope that they might understand. Pray that they wouldn’t assume he was overshadowed and give him a fraction of a chance.

But… Danny had another option. 

Looking at Lancer, finding him nervously staring up at the ceiling, Danny weighed that second option. 

He weighed Lancer’s words, the kind admissions of  home  and  student nestling comfortably in his core.

It was a leap of faith, and one Danny probably shouldn’t feel more secure in than his parents, and yet… When was the last time he felt safe around an adult?

Here, in an elevator, trapped with a man who had shown him more humanity in the last five minutes than an entire town had in a year.

The choice was clear to Danny.

“Mr. Lancer,” Danny began, his voice timorous and too small. His teacher’s eyes locked onto him at the sound.

“Y–yes?” he asked just as quietly, bewildered. 

Of course, he had never given Phantom his name.

Danny licked his lips. His breath caught in his throat as the metal shifted overhead again and he had to shut his eyes for a moment, breathing deeply to steady his nerves.

“I am one of your students.”

When the man didn’t reply, Danny slowly opened his eyes, finding Lancer shaking his head, his eyes never once leaving Danny.

“I… don’t follow,” he said.

More metal shifting overhead. Something heavy thumped. Danny’s core pulsed and his hands shook.

“I—I am one of your students,” he repeated, hardly more than a whisper. “Y–you taught me last year, and I wasn’t the best student but… but you helped me— then and now. And I… I’m afraid, but I want to trust you.”

The words tumbled out, a flood breaking through the dam as more tears slipped down Danny’s cheeks. He could hear talking above now, though the words were lost to the hum around him and the awful buzz still dancing through his ectoplasm.

Lancer was breathing heavily now. He looked at Phantom as though seeing him for the first time, his eyes stretching wide as saucers, capturing enough of the green light around them that they almost mimicked his own.

“D–Danny?” he said in a hushed tone.

The last bit of stone that held that flood back shattered. Tears dripped down Danny’s chin and he nodded, every inch of him shaking at that mere admittance. 

He hardly even had to reach for his core. The transformation came to him too quickly, rolling over him in a warm rush that banished the chilliest parts of his core to rest within his chest. He watched the gloves disappear, the bright green scars over his hand fading to white. The lichtenberg figures were faint, though now he could properly see their winding course over his wrist and under the hem of his red sweatshirt. White as they were, the sickly glow of the shield stained the scars just as green as his gloves had been.

“Danny…” Lancer said again, the sound choked in his throat. 

Danny hardly dared glance up, terrified of what he might find on his teacher’s face. Disgust? Disappointment? Fear?

He half expected Lancer to call a warning to his parents.

Danny looked up when the elevator groaned, startled as he felt it shift slightly and heard an alarmed sound from overhead. 

Lancer was looking at him still, but it wasn’t with any of the fear that Danny had expected. It was tired— sad. Sorrow. The man had shifted slightly where he sat, trying to reach out for him, but had frozen when the elevator shifted. Now he simply sat there, watching Danny with that somber expression.

Danny couldn’t tell if it was just the green light, but he thought he saw the pinprick of tears in his teacher’s eyes.

Dust rained down as something overhead shifted. For the first time since the buttons sparked, light that wasn’t green flooded the elevator as one of the ceiling tiles moved. 

Maddie Fenton’s red-lensed goggles swam into view. Danny hated that his first instinct at seeing them was to cower, fear coursing through him at seeing those lenses reflecting the green of the ghost shield.

But if Maddie knew something of Danny’s secret, it didn’t carry into the surprised gasp she gave as her eyes locked onto him.

“Danny! I— what are you doing here? How did—” the words caught in her throat and she gave a minute shake of her head, seeming to come back to where they were. 

“Mads?” Danny heard his father’s voice from behind her, echoing in the expanse of the elevator shaft.

Danny hardly heard them as Maddie explained the situation to her husband. He hardly noticed when more of the panels were pulled away and a rope ladder was lowered into the elevator.

When Lancer urged him to climb up it first, he had to tell Danny twice before a fraction of the words made it to his ears. He moved mechanically, his legs shaking as the elevator groaned when he tentatively stood and clutched the ropes.

He paused for a moment when he met the roof of the ectoshield. Even in their rescue, his parents hadn’t deigned to disable the device, though he was sure they could. Danny’s core buzzed uncomfortably as he passed through the wall of green, but it allowed his passage without the sparking jolt that had bit at his hand.

When Jack pulled Danny up with enough force to almost yank his arm from the socket, he allowed himself to be pulled into a tight embrace. He melted into it for a moment before his father had to shift his focus to Lancer, still trapped as he was in the elevator shaft.

Danny could only wait with bated breath as they pulled him up.

He watched as Lancer stumbled out onto the floor of the parking garage, blinking dazedly in the sunlight that filtered through the open windows. 

How strange that it was still daylight.

Danny waited, still feeling sure that he had made a mistake— that any moment now Lancer would speak up and spill the truth.

Those thoughts fled his mind when Mr. Lancer’s eyes locked onto him. There really were tears there, welling onto his lashes, brightening the green of his eyes with emotion. 

He didn’t speak, just watching quietly.

With both of them secured, Maddie pulled Danny into a hug of her own. She held him tight, asking if he was hurt and smiling proudly at him when he put on a brave face and told her he was fine. 

A fraction of that smile even felt real, basking in his mother’s warmth and concern. 

It died a little when she said, “We need to scope the area for whichever ghost triggered the shield. If a ghost is willing to tamper with these cables, there’s no telling what other sort of harm they might cause.”

She whipped around to Lancer, the man straightening as her eyes fell on him. For all her short stature, Maddie could be an intimidating, intense ball of fire.

“Did you see anything? Did you hear anything that might help us locate this ghost?” she asked him.

Mr. Lancer blanched, his mouth opening and closing— eyes skirting minutely to Danny as he failed to give her a proper answer.

After a moment, he simply shook his head. Danny felt some of the tension leaving his shoulders, though he still didn’t dare let himself fully relax.

Maddie frowned, disappointment clear in her own slackened shoulders as she sighed. She glanced between her husband and Danny, her expression softening slightly as it landed on him, before fixing her lavender eyes once more on Lancer.

“I hate to ask this of you, William, but would you be willing to take Danny home? I know that you two have been through a lot this evening, but we can’t let this go uninvestigated. If there’s a dangerous ghost lurking in the area, we need to find it before it truly hurts someone.”

Her tone was so sincere, each of her words dripping with resolve. 

Lancer just gaped at her, looking between mother and son with utter disbelief.

“I—” he paused, glancing at Danny, looking at him with the same intensity he had before calling his name in that elevator shaft. “Yes.”

Maddie positively beamed, relief and admiration evident in her tone as she said, “Thank you so much; you have no idea how much this means to us.”

Mr. Lancer just nodded stiffly, standing to the side as Maddie pulled Danny into one last hug and kissed his forehead.

His skin burned where her lips touched. His chest felt hollowed out, his core thrumming slightly.

Something colder than the core in his chest ghosted over Danny’s skin when she let him go, turning back towards the elevator shaft to join the investigation with her husband.

Danny stared after them for a long moment, watching as she fell into the task without so much as a glance backwards. 

He wiped at his forehead, still feeling the burn of her touch.

Another sigh behind him, longer and deeper than any Danny had heard that evening. He turned to find Lancer standing there awkwardly, wringing his hands with a nervous energy that he rarely saw adults let show.

“Let’s… let’s go then, shall we?” he said quietly.

Danny sighed too. He resisted the urge to glance back at the elevator shaft, already knowing that his parents were too absorbed in their work to notice. 

For all the deep fear he’d felt at their arrival, this hollow ache was deeper.

“Y–yeah,” Danny said, swallowing against the tightness of his throat. “Okay.”

Danny didn’t even know why Lancer was in the parking deck that day, and he didn’t necessarily want to ask. The thought of inconveniencing the man from an errand he needed to run would just be one too many awful weights on his shoulders today. Instead, he just followed his teacher to his beat-up silver car, quietly climbing into the passenger seat.

Lancer climbed in on the driver side just as quietly. He didn’t even buckle his seatbelt at first. Didn’t start the car. He simply stared through the windshield, his knuckles whitening on the steering wheel as he sat there and breathed.

Danny picked at the hem of his sweatshirt, lost for words. He couldn’t help but notice the phone lying beside him on the console between the seats.

“Are you alright?” Mr. Lancer asked him. His voice didn’t echo in the car like it had in the elevator, but he still flinched at the sudden sound.

Slowly, nervously, Danny met his eyes again, peering at the man through his bangs. “I guess.”

Lancer’s face crumpled slightly, pinched with sadness, but he nodded. Without saying another word, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his keys. The car roared into life a moment later, and a moment after they were off.

As they rounded the spiral of the parking garage, Danny found his eyes trailing out the window, locking onto the open doors of the elevator shaft. He could see the bright orange of his father’s hazmat suit, though couldn’t spot his mother before the car rounded the turn, leaving them behind. 

Danny’s core squeezed alongside his heart.

Lancer turned the radio up, seemingly needing something to fill the silence, but lowered it just as quickly when the broadcast that filtered through the radio mentioned ghosts within the first breath of the speaker.

They continued on in awkward silence, Danny’s eyes glued to the window but unseeing anything past it.

“They don’t know, I assume.”

Danny had hoped that Mr. Lancer might not acknowledge the ghostly elephant in the room, but he supposed, like with all things, he was never that lucky.

Danny didn't bother to look at the man, choosing instead to just stiffly nod his head.

Another sigh. One too many, enough to grate at Danny’s nerves, but not enough for him to snap at it.

His belly felt too hollowed out for that anger now.

“You… you don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” Lancer then said, carefully picking around the words like someone navigating a minefield. “You don’t have to tell me anything, really.”

“I know,” Danny said, allowing some bite to enter his words. He needed some measure of control over this situation in which he had practically none to speak of.

In his periphery, Danny could see Lancer nod his own head as he said, “I meant what I said back in the elevator— to Phantom. To you.”

That was enough to make Danny turn his head. He wasn’t sure what street they were on, only that it was a long one with too many stop lights. They’d stopped at each along the way, agonizingly dragging out the drive.

“Meant what?”

As they stopped at another light, Lancer turned his head to look at Danny. His eyes still seemed bright with emotion, though what tears had gathered in his eyes had disappeared. 

“That if you ever need someone to talk to, I’m here. You are my student, after all.”

Danny bit his lip. He searched Lancer’s eyes, trying to find any hint of a lie or deceit, but Mr. Lancer truly seemed as sincere now as he had been stuck in that elevator shaft.

“It… doesn’t bother you that I’m a ghost?” he asked him.

There had to be a catch— there had to be a limit to this kindness and Danny would rather find it now than later.

Mr. Lancer’s frown deepened at the word ��ghost’, but it quirked up into a small smile just as quickly. 

“And my student,” he repeated gently. “And a kid, just like any one of my other students.”

Lancer’s smile was wry, hardly there, but it warmed him to see it at all. His voice echoed in Danny’s head as they drove on, the silence feeling much less daunting with those kind words occupying his thoughts.

Lancer seemed to hesitate for a moment before they turned onto Danny’s street. He hesitated another moment before pulling the car up alongside the sidewalk.

His knuckles were bone-white on the steering wheel, every inch of his posture as tense as Danny’s felt, like a cord ready to snap.

Danny didn’t get out of the car at first. He just sat there, staring at the red brick building of FentonWorks and the glaring neon signs over the door. His eyes skirted up to the Ops Center, the shadow looming over him a fiendish thing.

Danny was glad when Lancer did not immediately oust him from the car. He needed that moment to just sit and breathe. To have a space, however fragile, where he felt like he might have someone in his corner who was older than sixteen.

“You would… you really wouldn’t tell my parents?” Danny asked, hardly daring to speak the words allowed. Terrified that he might get confirmation of his worst fears.

Lancer’s eyes widened. He slowly shook his head, mouth slightly slack-jawed.

“No,” he said a little too quickly. “No, not…” He actually did pinch his tear ducts this time, in that familiar gesture he hadn’t been able to back in the elevator. “Pride and Prejudice, Danny, I know when a student is afraid of their parents. I’ve… I’ve seen it before. Not like this, never like this, but still…”

He trailed off, looking ahead, swallowing a lump in his throat as he gathered more of his thoughts. 

“Danny…” he began again, the word quavering. “I don’t know how to help you with this. I… I just need you to promise me that you’ll do your best to be safe. That you’ll do the smart thing and ask for help when you need it. That if your parents hurt you…”

He trailed off again, shaking his head. Danny’s parents had already hurt him, they both knew this. It wasn’t an if, it was a when and an again.

“I’ll be careful,” Danny tried to reassure him. “I–I have Jazz, and Sam, and Tucker. They know. They know and they help me, and I trust them.”

He hoped that those words might quell some of Mr. Lancer’s doubts, but Danny’s core thrummed uneasily when his teacher’s eyes just widened with renewed horror.

The man slowly shook his head, a trembling hand rubbing at the bags beneath his eyes.

“You’re all just kids,” he said quietly.

It was true, technically, but Danny hadn’t felt like much of one over the last few months. He had too many responsibilities as Phantom— had seen and faced too many things.

“We can handle it,” he said, trying to reassure himself as much as Mr. Lancer.

He wasn’t sure it worked either way.

Danny glanced back to FentonWorks, his hand tracing the handle of the car door. “Um, thank you for taking me home, Mr. Lancer,” he said, his throat still tight. “And, uh, for everything else.”

Mr. Lancer just nodded. He seemed so tired, the bags beneath his eyes deeper and darker than Danny’s own. His teacher said nothing as he opened the door and climbed out, though seemed to find his voice as Danny went to shut it.

“Wait—” he said suddenly, holding out his hand. 

Reluctantly, Danny pulled the door open wider, leaning down to hear what he had to say. 

Mr. Lancer studied him for a long moment, eyes flickering over his face as though searching for a hint of Phantom’s glow in his irises. 

“My door is always open if you need someone to talk to,” he said evenly. “Whatever happens, that doesn’t change.”

Danny blinked, letting his words sink in. He could feel the sincerity in them and, after everything that had happened today, Danny felt he had very little reason to doubt his teacher.

Nodding, voice still hoarse with emotion, Danny said, “Okay.”

 ~*~

 William did not drive off right away. He allowed his car to idle as he watched Danny Fenton walk up the sidewalk and the steps to his front door. The boy knocked, waiting for a response inside. There was a long pause in which nothing seemed to happen and William was just considering rolling down the window to call out to the boy when he glanced back at him.

William’s heart leapt into his throat as Danny’s eyes met his. Even from a distance, he could see a sharp hint of green in them, the same shade he had grown accustomed to in his time trapped in that elevator. He watched with bated breath as Danny’s gaze lingered on him for a long moment before sweeping up and down the street. 

William’s hands tightened on the steering wheel when Danny turned around and stepped  through his front door as if it simply wasn’t there.

William let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding, a shaky exhale that hardly did the stress of the day any justice.

With one last glance at FentonWorks, finding a simple wooden door where Danny had stood just a moment before, William drove away.

 ~*~

 William stood in the entrance to his apartment for a long moment. Just stood there, hardly acknowledging when his cat came to greet him, brushing up against his ankles with a friendly meow.

He stiffly bent to stroke a hand through his fur, the soft texture feeling stiff and coarse against his numb skin.

Moving mechanically, William shuffled through the kitchen as he set a kettle on the stove to boil. He wasn't even sure how long the kettle whistled before it was enough to shake him from the stupor of staring into open space.

Even once he had his cup of tea, Lancer couldn't stop shaking. He sank down into his favorite armchair by his favorite shelf of books, eyeing the light brown tea in his cup without drinking.

He thought of Danny all the while— of Phantom. Of how long the ghost boy has been in Amity Park and what that must mean for his student.

It had been a year ago, William recalled clearly. A year ago when all of the ghosts appeared— Phantom included.

That must have been when…

A drop fell into William's cup of tea. He watched the ripples as more tears rolled down his cheeks.

His hand shook violently, splashes of the tea spilling into his lap, and William had to set the cup down on the end table beside his chair.

A year. His student had been dead for a year and he hadn't even noticed.

His parents hadn’t, either.

William didn't even want to think what had caused it. Didn't want to imagine what horrors that boy had faced, because he could already picture, far too clearly, plenty of them.

How many times had he watched Phantom fight? 

All of the absences, all of the behavioral issues. Everything fell into place, a gruesome puzzle that William had never known needed solved.

He thought, too, of the boy's parents.

How many times had he watched the Fentons shoot at Phantom, aiming their guns without so much as a moment's hesitation?

William hardly noticed when his cat approached, giving a small meow as he butted his head into his hand and slowly picked his way into his lap. When Radio began to purr, the feeling that rumbled through his body was achingly similar to what William had felt from Phantom when he broke down.

When Danny, his student, broke down.

If Radio minded the tears splashing into his fur, he didn't care to move. He simply stuck there, rumbling away in William's lap, heedless of the emotions choking his chest.

William didn't know how long he sat there, mindlessly running his hand through Radio's ginger fur, allowing the cat’s purring to still the last few trembles in his fingers.

William didn't know what he'd do when the summer ended and he had to face that boy every day, knowing just why he raced from his classroom.

All William knew was that he'd keep his cellphone on him this time, always ready to answer just in case that boy needed his help. 

If anyone needed that kindness, it was him.

[writingpiecesak]

Imagine arguing with 💥Katsuki Bakugou💥

Nothing has been going well lately for you. Missing essay assignments for your sociology class, late night shifts causing you to miss dinner time, said late night shifts from your shitty boss who doesn’t understand the idea of a breath mint. Getting a speeding ticket because you were late for school. You’re favorite sushi place closed down and your hair is frizzing up because of damn weather conditions. 

All you wanted right now was a warm bubble bath with candles and soothing music playing in the background while you sip a glass of white wine. To fall into a trace of relaxation, keeping away from the real worlds problems. To just have a moment to yourself. A simple moment. Is that too much to ask?

“Killed your ass! Hop off the game already you’re so bad!”

Ah, the wonderful yelling of gaming frustration coming from the living room. Your eyes weren’t surprised by your boyfriend, Katsuki gaming in front of the television with his headset and mic settled perfectly in between his ears. Otherwise, he would’ve heard you come in.

After standing there for about five minutes he finally noticed you. “Oh welcome home babe. Dinner’s in the oven.”

Well at least he cooked dinner. You walked into the kitchen setting down your car keys and handbag. Grabbing a plate a fork from the cabinets you pull out what was left in the oven for you. To your dislike though, it was spicy meatloaf with curry rice.

You understand your boyfriend loves spicy food, but doesn’t it have to be all the time? Why couldn’t he ask you what would you like for dinner? Is it that hard to send a text or to try calling?

With a heavy sign you put back the utensil and plate, looking around the pantry for anything else to substitute the growing hunger laying in your stomach.

No one thought to buy groceries either…. Why was everything left to you? Buying groceries, making dinner satisfying both parties, cleaning the damn dishes he used.

You rolled your eyes and grabbed your favorite box of cereal, fruity pebbles always makes things better even if it’s for a short moment before they get soggy. You lifted the box from its spot only to have it feel light as a feather. You shook the box around trying to feel out how much would be left until you hear Katsuki call out from the living room.

“Oh I forgot to tell you. I had the last bowl of that fruit cereal this morning! Sorry hun I was hun–behind you! No behind you Kiri! Damn it Ashido you’re supposed to cover his ass.”

You got to be freaking kidding me… Your grip tighten around the box and finally frustration snapped. You flung the empty box straight to his head, so hard it knocked his headset off in fact. Immediately Katsuki pulled a face and got up from his seat.

“Seriously? You’re mad over damn cereal!”

“No I’m mad at you!”

“For what? I made you dinner!”

“No, you made yourself dinner. You know I can’t handle spicy food.” You shouted.

A small moment of realization hit him but he wasn’t going to admit his wrongs. “Then eat shit then! At least I cooked something meanwhile all you eat is takeout.”

The distance of talking started getting closer together with every notch being brought higher. “Because I work late! Ever thought to ask me what I would want for dinner? What I would like to come home to?”

“Don’t give me that bullshit, I patrol my ass in serious dangerous areas. And when needed I go out and fight! That’s my job! All you do is organize paperwork for a boss that’s a mere extra.”

“Oh so now you’re going to blame me for not having a quirk and saving people? Some people are normal! Regular! Having to work shitty jobs to make a living Katsuki!”

“I’m not listening to this pity party. Quirk or no quirk, you can always find a better job.” You see him beginning to sit back down and grabbing his headset from off the floor. But you weren’t done speaking. You marched right to his console and immediately pulled all cords not caring which was for what. The tv screen had went black, you threw the cords at his feet with a winning smirk.

“What the fuck is your problem?!” As his anger rises you could see his hands starting to give off sparks.

“You’re my problem Kats! This apartment is my problem! My job is my problem! My hair is my problem! Everything is a fucking problem with me!”

Breathing heavily your eyes start to water but you didn’t want to cry not now especially. You pushed passed Katsuki and headed straight for the bedroom instantly locking it. You grabbed the hem of the fluffy blanket and threw it around. Throwing around the pillows and just trying to take out your frustration on something other than your boyfriend right now.

Wanting more destruction to voice out your anger, you grabbed your night table lamp and threw it at the bedroom door with a final scream. Now only sadness floods through you as realizing you’d would have to clean everything up. Before you’re able to take a step towards the door, Katsuki burst through with concern worries look. Unfortunately he stepped on the pieces of sharp colorful glass which the lamp was made of. But the pain in his feet couldn’t compare to the pain he felt in his heart seeing you cry.

“I’m sorry. Everything is just…a problem.” You lowered your head wanting to mask the tears as you thought for a sign of weakness. Katsuki carefully walked around the mess and grabbed you hand, pulling you into his chest as you cried letting out the anger in a different way that didn’t cause destruction.

“It’s okay. Let it out, I’m here. You’re okay. I’m sorry too. I’ll buy you five hundred fruity pebble boxes. Just please….take the glass out my foot.”

A small giggle escaped your lips. You wrapped your arms around your lover and snuggled closer, deeper into his scent.

“My feet are bleeding dumbass. But…let’s stay like this a little longer.”

[wellwornwornwell]

You have no taste. How tasteful of you.

Irony is Eden. Warm lagoons, lush with overgrown mangroves of awkward humor, broken up by pristine, uninhabited beaches of detachment. It’s always Island Time. There are dark, troubling clouds in the distance, but they never reach the shoreline. You’re safe. No one *really* knows about this place but you. Kind of like Tulum in 2010.

But much like Tulum in 2010, you need everyone to know you’ve been here. That the waitstaff know your name. That they recognize you for your accomplishments and readily enable your insistence on avoiding reality. They’re always the first to compliment your Minions shirt.

Wait, what the fuck are you wearing? Where does one even purchase blobby red boots so cartoonish they make Mickey Mouse blush? What is going on?

I’ll be the first to admit I am not cool. I’m an upper-middle-class, white, 30-something, born out of suburban comfort and forever bestowed with unearned confidence. I look like a rejected extra from a J. Crew catalog (the one where no one is convincing). My biggest life accomplishment is pretending sending emails constitutes work, for which I make an inordinate amount of money. I get it: I’m the enemy. Oftentimes my own.

But I will be damned if I ever understand why it’s cool to look like an asshole.

People want to make a statement. People want to buy things. People don’t want you to know they’re seriously lost. Enter: Irony.

No one needs to know how deeply self-conscious you are. The examined life is for pussies and the French. Let them have it. You have blind consumerism and an unflinching need to stand out. You’re about to go viral. “Rise and grind,” or so I’m told.

Of course, this is all just a terribly tragic state of affairs. As someone who LOVES avoiding my problems, I can understand the opioidic appeal of irony. It’s just simpler. And snark has become the not-smiling face on the internet’s hard currency. It feels good to keep people at arm’s length and the joke firmly inside. Golden brown. Texture like sun.

But this does not make a substitute for taste. You can’t just decide none of it matters while also insisting upon your elevated station in society. Nihilists make for shitty leaders. Pick a lane.

Look, I own multiple pairs of pastel pants that retail for more than $1,000 a throw. The realtor keeps showing me glass houses and I don’t know how much longer I can hide my pockets full of rocks. But at least there is some nuance in the traditional, tongue-in-cheek manner of dressing. Cheeky emblematic ties, garishly colored pants, not so subtle racism. There used to be principles to this stuff.

I guess this all resolves to an old man yelling at the clouds. The older you get, the closer you get to death – and not just physically but culturally as well. None of this is meant for me and my insistence on “knowing better” only further solidifies me as the first dinosaur to see the meteor. We’re all doomed.

What I’d ask, as you reach for your Raytheon Saudi Arabia embroidered polo shirt, is that you realize that hiding behind obnoxious clothing will not save you. It does not create the individuality you think it does. It is not formal enough to be respectful, not original enough to be endearing. You are simply a fleeting artifact of a hollow society too disgusted with itself to look into a mirror.

Please don’t confuse me for a capital-T Traditionalist or one of those RETVRN weirdos. Fuck those guys. But do know that one day, sometime soon, when you’re looking back at photos of yourself, you will be met with embarrassment. The kind of embarrassment that fuels resentment and questions existence. These are not bellbottoms, parachute pants, or even twinkishly skinny suits. This is late-stage capitalism so bald-faced that it doesn’t even bother to establish utility. You are being played. You are losing.

In quiet moments I envision a world where everyone cares about clothing, and yet no one gets mad about what people wear. Then I re-read this post and get sad. Sad enough to buy a Shirt That Goes Hard. We’re all doomed.

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, JULY 31, 1998 Woke up at 118. And I was so sure I’d lost another pound or two. Tom says I probably have, but due to where I am in my cycle, it’s hard to tell with a pound or two of water gain. He said comparing my weight on a daily basis won’t tell me as much as a monthly comparison will. A month ago at this time, I was heavier and my measurements were up a bit, so that spells progress. Once again - let myself gain weight. It’s how I feel that matters to me at this point, although he thinks I will lose weight if I keep eating as I have been and keep up with the walking. He says it’ll just take time. It’s nice to actually get full and not be able to finish some of my TV dinners. I save the rest for later, though. I don’t throw them out.

So, will tomorrow be the day that Larry calls? I believe he’ll either read the letter and call about it or send it back to me. I doubt he’d not read it and not call. Well, there’s nothing he can say to me at this point that’ll bring back that stress and anger, let alone get me to kiss and make up with him. We each said our piece and that’s it. There’s nothing left to do or say. My parents and he are a closed chapter in my life. They’re just like old friends I used to have and old people I used to know. They’re just like Jenny C, Jessie S, Monte from Shopper’s Drug, etc. They’re just old friends/acquaintances from the past. From a life I once had 3000 miles away.

I could still kick myself for letting Larry back into my life. Well, as he’ll see, he’s had the wrong idea if he thinks I’m gonna do it all again and fight with him a decade and 3000 miles later.

Later…

Tom tells me that he’s married to me for life whether he’s happy or not. He claims that not having sex makes him unhappy, even if he doesn’t bitch about it constantly.

I feel kind of stuck here. I want the old me back, but I don’t. I don’t want to return to wanting sex or a kid. I just don’t need the trouble it brings and his appetite’s too low to be wanting it much. I still feel that the more we keep the sex out of the relationship, the better off we are. Also, I have no desire anymore for a child, thank God. I prayed for years to be like I am now and not want a kid. I don’t want to want stuff that can never be, and I don’t want to drive myself crazy by fighting for something that’s not meant to be.

If I went back to wanting a kid (not that it’s a switch that I can control) I’d just be wanting the impossible once again and something I could never handle in the first place. And if I went back to wanting full-time sex, I’d just be wanting something I could only have once every week or two and that’d be pretty shitty most of the time. Or sort of boring. Sex is never as we fantasize. It’s always better in our fantasies. Most of the time it is, anyway.

THURSDAY, JULY 30, 1998 I can’t believe how much lettuce this rat can consume. Well, I can and I can’t.

As most of us know, my brother can’t handle rejection, so on Saturday, which is the day he should get my letter, I’ll probably be getting some nasty messages. All of which will be erased without being listened to. As soon as I hear his voice, I’ll erase his message. That is unless he throws away the letter or has it returned to me. If he does read it, though, he won’t part without trying to get the last word first so I’m almost positive he’ll call, but like I said, I’m not even gonna bother with listening to any messages, let alone calling him back. Tom knows not to bother answering any long-distance calls anyway.

Guess now’s a good time as any to go read and walk. I set up the music stand by the walker so I can read while I walk. It passes the time more quickly than music does.

Later…

I went around the house and rearranged family pictures. No, I didn’t throw away all pictures of my parents and Larry, but I put them out of view and into photo albums. I have so many picture frames and not enough room to use them all. Anyway, I substituted pictures that contained Mom, Dad, and Larry, with my nieces, Nana and Pa, or Goldie and Al.

Strangely enough, though, as I was pulling a wedding picture of my folks out of the frame it was sent to me in, I found two old pictures behind it. One had a man, a woman, and a boy of about one year of age. Tom said the little boy looked like my father. I thought that the man could be Papa Joe, but the woman didn’t look like either of my grandmothers, so who can really know for sure. The woman looked to be in her late 40s and back then, it wasn’t common to have little ones at that age. They usually had kids in their 20s. Nowadays, you either have them while you’re still just a kid yourself, or somewhere in the 30s or 40s.

The other picture was of a little girl about 8 years old. Judging by the style of dress she wore, and by the frilly bonnet and corkscrew curls, this picture had to be really old. Like the late 1800s or early 1900s. Probably the early 1900s. I got the feeling right away that it was my maternal grandmother. The eyes seemed to be dark and the face bore a slight resemblance to her.

Later…

Gosh, things have changed! Tom got into bed naked while I was reading. I just couldn’t do it, though. I just couldn’t go back to that destructive cycle. Nor could I get in the mood. All I could see was my not getting off, and his not getting inside me. I still believe he has his subconscious fears too, that he’s either trying to cover up or shove in my face. He ended up going to sleep, but it’s really weird how we wish to be a certain way or to have certain things, then when we get them, we have mixed emotions about them. I wanted to quit smoking for years. How was I to know that once I did, I’d sometimes regret it? I wanted to stop wanting sex and a kid, but how was I to know I’d feel like I was depriving him? Well, I try to remind myself that he didn’t cum for a very long time in the beginning. At least not by me he didn’t. So I’m not depriving him of anything. He’s never appeared to have a problem with infrequent sex/cumming and he’s still with me. I believe he’d always be with me even if we never screwed again, cuz remember, Tom isn’t your typical violent, horny male. I also don’t see this baby desire. Never have in the past. Still can’t see it now, either.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 29, 1998 I guess those two dreams I had about losing weight, really were the signs I thought they were, telling me that I would lose weight. I woke up at 115½. It'll probably be a while now before I go down any farther. Once I hit down at a new weight that I haven't been at since gaining weight in the first place, it kind of stays there for a while.

Although it's deathly humid out there right now, I hung out the sheets. They should still dry anyway, cuz it's also deathly hot.

Andy told me something else about Quinn and it may be the biggest reason he killed himself. We think that the smaller reason is that he couldn't accept his gayness. But as for the bigger reason, well, there was a warrant out for his arrest when he died and he was looking at doing some serious jail time for drug dealing. He was looking at something like 20 years and personally, if I knew I had to do some serious jail time I'd kill myself, too.

TUESDAY, JULY 28, 1998 I thought that a good night’s sleep would rid me of my emotions about Larry and all that, but I thought wrong. A part of me is still pissed off that I bothered to return his call and that I didn’t speak my mind to him. So, I try to remind myself that speaking my mind to him about the shit that’s gone on wouldn’t change a thing. He wouldn’t want to hear it and he wouldn’t budge on his own ways and opinions. I don’t owe him any explanation anyway. We all have a right to feel and believe as we do and as long as I know in my mind where I’m coming from, it doesn’t matter if no one else does. No one else has to share my feelings and beliefs.

It also did me some good to return his call too, cuz it reinforced in my mind that dumping him was the right thing to do. It served as a reminder of just how vindictive and spiteful he can be upon hearing the bullshit he had to say to me.

Thank God I do journaling, though, cuz it really helps to get it all out, and thank God I have Tom. If there’s one good thing I can always count on in life, it’s him. Everything else after that that’s good is just an extra bonus as far as I’m concerned.

Tom suggested other ways to deal with those I don’t want anything to do with. He said I don’t have to “dump” them. I can just not return phone calls, etc, so I can avoid the anger and anxiety and all that. He said, for example, if I don’t like Melanie, I can just switch dentists. I don’t need to tell her I’m gonna do so and why. He has a point, but every situation is different. It wouldn’t be that easy to just ignore my family. In their case, it was cut them off and let them know it or keep on associating with them.

All I know is that my parents and my brother have hurt me and pissed me off one too many times and this was the final time. They will never see or hear from me again. I told my parents a couple of summers ago that this is what’d happen if they started up with me again. Well, they either didn’t take me seriously or they just never gave a shit.

I’m sure Larry’s told my parents that he was the one to dump me, cuz that’s just how he is, but let them say and do as they please. The only thing I suggest they do is to brush up on their lying skills. Bill only hit Lisa once or twice? Are these people even aware of what bad liars they are? That’d be like me saying I don’t live in Arizona. I’m not short. I’m not a brunette. Both ears of mine are normal, etc. I know Lisa and Tammy wouldn’t lie about how much Bill hit Lisa, and using my good judgment of character, Bill totally fits the kind. I just wish I knew that he’d utilize his willingness to hit Lisa while I was still there, but he’s very lucky I didn’t!

I’m sure it’s also just a matter of time, too, before Larry and my parents are dumping each other. If not, though, they can have happy lives together. They’re made for each other.

I called Lisa today cuz I felt I should try to warn and protect her. I told her I wasn’t telling her what to do, but that I highly suggest she have no contact with Larry. I told her there’s the funny side of Larry, and there’s the mean side of Larry. I told her that we were really close, as she and he had been till I was 21, then he was gone. I told her that by the time I was 21, I had been dumped on and dumped enough to not have it affect me so much, but that I shouldn’t have let him back into my life in 1993, and that if he could dump his parents and his sister, he can dump his niece. That is, not without shitting on her first. I told her that I was telling her this from personal experience and that maybe I was wrong. Maybe they could always get along just fine, but I felt it was best I warn her of the possibilities here. She’s gonna meet enough people that’ll screw her over, so if I can spare her from one more person that’ll just fuck her over, great (although not quite in those words). I also reminded her that nothing that could go on between me and anyone else could ever change my love for her.

She said she’d never let anyone else come in between us and she thanked me vigorously for clearing up her confusion. She said that she had been so confused with my parents saying this, Tammy saying that, Larry saying this, etc. I told her I was glad it helped her, cuz the last thing I wanted to do was add to her confusion and make it sound like I was telling her what to do. All I thought of was doing whatever I could do to protect her from any more future BS. She’s had enough.

She said she’s glad she didn’t move in with him and that she’s got her family there. Yes, she does. Tammy may make mistakes, and they may not always get along, but at least she won’t be hitting up on her constantly. And in a couple of years, she can move out if she wants to.

She said she was upset with my folks for not believing her about her dad hitting her. I don’t blame her. There’s just something about Lisa that sparks a sheer hatred in Bill and I think it’s because she’s “the other guy’s.” Lisa’s half of Tammy’s ex, he doesn’t like her ex, therefore he doesn’t like Lisa. It’s a lot like how Judy M hated me at first cuz of how she hates my mom.

She asked what about Jen? I suggested that as sweet as Jen is and as innocent as Jen is, she let her go cuz of the close connection to Larry. I told her that she’d have to deal with Larry if she wanted to deal with Jen and that sometimes you have to give up something you like in order to give up something bad. Like with the cigarettes. She liked them, but it was best that she give them up (if she really did and I sure hope so) cuz they weren’t good for her.

She also told me that Bill screamed at Lisa and told her that if she ever says such things about him again, that would be the "end of us." In other words, Bill doesn’t like Lisa spilling the truth about him to people. As I told her, I’d be thrilled to end “us” if someone like him were in my life.

Once again, I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if someone in my family wasn’t murdered. Like I said, Tammy can call if she wants to, I’ll always love Lisa and her sisters, but I am out of that family! And as Tom said, I’m in Arizona now. They don’t have anything to do with my day-to-day life and I’m 3000 miles away. Well, I don’t care if I’m 1 mile away or 3000 miles away. I will not have anything to do with such lying, vicious people.

Lisa said she feels this is all her fault. I reassured her it was not her fault. She couldn’t know and she’s not responsible for other people’s actions.

I can understand, though, how she could easily feel it is her fault. Right now I’m saying to myself - You should’ve known better! You should’ve known you’d totally regret it if you let Larry back into your life 5 years ago. This is your fault, cuz if you’d only not let him re-enter your life, he would never have gotten the chance to fuck with you one last time. Yes, I shouldn’t have let him back into my life since I already knew just what kind of guy he is, but I’m not responsible for the things he’s said and done.

Oh, little Larry! Sometimes I wonder why it couldn’t have been your dad who died in the truck wreck. Why did it have to be you and not him? If someone just had to die, why did it have to be you?

Later…

I decided that yes, the only way to curb this anger and anxiety would be to give Larry one last piece of my mind so that’s exactly what I did in my final letter to him. I only hope and pray to God that he reads it, even if he sends a nasty letter or makes a nasty phone call in response to it. As soon as I typed this letter up, I already felt so much better. I begged God to please make sure he reads this letter as I do not want to have to spend my life being angry about this, too, on top of other things I spent years being angry over that I either did not or could not deal with. I had to get my anger out and the only way I could do so was to speak my mind to him. I don’t know if he’ll return this letter to me unopened or if he’ll refuse to read the letter, but I hope not.

Woke up at 116½. Still eating two meals a day, plus popcorn or crackers, and still feeling much better. I’m not hungry every second and I’ve got more energy. Still walking twice a day for 15 minutes, too.

I had my weekly, long chat with Andy. He’s still at Red Lobster. Marla asked me how his job was going, and I asked him about it. He said he’s still in training and not bringing in any real money yet. He said he can’t memorize their menu to save his life. He said it’s not a difficult menu either, it’s just that he’s got a mental block. He’s sick of being a waiter and doesn’t want to wait on one more table in his life, but what will he do? What can he do instead? He has no interests. The only things that interest him are the impossible. It’s like he’s the old me. All he wants to do is things he could never do.

When I read back on how I said I swore I was destined to be a singer in my earlier journals, I feel so embarrassed for myself. How naïve! How could I have ever believed for a millisecond that I could make it as a singer even if I was a 10+, could deal with the lifestyle and hold a schedule, liked people and traveling? Please! It was never ever meant to be. Not any more than a child or woman was meant to be.

If there’s one thing I’ve learned in life, it’s that things don’t necessarily have to happen for a reason. Most things do, but not all things. Just because God gives someone a voice, doesn’t mean he wants them to be a singer professionally. Just because God sends a woman a wonderful guy, after she’d been alone or with a woman for about a decade, and thought she’d always be that way, doesn’t mean he wants her to have kids. God just simply wanted me to be loved, and to be loved by a guy. And he wanted me to love in return, and he wanted me to love a guy.

He was telling me about a neighbor girl and before he really got into it, I asked him what drugs she did, since I know he loves a druggie like I love a rodent. Well, she does hard-core stuff and is now in jail for having a home drug-making lab. I worry about him. What if he goes down with these kinds of people?

Nonetheless, I feel bad for Andy. He’s in such a rut and is so confused and trapped feeling. He wants David, but he doesn’t want to go back east. He wants a career change but doesn’t know what to do. He wants to quit pot again but is afraid it’ll lead to his turning to alcohol.

I told him about the shit that went down with my folks and Larry. I kind of figured he’d, well, not side with them, but still. He tends to naturally veer towards the other side and not be supportive of me, although he was supportive of me, and as he said, I’m gonna do what I gotta do anyway. He said it’s sad that it’s come to me cutting them out of my life. I see what he’s saying, but the relief of having them out of my life overrides any sadness at this point. After all I’ve gone through with them year after year, and after speaking my mind to Mom, Dad, and Larry, all I feel now is peace.

We also talked about Michelle (you know how Andy loves to discuss others and how only a small portion of what he talks about concerns himself). He feels it’s sad that Michelle’s willing to work where she’s working for the rest of her life cuz she’s got a crush on her boss Helen. I told him that I didn’t see anything wrong with that if she’s happy, responsibly holding a job, and earning some money. And what’s not to say that someone will come and sweep her off her feet at some point in her life whether she works there or not?

I had started to print out my journals. Got the first 20 printed but decided it’s not really necessary to print out past or current journals. I have handwritten past journals and backup copies of both my past and current ones, but I’ll hang onto what I’ve printed out so far. I may want to continue on with it someday.

It’s been great next door. No dog. No door slams. This is the quietest summer yet. It seems each summer they get quieter and each winter they get noisier. The fucks have been here through 3 summers and two winters so far. It’s just great with that fucking black cock out of the picture.

MONDAY, JULY 27, 1998 Melanie called just before noon today asking if I could come in earlier than 1:30. I got in an hour earlier and boy did she hurt me! She had to put a lot of pressure on me and it didn’t tickle. I think I’ll forget about getting my bottom teeth straightened out.

She had her hair in a French braid, and she had a hell of a tan. She said she just got back from Mexico. That explains why she didn’t call me last Friday. She sure gets around. She definitely has no kids, as my vibes told me.

While she was working on me, I was aware of someone standing in the doorway. I thought it was another staff member standing by in case she needed their help like before, but when I got up to leave, I could see it was definitely her sister. It had to be. Her face was just about a carbon copy of Melie’s, only her hair was short and wavy. Not long and curly. She looked to be younger than Melie. Perhaps she was in her early 20s if not late teens. And I know she has a sister, too, cuz when we were talking about the things we like to do, Melanie said her sister draws, too.

After seeing Melanie, we went to the grocery store. I got a couple of samples of ground coffee. One’s vanilla nut crème, the other’s chocolate macadam. We also grabbed some other odds and ends we needed.

Since having two meals a day, I have felt so much better. I have more energy and I’m not starving my ass off nearly as much. I woke up a pound heavier today, but Tom said that’s to be expected. Like I said, if my weight doesn’t stay right around where it’s at, I think it’ll go up, but I’m ready to accept it and just live with it if it does, cuz I don’t miss feeling sluggish and hungry.

I spent about 3 hours changing and cleaning the mice, rats, and pig cages.

When we left to go to see Melanie, we saw people working in the freeloader’s yard. It’s not the same people with the blue pickup. It’s different people with a white pickup. On the way back, they were still there and they had a canteen of water on the block wall that’s in between their carport and the bedroom side of our house. I joked about going over and knocking it off. So are these people gonna be regulars? Are they gonna come every Monday?

Later…

The nerve of that brother of mine! Yes, I definitely did the right thing by ditching Mom, Dad, and Larry. As I knew they would, Mom and Dad went crying to Larry about our latest little dispute. Larry sarcastically thanked me for the postcard. Now he knows what it’s like to get dumped and I guess he doesn’t like it. It’s only OK for him to dump someone. I told him I got angry at Mom and Dad and perhaps I took it out on him, but then when he said to me what he said next, it left no doubt in my mind that I did do the right thing by cutting him off, too. He told me I hurt Mom and Dad unnecessarily. (like he hasn’t hurt them too, and like he has a right to judge me? Like he’s the boss of the family now or something)?

He also said something about not saying anything to certain people about his feud with Tammy so as not to cause conflict between us. See, he’s got the wrong idea. He thinks my dumping him is connected to Mom, Dad, and Tammy. It’s not. What he does about Tammy or what his opinions are about Tammy has nothing to do with why I cut him off. I cut him off simply cuz I felt it was best.

Then, to my surprise, he said Bill was a wonderful person and he may have hit the kids once or twice, but that’s it. I thought he hated Bill cuz he wouldn’t give him custody of Lisa. And it’s OK if you hit your kids once or twice, but any more than that is a no-no? Whatever. The point’s the same - I don’t care what he, mom, or dad think, say, or do. It’s their right to do what they want just as it’s my right to do what I want. I just don’t have to be associated with it if I don’t want to be.

So, as soon as Larry had told me this, which took about a minute, I simply said, “Why don’t we just not have anything to do with each other?” He said “OK” and we hung up. I am, however, gonna give him one last piece of an explanation and it’s his to take or leave. I’m sending one more postcard setting him straight on the fact that there’s no connection between Mom, Dad, Tammy, or Bill and my cutting him off. I told him he did nothing wrong, I simply felt it was for the better, and I wished him, Sandy and Jen the best throughout their lives. He can choose to read the postcard or not to read it. He can choose to think, believe, and feel whatever he chooses to about it and everything else from here on out.

Meanwhile, he and my parents are a part of my past and my past only. I cannot take any more stress with them. I don’t need it and neither do they. Let them live their lives to their contentment and I’ll do the same.

I started to email my folks so they could relay the message to their beloved son, but not at all to my surprise, they changed screen names. So I sent Larry the news directly and like I said, he can read if he wants to and he can do as he pleases with the info.

If Lisa should ever have any contact with Larry, I hope she’ll always have a mind of her own, as far as anything he may say to her regarding me. I hope that anything he says will remain separate from us, but I love Lisa and therefore, if she called me up tomorrow to tell me she no longer wanted anything to do with me, I’d accept it and let her have her way if it’d make her happy.

Later…

I called Tammy and told her of my little chat with Larry. She said she hoped my dumping mom and dad had nothing to do with her. I assured her it didn’t. How typical of Larry, though, to go back and forth. One minute he’s bitching to me, or someone, about how he’s pissed at Mom and Dad, and the next minute, he loves them dearly.

Later…

Just a couple more things in regard to Larry - he also said something about me sticking my nose into things. Like he’s not sticking his nose into things? I can’t believe some people and their hypocrisy! It’s like a fat person ranking on another fat person as if they weren’t fat themselves. People just make no sense with their practicing what they preach. I never should’ve bothered calling him back.

Also, I’ve decided not to send him another card explaining that there’s no connection between him and me and other family members cuz I don’t owe the bastard any explanation. He’s just not worth it. He and my parents can live their own lives without me in it and sink or swim for all I care.

Oh and also, Larry said something about Tammy being in big trouble. How can she be in big trouble if she got a letter from the state saying that her case was closed, just like with 99% of the parents they investigate?

Later…

I went and had myself a good cry and boy did it help! It wasn’t cuz of anything in particular or cuz of any emotion in particular, it was just everything combined. All the emotions, stress, anxiety, frustration, and anger due to this family shit. But this is why I’ve cut these people out of my life. So I don’t have to go through this on and off like I have been for 32 years.

SUNDAY, JULY 26, 1998 I sure do have some shocking news about the weight. Well, at least it shocks me, but not Tom. As you know, I’d been eating one TV dinner a day, plus a bowl of popcorn, some crackers, and that’s pretty much it. I had been feeling sluggish a lot, too, and staying around the same weight. Tom said it was cuz I wasn’t eating enough, and that if I ate more, it’d up my metabolism/energy. And as you also know, I believed that going to two TV dinners a day, plus the couple of little snacks I’d been having, would make me gain weight, but was prepared to just accept it cuz I was tired of feeling so rundown and so hungry. Well, to my utter amazement, I awoke at 116! I’ve been walking 30 minutes a day, too, so maybe this is the answer, but I refuse to get my hopes up. I’ve been down that road before, thinking this is it, I’m gonna lose weight now. Let’s just put it this way, I feel so much better that even if I don’t lose one more pound - fine.

I had another weight dream, too. That’s two dreams now, after all this time. Does it mean anything? Anyway, all I remember is in the dream I asked Tom either, “Am I going to get down to 100 pounds?” or “Do you really think I’m going to get down to 100 pounds?” and he nodded yes.

I’ve been having a field day creating desktop themes. I made 32 different schemes each with its own set of colors, its own screensaver, and its own wallpaper. Every day, I’ll change schemes.

I told Tom I’d be willing to try to screw today, but he was tired and had a sore back. Guess I was right - it’s just not meant to be.

I’m still enjoying every second that the cock’s out of the picture, cuz I know that once it comes back, all that stress will be thrown right back on me. Especially on weekends. I love not having to sit and listen to all the door-slamming as he’d come and go 6 times a day and I love not having to worry that he’s gonna blast me out and that I won’t be able to restrain myself from going over there and beating him to a bloody pulp. So, I’ll enjoy the peace while it lasts, although I’m sure that the bitch, at some point, will have pals come over just to bother me somehow by having their little kiddies get together to play ball for 3 hours. I’m curious to see how this Labor Day will be if he’s still not back yet. The past two Labor Days that they’ve been here, he was here and they make a scene.

Later…

Right on time. It’s the bitch’s prime time. The Caddy just pulled up to take her to wherever.

Later…

My oh-so-horny-all-the-time husband just left for work. I’m glad he truly has a low drive, cuz now we’re both on common ground there for once. For him, it was his hip and back that were hurting today. For me, I just wasn’t in the mood as usual, and when I am, it’s just more convenient and less problem-causing if I just quickly take care of my own self.

SATURDAY, JULY 25, 1998 Tom’s at Mary’s now putting up some blinds.

Earlier we had Ratsy out on the bed. I brought him to the bed in the ball, and it was so cute how he’d go exploring around the bed and then run back into the ball for a few seconds and repeat the scenario again.

We were talking about modifying Ratsy’s cage so he could have more space. Guess that cute little white wired, fuchsia-based cage was a waste after all. Right now I have him in the birdcage that Tweety was in when he was given to us. He loves to climb the perches and bars. Like the mice, he’s pretty much nocturnal. The pig and rabbit are up on and off day and night. Same with Tweety, although when left outside at night, Tweety’s as silent as can be. He never moves. He’s like a statue out there at night. Anyway, we may find a way to connect the white wire cage to the birdcage he’s in now. Meanwhile, Tom’s still gonna look for a cheap aquarium at a yard sale.

We also went to screw around earlier, and I just couldn’t do it. I just feel that mixing sex with the relationship would just bring back all the arguments and trouble and feelings of inadequacy. The two just don’t mix. Not only was I afraid I’d be returning to a destructive cycle if we screwed, I just couldn’t get in the mood. It seems that quitting smoking didn’t just stunt my metabolism, it stunted my sexual appetite, too. Tom’s been very patient, though, and feels that things will change and that my appetite will return. Of course, I have mixed emotions about that. Tom also seems to have as little desire for sex as I do, although he says differently. Guess we all really do deal with things differently. Maybe he really is horny all the time like he says, but it’s just not him to always say so and show it.

I just hope old times don’t return as far as my being a little nympho. I don’t want to want the full-time sex I could never have, and I don’t want to ever return to wanting a child, either. There’s nothing like wanting something you can’t have/handle. Except for my weight, I’ve never been more at peace with myself and with life in general. I want to keep it this way.

Speaking of weight - I’ve made a decision. This nearly starving myself just to stay the same weight has taken its toll on me. I’ve decided to go to two meals a day, plus a bowl of popcorn, or a few crackers for snacks. It’s not like I’m young, single, or looking to go topless dancing. I believe Tom will love me either way so it’s OK if I get fatter and I have no problem with letting that happen. I just won’t be able to rock at some point.

The funny thing about it is that Tom says I’ll lose weight this way. He said he saw a weight loss show on TV and they were saying that the reason why people don’t lose weight is cuz they stop eating. I don’t know, but I guess it’s got something to do with food acting as fat-burning fuel. He said that the more you eat, the faster your metabolism is. I asked him what about those who gorge themselves, and he said that there is a limit to how much the body can burn off. Well, maybe this is how it works for some people, but not for me. I’m going to gain weight for sure and if I didn’t, I sure as hell won’t lose weight on two 300-calorie meals a day. I have no metabolism and my body hangs onto everything it eats.

It’s just that I miss the days when I didn’t worry about what I ate. I’m sick of having to watch every little bite I eat and be so fucking hungry 95% of the time. So, let the pounds come!

The postcard that Larry should get Monday or Tuesday, oughta take him by surprise. I don’t hate my brother or his family, I just think it’s all for the best. That way I won’t have to keep questioning our relationship if there is no relationship between us to begin with.

I know Larry, though. I know how people can lie and get spiteful when cut off by someone, so I wouldn’t put it past him to talk bad about me and lie about me to Lisa, but I’m sure Lisa has a mind of her own and that anything he might say, will have nothing to do with her and I.

I’m not too sure what was going on at the freeloaders' place. It’s been peaceful. No music or shit like that, but a couple of hours ago I heard door slams that were in the carport, and of course, I worry that it’s him returning since it’s inevitable. I ran and looked and saw a black boy of about 8 years of age and an adult black guy, but only for a second. It looked for a second like the little one had a basketball in its hands and that they were gonna start a ball game, but then they walked out of sight, a white car I’ve seen a lot over there pulled out of the carport, and that’s been it so far.

FRIDAY, JULY 24, 1998 OK, now I’ll get into the shit that’s gone on. Let me just start by saying that when Tammy went to Florida a couple of summers ago when Mom and Dad pulled their shit by taking their problems with me to her, etc., I told them that if they step out of line one more time, I’m gone for good. No more making up a few months down the line. Well, they did step out of line. Therefore, they’re now a permanently closed chapter in my life and I don’t care how often they come begging for me or how often they try to get through others to get attention from me. I’m really sure that my walking away from Mom, Dad, and Larry is what’s best for everybody. No, Larry didn’t do anything. There’s no connection between him and Mom and Dad. It’s simply what I feel would be best. I’ll talk to Tammy occasionally, Lisa can call me whenever she wants to, and that’s it. That’s all I can deal with anymore. The more people from my past I disassociate myself with, the more I can move on. Things go fine for a while, then as soon as I say something they don’t agree with, they pitch a fucking fit and act as if I may as well have killed someone. The having problems with these people on and off for 32 years has taken its toll on me and I should’ve cut them off years ago. Of course, if I’d cut them out of my life before 1992, I wouldn’t be here now. That’s about the only really good thing they ever did for me was sending me out here. Well, they say there’s a time for everything and now it’s definitely time to rid myself of these negative, moody, emotional, narrow-minded, arrogant, selfish little people. This couldn’t have happened at a better time, too, cuz I really did not want to go to Florida, and he was only gonna go for the same reasons I was gonna go. So it’s no loss to either of us.

This is how it all started, but first - if only Bill knew just how lucky he is that I didn’t find out about his hitting up on Lisa till after I got here. If only I’d known! I’d have taken him out back in the woods behind the dive I was living in in the NHA and I’d have beaten him within inches of death. He’d never again have had the strength to hit a fly!

Lisa called me as soon as she got back home to the problems that were waiting for her return. She was depressed and feeling overwhelmed. She told me that her trip went well enough. Bill kept his paws to himself, but this time, he got at her by way of taunting her about her weight. So if he can’t get at her physically, he gets at her mentally, huh? She’s 5’ 3” and weighs 130 pounds. I asked Tom if someone at that height and weight would be fat. He said probably not. None of the pictures or videos I’ve seen suggest she’s fat, but I told her to tell her father to mind his own business and to look in the mirror. He’s no skinny stud. I told her she could remind her father that it’s the person that counts. Not what they look like.

That’s when I vented to Mom and Dad over AOL and I asked them if they could see past his Jewishness and his great job and see Bill for the child-beating whore he really is. Sure enough, and just as I figured, they said that Bill’s oh so special to them, the things I say he is are lies, don’t bring up the subject again unless I know the whole truth, they thought I was over such venom, and what am I gonna do? Start a vendetta against Bill?

And they played with poor Lisa’s head when she was in Florida by telling them her father loves her. She tried to tell them how he’s a control freak and how she didn’t see how he could love her since he hits her when he can’t get his way, but they wouldn’t hear it. If Bill killed her and was convicted in court, they’d still believe he was an innocent, great guy! They’d go right into denial as they always do when they don’t like the truth or when it’s about something they’re too much of a wimp to deal with.

Then they insist that since even I know Tammy’s known to have lied in the past, she can’t be telling the truth about Bill. I told them yes, Tammy would lie about being an RN and she would exaggerate illnesses, but why would she lie about him cheating on her when she was pregnant with Sarah? And why would she and Lisa lie about his hitting her? I’m too good with people’s character to not believe that Bill could do what he’s done, and I know what Tammy would and wouldn’t lie/exaggerate about.

It’s not just that my parents refuse to see Bill for what he really is, it’s a matter of different times and generations. See, my parents, as well as Bill, were taught that hitting is OK. Hitting is good, actually. So they’re kind of caught up within their own eras. Still, anyone who’s warped enough to believe that violence is love is someone I don’t want in my life whether they’re related to me or not.

As much as Tammy has lied, how can a mother try to pit one of their kids against another? How can she also side with her son-in-law over her daughter? If we had had a kid and if Tom had gone wacko and hit the kid and cheated on me, would they have believed me if I’d told them about it? Tom may not be Jewish and he may not have held the same job for over 20 years, but he’s Jewish enough to them cuz to them, he’s my caretaker. They don’t have to worry about having to take care of me cuz he takes care of me. He’s got a lot to offer them. If he didn’t, that’d be different.

And they say don’t bring up the subject again unless I know the truth which really means, don’t bring up the subject again unless I see it their way. What is the whole “truth,” though, anyway? Even Tammy would like to know that.

She thought I was over such “venom?” Sorry, but I still have opinions, feelings, and beliefs, and if that’s venom, then too bad. As for starting a vendetta against Bill; I’m not gonna do anything to the guy cuz I’ll never see or talk to him again, so I don’t know what they’re so worried about. I’m 3000 miles away (lucky guy!). If I ran into him on the streets, which is highly unlikely out here, then we’d be talking a whole different story and then yes, I’d kill him.

I asked them if they always practice what they preach. They harp on not bringing up the past, but they do anyway. But only when they say so. Only when it’s not something that embarrasses them or something they are always too weak to face. Everything’s them, them, them. They just can’t deal with not having control over people. Everybody’s gotta be just like them at all costs, or else they just can’t handle things. As I told them, they can revert back to their old ways all they want. I have a husband who loves and accepts me as a whole, as I am, and that’s all I need. We don’t have a 1-sided relationship. I told them they can forget about the trip, don’t call me or contact me in any way, and I blocked them out of my email list. It’s not worth checking, but I’m sure they’ve blocked me out, too.

I told them that since they’ve had problems with all of their kids, did they ever think that maybe the problem is them? I told them I agree - Tammy’s a lousy mother, but are they forgetting that they were pretty lousy as parents themselves? And speaking of lying - I’ve caught them in numerous lies. Hell, I’m sure they’re already lying about this shit. I’m sure they’re having Ruth and Marty come running over so they can cry on their shoulders about me and I’m sure they’re saying that they were the ones to dump me. Let them.

As for Larry - I sent him a postcard saying that I guess it’s my turn to do the dumping, but that it’d be for a lot longer than 8 years this time around, and please don’t bother calling. No, he didn’t do anything to me, but what’s the point? I mean just like Jenny C, he’s way in the past, he’s 3000 miles away, and this way I won’t have to keep wondering if I did the right thing. What I mean by that is, he’s funny and all that, but ever since he contacted me in 1993, I’ve been wondering if I did the right thing by accepting him back into my life. Is that really having self-respect? Well, with Mom, Dad, and Larry out of my life, I won’t have to wonder about a lot of things anymore and about doing this, doing that, saying this, saying that, and I’ll be free of having to feel like I’m walking on eggshells around these people. Something no one should have to feel with anybody, related or not. I just don’t like these people. I don’t even like Tammy, but I can at least tolerate her. She doesn’t put demands on me. I don’t want to talk to her very often, we have next to nil in common, but it’s OK if she needs to call me to bitch about life.

Lisa was telling me the other day how Tammy asked her who was the one person that’s always been there for her and Lisa answered by saying, “Aunt Jodi.” That’s sweet of her. Lisa says Tammy really loves me. That’s nice. I mean, whatever.

Later…

An hour ago, I was called about my appointment on Monday with Melanie, but it wasn’t Melanie who called. It was Trisha, Tisha, or whatever her name is.

Ratsy is still sort of shy, but I managed to get him out for a few seconds today. He still mainly prefers to come to the door of his cage and look out, but that’s about it. He’s not eager to jump into my hands or the ball that small critters roam around in.

Later…

Does this ever get any easier? The one TV dinner a day, plus some popcorn or some graham crackers, just to maintain the same weight, is so fucking hard!

Tom called from Mary’s cuz he remembered when he got there that Ma has a doctor’s appointment to go to, so he won’t be in for a couple more hours.

THURSDAY, JULY 23, 1998 Boy, do I have a lot to write about! I just haven’t been able to cuz I’ve had major problems with my computer. It was down for two days due to a defective hard drive. Fortunately, though, Tom got it all squared away.

I checked out the word processor that Mary has. Yes, it’s got a lot more than just 16 colors which are all my word processor can display, but it’s got features that I don’t like so I probably won’t use it unless I’m printing out stuff.

Let me begin with the good news, then I’ll cover the bad.

Yesterday, we got a rat! I’ve named him Ratsy and he’s a Fancy rat, just like the mice are Fancy Mice.

Later…

Oh, fuck! I just stopped and jumped up to get the mail and we got a piece of the freeloader’s mail. So that means that the guy across W. Weldon got our mail. Fucking, motherfucking mailman! Why is he so fucking illiterate? Or does he just not give a shit? I don’t mind checking out the freeloader’s mail, but it’s more important that we get our mail instead, so as soon as I get another piece of that bitch’s mail is when I’ll be calling in my what? My 5th complaint? Well, they work for a while, so if I gotta bitch every few months to keep things going around here the way they should, then I guess that’s what I’ll do.

All the bitch got was a service plan on a washer. Whoopee!

Anyway, Ratsy’s a cutie and he’s pretty mellow. I really thought he’d be more active and a fast thing, too, but so far, he just sits around and moves slowly. He’s not desperate to escape like Tom said he’d be. His head and neck have brown fur and the rest is white. He does have a little dot of dark fur on his back, but that’s it.

Although he’s much bigger than a mouse, he can fit through the tubes. He’s long, but he’s skinny. His tail alone is longer than a mouse. It could wrap around my wrist. So, he’s got a straight tube and a wheel and is in a white wire cage with a fuchsia bass that’s one square foot. He has the same bottle Velvet has, but his is purple.

They say rats are smart and can learn their names and a variety of tricks. Wish I could teach him to make me coffee!

Well, I’m just too tired to get into all the other stuff I wanted to write about, but I will tomorrow. It’s too far toward the end of my day for me to think straight. All I’m good for doing for the rest of the day is computer games, music, and books.

TUESDAY, JULY 21, 1998 Ma can’t open the picture of the mystery item we filmed and sent her, so I’ll have to wait till Tom gets home to tell me to tell her what to do. Or to tell her himself.

This weekend Tom was really encouraging the sex and pelvic exam appointment. The one where I bring up the sterility (he suggested I don’t make it till after his appointment which is on 8/4). He said he’s ready to try when I am but wouldn’t push me to do anything I didn’t want to do. He said that just because sex doesn’t always turn out the way it should, don’t let that spoil other things. He also feels I should act on having my questions answered, rather than just talk about them.

Well, I guess you could say I’m feeling a bit braver and ready to take those first steps into finding out what’s wrong with me, but again, isn’t going back to sex just returning to the same old destructive cycle? Again, I don’t want to be trying to do something I’m not meant to be doing. If we’ve never gotten anywhere yet with it, why would we now? And also, should I really be going and bringing up my sterility to a doctor? Wouldn’t that just be getting me nowhere since I still don’t see how Tom’s subconscious, if not conscious, would let him cooperate with the testing since he’d have to be a part of it, too?

Well, if you’re like me, you believe there is no such thing as taking a wrong path in life. I believe that if I start to walk down a “wrong path” God will bump me off of it, so I can’t necessarily choose wrong when it comes to something like infertility testing. If he doesn’t want me tested, he’ll make sure something or someone stops that. Even women who marry abusive husbands didn’t take the “wrong step.” For whatever unfair reason, it was meant to be.

I would just hate it if they told me they couldn’t find anything wrong with me when I know damn well there is something wrong. Just like they said there was nothing wrong with the car when Tom knew good and well that there was something wrong. That’d be mean of God, in a sense. Just to get no answers when I know something’s wrong. Maybe there really is nothing wrong, though. Maybe it’s just a case of God making sure one of my eggs and one of his sperm never meet. That’s fine in this day and age. I don’t want an egg to meet one of his sperms, but I’d like to know why I’m sterile. Maybe they couldn’t tell me the cause of my sterility for sure, but is the problem within the uterus? The eggs? Something else? Tom feels it may be simple, but I just know it’s not. And I also just know that it’s not a case of nothing being wrong, too. I was predestined to be sterile. God sterilized me either before birth or before I was in my teens. I’m just glad that whatever is wrong, whether they can find it or not, can’t be fixed. And I just know it can’t be.

Tom said that we may go to a doctor who says all’s fine, or that they don’t know what’s up, but then we could go to another one a few months later, who knows more, and who can do something to answer my questions. Well, I hope not. Cuz any doctor who doesn’t know of a certain testing/technique with something like that, that really does exist, shouldn’t be out there practicing in the first place. Maybe some things can’t be tested, but they should be able to, for the most part, find the problem, then tell the person the different things they can do about it, so they know what their options are.

Will God let them find the cause of my sterility? Maybe he doesn’t want me knowing what’s up with me. Maybe he wants me to always wonder about it. Well, time will tell if I’m meant to know or not.

When I was in the 5th grade, I had an autograph book. When I was in my early teens, I had a little diary. I asked Mom if there was any chance she saved them for me to have when I got older, but I’m virtually 100% sure she doesn’t have either one of these things. Wish she did, though, cuz they’d be so neat to check out in this day and age.

I’m about as finished with food as I am with cigarettes. So much for that dream and so much for thinking I wouldn’t return to the 120s, even though it was only for a few hours. I learned that I must treat food the same way. I couldn’t cut down the cigarettes. I had to just quit. You either smoke or you don’t. That’s how it usually works. Same with food. Cutting down on food just doesn’t cut it. I have to either eat or stop eating altogether. I don’t know why the setback or why my metabolism decided to quit on me again. I ended up back up to 122 yesterday. Almost back to where I’ve always been since quitting smoking. Well, I’m really sick of this shit. Real fucking sick of it, so I’m not even gonna bother with food anymore. I’m just not even gonna bother.

Later…

It was a cloudy morning, so I took advantage of it and went out and sat out there reading. Wish it was cloudy more often here, cuz it makes for perfect tanning weather. When you’re getting directly hit by the sun, though, it’s scorching hot and I have to keep dipping in the pool with all the bees. Although today, there haven’t been too many. I wonder if they’re dying off for the year early. Bee season doesn’t usually end till September. And of course, I had to listen to the fucking dogs a couple of times while I was out there. That and Caddy kid.

I’m soooooo fucking hungry. It’s like craving cigarettes all over again only this time it’s food. A part of me just wants to say, “Fuck it! I’ll never be thin again. I know it. God knows it. So why don’t I just eat when I’m hungry and forget about how I look and what I weigh?”

I broke down at 3 AM, not too long after I’d gotten up, and had a TV dinner. I’m tempted to have some popcorn, but then I’ll just want graham crackers or something else, too, later on.

I did a little walking and have begun doing 22 different exercises. I know that only about 5 of them will work, but oh well.

I made some tea in the coffeemaker. Yup, instead of putting a filter with coffee grinds in it, I put in 4 tea bags.

Later…

I just don’t understand. What the hell could’ve stunted my metabolism? I know I had pork rinds when we were waiting for Wal-Mart to open, but it’s not like I eat junk every day. I don’t eat a lot, period. I hardly eat. This just makes no sense. I could eat whatever I wanted to whenever I got hungry and I didn’t have to worry about gaining weight. Now, I can’t eat nothing without gaining weight. Just a banana will put two pounds on me. I just look at food and I gain weight! I haven’t had any popcorn or crackers, but again, do I want to live my life being hungry all the time? Some days I’m OK with it. Others are hard. Do I want to live on barely any food, or do I just want to let my body eat when it’s hungry and let my body weigh what it naturally wants to weigh?

MONDAY, JULY 20, 1998 We got Windows 98 yesterday and neither of us is too thrilled with it. The only thing it’s got that I like is how I can choose two different colors for my active and inactive title bars. I don’t like its start menus. Instead of popping up and down, they slide.

I’ve had a setback with the weight. What else is new, huh? I had gotten to 117-119, but now I’m just over 120. It’s my fault for slacking off and getting some munchies yesterday when we were waiting for Walmart to open. I feel teased again, too. I get this water pill, begin losing weight before my period, then get my period which was a light one, and then gain weight. Well, I’m the one who’s been saying for months now how I’m destined to remain heavy. I think I’ve known that deep down and that that dream didn’t really mean anything. Again, if I can stay around the low 120s, I can sit in my “rocking” position easily enough. Meanwhile, I’ll never be thin again. I’ve said it, I’ve known it, so…so be it. Also, I gotta treat food cravings like I treated the cigarette cravings and ignore them cuz they do go away with time. You kind of get used to a new diet after a while, but fortunately, I’m not getting too hungry too often. Not like I used to for a while there.

At Wal-Mart, we were hoping to get an extra, smaller aquarium so I could expand the mice’s setup, but they didn’t have any we wanted. I did get a really neat raft, though. I’ve always wanted one that was airless and that you didn’t need to worry about tearing. I don’t know for sure what type of material it’s made of. Maybe Styrofoam. It’s purple and yellow striped and not as comfortable as an air raft, but it’s still nice.

There was this object that neither of us could be sure of that Ma sent. I described it to her and asked her what it was, but she didn’t know what I was talking about. She asked if I could scan or draw it. Tom scanned it with the VCR, and we attached it to their email, so I’ll wait to see if she can tell me about it.

The weekend was cockless, so it was fine. Tom did see him parked in the street, though, last evening, as if he was taking or dropping off the kid. This morning, Caddy and cock came.

SUNDAY, JULY 19, 1998 It looks like I’m finally getting a full flow here, but not much of one yet. So I guess this is just how I am nowadays. I spot for a few days before I flow.

I asked Tom for his opinion on this - I told him I wasn’t sure if I should make the appointment cuz of how I’m feeling right now, which is how I usually feel - all’s fine the way it is, I’m not that curious as to why I don’t work. But I also know that once every month or two, the questions will be back to eat at me. So, what did he think I should do? He said he thinks I should make the appointment. Just make sure I don’t make it too close to Melanie’s appointments and have several so close together. Don’t want to run him ragged. Maybe I’ll wait till I’m done seeing her every two weeks.

I’ll tell you one thing for sure - I’m not playing the repeat pap game. They get one shot and if they can’t read my culture once - then fuck it.

I don’t know, though, cuz I still feel that if I lift a finger to engage in acts of sex or anything having to do with my female parts, I’m just asking for trouble. They can’t help someone whose sex life is like ours. You just can’t mix sex with a relationship, any more than you can mix business with pleasure, cuz there’s almost always a conflict if you do.

I wasn’t meant to have a normal, healthy sex life. I wasn’t meant to be a total woman and I have no business sticking my nose where it doesn’t belong. Meddling in God’s work and trying to find out how he did what he did, is a no-no that’ll cost me. God’s reasons should be trusted and not questioned, no matter how off the wall they seem.

Marla’s back home. She sent me an email on health insurance, asking me to ask Andy if he wants any info on it. I’m sure he won’t, but I’ll ask him. Andy isn’t interested in anything. If he could have his way for the rest of his life, he’d have 3 hands. In one hand would be a phone, in the other would be a joint, and in the last, a dick.

Tom went out yesterday afternoon after I went to bed and got some better recording equipment and Windows 98.

Ma got a wheelchair the other day for when she goes out. She’s gotten so weak that she can’t cross even the smallest of parking lots.

She turned the title of her Ford Tempo over to Tom, and Tom’s very old Nissan Centra, which is at his ma’s old house, is as good as dead. He went through it and took out all the tools and stuff we want to keep, and it’ll be towed away to a junkyard.

Later…

We went to PetSmart yesterday morning. There was a really cute, curious, and even friendly rat that sniffed my hand. I want a rat sooooooo bad, but he doesn’t like rats cuz he thinks they look mean and ugly. This makes no sense to me cuz mice and rats are one in the same animal. Only one’s real small, one’s not.

They really have a lot of nice, clever, and cute accessories for a variety of animals. They had cute little logs, shoes, and things like that for little critters to burrow in. I got the mice a really cute 3-story house. It’s of clear plastic and is about 8” tall and 4” wide. It’s got a red 1st floor, a purple 2nd floor, an orange 3rd floor, a yellow roof, and a blue chimney. It was so cute to see them crawling around it. It has a cute little pink ladder that goes to the 2nd floor, but they kept knocking it down. So I put it upstairs for them to chew on. Star, who never goes downstairs or up to the maze or over to the left end of the setup, loves playing with it. The first two floors of the house have little clear windows and the top floor has got a few open holes in it. They can’t just walk into the bottom floor from the ground, either. They have to climb up to the middle floor, then drop down into it. I’m surprised they aren’t sleeping on the bottom floor since it’s so dark and enclosed.

Got my first pink piggy bottle, too. One of those kinds that Bunny doesn’t like (our other one leaks). Velvet’s using this pink bottle with the little knob that swivels, and Bunny’s using the old water bottle with the metal rolling ball.

SATURDAY, JULY 18, 1998 Well, it looks like we’re gonna be seeing a U-Haul real soon that comes with a tall, skinny, bald freeloader. I knew it was just a matter of time.

No cock and Caddy this morning. Just a white car. I don’t know how long they were there, but the cock’s parked out on the street now and there was a white van, but it just left. No music, but still, why would the cock be there at this hour on a Friday night if he weren’t there to say, “I love you. Let’s make nicey-nice. It’s Friday night. Let’s fuck, kiss, and make up, and I’ll come back to live here and slam doors for next door. Among a few other things.” Well, come on, cock! I’ll just have you and your bitch evicted. Well, maybe it’s here for some other reason. Maybe the kid got sick. I doubt it, though. I think that whoever was in the white van helped to bring some of his stuff back, then they left them to screw each other’s brains out. So, now I can go back to not knowing what to expect when a weekend rolls around, but if he’s not gone by 1 AM (these people are night people) then that’ll be saying that yes, my theory about his being there is right. Or there’s a 98% chance I’m right.

The dog vibe’s gone kind of dormant for now, and the September change vibe’s fading, too. I could bet $100, though, that that cock will be back by September.

Later…

Yeah! Bye, bye, cocky! I just went and looked, and it’s gone. Still, a visit this late worries me. That’s awfully late to be coming over to see the kid or to discuss child support or anything like that.

As I just told my folks in my email to them, it looks like late September is when we’ll be there. I just hope they get the fires under control that they’ve been having due to extreme heat. Thank God my ma smokes outside! I’m not looking forward to this trip. That I won’t lie about. The flying will be the highlight of the whole trip. Things are different now than when I was last there in 1989. I’m not a heavy sleeper sleeping alone. I’m a light sleeper sleeping with a husband who’ll shake and snore me awake. I’m gonna take Benadryl, my sound spa, and maybe even an earplug, but I just hope my schedule will be set enough for this and that I get some sleep. I don’t want to be dog-tired throughout all this. Maybe if I pray to God for his help, he’ll help me. This is one of those prayers that stands a chance of being answered.

If someone had told me, the last time I went to Florida at age 24 from a dive in Massachusetts, that I’d be back 8 years later from Arizona with a husband, I’d never have believed it!

Goldie and Al won’t be there in late September, but hopefully I’ll get to see Charlotte, Jim, Boo, Max, Marty and Ruth. Wish I could see Philip, but somehow, I doubt that. Hope to also meet their friends Gene and Teresa. As much as I hate phone-gabbing, Gene was interesting to talk to. Yes, it ought to be interesting meeting people who can be so persuaded by the powers of good old Dureen. I mean, how can someone influence a man to spend 10 days in their house with their dog while they take a trip? Tom would never leave me for that long and move into someone’s house for 10 days like that to live with their dog.

I didn’t make that pap smear appointment cuz now I’m back to my usual self these days. I feel life’s fine as it is and that I don’t need to know the specifics as to why I’m sterile. Why bother myself with the testing and piss off God just to find out answers to something I’m still not sure anymore that I’d ever want to change? Maybe I should still make the appointment, cuz although it doesn’t eat at me much, it will come back again to eat at me and make me wonder why I am the way I am periodically. Perhaps I’ll feel better about myself if I just find out what I can find out, cuz if I don’t, then I’ll never know, but will always wonder. I know I’m sterile and I know they can’t fix me, but why? Maybe they can’t even tell me why, but who knows for sure?

More good weight news - my metabolism’s really rolling now. Now I’m 1 pound heavier at the end of my day and not 3-5. I woke up at just a tad under 117! Big changes can be made. They just take time. But now that I’m used to my new diet plan, and not hungry a lot like I used to be, and not with a metabolism that doesn’t work, I can afford to relax more and not make sure I only eat a few bites a day. I can afford to take a day off here and there and eat an extra snack if I want to. I actually get full easily again, too. I really, really believe that I won’t be in the 120s again and that if I am, it won’t be for a long time.

Later…

It’s dead calm out there now, but earlier, there was lots of wind, lightning, and a little bit of rain and thunder. The lightning was awesome. Tom said that in the early evening last night, there was lots of rain, so he had to play the leak and bucket game.

I’m doing laundry now and instead of throwing his shirts in our little wimpy dryer, I’ve found that putting the shirts on a hanger and hanging them up on the line outside at this time of year, really helps to dry them better.

FRIDAY, JULY 17, 1998 The weekends approach really fast these days. It seems like it goes from Monday to Friday overnight. Nonetheless, it should remain peaceful if the cock stays out of the picture.

It, and the caddy, came to pick up the bitch and kid yesterday morning.

Tom said the back gate was flapping in the wind yesterday. Fucking Andy! I called and reminded him to shut that gate cuz I don't want the rabbit getting out. He called back saying it wasn't him, but he'll make sure he's careful. Yeah, right. Although, it could've been whoever reads the electric meter.

THURSDAY, JULY 16, 1998 Not much to update on at the moment. Just that the freeloader was parked next door when I got up at 6 PM. An hour later it quietly left. If I didn’t see it leave, I may not have known it, save for hearing the engine rev up. No car door. No music.

What was it doing here? Making nicey-nicey with its bitch? God, not yet! When I see the U-Haul, and I know I will sooner or later, then that’ll mean it’s back, but not this soon, please!

Guess the bitch stayed home yesterday, cuz no Caddy or freeloader pulled in at just after 7:00 as usual.

As God would have it and will always have it, he’s keeping Tom a slave to our shit of a car. One of them, anyhow.

Later…

Oh my God! Now I’m 118 and I’ve been up for hours. I did a test and ate a hot dog, then re-weighed myself and guess what? I weighed the same! That means my metabolism really is starting to roll. I really think this is it. I’m going to lose weight and that dream I had was not just a dream. It was something’s way of telling me I could begin losing weight now.

I thought about going into that bag of clothes I set aside for Laura and taking back some pieces I really love, but nah. That might hex it. And besides, since I have to pay for everything good that comes my way, maybe God will feel that giving up some clothes I really love is payment enough. I’ll just start over if I really do get thin again, as I feel I will, and buy new clothes.

This water pill really is some potent stuff and I probably won’t take it tomorrow.

Later…

What a gorgeous night it is. It’s quite warm, but the pool temperature’s just perfect. It must be in the low 90s. I swam up and down and just enjoyed the peace and quiet of the night. I made my swim physical for the exercise part of it, but then I also relaxed and had fun just floating about.

It’s been really hot and the summer we thought we’d never have, has been here for a while now. I’ll be looking forward to the monsoons, but not the humidity that comes with it, or playing the game of leak and bucket.

I feel better than I did yesterday. I felt a little bummed yesterday, but nothing compared to what I’d go through back when I wanted a kid. My period’s starting and hopefully it won’t be just a spot, then I’ll have to wait another week before having a full flow. Hopefully, it’ll take off within the next day or so.

Blackie and Velvet really love to sit and stare at each other. He gets Velvet bouncing around.

Anyway, I feel so blessed to have a guy like Tom who wants me forever. He may be a sexual misfit, but he sure is one in a million and I could never live without him.

I thank God that I’m dreamless at the moment. That’s a rare occasion in my life. I mean, I still want to move, of course, but that’s a material dream. One that’s sure to happen, too. It’s just a matter of time. So, aside from being thin again, and wishing I could change a few of my personal traits, I’m at peace and I hope to hell I never dream again. Cuz if I do (a non-material dream), the answer’s no. Nothing I could want really, really bad could ever be granted to me. Nothing that I want really, really bad that’s on my mind day in and day out, year after year. God, please don’t ever let me dream again!!

Later…

It looks like my payment for losing some weight is that old horniness and thoughts of a kid kicking up again. I hate being horny a lot. I mean, after my period, it’ll simmer down, but there’s nothing like being horny a lot with a busy, dead-dicked husband. Remember, I love my husband, but not in bed. And I hate thinking of the impossible. I have to remember that God sterilized me for a reason. He knew I could never handle a child. He knew I’d be more miserable than ever if I had to give up my life and freedom to a child.

Even so, I’ve decided that I’m sick of living a life of wondering why I’m sterile. I know I’ll feel better about myself if I just stop being a wimp, put my superstitions and suspicions aside, and just find out whatever modern technology can tell me. That way I won’t wonder year and year and it won’t eat at me as much. Stupid, I know. Like Tom will let me get as far as getting any real answers? I don’t think so! I know the first thing they’re gonna do is tell us to screw for several days in a row at certain times. And of course, he’s gonna conveniently not be able to get in there and if he does get in there, he’s just gonna be too tired or sore to cum.

Well, there’s no sense in wishing to be someone I’m not. The kind of woman who sleeps with her husband, holds a schedule without a problem, has a healthy, normal sex life, is all-woman, has a child she can handle, is not who I am. No, it’s not that I’m back to wanting a kid. I don’t want to suffer from what a kid would entail. I just sometimes wish I was different, is all. Most of the time, though, I love my uniqueness. It’s all I know.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 15, 1998 Oh my God! I don’t believe it. I’ve been up 10 hours and I weigh what I weighed when I got up - 119! Is it cuz of the water pill? Tom doesn’t feel that has any connection to weight loss. Well if it doesn’t, then this is a hell of a coincidence.

I hope Andy’s enjoying his new job. More importantly, I hope he’s still there.

I feel bad for Michelle. I know what she’s going through. She’s big, but she’s feminine and she’s attracted to feminine women. But just like I used to, she goes into the bars and finds that fems want butches and vice versa. She feels it’s hopeless and that if she ever has sex (she has never had sex with a woman or a man and is 24 years old) it won’t be in this century.

Andy says that if he could get away with making prank phone calls like he could years ago, he’d still be making them. Yeah, I believe it. He hasn’t changed much. He’s more sensitive and you can talk to him about problems, but he’s still the same old guy otherwise.

TUESDAY, JULY 14, 1998 I’m kind of tired cuz I had my sleep broken up. I amazingly did get to my 9:30 appointment yesterday, but when I fell asleep around noon, I woke up at 4:00 and couldn’t go back to bed till 8:00. When I did, I slept till midnight.

Dr. Brown seems nice enough. She’s in her 40s and might be a lesbian. She put me back on Vanceril (preventative inhaler) and renewed my Proventil inhalers (for wheezing). As she said, it’s seasonable and different things can trigger asthma and allergies. She didn’t ask any personal questions and I did right by God and myself and I followed my heart and said nothing about sex and sterility. I just don’t want to deal with the sex part of it and I don’t want a child anymore. She did suggest a pelvic exam, but I don’t feel I need one.

I told her how I have a lot of water retention and how 10 years ago I took a pill for that on the 15th day of my cycle till I got my period, and it reduced the water and slimmed me down. She wrote me a prescription for a water pill and like before, I must take a source of potassium with it, like a glass of orange juice.

I don’t know if the dream I had last night is a sign or what. In the dream, I was taking some sort of dance class. I asked a girl in the class to be honest and tell me if she thought I was fat. She said no. Like Tom pointed out, I’m not physiologically the same as I was 10 years ago, so it may not do much to slim me down even if a lot of my bigness is water retention. Still, if it helps some, then some is better than none.

I asked Ma if I could take my little sound spa (that plays sounds of rain, oceans, etc.) when I come to Florida. She asked if it was necessary. I told her it kind of was, but that it’s her house, so if she says no, then I won’t bring it. I told her if she had a fan that wasn’t whisper-quiet, that that’d help too, since I’m a light sleeper and since Tom snores. God, I hate traveling. Cuz of how light I sleep, my screwy schedule, my being a homebody, I just am not fond of traveling.

I was surprised to get a message from Tammy just wanting to say hi. She said things were good with her (wow!) and that was nice of her. I left her a message too, since she was heading out with Mark and his daughter when she called. I told her I was in a room where the loud fan was and didn’t hear her call, Tom was asleep and I was tired, but was glad she was doing well. I told her we were well, too, and that I’d call tomorrow (today now).

Neither Kim nor I have heard from Bob. Has he had heart attack number 50? Every other letter he’s had either a stroke or a heart attack, so who knows what’s up with him? Wouldn’t the prison contact someone if he kicked the bucket? Well, I sent him a letter. I don’t contact him much, but he got one and so did Tammy, since she never seems to be on AOL anymore. I don’t know why she keeps her account with them.

Wow! It’s to be 112º today and 114º tomorrow. I don’t think I’ll leave Tweety out.

Later…

Tom got two awards at work. One says: teamwork award - third shift sorter 100% exceptions in June warrant quality. The other says: top performer award 25,551,213 items processed.

He also picked me up my prescriptions and I started the water pill.

I forgot to say yesterday, the waiting room was amazingly empty and there wasn’t a shitload of waiting time to do as I thought there’d be. I don’t know if this was a fluke, but I thought that since Melanie’s waiting room is pretty empty and since she gets me in on time, I’d be compensated with this one. I thought I’d have 20-30 minutes to wait in the waiting room, then 20 more minutes to wait after the nurse brought me into the exam room.

The nurse cleaned the bad ear with a water gun.

Later…

The phantom box finally came. Ma says, believe it or not, she has another box to come to us in a few weeks.

There were a lot of cute cards and postcards. I’ll be distributing the postcards between Larry, Sandy, Jen, Tammy, Lisa, Becky, Sarah, and Kim. I even sent one to Andy. The cards will be great for birthdays and anniversaries. There were a couple of Hanukah and get-well cards, too. There were floral stickers that I’ll use to decorate the envelopes.

As usual, a couple of glass knickknacks got smashed, but the few knickknacks that did make it are cute. There was an Arizona pin that I think I remember seeing on my mom when she was here, a couple of bracelets (one really nice one with charms), a glass and suction cup thermometer with birds, and a couple of vases, and a Star of David-shaped pasta.

Tammy called to tell me how wonderful Mark still is, how she’s getting a golden retriever named Shane, and how pissed she is at mom and dad. The girls will be staying with them for one night.

I asked her how she can be so sure that Bill will keep his paws to himself. She said she’d never have let them go with him if she was worried and that Larry put the fear into him. By Larry’s state complaint, and this isn’t the first, Bill’s gonna be all the more afraid to step out of line. Well, if what Larry did will make him behave, great.

I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if someone in the family weren’t eventually murdered. I will never ever go to my parents’ funerals for fear of either getting shot or killing someone myself. Not to mention the fact that I can mourn their loss no matter where I was and just don’t ever want to return to New England for reasons that are obvious to those who know me as well as my husband does. I’m OK with never seeing Tammy and Larry again if that’s the way it goes. Lisa, I believe, will come out here. If not to live, then to visit.

Sometimes I still think I should’ve just walked away from my whole family except for Lisa years ago, cuz I burn with anger at some of the things I hear and I sometimes feel it’d be easier if I did just walk away. I get so fucking pissed sometimes when I think of my uncles, and even Larry and my folks still. I want to give people a piece of my mind when I hear they’ve said or done shit that pisses me the fuck off, but I can’t cuz that’d be betraying the trust of the person who confided in me in the first place. And also, it wouldn’t do any good. My stubborn family is set in their ways.

Tammy said she’ll never forgive Dad for what he recently said to her. I half agree with what Dad said to her which was that it’s all Tammy’s fault that Lisa’s suicidal, she should’ve let her live with Larry. He also brought up her exes.

How can a parent side with one of their kids like this and pit one against the other? It’s sick! Yes, Tammy’s mainly to blame for how Lisa is today, and I think Lisa would be better off at Larry’s, but is my father forgetting that he and Ma weren’t parents of the century? Have they forgotten just what shitty parents they were and how they were responsible for making someone feel suicidal too (Tom feels they do feel responsible)? And what with how my folks preach about how bad it is to rehash the past, why’d they bring up the past? How is bringing up Dick and Joe gonna change the past or fix the present? I love my dad, my dad’s got a lot of smarts, but what a stupid, stupid, fuck he can be. What a blind, arrogant little fuck!

Tom’s kind of avoiding contact with David and Evie now cuz their TV’s broken and he doesn’t want to fix it. Again, his family may have the better cars, the better houses, the better jobs, and they obviously have no problem in bed, but they don’t have the better brains.

Guess next door’s not the only subsidized freeloaders on this street. About 10-15 houses down on the other side of the street, there appears to be another city home. Tom doesn’t think it’s a city-owned house, but these sure are some weird fucking freeloaders. A guy was hosing down the roof. What would he be doing that for? Then there was a black girl and a black boy of about 8 and 10 years of age.

MONDAY, JULY 13, 1998 Just observed the usual routine - the Caddy came, the black cock came, the black bitch deliberately slammed her door very loud, then all was gone.

White Paws has been doing some disappearing acts. Has she had kittens again, only smartened up like her mother and had them elsewhere? She came from the freeloader’s yard and again, did she have kittens in the freeloader’s yard?

If my horoscope is right, this doctor I’m going to today will be quite bossy. Who else would boss me around? Not Tom. Well, the worst that can happen is that I don’t like her and don’t see her again.

I talked with Andy last night. I don’t believe him, but he says that if he loses this job, then he’ll go for a career change. He said he also went to a lezzy bar with Michelle. He brought his tambourine as an attention-getter. He’s soooo desperate for attention. Any attention. It’s sad. He lets guys pick him up that approach him on his late-night walks. He sucks their dicks. He’s gonna die of AIDS!

Yesterday at 3 AM, we went to the Indian reservation and this time, we held our own for longer than 5 minutes but didn’t really win. I did win $30 at one point but ended up giving it right back.

Tom trimmed the tree out front and found a problem with the car. Is it ever gonna pass Emissions, though?

SATURDAY, JULY 11, 1998 I got up at 2:45 this afternoon (at 119) and took a couple more Benadryl to see if I could slam myself back down for a few more hours, but I just wouldn’t go under. Instead, all I ended up with was a dry mouth and a very groggy me. I laid there a few more hours, but then that got old and I got up.

Tom went to bed at 8:00 and I’ll be getting him up at 2:00. Then we’ll go for a quick dip in the pool, then head to a casino on the Indian reservation.

Tom trimmed the hedges in back today and worked on the car. The car failed Emissions again.

My parents haven’t said anything about Lisa and Bill stopping by, so does this mean they haven’t and aren’t going to? I just wish my folks weren’t so blind when it comes to Bill. I wish they could see him for the violent whore of a scumbag he really is. Instead, all they see is his being Jewish. Oh yeah, that really counts now, doesn’t it?

The more I think about it, the more I realize just how much Andy loves serving food. Although he’s been through 50 jobs, you gotta really love being a waiter and doing the cleaning that’s involved in that to be doing it for over 15 years. Tom says he thinks he likes interacting with all the people. I think so. He hates people about as much as I do, but he’s lonely and desperate for any attention he can get, negative or not. I couldn’t imagine doing work that involved a lot of people no matter how lonely or desperate I was. I am just not a people person.

I asked Tom what he thinks is the reason the bitch next door’s not having the Lopezs watch the animal. He says that they don’t do it for free and that he doesn’t think they do daycare during the summers.

There’s something I wonder about Tammy. We all have things we can’t live without. I can’t live without my stereo. Tammy can’t live without a man. Well, my question is, had she not found Mark whom she knew a couple of years before kicking Bill out, would she have kicked him out? Like most people won’t quit an old job before finding a new one, it seems she wasn’t about to throw Bill out without having something steady going that she could transfer right into.

Later…

Fuck! Is my metabolism ever gonna speed up? I know I’m stuck today, but still, I gained 3 pounds just for eating one small TV dinner and a few graham crackers. Being stuck will keep a person from losing weight, but I guess any more weight loss is gonna have to be done in stages. Each stage will take a while. Just like in the past. For a while, I hung at 122-124, then 120-122, now 119-121.

FRIDAY, JULY 10, 1998 I walked a little further for less time today. Went 2.6 miles in 40 minutes, rather than 2.3 miles in 45 minutes.

Damn! I still get these fucking dizzy spells every day. It’s like I’m lightheaded and it takes several minutes before it goes away.

Last night I said, “Well, I guess I’m gonna be an official fuck-up, cuz I’m gonna have a second TV dinner.” I was so fucking hungry. But it didn’t curb my hunger. The hunger stayed with me and it turned into nausea. I didn’t end up puking, but I learned from it. I learned not to eat more just cuz I’m hungry cuz it probably won’t do shit. Today’s been easier and I’ve been sticking to the plan - one TV dinner, a bowl of popcorn, some graham crackers, a few grapes. On top of my water, coffee, and daily vitamins.

I woke up at 119 and am now 121. No one should gain two pounds from just one TV dinner, some popcorn, and a few grapes and graham crackers, so maybe it’s water. I’m only a week away from my period.

I think I was right about the notches, though. Meaning, if I have periods of time where I barely eat for a few days, I seem to drop a couple of pounds. It’s still so hard to believe that there was a time when I couldn’t gain weight if I tried. Now it takes a massive effort just to stay right around where I am. I still don’t see myself down to 100 pounds. Not even down to 110, but oh well. I just hope my mother’s right about it getting easier with time to go on just a few bites a day, just like it got easier with time to not smoke. I think I will get used to it. I think I’m starting to already, but it’s too soon to tell for sure.

My allergies were picking up on me again, so I changed the mice’s cages. I spent nearly two hours working on the mice and the bird’s cage.

This weekend Tom will be tied up doing yard work and working on his car. At least he’s got the brains for it. His other family members may have better cars, better houses, better jobs, and better sex lives, but they don’t have better brains. Sorry he has to deal with shit that’s not exactly fun, but at least I don’t have to worry about any weekend sex games. There’ll be no time, and also, I told him I want him as a love partner and to spend my life with him, but not as a sex partner. I’m sick of the shit in bed I went through with him year after year.

Andy left a message saying he got hired at Red Lobster. Great. Hope he stays there for more than a week, too.

Marla’s at the beach now, but I’m sure she’ll find out about his new job. She said the beach next to Old Colony Beach was closed due to some bacteria found in the water. Well, she’s not about to go into the water even if they’re allowed to what with it being just a few yards away.

THURSDAY, JULY 9, 1998 Woke up at a shocking 118½ pounds! I could not believe it. Yesterday I got to thinking that maybe I should treat food the way I did with the cigarettes. I slowly cut down the cigarettes till there were no more. It took me months to get used to this, but I did in time. I shared this idea with my folks and my mom’s reply was that it’d get easier in time. Good for you. So this helped motivate me and yesterday all I had was one low-fat/cal TV dinner, a bowl of popcorn, and some graham crackers. Today I’ve had my one TV dinner and my popcorn so far.

Yesterday I also walked 2.3 miles for 45 minutes. I only walked 14 minutes so far today at just over a mile, but maybe I’ll walk more later before my twilight swim.

Ma was right. It was hard at first to make this new adjustment and still is at times, but if I could quit smoking and tough out that till the cravings went away, then why can’t I tough this out too, and lose the weight and get used to a diet of very little food? Well, I still won’t get my hopes up but will try my best.

I got potentially good news from Andy, who I hope won’t bug me with calls all weekend. He may be working at Red Lobster or some other place. I hope to hell he gets a job and keeps it. Obviously, he must really love serving food, cuz he just keeps right on going back to restaurants. And I know he’ll flirt, too, no matter who else is or isn’t doing the same thing. I just hope he doesn’t get fired for a few weeks, instead of after just one.

I wish to hell Andy would get a boyfriend, too. Not just cuz he deserves one and wants one, but cuz he may be too preoccupied to call me as much with one, but I don’t know. Thank God he has Michelle to call every day, cuz then it’d be even worse, and Andy’s just not one you can ask a favor of. If you ask him to please not do something, he does it anyway. If you ask him to come over and take packages inside for you while you’re out of town, he calls playing dumb on your machine while he knows damn well you’re gone, and asks for you to do him a favor.

At 9 PM my time, midnight my folk’s time, we’ll be going online to chat. She sent me an email yesterday while I was online, then I replied, then she sent me an instant message, and she, Dad, and I gabbed for a bit. She said she, dad, and “mas” were there. Then she said not “mas,” it is “max” (she used no caps) and then I replied saying I was “shitting” around. That’s “sitting” around, not “shitting.” Haha. She said she thought so.

Later…

Did a total of 27 minutes of walking and I went for a dip in the pool. Somebody thumped by really loud while I was out there. Must’ve been Caddy Kid. I could smell the freeloader’s dinner. They usually eat between 7:00 - 7:30. Sometimes I still burn with anger towards this bitch for having the nerve she’s got to have pulled all the shit she’s pulled on me (along with the dick) and I have to do all I can do to keep from going over there and placing my fist through her face. It’s great while the cock’s not around and I don’t have to listen to 6 sets of loud door slams. Many times a day that fuckaroo would slam doors 4-10 times.

Talked to my folks on AOL for about 20 minutes. They’re having a string of bad luck. They got a flat tire and their water tank went out just like ours did a few years ago.

Saw Melanie today. She definitely does not share a mutual attraction or interest in any way. I can just tell. She looked beautiful, though. Her hair wasn’t straightened, but she had it in a loose ponytail with a few stray strands at the sides and it looked so much better than it did swept up off her forehead. I was in and out really quick. She tightened the area where the impacted tooth is.

I sent Tammy a letter and even thought of sending one to Anna and Harry, but I never hear from them. All I ever got was just that one letter. They’ve got my number and address. Shouldn’t I wait and let them contact me if they want to?

Paula tried calling. The other night I was thinking of her and realized it was about time again for me to hear from her. At least she’s not a pest like Andy and there’s something new to tell her by the time we talk again. It keeps it more special and exciting that way.

After seeing Melanie we went back to that used bookstore. The same guy was there that’s very nice. I got 11 books for $16.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 8, 1998 I’m going to straighten my hair in a few minutes, but first, a white car was at the freeloaders' place an hour ago. This time, I heard a male voice. It sounded a little younger than the cock, so maybe it was the kid. After 4-5 door slams, it left. No car was there late last night and there’s definitely no dog over there cuz it’s too quiet. I must’ve heard someone walking a dog or something.

Later…

Tom brought up a good point about Lisa and I hope he’s right. Since people tend to behave differently around different people, maybe Bill won’t smack the shit out of Lisa. Bill may be reluctant to hit her in front of his folks, even if they’re pretty sick, too. I hope he’s right and that Lisa has a good time. Yes, her problems will still be at home waiting for her return, but she needs a break!

I found a site on the internet where I could get two 8x10 autographed pictures of Jenny Seagrove (Norah), but it came to 20 English pounds which is something like 33 American dollars. Not worth it. Besides, who knows how she looks in these pictures and if she’s older, younger, or has her hair short.

Tom’s running around saying I jinxed him by telling him what I vibed. I told him that as far as his cars go, God wants him to fix them himself to run him ragged and keep him tied up and that he’s gonna have regular car trouble. Especially since his cars are older. Early 80s.

Andy’s cursed in sex and jobs. Tom’s cursed in cars and leaks. I’m cursed with sex and sleep. I threw the sex out the window, but not all curses can be avoided and or thrown away. I can’t say, “Well, I’ll just quit sleeping so I don’t ever have to worry about being woken up, being on a crazy schedule, or not being able to sleep with Tom.”

I’m reading a pretty good book. It’s the last one I got at that used bookstore. Tomorrow after seeing Melanie, we’ll stop in there to pick up some more. This book’s based on a true story about a woman raped by a ghost. Now that’s hard to imagine!

I guessed right too, about who would call to remind me of tomorrow’s appointment. The secretary that I see whenever I go there called. I think her name’s Trish.

Last night Tom was saying I looked thinner and I thought I felt thinner too, but we were obviously seeing and feeling things, cuz I woke up at 121. Must be that I’m not as watery as I normally am. It’s really sick, but I could eat my way up to 124 by the end of the day and by the end of the weekend, I could be close to 130. Eating just a bite a day is hard! And all this hard work isn’t to lose weight, it’s to keep the same weight that’s much too much for me anyway. I can’t believe I gotta slave my ass off just to keep from going from heavy, to even heavier! You mean I gotta live the rest of my life either hungry or very very very big? Shit!

Anyway, I’m kind of treating the food like cigarettes. I slowly cut down until I had no cigarettes. I’m slowly cutting down my food till I’m on just liquids. It’s so fucking hard, though, that I’m still tempted to let my body do what it’s comfortable doing and what’s natural for an older non-smoker and just eat and let myself gain however many more pounds I’m gonna gain, cuz it’s hungry on just one TV dinner, a bowl of popcorn, and some graham crackers a day, and we only live once.

Later…

The bitch just got dropped off by the Caddy. Then who was the prick in the white car talking to if she was gone all day?

I should never have quit smoking, as much as I’ve wanted to for years. I just swapped in one problem for another. When I smoked, I could sometimes breathe, but now that I traded in the cigs for the fat, I’m not sometimes thin. My breathing trouble varied as a smoker, but as a fat person, there’s no varying from thin to fat. This is a new kind of fat. One that I’ve never had to deal with before and that stays with me no matter what. Like a faithful lover hugging me and surrounding me constantly.

Acceptance. Acceptance is the key.

TUESDAY, JULY 7, 1998 Somehow, I’m not surprised, but Andy never came over. I hope today he’ll be out looking for a job even if it’s the same old thing that he’ll only have for a week. Right now, he’s not even trying. Not one ounce of effort has he put into it as far as I know.

At 8:00 last night, I heard the bitch talking to someone whose voice I couldn’t hear for about 5 minutes. Again, as loud as the bitch talks, I couldn’t make out a word.

Then a half-hour later it rained big time! Lots of rain came down, but not much in the way of thunder and lightning.

I was really pissed at God yesterday for letting poor Tom be run through the mill for nothing. According to the car dealer, there’s nothing wrong with the car. So he had to end up staying up for about 34 hours for nothing. And today he can’t catch up on his sleep, either cuz his mother has an appointment that he has to take her to after he gets out of work.

I may not be up tomorrow when the dentist’s office calls to remind me of my appointment, no matter who ends up calling.

After eating just one low-fat/cal TV dinner yesterday, and some grapes, peaches, popcorn, and graham crackers, I woke up almost back to 120. Like I said, 120s is as low as I can go, but if I can keep it nailed down at 120 and not rise above that - fine. I’ll settle for that if I must, but I just wish it wasn’t so hard to do! I’m starving all the time.

Later…

Ma found the box that didn’t get here! I was shocked. Apparently, Dad wrote the wrong number on it. He reversed it, I guess, and it ended up in Jacksonville, but is now on its way here.

Later…

Mama bitch’s last batch of kittens must now be able to fend for themselves, cuz she’s hanging in the yard a lot again. She’s skinny now, but I’m sure she just conceived her next batch and I’ll look forward to them being born so she’s out of the yard a lot again. I’m surprised White Paws hasn’t had a second batch yet and that the bitch’s last batch isn’t in our yard yet.

It dawned on me, though, that the bitch could’ve had the kittens at the side of the freeloader’s house since there really aren’t any other dogless yards around, and front yards and alleys are out of the question. If the freeloaders found the kittens, they probably got rid of them somehow. If they can’t have a dog, that wouldn’t necessarily mean they’d want kittens. They don’t bark.

Today Lisa’s leaving for Florida (and I guess Sarah and Becky are, too) and she won’t be back for two weeks. Please, God, look out for her! Don’t let Bill hit her. I know you love a child-smacker God, but I don’t. So please, just this once, keep this girl safe. Keep Bill’s paws to himself.

I not only feel like God’s blessed me in several ways, but I feel like he’s a thief, too. I don’t just feel like he stole my right to choose as a woman, and that he stole my figure, among other things, but I feel like he’s stolen things from me, too. His seeing to it that that fan broke makes me feel like he’s taken the fan from me. I can’t have that fan cuz he won’t let it work and I feel like that’s the same as if he reached an arm down and swiped it. Same goes for the clothes I’m giving Laura. I feel like I’m being forced, once again, out of these clothes which I loved. I want to wear my leopard cut-off jeans, but I can’t cuz God won’t let me cuz he won’t let me be thin again. It’s like he’s stolen these clothes and making me give them up against my will.

Later…

Wow. Andy did show up to use the pool after all, but he didn’t take the bag of clothes cuz he didn’t know they were for him to take. He didn’t get the messages I left till after he returned home. He said that yes, he did get chased by bees and was only here for 10 minutes. He said he could hear us talking, but not make out what we were saying. Well, I appreciate his not knocking and interrupting us.

Andy says he’s going to look for a job today. God, please let him find one and please let him keep this job for over a week!

Later…

It’s a good thing I’m not asleep now and that Tom’s a heavy sleeper, cuz tonight’s storm is even louder than last night’s. It was so nice, though, cuz until the lightning and thunder got closer, I was in the pool. I love it when it’s light enough to see any dead bugs on the water’s surface, but when I can swim without fear of bees. The water was beautiful, too.

It rained hard a couple of times and of course, I’m forced to play the game of leak and bucket. Now we’re even leaking in the music room. Tom says it’s probably come through where the AC attaches to the roof and they just didn’t seal it up very well. I knew we wouldn’t be getting a free AC without some problems attached but why is God so obsessed with sticking us with car trouble and leaks?

Tweety likes the storm. He’s out there singing to it.

OK, now I don’t know what the fuck I heard for sure, but I could’ve sworn that about an hour ago, I heard that dog bark once that they had from July to December and I did have a July dog vibe, even though it faded somewhat. A little while ago I heard an obvious, deliberate car door slam in the freeloader’s carport. If he’s back, a dog makes sense. The cock and a dog would go hand in hand, and I’ll have Tom take a look when he leaves for work. Cuz at that hour, the dog, if there is one over there, wouldn’t be in the yard. It’d be hooked to the car in the carport for me to hear.

A white car just left the freeloaders. I don’t know why it bothered to pull into the carport if it was just to drop the bitch off and why they had to slam doors 4-5 times, but with the way these people are obsessed with being heard, acknowledged, and noticed by me, you never know for sure what’s on these sick fuck’s minds. And they wish I’d accept them, too, and realize they’re just as good as whites, according to the bitch that called us a few months back preaching about that. Yeah right! They can all go fuck themselves as far as I’m concerned. A good 98% of them are fucked and you know what? I’ve learned that blacks in a house in a white, middle-class, normal, decent neighborhood are no different than blacks in a project. I wouldn’t piss on them things next door if they were on fire.

I’d say that there’s definitely not a dog next door, though, cuz by now I’d have heard a million barks if it were there. If a dog comes over there at any time, though, I’m calling housing and getting rid of it.

MONDAY, JULY 6, 1998 Tom’s out now taking care of God’s favorite work to sic us with - car trouble. It’ll be in the dealer’s shop for a day or two, so we’re gonna be getting a rental car ourselves. Sometimes it feels like we’re never gonna get ahead. I mean, I know there are people older than us with much less than we have, and that we’ve come a long way financially, and that we’ll progress even more in time, but we’re middle-aged now and stuck with two dumpy houses and two shitty cars. This is like 20s kind of thing. I thought that most folks should be doing better than that by the time they reached their 30s and 40s. I kind of feel like we’re the underdogs of both our families. Everyone else has the better houses, the better cars, the better jobs, and their sex and sex parts were probably never hexed, either (except for Mary). I know I’m being a bit selfish and spoiled by saying these things. Some people don’t even have the two shitty houses and cars to begin with. I sure as hell had nothing but a dumpy apartment and no car or pool at one time, so I shouldn’t complain. This is heaven compared to what I used to have.

One thing I’ve really learned over the years is just how blessing and cursing God can be. He threw me from one problem to another. Took me out of the cigarette problem and into a weight problem. They say the first year is always the toughest when it comes to a major change. I wish accepting and adapting to my new weight took just 4 months like it took me to adapt to not smoking. Acceptance will come in time as long as I don’t push it. I’ve had to accept several things in the past and I can accept a life of fatness, too. I have no choice. I have to, cuz this fat’s not going anywhere. I will never ever be thin again and I tell myself that every day to help drill reality and acceptance into me. I try to remind myself that it’s the person that counts. I’m still me with the same old heart and soul underneath this big body and I can still lead a happy, productive life as a big person.

I sent Andy a phone card which I’m sure he’ll use within the first hour he receives it, along with a letter. I threw in some encouraging words for him and reminded him that if true love is meant to be, we don’t have to go out looking for it. It’ll come to us. I also copied in an excerpt from 1988 (one of our prank phone calling sprees), and one about Melanie.

Speaking of Melanie, I wonder if she’ll be the one to call me this Wednesday to remind me of our Thursday appointment. She calls me on Fridays to remind me of our usual Monday appointments cuz it’s obviously convenient for her to do so on Fridays and the secretary that’s usually there isn’t there on Fridays. At least I think she isn’t. I’ve never been called by Melanie on any other day other than Friday, so we’ll see, but I doubt it’ll be her calling on Wednesday.

My ma says she’ll be putting out a trace on that box to see why I didn’t get it. I know why I didn’t get it. I didn’t get it cuz it was misdelivered and the person that got the box isn’t about to return it to me. Must be my punishment for opening and keeping the bitch’s mail. But the punishment doesn’t seem to fit the crime. She got basically junk mail. We’re talking about objects for me.

It’s a good thing I was up at 9:30 PM on the 4th. That way I could see the fireworks they usually have at the fairgrounds from out back and not be woken up by them.

I wouldn’t let Tom touch me yesterday and he didn’t even ask to. He didn’t need to. Not with his fears and his preferring to take care of himself.

Later…

Oh great! This is just fucking great. God, get this dude off my ass and into a job that he can keep for more than a week! Yeah, Andy just left a message. He’s gonna sell some CDs cuz he needs the money, wants to know if I want to go with him to sell CDs of my own, and then he wants to come over and go swimming and get fed. He says he has to beg. Well, why doesn’t he just put down the weed and phone and go out and get a job?

Maybe this sounds cruel since he helped me when I needed it, but I’m gonna leave him a message later saying I was asleep when he called. I just don’t want to give in to him cuz then he’ll make a habit of it and we don’t have much food here. As I’ll tell him, I don’t have much food cuz although I may not be able to get back down to 100 pounds, I don’t want to go above 120-125 pounds, either. Meanwhile, I don’t have any CDs to sell, and he can use the pool whenever he wants. Just don’t knock on the door if there’s no answer, and keep the gate shut so Bunny doesn’t get out. I’ll also let him know a phone card is on its way to him since the phone is as important to him as food.

Later…

Andy just left another message, chewing away on the phone since I’ve asked him not to do that cuz it’s so gross, saying he’s gonna come over to go swimming, but won’t knock on the door. He better shut that gate and not let Bunny out. Maybe I’ll go out when I hear him out there and say I just got up, but he’s not getting any of our food. He’s a big boy and he’s not disabled in the way I am with a scheduling problem and he’s not a retard like Fran, so he has to get off his own ass and get a job and learn to shut up and keep it. I’m sick of his pestering me with the phone and I’ll be damned now if he thinks he can turn our kitchen into a restaurant. I guess he got his neighbor to feed him and is gonna go food shopping later with the CD money. He also says he’ll be over to use the pool in two hours, which really means 4 or none at all.

Later…

I just left Andy a message lecturing him about getting a job in a loving, positive, yet firm way. I told him he could use the pool anytime as long as he doesn’t knock on the door when he gets no answer by phone and as long as he shuts the gate, but no food. I’m also leaving the clothes I’ll never be thin enough again to wear (or at least not in the near future) for him to give to Laura. I may or may not pop out to say hi to him when and if he gets here.

Later…

Andy’s still not here. Let me guess, he just said he was gonna come use the pool in the hopes of playing phone with me, huh? Well, he either shows up to use the pool or he doesn’t, but he just better remember not to knock if he wants to stay alive cuz Tom’s crashed on the living room couch.

Sometimes I feel that if I don’t hear from Andy for at least a year, it’ll be too soon.

The thought of having to go hungry for the rest of my life just to maintain the same weight, which is still 20 pounds too much for me, is a bit depressing. I try not to let it get me down since there’s nothing I can do about it and since being bummed about it won’t change it. It’s either go hungry on just a bite a day or keep gaining weight till I’m like my sister at 200 pounds.

I wonder if it’ll storm tonight. It’s very windy out now. The wind’s blowing in a steady stream like a giant fan blowing.

SUNDAY, JULY 5, 1998 So far, the weekend’s been a pleasant one, save for the usual sex bullshit.

I saw El Cocko’s car Friday at just after noon and thought it was an odd time to see his car. It worried me, but it doesn’t look like he’s moved back in yet. He will, though. In time. It’s inevitable. I haven’t seen its car since, but yesterday, some blue car I’ve never seen before must’ve dropped the bitch off. She actually went elsewhere for the day. If he were still in the picture, though, I’m sure something would’ve been going on here. Anyway, I heard the kid wailing and a few adult voices. I saw a big male freeloader who may have had some hair but couldn’t tell for sure who it was. These things all look the same. It left with the music at an acceptable volume, which is lucky for them, cuz one more outburst, holiday or not, and they’re out of here. Anyway, that’s all that’s been heard so far this weekend from next door.

Throughout the weekend, Tom worked on both our computers, but mainly mine. He made mine faster, but he had a lot of problems, too. I like the faster computer and I like the new version of AOL I’m using. It lets me choose fonts in the email and even lets me insert background pictures and things like that. I asked my folks what version they have. If they have 3.0 and not 4.0, then I can’t use these new features for them. This thing also has a spell checker, too.

It was muggy last night, and we even had some unexpected rain. It stopped a few hours ago and the sun’s poking through and drying things up. At 9:30 this morning, we took advantage of the light drizzle we had and went for a beeless swim. They are so bad this year! They come to the pool in 2s and 3s constantly. Sometimes there are even 4 at once! Usually, they come one at a time and there’s a 3-5-minute gap in between trips. Not this year! This year’s really making up for last year’s low bee count. I won’t swim unless it’s raining or dark.

I got a kick out of what I did to that bitch of a cat yesterday. Not White Paws, but mama bitch. I chased her out of the yard and when she realized I was too close behind her and that she wouldn’t have time to scale the block wall, she turned around and I veered her off into the pool. It was only for a second, though. As soon as she fell in, she got out a second later and ran off towards the side of the house.

Lisa called yesterday in tears. Mark’s 18-year-old daughter is becoming a regular little Jenny C, I guess. She and Lisa are friends and get along well, but Lisa, who cut herself again, is finding that some people don’t want to be around you when you’re down. This girl told Lisa, “Every time I come over, you’re always doing suicidal things.” When I say she’s become a regular little Jenny C, what I mean is that she’s willing to associate with Lisa when Lisa’s happy, but not when she’s depressed. Tom pointed out, though, that this is not something that’s necessarily easy for an 18-year-old to handle, but still. She should stick by Lisa if she’s a true friend and I told Lisa this.

Some therapist she’s got, too. It’s like she’s either blind or is a biology/meds/hospital freak like too many of them are. First Lisa says this therapist thinks the vacation would do her good, but now she wants Lisa in the hospital. The problem is Tammy. Can’t she see that? She needs to get out of that house! Not to Florida with her dad punching her out, not to a hospital, but out of that house and to a place where she won’t be abused emotionally or physically.

I believe that someday, just like with me, Lisa will stop cutting herself. All one can do is tell her it’s wrong, but then she must go at her own pace and do whatever she’s gonna do. I just hope it won’t take something as extreme as window-jumping to get her to learn her lesson. She’s gonna have to learn it the hard way, but how hard of a way will it be? It scares and saddens me.

She said she’s depressed a lot and sometimes she doesn’t even know why. I suggested she look into her diet. Maybe she doesn’t eat right. Maybe vitamins will help her. Not eating right can mess with moods, so we’ll see.

I just heard a car door that sounded like it could’ve been next door, but I didn’t see anything when I looked out. It’s prime time for them, too. These are their peak hours to come alive.

I got Lisa laughing at the end of our conversation. When I was in Natchaug she snuck a note on my pillow which I found after she, Tammy, and Dad left on one of their visits. It was so sweet, and I think I’ve still got it somewhere around here. She said she really looked up to me then. I told her that I was sorry I wasn’t able to return the favor and leave her a surprise note when she was in Natchaug.

How right people are when they say that age really affects your metabolism and weight. One can control their weight from getting sky-high, but not be thin again. Yesterday, I woke up at 120 again. Did that for about a week. But then I ended up throwing it away by eating myself back up to that infamous 124 cuz I’d gotten some Chinese food. I awoke at 122 today, but who knows how long it’ll be before I’m 120 again? I know I can never be thin again, but I want to try to keep my weight around 120. If I’d been eating normally all along (normal for me is still less than what’s normal for the average person) I’d be in the 140s now, so I can control it to a degree. I could never get under 120, but I can keep from going over 125. My metabolism isn’t at a complete standstill like it was for a while, but it’s still very very slow. Just one extra bite can cost me a few pounds. It’s either a few bites a day and going hungry almost all the time or eating normally and having my weight keep climbing to God knows how high. I can’t afford to let my weight go over 125 cuz then I can barely get in my “rock-out” position and I don’t want to have to keep getting new clothes periodically. All I, or Jenny Craig, or Weight Watchers, or groups like that could do for me would be to control my weight, not lessen it. Again, I could lessen it if I stopped eating, but that’s not something I want to do at this time. Maybe I could bring my weight down in notches like I mentioned before, since I’ve noticed a pattern, but I just don’t have the strength, tolerance, or willpower for that. Maybe I will someday, but for now, I can’t live on just liquids.

Sex is the same old games, lies, and excuses it is 95% of the time. I’m mid-cycle now, so since my husband, who can’t come out and say, “Look. I really don’t want a kid, I’m 95% sure you’re sterile and not 100%, so let’s not screw today,” we had to play games instead. The usual - wouldn’t go inside, went soft, blamed it on some bogus thing. He was lined up just fine, I guided him in as usual, but as soon as he was in, that old subconscious fear kicked in and he deflated. Then this time, he blamed it on feeling like he was rubbing against bone or something that hard that hurt him. And I also need to let him stick it in there from now on. I do? Since when? There’d be no problem with my sticking it in there if he’d just let himself stay hard enough to get in there, and if he’d just drop his silly fears. But I know we can’t help what’s in our subconscious. I just wish he’d stop being so stubborn and not deny my belief of a subconscious fear going on within him. I wish he’d consider it and look into it, but nope. So maybe this is conscious. Maybe he knows what he’s doing and enjoys it. He didn’t seem so upset afterward. Instead, he was all playful and cheery. He didn’t act anything like a man who didn’t get his fun would normally act. Well, he has a hand. He can take care of himself and so can I. I can’t keep going round and round in circles here with the same old bullshit, games, lies, denial, and lame excuses for another 5 years. The 5 years I’ve already had are more than enough for me. He’s gonna have to fend for himself, which is obviously what he prefers most of the time and he doesn’t seem to mind, especially around mid-cycle time.

And of course, there’s always God who’s still acting like there’s some big pregnancy to delay. It’s all so fucking weird! Why would God still want to hex me sexually? Can’t he see it doesn’t hurt or faze me like it used to? I’ll write about how our sex life is, whenever there is one which there isn’t too often, but I’m too used to it for it to affect me negatively anymore.

Later…

I forgot to say earlier, that while there are signs pointing to Tom having a subconscious fear/problem, there are also things that point the other way. After our little charade yesterday, we were discussing it and at one point I told him I bet he wouldn’t go down on me, then screw me. His response was that he’d go down on me, but not screw, cuz he had to work on the computers. He’d been working on the computers all along, so why were they suddenly more important? See? He didn’t even want to screw all along. I’m sure he took care of himself.

Later…

Here’s another thing I forgot to mention since not writing for a few days makes you forget some stuff - I got a message from Andy. Last Friday I left him a message asking what was going on with him and he left me a message saying that the reason he hasn’t called is cuz he feels like a loser. He said he’s a jobless loser, getting fired really fucked with his head, he’s not suicidal but he’s miserable and tired of being alone and penniless. He said I didn’t need to call him back cuz I didn’t need his misery.

I called him back, but not live. I used the message send to let him know he can confide in me when he’s down, not to think he’s a burden to me, and maybe, just maybe, once again, this is a sign saying he should either get out of the restaurant business or think of heading back east. I told him to call me when he’s ready to and wished him luck for when he goes job hunting again.

FRIDAY, JULY 3, 1998 What kind of a weekend will I be in for? It's a bummer that July 4th has to fall on a Saturday. They're gonna be shooting off fireworks like hell when it comes time for me to go to bed. I'm never gonna get any sleep this weekend, and God only knows what I'm in for this weekend from next door. At this point, even if he stays out of the picture, there's no telling what kinds of sick pals the bitch will invite over. Or how many kids she'll have playing ball.

Ma says she'll look into why I didn't receive that package, but I'm sure it was misdelivered. And if it was, we sure as hell will never see it.

THURSDAY, JULY 2, 1998 Well, it looks like good old UPS lost a package my folks sent. She said that at around the same time they sent out Tom’s birthday present, give or take a day or two, she sent out a box with greeting cards and other knickknacks. Well, if we haven’t gotten it yet, we aren’t getting it.

As soon as the sun comes up, I’m gonna dust, vacuum, and change the mice’s cages. Tom’s gonna mow later on. I had bad allergies again yesterday and some congestion and wheezing. Was it something in the air? Was it for holding down at 120 pounds for 4-5 days?

Later…

It stuns me to say this, but Caddy Kid went by quietly just now and yesterday, I didn’t even hear him.

I used the wireless headphones to dust, vacuum, and clean the mice’s cages and it was great. I used them for nearly two hours and by then, they’d gotten a little bit of static, but not much. I’m recharging them now.

I just got out of the shower and when my hair dries in 5 years, I think I’ll straighten it.

Later…

Here we go again. I go a few days where I’m not hungry, and then I go a few days where I’m starving, and back and forth over and over again. I’m on one of my famished trips where nothing I eat satisfies my hunger. I knew that giving in to this hunger would mean going back up to 124, but I said fuck it and gave in. I’m fat, always will be, and I just don’t give a shit anymore. Life’s too full of other things to do rather than to sit and waste my time over shit I can’t change.

Later…

This is what I just asked my sister in my letter to her, “How could you let Lisa go to Florida with a violent man who hits her???!!! Aren’t you afraid of losing custody of the kids on account of that asshole? How can any court allow a man like that near any child?! And why are you letting her stay with your ex-in-laws? Didn’t you say she too, was abusive (verbally/emotionally)?”

As I told Tammy, I know it’s absolutely none of my business, but I just don’t understand. How could any mother let her kids near a child-beater?

I called to see how Lisa was doing and she said that she’s leaving for Florida on Tuesday and will be gone for two weeks. Becky and Sarah are going, too, and they’ll be staying at Bill’s parents’ condo. They’ll be visiting my folks, I guess, but then again, Tammy doesn’t want the kids associating with them, so who knows? I’ll find out what happened and how many times Bill hit Lisa when she gets back.

I asked her how her talk with her therapist went as far as her moving out of there and she said her therapist said she should wait and thinks this trip will do her good. A trip with a child-beater? Yes, the trip may do her good, omitting Bill’s hitting, but when she comes back, Tammy and her problems in that household will still be there waiting for her.

I surprised Tammy by calling her at work (at Mark’s sharpening business) but she couldn’t get into it at that moment. If she and Mark break up, where is she gonna work and what’s she gonna do for money? Bill’s child support payments can’t be enough for them.

White Paws sometimes disappears. Does this mean she’s had more kittens somewhere? I better go take a look around the yard.

Later…

Caddy Kid decided not to keep a lid on it when coming home for lunch. It’s just my luck that the neighborhood boom car stereo gets to go home for lunch, too. Anyway, it blasted by really loud. As long as it doesn’t wake me up, I just have to live with it if I don’t want God to do something else to me. It’s either that or something else in its place. I gotta hear something. God put Caddy Kid back on the road when the cock split with his constant door slams and his friend’s constant door slams.

WEDNESDAY, JULY 1, 1998 I tell myself to enjoy the peace from Andy’s constant phone calls while it lasts, but I worry about him. This isn’t like him to not call me for what? Nearly a week now? Maybe he’s just super busy looking for another job, but if I don’t hear from him by Friday, I’ll call him again, and if he can’t, then maybe Laura can tell me what’s going on. Unless he and Laura were killed together in a car accident, which I don’t vibe, then Laura would call me to let me know if something was up with Andy, I’d hope. And if anything happened to him and Laura wouldn’t Michelle contact me?

This time, I’m gonna be at the front window as soon as the Caddy arrives next door, so I can see if I can get a handle on what’s going on there with that and with the freeloaders. For that freeloader to show up two mornings in a row tells me he’s probably not picking up stuff of his he forgot, but maybe he’s picking up the animal. I’m sure that Monday and Tuesday, the Caddy did take the bitch somewhere. It brings her back around 5:00.

Once again, I thought about talking to Caddy Kid when he bangs by at 7:30 at an ungodly volume that even the freeloaders never used, but what good would it do? It’d just say “Sure! No problem,” then conveniently forget to turn the music down upon cruising by here, cuz it doesn’t give a shit about others any more than the freeloaders do. It’d be just another phony mother-fucker. The only way to stop it would be to beat the shit out of it, but there’s no way I could get away with that cuz there’d be too many witnesses. Although, if Caddy kid or witnesses pointed me out and said I beat up this dude, would the pigs really buy it? I doubt it. I bet I could lie my way right out of it. Well, we’ll see. It hasn’t woken me up again yet, but if it becomes a wake-up call problem, then yes, I’ll smash its brain right into its stereo itself.

Later…

OK, it is to get the kid that El Cocko pops in in the mornings lately. So, he’s definitely not too far away as I had felt, and they’re definitely not getting along, cuz he just pulled up to the curb, jumped out of the car, and took the kid without a word to the bitch. Anyway, in order of happenings - at 7:15 the bitch walked up and down her driveway twice with the kid slung over her shoulder as if impatiently looking for her ride. She had on a red dress and her hair was tucked under at the nape of her neck. The Caddy came at 7:17. Three minutes later he came, grabbed the kid, then split. Another two minutes later, the bitch left in the Caddy with just a few door-slams this morning. So the bitch is working.

Well, they may not be getting along now, which is nice, cuz then I have much less door slamming and stress to deal with, but they’ll kiss and make up. It’s just a matter of time, then he’ll be back.

I wonder what kind of shit I’m in for this July 4th weekend. I’m hoping that kids won’t want to come over and play ball in this intense heat and that with him out of the way, it’ll be quiet, but you never know. This bitch has some sick, rude friends just like her that’d love to badger me with noise, so we’ll see.

Again, this bitch is lucky to be getting rides that she can depend on. Most people in her situation would be forced to take the bus, including myself.

There’s something I don’t get, though, about our lovely freeloaders. If they’re such good pals with the Lopezs who obviously do daycare, why can’t the bitch leave the mistake with them? Did they have a falling out? I wouldn’t be surprised if they did, but then again, they’re made for each other. Assholes go hand in hand with other assholes.

Later…

Since getting a little smaller, I’m able to fit into one of my favorite sundresses again, but I’d still look much better in it if I were 20 pounds lighter. Not a chance, though. Not a chance.

Tom cut out a piece of wall in between the hall and bedroom closet. Strangely enough, there was insulation there. Who’d want to insulate an interior wall? He put a grill in this hole he made. The idea is for the AC to circulate its air through the bedroom, through the vent in the closet door, then through the vent in the wall when the bedroom door’s shut. It was getting way too hot in there.

Fortunately, the bitch is obviously picking up the kid at the end of the day with her ride, rather than having the kid dropped off by Daddy. That’s one less door-slamming spree I have to hear and one less case of stress and worrying that he’s gonna blast in, I’m gonna lose my cool.

Where is this boy, though? The teenager. I never see him. Hell, I didn’t even know he existed till that day I threatened to shoot the dog cuz they were stupid enough to leave it outside my bedroom window to bark at 2-a-fucking-clock in the goddamn morning. They were really asking for shit from me, but anyway, I wonder why it is that I never hear or see him? He must’ve not lived there for long cuz wouldn’t he and the bitch make damn sure he played ball every day in regard to me? That may have been the kid I saw two weekends ago where they had a little slip and had some aqua car banging about. The same day the bitch came in in a white van. But anyway, I never hear or see this dude.

[rotturn]

every day on this trip is worse

[raiyakun]

Copycat (A Red Paladin Lance Animatic) Music and Lyrics: VocaCircus/Circus-P

Everything’s a blur. Take me over.

(TW: Bleeding, injury)

I’ve had some heavy personal experience with being constantly compared to someone just “better.” No matter how much you like/admire them, if they’re the (unknowing) hard wall people keep slamming you against, the resentment will grow. You lose your sense of self, and the idea of the other person ends up consuming you.

If things had been different, could we have started out friends?

I have a lot of (too many) thoughts on Red Paladin Lance, but I’ll probably save that for another day. (Mainly because I’m posting this 5 seconds from dropping asleep?)

(Also, my sort-of late entry for @klangst-week day 3: Hurt without the comfort)

[crusherthedoctor]

Can I say that a professional writer saying "oh I love this character and I show my love by making them suffer!" feels... not professional? It's a common joke in fandom, but you can't just put a character through the ringer and seriously expect people to get attached to them *just* because of their pain. Just look at Belle: without angst, she's literally a husk. I would expect paid writers to break free of the fanfic-y "torture porn" mindset...

Surprising no one, I agree.

It's one of the reasons why I've always been harsh on the "dark = instant quality" mindset. All the darkness and sadness and tragedy you can think of means absolutely nothing if you don't care about the characters or the story. The zombot arc already had the pacing of the Water Temple in Ocarina of Time, but it was made ten times more agonizing by the fact that I didn't care about what was happening. It's no coincidence that this philosophy is recited the most by people who can't write compelling characters for shit, making it extremely obvious that they weaponize it as a Get Out Of Writing Free card. And Twitter laps it up every time, because it's Twitter, where any instance of critical thinking is met with "Goodnight girl, I'll see ya tomorrow."

Which leads into my feelings on Belle. Characters going through shitty times is fine... as an extra that contributes to the character's growth, or if not that, then simply how they deal with tough situations in general. It's an optional flavor. It does not work as the entire feast. Using relentless misery as a substitute for actual character and personality is something that other IDW characters are guilty of to varying degrees (Whisper, Kit, I guess Surge as well since we're supposed to feel bad for her because of the Starline hallucinations), but nowhere is it more audacious than with Belle. You know how I bring up the current year trend of OCs not being allowed to do anything other than stand there, as an over-correction to the old cliches associated with them? That's Belle; she exists to exist. Bad things happen to her, and she whines about bad things happening to her. End of story, bye bye, see ya later.

By contrast (ah shit, here I go again), Trudy certainly goes through her share of pain and danger, both in her backstory and in the present, but that's not ALL there is to her. Her negative experiences explain some aspects about her, but only some of them. She's allowed to exist beyond that side of her. And good things happen to her too, because when she gets to be happy, excited, playful, all the rest, doesn't that make the moments where she's in a perilous jam all the more impactful? She has a character. She's allowed to be a character, one that's allowed to bounce off the other personalities of the game cast, and one that doesn't spend all her time moping. What's she's been through in the past, and goes through in the present, revolves around her, not the other way around.

(BTW, you brought this up earlier, but it's strange how Stanley claims to have a reputation for writing nothing but fluff, yet she's a diehard devotee of this practice as evidenced with her IDW output, and while I never read GotF since it wasn't my thing and I don't care about Silver as a character, I was aware of what it did to Sonic and Eggman at the start. If I were feeling suspicious, I'd almost think she exaggerated this alleged reputation just to make it seem more impressive and Yass Queen Slay when she Subverted Our Expectatons.)

[ambelle]

I agree with everything you said about the writing on the Titans show, especially “Tell me with a straight face Dawn or Babs are well written 😭).” They were clearly written as secondary characters, almost purely as Love Interests, while Kory has had slow, but continuous, overall progression and growth. Dawn IMO was a Babs substitute. (They used her because they weren’t sure they would be able to add Barbara to the story). It probably would never be conceded, but would explain why Brenton thought at some point DD would be a thing in the present. However, as soon as the show runners could go to Gotham and use Babs, Dawn was conveniently dismissed. Dawn was with Hank, but still had feelings for Dick (which Dick did not reciprocate). Furthermore, Dick’s rekindled relationship with Babs was lame AF. They argued for 5 episodes; Dick all-of-sudden has renewed feelings for her. They kissed and held hands once. And while people were losing their 💩 because he asked her to go to San Francisco with him it was obvious that he just did it because he knew she wouldn’t. They’re rekindling served mostly so that he could have frontline access to any leads GCPD had on Red Hood and Scarecrow. While Dick’s relationship with Kory was shown to be one built on trust, interdependence, and caring. They live together, work together, are raising a family together - something that Dick has always wanted. The man literally saw his future daughter with Kory before returning from the Lazarus Pit which signaled his deepest desires of having a flesh and blood family and the DK endgame. Noticeably, the relationship between DK is the least problematic.

I gotta admit the comics have traumatized me and probably a lot of other people. So has other shows I’ve watched with BW.

I was very anxious starting the show because I expected Kory to be harassed and mistreated by everyone and I expected her to be replaced by Dawn. By I think 1x03 I was like “heh…well this is new.” Like I was waiting for it to get wildly disrespectful and it just never did. If Babs was in s1 thanks to the shitty books I would have been worried about a love triangle with Kory as the losing point.

But instead what we got was Dick not returning feelings for Babs stand in and Kory always being the one he was asking to come with him or stay. And seriously S2 didn’t have a ton of DK scenes but it had a ton of development for them. She knows him better than Dawn and never turned her back on him. Dawn did it 3 times in a row in s2 so did Donna. And Dick’s never treated Kory poorly and refuses to throw her under the bus. They are genuinely friends and partners. I think it’s such a nice change of pace to just see a bw on tv not dealing with racism micro aggressions or chasing after a man who doesn’t want her. I can finally just watch a freaking show in peace.

And yeah like you said by time Babs showed up I was shrugging because I was already confident and then Greg came out and confirmed DK was endgame before s3 even aired. Even if DB wasn’t them arguing 80% of the time that interview Greg gave just made it all a big joke.

I’ve actually never seen a show runner come right out and say “hey this is the endgame pairing”. That’s a first. Maybe he felt that was necessary because of what happens with Babs in the books. Still wild though LOL.

[camthesolemnone]

Hi, I have like, 4 more ideas that came to me while I was at work, so #1: horror movie. Medic and Heacy are in their cottage, and have just watched a horror movie of some kind before they go to bed, right? Yeah. BUT! As they get ready, something odd happens that sets them both on edge (turns out it's just one of the birds or something) but they end up scarred and not wanting to go to sleep

I changed this one a bit but the main idea remains in-tact. I’m sorry that this took so long to get out and that the ending is kinda shitty. I’m working on the other prompts you sent me alongside this one! Also, I don’t know if you saw the pinned message or not but requests are now closed, so please hold off on sending any more.

"Is leetle Scout asleep as well?" Heavy asked, sitting comfortably on the rec room couch.

Medic nodded and reached for the VHS tape sitting on the glass table in the middle of the room. A tiny smile graced the Russian's features.

"Is good, we have television all to our selves!"

"Ja, and don't expect to sleep tonight, Mikhail! Herr Engineer told me that this is one of the scariest movies he’s ever seen," Ludwig replied, holding up the tape for his partner to see.

Written across the label in black sharpie was the simple word, 'Halloween.' The label should have been difficult to read in the dark, but the Russian noticed how it almost seemed to radiate a burgundy light...must have been some crazy glow-in-the-dark marker Engineer had invented, he concluded. Heavy crossed his arms triumphantly and laughed.

"Do not count on it, Doktor! Heavy is not phased by baby horror films!”

“Oh, we’ll see about that!”

A moment of time was spent struggling to find out which remote went to which device, but eventually, the pair got the movie inside the VHS player and smiled excitedly as color flooded the screen. Ludwig left the room briefly to make popcorn and plopped down on the couch next to his lover to click “Play” on the title screen upon his return.

“If Doktor gets scared, you can hold onto me~” Mikhail teased, and Ludwig shoved his shoulder.

“Are you sure you’re 45 years old, liebe? Because right now, you sound like a lovestruck teenager!” The doctor shot, handing him the popcorn bowl.

“Well...” Heavy began, settling a massive arm around Medic’s shoulders, “One part of that statement is correct.”

.

Unsurprisingly, Heavy was correct about being immune to the movie’s horrors. Then again, Medic was also not affected by the film, so they took more pleasure in the plot and the acting then the actual scary moments. 

Of course, Ludwig grew giddy when gore was involved.

“Hohoho! Look at all of that blood! If I was the killer in this scenario, I would collect it for future use,” he commented.

Heavy raised a questioning eyebrow and attempted to distract himself with the popcorn, but he soon came to the realization that there was nothing left but kernels. His German companion took to removing the bucket from his grasp and standing up.

“I need to use the bathroom, so I’ll take this back on the way,” the doctor stated, and the heavy weapons specialist nodded in response.

Mikhail was left all alone with the intensifying film in the dimly lit room. He would never admit it, but now that Ludwig was gone, he felt smaller. It wasn’t a feeling of fear but of slight unease; things would likely be alright for Heavy, but there was always a shred of uncertainty.

As time passed and the movie reached its climax, Heavy became more and more enthralled with the action, to the point where he forgot about Medic’s absence. His eyes were fixated on the glowing screen, his hands gripped tightly at the wool blanket surrounding him. Mikhail fell deep into the world of gruesome fantasy, and as a consequence, he nearly shot out of his seat at the sound of rapid footsteps and whisper-shouting coming from down the hall.

“Heavy! Oi, big guy!” Demoman said, urgency in his tone.

The Russian let his blanket drop to the floor and stared at the demolitions expert with confusion and anxiousness. The Scot all but captured his arm with both of his own and began dragging him down the hall as best as he could.

“Slow down, Tavish. What is this about?” Mikhail asked.

Demo turned his gaze back to his teammate.

“The Doc ‘s dead in the cludgie!”

Heavy’s eyes widened with shock, emotional pain, and fury towards whoever had committed such an act. Sure, Medic would respawn, but whoever had laid a finger on his beloved doctor was in for a beatdown. Unless it was an accident, in which case Mikhail would scold the German about being reckless.

The pair burst through the door to the community showers and the Russian nearly gasped at the sight. Ludwig laid unmoving in the center of the room with blood staining the front of his lab coat and the ground surrounding him. There was no weapon to be found, but in the corner of the room, with his back towards the door, sat a curled up, trembling, mumbling Scout.

Mikhail’s first thought was that Jeremy had committed this grisly murder, but Tavish put a hand out in front of his chest before he could progress. The Russian opted for whispering Medic’s name as a substitute.

“Scout! What the hell happened here!” Demo cried.

The young runner didn’t reply. He continued to rock back and forth, murmuring and wrapping his arms around himself. The Scot approached him cautiously, taking a calm, more concerned approach. Heavy followed.

“Aye, are you alright, mate?”

Demo reached out to put a hand on Scout’s shoulder, and a series of rapid events unfolded.

Scout’s entire body whipped around and stood up, and the Bostonian let out a high pitched, almost demonic screech. In his left hand was a knife stained in blood, Medic’s blood, and Heavy and Demo exhibited two very different reactions.

Demoman yelped and jumped back, going into flight mode. The massive Russian on the other hand, fearful for the lives of himself and his friend, took a strong step forward and lashed out at Jeremy’s face. One square punch to the jaw was enough to send the man flying across the communal bathroom and into the wall. He slumped over after the hit, out cold.

“What in the-! It was almost like that boy was possessed!” Demo shouted.

When Mikhail and Tavish’s hurried breathing finally began to slow, a new sound rang throughout the room: laughter.

Medic was rolling on the floor alive and well, laughing his ass off and further soiling his labcoat. Heavy gasped out a “Doktor!” at the man’s sudden revival while Demoman stood frozen.

“Hahaha! I can’t believe it! I just thought I’d have a bit of fun scaring you, liebe, but watching you knock out Scout was far more amusing!” The doctor exclaimed, rolling on his stomach and propping himself up on his elbows like a teenage girl lying on her bed while talking to a friend over the phone.

Demoman was the first to flare up.

“What?! So you’re saying this was all a prank?! You’re sick in the head, Medic!”

The Scot was tempted to slap him silly, but with Heavy in the room, that clearly wasn’t an option. With another frustrated grunt, he stomped off and back to bed.

Now it was Heavy’s turn.

“That was not funny, Ludwig! Heavy thought you were dead!” He scowled.

The doctor hauled himself off the ground and stood up straight, wiping some of the fake(?) blood on his hands off onto his lab coat.

“What’s there to worry about? Even if I had been stabbed, I would have just respawned, Mikhail.”

“I know, but...”

Medic’s expression dropped. His love had one massive paw gripping his opposite forearm and his face was distraught. He looked smaller, scared almost, and a tiny crack situated itself in the German’s heart. If he had known such an act would hurt Heavy so deeply, he wouldn’t have even thought about going through with it. There was also the issue of Scout. Ludwig relished the sight of the cocky, annoying Boston boy being beat up, but for once, he regretted roping him into his plans. The runner had been all too willing to help him with the scare, and Medic repaid him with his bear’s violence.

He sighed and shook his head at himself internally. Yes, his prank hadn’t been very rational, he concluded.

With slow, apologetic steps, Medic approached his partner and wrapped his arms around him gently, rubbing his broad back with one hand.

“Es tut mir leid, Heavy. This was all very foolish of me,” he admitted.

Heavy returned the embrace and buried his nose into his doctor’s hair, which smelled of blood and autumn leaves.

“You know it is because I do not like seeing you hurt, moya lyubov. Every time evil Spy kills you on battlefield, my blood boils. Would sacrifice myself a million times to keep you safe,” he murmured, and Ludwig’s heart cracked a little more.

His arms tightened around the giant with increased guilt. It pained him profoundly to see Mikhail die too.

 “I love you, Heavy. From the bottom of my soul, I am truly sorry.”

The Russian moved one hand from the smaller man’s waist to cup his cheek protectively.

“I love you too, Doktor, but please, do not play with death. Someday, we will not get another life.”

.

The credits of the movie had long concluded by the time the two of them returned to the rec room. Medic was rather disappointed that he had missed the latter half of the film, but what made up for it was a soft kiss to his forehead and a set of teasing words given to him by his lover before being sent off to sleep.

“Next time, we watch psychological thriller, da? Less gore will give you less dangerous ideas,” Mikhail suggested, patting a hand on Ludwig’s shoulder.

The doctor laughed and gave him a sly smile that warded off his fears, allowed him to breathe normally again. He was still alive.

“I like the sound of that, but you’re making the popcorn!”

[xpeachesncream]

acquainted | twelve

> series masterlist | series playlist <

summary: the biggest goal of a grad student is to get through school in one piece - no petty drama involved, no sweating over the little things. however, that plan almost always never follows through. sometimes, you can’t help but fall into the most unthinkable, unexpected traps and learn the hard way. like, exhibit a: being unable to resist your engaged, substitute teacher, kim seokjin.

pairing: jungkook x reader x engaged!teacher!seokjin

genre: grad school au, student life au | fluff, angst, smut

words: 3.1k

warnings: cussing/mature language, physical fighting, some asshole-ish things are said/some degradation but i meeeeean.. look at where we’re at lol

notes: i was going to wait a little bit to post this, but my lovely anon has been waiting patiently for their namjoon x ryujin one shot request, which majority takes place in conjunction with chapter 11-12. pls check it out after you read this chapter! 

tags: @laurynne5 @yiyi4657 @miinoongi @teamtardis-notdead@bluesharksandfish@photographic-girl @yonkoghan @moonchild1​ @thebeebi​ (pls msg me if you would like to be added to the taglist!)

Grace knew.

A woman always listens to her intuition.

She knew when she caught that weird look you sent Jin's way during the charity event. When Jin stepped out to take a call in his car that same night. When she's seen his ring tucked away into his drawer multiple times. She knew when she's seen your name pop up on his screen more than once. She knew when the sex didn't feel the same, when Jin wouldn't touch her the same.

When he could barely look at her in bed.

Grace knew.

But she gave Seokjin a chance to tell her, to be honest. To communicate. Yet, it never came.

"G-Grace." He stutters, dropping your hand out of his grip. You stood there, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear, unsure of what to do or how to look.

"I fucking knew it." She spits out. "You were seeing each other all this time." She comes closer to the both of you.

"Grace, stop. It's not what it looks like." Seokjin stupidly responds. You furrow your forehead from behind him because, what the fuck did he mean it's not what it looks like?

"How could you? Both of you?" She cries, her eyes bloodshot red. She had been crying. She was waiting. "You have the fucking nerve! You little homewrecking slut!" She yells at you, slapping you against the cheek. The heat pooling at the site causes you to gasp and look at her. You honestly don't even know what to do besides let her bed mad. What could you do? Fight back even though she was right? Hell nah.

"Grace! Enough!" He yells, grabbing her wrist. "This isn't what you think--"

"Save it, Seokjin. I got your message loud and clear." She gets out of his grip and pushes him. "You're disgusting." She spits out before storming away, but Jin goes after her. You're left standing there like a watchdog for your baggages, while Grace rips her arm from Jin's grip once again and leaves him there. You feel incredibly guilty, but also, you're pissed as fuck now.

Because again - what the fuck did he mean this isn't what you think? After all the shit he said to you last night. After this weekend?

"It's not what it looks like?" You repeat to his face. He can tell you're pissed and he shakes his head in regret. "This isn't what you think?" You take your duffle that's sitting on top of his luggage and begin to walk back towards the tram station. He attempts to pull you back, both of his hands on your arms.

"Y/N, I panicked, please don't do this--"

"You panicked? Your fiancé smacks me on the face and you panic? What the fuck happened to being honest about our relationship? So much for I'll tell her when we get home! I look so fucking stupid.”

"Y/N, don't." He grabs your wrist and tries to pull you close.

"Jin, get the fuck off of me."

"No, stop. Y/n, please talk to me."

"I'm going home."

"Let me drive you, don't be ridiculous." You shake your head as you try to shake his grip off of you.

"Don't be ridiculous?" You scoff. "I was fine before you came into the picture, okay? I can handle myself." You finally get out of his grip and take your bag from him. "Apparently, this isn't shit to you." You spat out before you head back onto the tram to head back away from him.

"Hey, what happened?" Ryujin pulls you into a quick hug before throwing your bag in her trunk and settling back into the driver's seat. You begin to cry heavily into your hands, feeling completely overwhelmed from how things suddenly came crashing down. You had an amazing weekend with Jin, only to find out that this truly wasn't shit to him? How he couldn't even just be upfront right at that moment about your relationship? Suddenly you felt like you weren't worth it all over again. Like he was never going to leave.

Once you were able to pull yourself together enough, you told Ryujin about everything that happened this weekend up until the moment Grace showed up at the airport lot. Ryujin couldn't help but just pull you into a tight bear hug once you got into your apartment. You laid your head on her lap as she massaged your scalp and allowed you to cry as much as you needed to. She didn't wanna say it but she knew this could come crashing down the way it did. It was an 'I told you so' moment. But she knew you knew that. You didn't need to be told, or reminded. She just needed to be here for you and that's all she had planned to do, even if she had other things on her mind. You were always there for her through everything and anything; her thoughts could wait.

"I feel so fucking stupid."

"You're not. You can't help your feelings or someone, but what you can do is pick yourself up and move on. Learn from this. Do better for yourself." She responds softly.

"But, it’s him." Ryujin lightly sighs as she continues to brush your hair.

"Honey, you can't wait around forever for Jin to be ready for you or for whatever this is. You can't wait around for him to be a man and pull himself together. You've been through enough." You don't respond. "You need to talk to Jungkook before this spirals out of control. He needs to hear it from you himself."

"I will, just not now." You cried, Ryujin responding with a simple nod.

"Okay."

"This sucks. It sucks to have deep feelings for someone who doesn't even think you're worth it. He couldn't even just tell her."

"Look, I'm gonna be Jimin and play devil's advocate here. I don't know Seokjin personally like that, but part of him had to at least feel like you were worth it. I'm sure you still are, but he needs to shut this down with Grace first and that's not going to happen overnight. Not for them, especially."

"Ugh." You groaned as you continued to cry.

"It's okay. Get some rest. I'll go grab more of my things and stay here with you." She looks down at you and gives you a reassuring smile.

"I love you. Thank you." You tell her softly as you shut your eyes in hopes of getting any type of sleep.

"I love you too." Maybe you just needed time for yourself too. A breather. This was a lot, and the thing that bothered you the most was not knowing where Seokjin really stood with you. What if this was it? What if this was the moment that made him realize it was always going to be Grace all along?

"We've decided to split." Jin says, his eyes slightly red, bags visible and his body weak. He had been arguing and going at it with Grace as she had packed up most of her things. She had decided to send movers for the rest of her things throughout the week, leaving Jin feeling a little emptier than before. He called the guys over as soon as Grace was out of the house that same Sunday because he knew he didn't have much time until Grace was out there updating friends and family members about the shitty fucking excuse he was of a fiancé. On top of that, he was scared because he hadn't heard from you and he knew he fucked up - he was afraid he had lost you completely, too. That wasn't supposed to be the plan, and that wasn't how this was supposed to turn out. He wasn't sure how he'd handle seeing you in class tomorrow if you both hadn't talked by then.

"I'm sorry, is there anything we can do for you? What happened?" Hoseok sat on the barstool in front of the kitchen island, Yoongi and Namjoon quietly sitting beside him.

"I— uh, no. We just haven't worked out for awhile."

"Jin." Namjoon says softly, hinting that he should be honest with both Yoongi and Hoseok now. There was no point in hiding this anymore.

"Namjoon." He responds in the same tone. He looks over at Yoongi and Hoseok who are quietly waiting for more of an explanation. His head falls as he sighs heavily, his hands tightly gripping the edge of the kitchen island. "Fuck."

"Dude, what is it? What's going on?" Hoseok asks, genuinely concerned.

"I fucked up."

"W-what do you mean by that?" Hoseok goes on, prying him for more details. By the time Jin picks up his head and is about to explain while looking at them in the eye, he hears his front door slam loudly, the walls almost shaking with it.

"Jin!" He hears the voice call out as it came closer to the kitchen. Fuck. This-- This was the one thing he absolutely wasn't ready for. "What the fuck!" Jungkook almost growls. "How could you?!" Jungkook storms into the kitchen, fists clenched. The look on his face is something Jin will always remember - the hurt, the anger, the betrayal he felt by his own brother.

"Jungkook, listen. Let's just go outside for a minute--" Jin tries to pull him aside but Jungkook smacks his hand away.

"No, fuck you dude! Don't fucking touch me." He yells. "I trusted you! You knew how I felt about her! Why the fuck would you do that, and-and-and to Grace?!" He stutters over his words. "Why?"

"Seokjin, what's going on?" Yoongi says, climbing out of his seat to get in between the two. Namjoon is silent because this isn't his fight. He's staring Jin down as if to tell him that he needs to man the fuck up right now. He wasn't going to do it for him.

"Great, perfect. I'm not surprised they don't even know." Jungkook chimes in sarcastically as he pushes Seokjin against the counter. Jin reacts defensively, grabbing his brother's collar as he tries to push and pry him off. "Why don't you tell them how you kept fucking Y/N behind my back? Going after her and doing all this shit, getting her to spend the weekend with you in LA even though you knew how I felt about her? Let alone that you were still fucking engaged to your fiancé this entire time!" Yoongi gets in the middle, prying Jungkook off completely and stepping in between to spread some distance.

"Woah, what?" Hobi looks at him in disbelief, his face lightly turning red from how incredibly fucked this whole situation is. How things just blew up in a matter of minutes. "Is that true?"

Jin sighs, his tears welling up in his eyes as his voice cracks. "Yes, and I'm sorry for hurting you." He turns to Jungkook.

"I just--" Jungkook's tears began to fall. "I trusted you. I always trusted you. How could you do something like that when I never did you wrong?" Jungkook's bottom lip trembled.

"Jungkook, please--" Jin's tears began to fall, feeling incredibly sorry for having hurt his brother this way.

"No!" Jungkook shook his head. "What kind of fucking brother are you?" He spits out before he walks out of the house, Yoongi going after him to check up on him outside.

"Seokjin." Hobi slowly shakes his head, his facial expression full of disappointment. "You know I love you man, but why did you have to do that?"

"I-I don't know." Is the only proper he can come up with, because he doesn't. He was so caught up in his feelings for you and how things felt right, that he just pushed everything that was wrong aside.

"Look, let's just give everyone some time to breath." Namjoon gives Jin a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder. No matter what, he was always going to have his back and be there for him.

"Fuck." Jin groaned as he slammed his fist against the kitchen island. "I need to talk to her. I can’t do this without talking to her.”

"Maybe Y/N just needs time to breathe, too. Give her that. I promise it'll be okay." Namjoon says.

And he's right - you do need time to breathe. You were hurt by the fact that Seokjin couldn't even come forward about you, yet he said all these sweet things to you over the weekend. It all came crashing down, and suddenly, you were questioning if this was all worth it. If you were never going to be worth it in his eyes, why would you keep stringing yourself along?

"Hey." Jimin says, gently rubbing your knee as he sat on your living room floor. "Are you sure you're okay? You've been awfully quiet."

"I'm okay. Thanks for coming over." You smiled at him toothlessly, before looking over at Ryujin and Taehyung finishing up plating the brownies in your kitchen.

"Y/N, please know that you can always talk to me about anything." Jimin says softly, knowing there was something really off about the way you had been acting. He hated prying it out of you, but he knew you'd eventually tell him when you were ready.

"Yeah, I know. Right now, I just need you here, okay?" He nods. As Ryujin and Taehyung are bringing over the plate full of brownies stacked high, a loud, aggressive knock comes to the door that Taehyung takes upon himself to open.

"Jungkook!" Taehyung yells, opening the door widely for you and him to make eye contact. You immediately stood, catching that his expression was angry. Upset. He clearly had a lot to say and you already knew he had given his brother some of it. You knew this would come; you just hoped you had a little more time.

"Y/N." He says, in a heartbreaking tone.

"Jungkook, please— can we talk about this another—" You ask, meeting him at the door.

"No, how could you? He-he was engaged to Grace— I thought we were good— Y/N." He repeats your name, unable to really complete his statements. You began to cry seeing how hurt he was. "I thought I was doing everything right."

"It wasn't you—"

"Then what the fuck was it, huh?" He spat out. "What exactly is it about my brother that made you wanna do this?"

"I didn't mean to—"

"What, you didn't mean to hurt anyone? Y/N, you obviously didn't give a fuck what this would do to anyone!" His tone rose, Jimin and Taehyung immediately coming behind you. "Grace called me crying so hard she could barely speak. You fucked this up for her, you fucked this up for me and my brother— I- just—" You began to cry harder, Jimin now gripping onto your arms as Taehyung stepped in front of you.

"Okay, that's enough. I think you should go now. You made your point clear." Taehyung said sternly, his jaw lightly twitching from how tightly clenched it was and his hand out to create some distance between him and Jungkook .

"What kind of fucking person does that? You're by far the most selfish person I have ever met. I don't know how you'll go to sleep at night knowing all the damage you've caused." Jungkook shook his head before walking off and slamming his fist against the hallway wall. Taehyung watched him walk off before shutting your door and locking it. He turned to face you but you had been sobbing against Jimin's body while he held you tightly.

"Y/N, please don't tell me this is what I think it is." Taehyung says softly.

"I'm sorry." Is all you can say. At this point, what else can you say? What's done is done.

"It's okay, we don't need to talk about this now." Jimin looked at Tae and slightly shook his head.

"Look Y/N, why don't you just go lie down? You've had a really long day." Ryujin softly chimes in. You don't say anything and instead follow Jimin to your room as he keeps his grasp around you. He plops you both onto the edge your bed, allowing you to continue crying on him.

"I'm so sorry, Jimin. I fucked up."

"Stop, why are you saying sorry? It's alright." He shushes you. Yeah, he was truly disappointed, but what was he going to do? This was entirely your life, he only played a small role in it. He just needed to be there for you and help you grow through this. No matter the circumstance, he wasn't going to look at you any differently. Same with Ryujin and Taehyung. Part of Jimin already knew this was a possibility cause he'd also catch on to the small habits in class and how completely zoned out you've been. There was a reason for everything.

Plus, randomly spending a weekend at your parents' house? He didn't think so. You hadn't visited them in awhile, and he knew you always planned your visits way in advance. You never just dropped your shit and left for home.

"I don't know what to do."

"Mm, we'll figure this out, yeah? For now, just get some rest." You backed yourself up on to the bed, catching a quick glimpse of Chance's picture before lying down. Fuck, why couldn't shit be more easy?

As you fall asleep, Jimin makes his way back out the living room where Ryujin and Taehyung are quietly cleaning up in your living room.

"How long?" Jimin asks Ryujin.

"It's been awhile, Chim."

"Why didn't she tell me or Tae?" She shrugged.

"It's not that she didn't want to. She was going to but I think she just got caught up in everything."

"So? What now? We see him in class tomorrow." Taehyung says.

"I don't know? Nothing. I'm assuming she'll just need her space for a little until she can figure out how to approach this."

"Why—why did she do this?" Jimin asks, still confused and disappointed with your actions. "She knew the mess it would cause."

"Don't tell her I told you so. That's not what she needs right now, she knows. I just, I don't know. Sometimes you really can't help who you fall for. She tried to push it aside."

"Tried?"

"Yes." Ryujin looks at Jimin sternly. "She did." The rest of the time, it's quiet. The boys had gotten the living room ready so that they could all stay with you for the night. You didn't leave your bed even after Jimin knocks to let you know dinner had arrived or when Ryujin asks if you wanna join them for a movie.

You just want sleep.

You just wanted to be alone, in this dark, and sleep.

You weren't ready to face your feelings, or Seokjin. You weren't sure where to go from here or what to do. You weren't sure how to pick yourself up. Is it fucked up to still wanna be by his side after all this time? Is it fucked up that he's still the one you want? What the fuck do you do?

Do you stay, or do you go?

[cosmicbash]

Thinking about headcanons for Emgk's different responses to stress...

Colson feels kind of obvious, he smokes. Weed, cigarettes, a fucking vape when he's really low on options, but no matter what it is, when he's at Marshall's house, or in their hotel and something comes up that utterly stresses him out it's his go to move.

He's got writers block? He smokes. The media is being a total cunt and taking his words out of context? He smokes. Him and Marshall got into some stupid petty argument and now his boyfriend has stormed out of the hotel room and he's not sure whether he's going to be enjoying some crazy good makeup sex later or flying home? He smokes a whole fucking packet of cigarettes in one sitting. The complimentary ash tray completely filled up with two dozen mismatch sized butts and ash by the time the door finally beeps and pops open.

Colson doesn't even like cigarettes that much, it just keeps the urges to smash every nearest item in his path or to make a call and snort a line off the table at bay long enough for Marshall to finally come home. Because that's stuff he can't afford to do anymore. Not now that they're in an adult relationship and his partner is the picture of sobriety.

Reacting like a child and trashing their room will only further back Marshall's claims that he's childish or immature.

That doesn't mean the substitute is perfect though. Both he and Marshall hate it, Marsh with the realistic worries about his future lung health, and Colson because every single time it happens he also finds himself standing over the bathroom sink. Toothbrush in hand, scrubbing over his teeth, his tongue, his fucking gums until there's a tiny tint of blood in his mouth and his gag reflex is severely tested. All because the childish part of him refuses to kiss Marshall with that taste on his tongue. Doesn't want his desperately needed makeup kiss to be spoiled by the shitty ghost of nicotine lining his mouth.

Meanwhile for Marshall, when he's the one stressing out he binge eats.

Colson can tell right away whenever something is on his boyfriends mind just by the sight of one two many sucker wrappers or chocolate foils. It's ironic really. Because they both know Marshall developed the habit during his recovery. Sugar being every alcoholic or addicts go to replacement.

It's kind of cute sometimes, seeing Marshall's cheeks stuffed and his eyebrows furrowed. Or when he hears the tell tale crinkle of snack wrappers in the older rappers hoodie hours after the man insists he's unbothered by some stupid thing.

But like with Colson's habit it's nothing but a poor coping skill. Because after comes the running, or the lifting, just excessive extra working out that borders on unhealthy because like the cigarettes Marshall worries over the long term consequences.

Marshall avoids him too at times because of it. Not to go brush his teeth and so he can fret over Colson tasting chocolate and caramel on his tongue, but because of his weight.

Nevermind the fact that Colson can hardly remember a time where he noticed some giant fluctuation in his boyfriends weight due to it.

So on really bad nights, where they've spent what feels like the whole day arguing it's almost guaranteed they'll find themselves standing in the bathroom together. Colson's mouth frothing full of wet foam and Marshall's pulled to the side in a tight line while he feet balance ontop of the electric scale. Too fools, ignoring the hypocrisy in their words as they reassure the other that they're being dramatic.

"You're breath smells fine-"

"You're more in shape than me babe-"

It's stupid. Completely ridiculous but, always still the perfect thing to bring them back together just in time for bed.

[dorizardthewizard]

Galactik Football: Season 1

I completely forgot that I wrote a load of ramble as I rewatched GF during  lockdown, so uh here’s a sort of review for season 1!

------------------------------------------------------------------

First of all, the concept and setting is just so unique and wild I mean, football in space against aliens but with magical powers too? Epic. Superpowers are pretty common in sports cartoons and anime but here there’s actually an explanation for them, and they have significance for the world of the show. The concept of the flux sets up for an entire sub-plot of wars with weapons of mass destruction, corrupt mega-corporations ruling the galaxy, space pirates… the world feels very lived in, and makes you want to know more about the goings-on outside of the football games.

The pirate business doesn’t overshadow the Snow Kids though, because their personal drama and journey to becoming a better team together is interesting enough. Basically, this is a space opera with football sprinkled in. For such a big cast, most get good development and there’s no clear main character. This leads into me rambling about each character, because I never really appreciated the diversity of arcs when I first watched it as a kid :’P

Rocket:

He starts out pretty timid, doesn’t fight for his dreams, and has a habit of running away from confrontation (like when the others found out he was Aarch’s nephew) that follows him into season 2. He’s stuck tending to flowers (ironic, since he himself isn’t allowed to grow and bloom), but by the end of the season, he’s more authoritative and confident enough to suggest strategies to the team. Also has a habit of hiding his feelings and underestimating his importance to others, which he works on in season 2.

Tia:

You’d expect her to be more calm and similar to Rocket, and sure they bond over being out of the inner circle of the Snow Kids, and also both having emotionally unavailable parents, but she’s actually far more headstrong than she seems. I mean, she was willing to do anything to be in Aarch’s team, even faking her parents’ consent and almost dying when her ship crashed! (Plus that scene where she uses the breath is epic, that music? Chef’s kiss) She’s not perfect though – she’s very empathetic (like when they arrived on the Ryker’s planet and she was the most upset by the conditions there), and relates to Rocket, so she wants to give him the happy family she didn’t have, by reuniting him with his mother. Although well-intentioned, it’s preeetty invasive, and though it turned out okay in the end, she really should have consulted with Rocket first, especially after finding out his mother wasn’t dead, but had left them. For all Tia knew, she could have been a really shitty person.

D’jok:

Very clear ego problems :P He doesn’t know his past and doesn’t have much of a future on Akillian, so he pushes himself to achieve some great destiny, then feels like everyone else isn’t on the same level as him if they don’t do the same. He gets more than he bargained for when it turns out that Sonny Blackbones is his dad, and he realises what’s really important to him in the final match. Namely, he realises that the reason he found it so difficult to sabotage the match isn’t because he wanted to win at all costs, but because he doesn’t want to betray his team – he wants to win together with them.

Althooough, I was never entirely sure about him scoring the penalty before knowing Sonny was safe, like sure he didn’t know Sonny that well yet so maybe felt closer to the SK but dude, you just sentenced a man to death. I think the life-and-death situation by itself was enough to get him to rethink his priorities. Maybe they could have made him more aware that the whole galaxy was at stake if he lost the match, but that motive for scoring the penalty isn’t as satisfying for his arc I guess.

Micro-Ice:

To this day, I have no idea why he was named that :’P He’s the first Snow Kid we meet, which makes for a fun start to the show since he’s such a smart-ass and a joker that keeps getting in trouble. He could have easily been nothing but comic relief, but he isn’t. He’s actually pretty pessimistic and doubtful about his skills, and covers it up with jokes and fake confidence. He didn’t even want to go to the try-outs, to avoid disappointment if he didn’t get chosen.

The self-confidence issue keeps building up with things like being put as substitute initially, being the last person to get the Breath, and D’jok and Mei getting together, finally driving him to run off with the pirates thinking he isn’t really needed on the team. He also lets jealousy get the better of him, souring his friendship with D’jok and forgetting that Mei is free to choose whoever she likes. He eventually realises he’s wrong though, and comes back. I also love his friendship with Artie :’D

Mei:

She starts out ambitious, which in itself isn’t a bad thing, but she’s willing to throw others under the bus for personal gains. Then you start to see it’s because of her mother’s influence – always pushing her to do better. When Mei starts to actually have feelings for D’jok, she starts to care about him and regrets breaking up his friendship with Micro-Ice. Eventually, she manages to stand up to her mum and is happy playing the position she’s best at.

The execution cooould be a little better because at times it leaned a bit into the “overambitious woman who needs to be put in her place” trope. It only really comes down to little details, like why did Aarch refuse to let her try out as an attacker when he was forming the team? Back then he had no idea who she was or what her skills were?? He didn’t even want to consider the idea later when Micro-Ice left, which felt more like an emotional reaction than a tactical one. But anyway, it’s alright overall and I love that she got to score the winning goal despite not being an attacker.

Thran and Ahito:

Having a narcoleptic goalkeeper is just genius, and makes for some fun last-minute saves. Also love how despite being asleep half the time, Ahito’s the one that knows what’s up :’P Thran is also really underrated but there’s more to talk about with these two in season 2.

Also wanted to throw in some appreciation for how the older characters are written – usually the adults in kids shows are more on the side-lines, but in Galactik Football, they’re also pretty flawed and interesting. For example, Aarch isn’t the perfect, wise mentor – whether he did it for glory, to escape bad memories or a combination of both, he still left his brother and planet behind when they needed him most, and now he’s trying to make up for it. Norata’s not perfect either – he denies Rocket his dreams partly to protect him, but also out of bitterness towards Aarch and fear of being left alone again. Also, there’s a variety of different families being represented in the show – single parents, adopted parents, rich, not so rich, neglectful, supportive, ambitious, non-existent… and with some of them, this plays a key role in the Snow Kids’ characters.

The show might not be the most technically amazing, okay, the 2D animation is not the best, but the designs are pretty diverse and I miss that 2000’s style with the outfits :’P There are lots of locations with pretty backgrounds, and very varied planets that reflect the people living there. I also like the comfortable sci-fi design – it’s futuristic-looking enough, but more colourful than some of the CGI bores we get in movies these days.

The 3D animation is better – they reuse motions a lot but at least they shake it up a bit by using different characters and camera angles. Speaking of camera angles, there’s some really interesting ones and camera movements that really make the matches dynamic. Honestly, having CGI in the 2000’s that doesn’t look super ugly and dated now is great, partly because they transferred their designs to 3D really well and partly because they didn’t try to do much rendering on the models.

ALSO THE SOUNDTRACK SLAPS THEY DID NOT HAVE TO GO THAT HARD ON THE OPENING THEME AND THE SCORE SOUNDS SO EPIC ALL THE TIME

I don’t know how to end this so if you actually got this far, I’ll just say season 1 was the best one for me! There’s some parts and characters I left out but that’s for another time. Sinedd and D’jok’s rivalry deserves its own post :’P

[citrineghost]

Listen very very closely, because I'm going to die young if people don't start learning what reviews are for and how to leave them

Rule #1: 2, 3, and 4-star reviews exist. Use them.

Please stop using exclusively 1-star and 5-star reviews. I know these make you feel powerful, but the other ratings help as well. They all average out to give potential buyers an accurate representation of the product quality. If you were slightly disappointed, give a 2-star or 3-star review. Save your 1-star reviews for travesties.

Rule #2: Reviews for products are about product quality

If you are reviewing a product on a product-selling website, such as Amazon, your review is about the quality/arrival state/functionality of the product. You are letting people know whether the product is good to buy. If it was packaged poorly and broke before you got the package, do not review the product until you attempt to get it replaced.

If the seller is unwilling to refund you or send a replacement, you can use the review section to review the customer service so that people know if they're talking a risk when buying.

Likewise, if a seller is really nice and sends a replacement or promptly apologizes and issues a refund, do not leave them a negative review because of the original state of the product. Accidents happen. Sellers should be rewarded for kind customer service, even if you're bummed out that you were inconvenienced.

Rule #3: eBay feedback is not a product review

I know you're all used to product reviews like the above, but eBay is not the same system. eBay is made for selling used or new items and the feedback system is for letting people know if the seller did a good job. Unless the seller did something wrong, you always give positive feedback.

If the product you receive is damaged and the seller put the condition as poor or they noted the damage on the product page, do not leave bad feedback.

If the product works poorly, but is the product the seller described, do not leave negative feedback. They are not the manufacturer. You are scoring their selling quality, not the product. This includes books you thought were shitty, clothes that didn't fit you well (but matched the listed measurements), and appliances that suck at their job but are exactly what you bought.

If you want to review the products themselves, find them on the manufacturer/company website where they're sold officially and review them there.

Rule #4: Recipe reviews are for people who know how to use a recipe

If you substitute or change more than one ingredient in a recipe, do not leave a review. If you have changed the recipe in a meaningful way, it is not the same recipe and, therefore, you are not reviewing the original recipe.

The only time it's acceptable to review a recipe after changing it is if you actually did make the original recipe first and can review it in earnest, or if the change you made was small enough not to affect your understanding of the original recipe's quality. For example, if you add nuts to a brownie recipe, you can still accurately judge the quality of the brownie itself.

If you burn a recipe, straight up suck at cooking, fail to follow the steps the way they're written, or otherwise do not follow the recipe instructions, do not review the recipe unless you have enough information to do so fairly.

For example, if you burn something but part of it was salvaged, you can make a funny joke at your own expense about burning it while you leave your review, but the rating should reflect the part you succeeded to cook as instructed. The burnt part was your own failing. That 1-star review is @ you, not the recipe writer. If the salvaged part was good, leave a good review.

Substitutions make a huge difference. If you use butter instead of margarine in cookies, they will turn out flatter and more dense. If you significantly change a recipe and get a good result, instead of leaving a good review, post your own recipe and link back to the original as your inspiration/base. The original recipe writer will appreciate it and you won't be muddying the reviews of the actual recipe with inaccurate feedback.

Rule #5: Book reviews are for the book content

This is especially meant to apply to places like Amazon. You are reviewing the product, not the service. When you review books sold through Amazon/Kindle, you are reviewing whether you liked the story/writing. If you receive a book order and the books are damaged, do not leave a negative review on the book. The author and their ability to sell books through Amazon are being judged based on reviews and sales.

If the book is damaged, that is Amazon's fault and should be brought to customer service, not the book reviews. If the issue is not handled appropriately by Amazon, leave Amazon a bad review on Google.

Rule #6: App reviews should mainly be about functionality or game quality

If a game says it includes in-app purchases, do not complain in the reviews that it contains in-app purchases unless they literally ruin the functionality and fun of the game because of how they're implemented. If the game is playable and fun without buying anything, even if you're annoyed you don't have the paid content, you have no right to leave it a negative review. You were warned there were in-app purchases and you chose to play it. Your disappointment is on you. Find a game without in-app purchases if they upset you.

If an app is free and has ads in it, and it is labeled as having ads in it, do not complain in the reviews about the ads unless they are game-breaking or so frequent that the app is intolerable. If a round of a game lasts a minute and you receive a 30 second ad after every round, the creator is abusing ads for revenue and that is fair to include in a review. If you receive a 15 second ad after every 5 rounds, suck it up. That's how free apps stay afloat. If they bother you, pay to remove ads. Almost all free apps with ads have a pay-to-remove option.

When you leave your review it should be about how well the app works, if it's useful, if it's organized well, if it has bugs or frequently crashes, etc. For games, it's the same, plus the element of fun levels and whatnot.

Rule #7: Reviews for establishments or franchises are not company reviews

If McDonald's gets rid of the McRib, do not leave a negative review for your local McDonald's that had no say in the matter. Go review the entire company on Google.

When you review a specific branch or franchise, you're reviewing the employees, the cleanliness, and the quality of the food, within reasonable expectation of the type of establishment it is. Do not leave a negative review on a McDonald's because their burger wasn't the kind of thing you get at Outback. The point of these reviews is to let locals or visitors know whether or not the establishment is run well and worth going to.

Do not leave a negative review for a restaurant that's very busy. If your servers are working at a reasonable pace, you cannot blame the restaurant for having a lunch rush and leaving you in the drive through for ten minutes while they serve people ahead of you. If your food is good and you leave a good review, you can always note that the business gets mad lunch rushes in your written review, but this shouldn't affect your star rating.

Now, if there's one person ahead of you and you're standing in line for ten minutes while employees are on their cellphones, that's terrible service and deserves a bad review.

If Dairy Queen charges fifty cents for extra sauces, it's not the fault of the employee informing you and following procedure. If you're pissed about the sauce price, take it up with corporate. Your review should reflect the attitude of the employee serving you, not the information they have to offer.

You get the idea.

So now, go forth and actually make reviews that make sense and don't unfairly judge or shit on the people or objects your review is directed at.

Reviews aren't just for customer use, they often have very real affects on the jobs and livelihoods of the people they're directed at. Make jokes in your review if you want to, but make your star rating fair and actually attempt to give useful information when writing a review.

And remember, if you have a problem with a product not arriving, being damaged, or anything else, always review the response to the inconvenience, not the inconvenience itself. It's okay to note the inconvenience in a written review, but it shouldn't be reflected in the star rating!

[astudyinfreewill]

“look what you made me do” 2/? | masterpost

aka: me making taylor swift songs about dean winchester and/or deancas bc it’s what dean himself would want

second song on deck, as promised; this one actually has quite a few cas beats in it, especially at the start, despite it having a dean vibe overall, so it should be interesting. again, bonus fanvid link at the end <3

this is me trying

i've been having a hard time adjusting i had the shiniest wheels, now they're rusting

ok, we start off strong with a couplet that could suit either dean or cas. “the shiniest wheels” is actually a perfectly fitting metaphor for a show that treats cars like emotional avatars of the people who drive them (i could so easily go into a digression about how the same thing happens in trc but this is the wrong post for that... how do i keep finding myself emotionally invested in car-fetishizing media while barely being a can-drive gay myself). ANYWAY, the first thing that comes to mind is the impala and how it’s pretty much synonymous with dean’s sense of self, how it gets wrecked and rebuilt over the course of the show, often tied in to his emotional state. and dean, well. he’s built up a lot of trauma over the years, but he’s also just getting older, as humans do.

on the other hand, we could also see it as a cas line - he’s not as much of a carfucker car aficionado as dean but he’s an adoptive winchester so hey, it still kinda works (rip to the pimpmobile, gone but not forgotten). what i MEAN is -- cas has been slowly falling from grace ever since season 4. he was becoming more human in season 5 already, with a grim prediction of his human future in 5x04; then lived as human for a while in season 7; then became completely human in season 9 before regaining his grace. but in season 15, again, his grace was apparently failing (boy it would be SUCH a shame if that plot point just, like... got dropped... 😐). substitute “wings” for “wheels” and you get a picture of someone who used to be this unstoppable, super-powered angel soldier that demons cowered in fear of, but has slowly become more human over time. as for “a hard time adjusting”... well, cas’ journey towards humanity has not been the easiest transition: it’s come with self-doubt, mental and physical pain, and of course, as he learned about love: heartbreak.

TL;DR: LIFE COMES AT YOU FAST AND THESE GUYS ARE TIRED.

i didn't know if you'd care if i came back; i have a lot of regrets about that

‘kay, this next part is definitely cas. cas who, as i mentioned in the previous post, just keeps leaving, whether that’s because he’s sacrificing himself or taking off on his own. and because that typically goes over like a lead balloon with dean, either because it leaves him grieving and traumatised or it plays right into his abandonment issues (or both - hello purgatory arc!), cas would be tentative about coming back. it’s also very apparent that castiel feels like the winchesters only value him for his abilities and powers (and after all, he’s been created to be a soldier), so if he feels like he’s not being helpful enough, he also tends not to feel wanted (again: dean wants him to stay, but cas wants to be asked to stay). plus, we know every time they’ve had a falling out it takes dean a bit to get over his anger (“dean, i thought i was doing the right thing”; “yeah, you always do”) so i don’t think cas takes his forgiveness for granted, especially if he has lied to him in the process (yes i’m thinking about the mixtape episode). “a lot of regrets”, indeed.

pulled the car off the road to the lookout, could've followed my fears all the way down; and maybe i don't quite know what to say, but i'm here in your doorway.

here, again, the car can easily work as a metaphor for someone’s emotional state. pulling over to take a breather, to try to assess things from a distance; and with lookout points so often being perched on steep hills, it’s easy to imagine the sense of vertigo, your own fear and self-doubt almost pushing you towards dangerous, self-destructive ideas. and we know cas doesn’t do things by halves - when he’s committed to something he believes is right, he goes all out. and yes, that has led to more than one falling out. 

but despite that - despite his worst fears telling him he should not come back to dean unless he’s “coming back with a win”, or able to protect him from harm (yes i’m thinking about the mixtape episode AGAIN), he does always come back to him. it’s the one thing that dean can always depend on, castiel finding his way back to him like dean is his true north. i’m here in your doorway; the please take me back once more is implied.

i just wanted you to know that this is me trying i just wanted you to know that this is me trying

(and dean does take him back, because however many times castiel feels that he has failed in his mission, he always comes back and tries again, tries harder, tries to make it right or do it better. and that’s something dean relates to - fucking up in the worst ways and getting beaten down but always getting back up, always starting over, always trying again. in fact, he’s kind of the one who taught cas that. and with that-- we move over to the dean portion of this.)

they told me all of my cages were mental so I got wasted like all my potential

ah, it wouldn’t be a dean pov without some good old fashioned self deprecation. “all of my cages were mental” isn’t 100% accurate in dean’s case because he has been dealt a pretty shit hand by life, but he also excels at self-sabotage. “I got wasted” is of course an allusion to his alcoholism, but then we have the clever play on words with “wasted potential”, which... hits close to home. all dean’s ever done is tried to live up to what he thought he should be, always feeling like he was falling short. never quite the favourite son, never the man his father thought he should be, not strong enough to resist hell, not the righteous sword of michael the angels expected, not good enough for the people he loves not to leave him, just not enough.

and my words shoot to kill when I'm mad i have a lot of regrets about that

...as i said above: though dean does always forgive the people he loves, it still takes him quite a bit to get over his anger at them. and when he’s angry, he lashes out, often saying things that come off cruel, things he absolutely does not mean. and this part reminds me, yet again, of dean’s painful confession in 15x09, about how he gets so angry and doesn’t know why (of course, the answer is trauma and childhood abuse; but he has no way to process that); and he tries to stop it but he can’t, and he always, always regrets it in the end.

i was so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere fell behind all my classmates and i ended up here

oh, dean. dean winchester with his ged and his give ‘em hell attitude. he breaks my heart. i touched on this in my previous post, but there’s something to be said for the fact that dean had to grow up so fast, he really didn’t grow at all in some ways ( “so ahead of the curve, the curve became a sphere”). from a young age he was shoved in a parental role, having to be both a father and mother to sam, which meant never getting to exist just for himself. which of course, in turn, means he never got to develop a healthy degree of emotional maturity. in “bad boys”, we find out that the only time dean even got close to being a normal teenager, receiving positive reinforcement by sonny and bonding with his peers, john ripped him right out of that safe haven; and by the time “after school special” is set in, he’s given up on ever getting a shot at a healthy environment, using denial as a coping mechanism by trying to pass off his and sam’s shitty, depressing lives as super edgy and cool.

pourin' out my heart to a stranger but i didn't pour the whiskey i just wanted you to know that this is me trying i just wanted you to know that this is me trying at least i'm trying

i don’t really need to explain this bit i guess, but it’s about the implications of how it can somehow be easier to open up to a complete stranger rather than someone you care about; and how for dean, who is used to frequenting seedy bars and dives, one-night stands are as much about comfort than they are about pleasure. that’s the only way he knows how to let himself be touched, seen, held -- because of course, “no chick flick moments”, and besides, we know that when he falls in love he falls hard, so it’s safer to just roll in and out of town. 

the interesting part in this context though, is that “but i didn’t pour the whiskey”, especially since we know dean, like every other winchester, tends to drown out his problems with alcohol; so him choosing to not do that, and instead just look for comfort from a stranger (whether it’s through sex or just chatting away at a bar) is, in itself, a sign of trying to do better. because if there’s one thing dean knows how to do, is trying, and trying, and trying again. in fact, as i mentioned above, it’s kinda where cas learned it too. and we know dean is a stand-in for human nature, so of course, this is also a larger discourse of how humans are flawed and imperfect but can always improve, always do better, always try harder or be more. and maybe that’s what makes a righteous man, really.

and it's hard to be at a party when i feel like an open wound it's hard to be anywhere these days when all i want is you you're a flashback in a film reel on the one screen in my town

this next part... listen. i don’t know how it fits into the narrative of trying, but what i do know is i can’t stop thinking about grieving dean. about how every time he loses cas, a little piece of him dies too, but it’s a piece that gets bigger and bigger every time, carving a hollow inside him. it’s unsightly, it’s unforgiving, it’s raw - it’s like an open wound. and as much as dean has always taken on the role of the person who puts on a brave face, makes a joke, and pushes all his feelings down, well -- it’s hard to that; it’s hard to focus on anything else when he’s missing cas like a phantom limb. “all i want is you” which is to say i’d rather have you, cursed or not; which is to say, i need you. need you badly enough to see your face everywhere after escaping purgatory, just like “a flashback in a film reel”. 

and i just wanted you to know that this is me trying  (maybe i don't quite know what to say) i just wanted you to know that this is me trying; at least i'm trying.

so, yes. dean is trying. he’s always trying, even though healing and progress are not linear or easy. and he knows he’s got anger issues, he knows he’s bad with his words, but damn it, he always shows up for the people he loves, and he tries to do better, every. damn. time. partly because he’s us, he’s all of us, he’s human perfectibility incarnate; and partly because he loves cas so damn much and maybe if he gets it right this time he’ll get to keep him -- and i don’t know which of the two options makes my heart hurt the most.

---

fanvid rec link here! it’s only for the second half of the song, so the more dean-centric one :)

[goraturtle]

i guess something i don't get w the whole wellermen debacle (even as a nonwhite colonized person) is like. if we are denouncing all the spoils of colonialism then are we... not reading moby dick anymore? not reading pride and prejudice? glsjfsk there is a difference between having a conversation about the violent histories of these institutions and just telling people not to engage w aaaanything that even mentions them. especially without providing examples of similar media to look into that may have actually been created by colonized working people or precolonial people. like i don't get what the end goal is here

ok but also, look how most ppl have been intereacting with that sea shanty so far. has it been critical? have there been actual conversations about it? bc from what i’ve seeing, the second any criticism is launched at it people have been pouring out to try and argue and defend it (like right now with you sending this ask, though I appreciate you taking the time to type it out in a non-adversarial way like a normal person) using the “let people enjoy things” or “all colonial-based ‘culture’ is problematic why should we cancel XYZ”. 

A TikTok going viral is not discussion, it is not critical, the majority of the people interacting with this tune are not drawing the obvious connections between the lyrics and slavery + colonialism, and that’s honestly pretty shitty. The violent histories are not being discussed right now, and any attempt at discussing them or at articulating how fucked up it is that this song is being spread as just a funny little sea shanty is being met w/ shouts of “cancel culture”

A sea shanty with lyrics directly tied to the transport and sale of tea, sugar, and rum will always be inextricably linked with colonialism and specifically slavery. And I understand that you’re a person of color with a history of colonization, but that specific history behind the sea shanty also disproportionately affects Black and indigenous people of color, and I would implore you to read more thoughts on the subject by people of those demographics (bc at the end of the day I’m white and I’ll do my best to explain what I think/know but my response to this ask will never be a proper substitute for the thoughts of someone who is actually affected by that history)

It’s honestly a little weird to me that you bring up Moby Dick specifically, bc while I’ve never read it (also what wackjob reads that book outside of an english literature class), I’ve had friends who had to for various classes over the years, and a MAJOR topic of discussion is the historical context behind whaling/shipwork in general. Like how can anyone get away with not analyzing Moby Dick and being critical of the time period. How. With respect to pride and prejudice though I definitely agree that there needs to be more discussion on historical context + racism of that era bc in general I feel like the work (as well as other works by Jane Austen) has been heavily romanticized (understandable, since it’s a romance novel, but still) to the point where the time period itself has been romanticized, and that’s fucked up.

I’d also like to point out that, yeah, sure, I reblogged a post telling people not to listen to the stupid sea shanty. I’m not a cop. Literally what is stopping you from just going ahead and listening to it anyway. It may not align with some people’s opinions but I do honestly feel it’s more than a little overblown for you to have this kind of reaction, focused entirely on the supposed merits of the piece of media, rather than stopping and thinking about the impact that hearing this kind of thing has on other people (even if you personally do not react to it).

You do raise a good point about how most criticisms don’t offer alternatives to the sea shanties that have been going around, though. Still, I don’t know how much of that is based off people’s tendency to romanticize white europeans at sea, specifically. But at the same time, if you enjoy sea shanties and want to learn more about how other sailing cultures approached group singing, nothing is stopping you from doing that research on your own! I don’t think it’s necessarily fair to expect ppl to hold your hand through finding alternatives when they’re only trying to bring attention to how insidious and pervasive colonial thought patterns are in today’s society, especially since the internet makes things so easy these days.

I guess what the end goal here is, is that everyone should be thinking about these sort of things. It’s impossible for something to be totally bereft in context, nothing exists inside of a box, and colonial history still has lasting affects on how we live and think today (bc it didn’t fucking happen all that long ago). Romanticization of eras (especially white european-centric eras) into aesthetics is harmful bc it uncritically spreads that kind of thinking and harms communities that have been (and currently are) directly affected by violent colonialism, genocide, and slavery (not that those things are mutually exclusive). If you can do that while still listening to the damn song, then fine, I’m not standing behind you while you’re at your computer waiting to chastise you for liking some sea diddy, but your enjoyment of that media is not contextless, and should be analyzed. 

And believe me I understand the initial knee-jerk reaction to defend what you like, and I’ve struggled w/ it in the past bc a lot of online identity involves tying your interests into your personality. I’ve found that seeking out others’ opinions and just absorbing their thoughts to chew on can really help. You don’t have to reblog anything, or share it, but just read it, internalize it, feel it. I always feel more than a little silly over that initial defensive reaction once I’ve educated myself more

[shemakesmusic-uk]

Wallice has shared her subversive new single 'Hey Michael'. 'Hey Michael' amplifies her blood-thirsty nature, a revenge anthem that finds Wallice turning into a worse villain than her erstwhile love interest. A song about toxic tendencies and how they manifest in our lives, 'Hey Michael' twists and turns around American Psycho imagery. Wallice labels "a revenge anthem for anyone who has encountered a gaslighting, manipulative person. It’s what I wish I would have said to all the ‘Michael’s’ I have met in my life. It can be substituted by many names, we all know or have met a ‘Michael’ though. Somehow the world revolves around them and they just can’t catch a break, because they never do anything wrong and it’s usually your fault. You should have listened to your gut instinct and swiped left on this Michael. This isn’t a man-hating song, it’s just something many people can relate to. Sometimes it’s embarrassing to admit just how bad a friend, date, or romantic partner was and a lot of the time, I would just smile and laugh off stupid remarks but when I think back, I wish I had told them off. But at the same time, my persona in the song is not the best person either. I literally say: I think I want to start a fight, which one is your girlfriend? The whole song is funny because I am so focused on how shitty Michael is that I don’t even think about how shitty I might be as well." Directed by Phil Stillwell, the video takes place at a house party, with Wallice interacting with various 'Michaels' before her behaviour spirals into something much, much worse. [via Clash]

In the same vein as Massive Attack’s suburban groove and social commentary in the mid 90’s, KITA have captured the rhythm and heartbeat of suburban Pōneke; a city abuzz with a vibrant music and dramatic performance scene in their brand new track and official video, ‘Private Lives’. Weaving together elements of vintage rock, pop and soul, and warm hints of synth, KITA have created a skin-prickling piece of magic with ‘Private Lives’, a deeply beautiful track penned in 2020’s lockdown, that delves into the unknown of what happens when the blinds are shut – the parts of life that are unseen by others. "Standing from my kitchen window during lockdown in Aotearoa, sinister thoughts entered my mind about what could be happening behind closed doors for people”, says front-woman Nikita 雅涵 Tu- Bryant. The video tells the story of a father and daughter’s relationship amongst snapshots of everyday life and its monotonous anonymity, while things aren’t always what they appear on the surface. Late at night the father can finally reveal his true self, adorning makeup and sequins, only to be spied by his daughter. The two then share a special moment of dressing up and dancing together, a true celebration of individuality, self-love and the beauty of self-expression.

'Just Chemistry' is the third single from Dance Lessons, a London-based, female-fronted and produced trio, creating what they define as Serrated Pop. 'Just Chemistry' is a delicate hymn to the unspoken. Dance Lessons return with their signature sound – minimal production, sleek vocals and intricate arrangements. Ann says: “'Just Chemistry' is about the over-complication of our relationships. It’s about the things that are left unsaid in-between the awkward text messages and conversations, and how the absence of knowing can be misinterpreted as doubt. Last year was a difficult one. For a long time, I felt at the mercy of my emotions. I doubted where things were going. I lived in the future and found it hard to commit to the present. But these moments of not knowing can be equally thrilling and beautiful. And that’s what the song is about: finding beauty in the unspoken. In most cases, it’s chemistry that makes us fall in love. Things end, all is temporary. Let’s not go to war with one another over it.” Nat says on the video: “A friend told us about this weird and wonderful house in North London that feels a little like stepping into an acid trip. We obviously wanted to check it out. It’s completely surreal, all over the place (in a great way) and generally eclectic, which felt inherently us. We instantly wanted to do something there and asked the owner for permission to shoot a music video. We filmed during lockdown and were let loose embracing all the oddness of it. Ann also designed and created the outfit she wears in the video, something she does with most of her wardrobe. It was shot, directed and edited by our hugely talented friends Ben Hanson and Simon Frost from Borderland Studios.”

Returning with her first offering of the year, North London’s rising star Laurel Smith is ready to reveal her anticipated new single, ‘Out the Cage’ accompanied by an action packed and thrilling cinematic style music video directed by Jeremie Brivet and Jai Garcha. Sticking to her winning recipe of moody, dark, electro-pop production paired with effortlessly edgy tales of narrative lyricism, ‘Out the Cage’ is the next huge single from the young, innovative artist that is sure to follow the same trajectory of success as its predecessor, ‘Game Over’ released late last year. A songwriter and recording artist, Laurel Smith has been writing songs since the age of sixteen. With each single she’s released, Laurel has continued to adapt her sound and aesthetic, consistently honing her craft and evolving her brand. She has carefully carved out her place in an ever crowded industry and proceeds to turn heads at every corner. “‘Out The Cage’ is a song about breaking out from your constraints, both physical and mental. Although it can be interpreted in any way, when I wrote it I created a story around a bored housewife, falling out of love with her husband, she fantasises about tying him up and leaving him to be a badass assassin in a video game type world, roaming the city at night and living a life of unpredictability and excitement”.

Hailing from the Philippines, singer-songwriter Laica is coming off a breakout 2020. Now the 21-year-old is gearing up for the release of her debut album I’m so fine at being lonely. The first single off the project, 'love u lately' is here, accompanied by a music video directed by Cooper Leith. 'Love u lately' is a relatable and infectious track. The song revolves around dating, understanding mixed signals, and the confusion that surrounds that world. Lyrically, Laica walks us through her experiences here, voicing her thoughts and frustrations about someone who she just can't seem to read right. Production-wise, the track is carried by a pulsing synth and a groovy bass. Together, the track feels upbeat. The vibe created by the production stands in contrast with the more emotional lyrics, making the track complex and interesting. The music video takes the concept of 'love u lately' to the extreme, in a fun and playful way. Laica is seen capturing her dream boy and attempting to use witchcraft to finally win him over. The video has a very DIY feel, which could serve to add to the reliability of the track. It’s a great extension of the track and taps into everyone’s most fantasy-driven realities. [via Earmilk]

At first, Emily C Browning wasn't sure what to think. Spurned, rejected, and cast aside, she was angry, furious, and - at times - utterly bereft. Usually she'd utilise songwriting as a vessel for her emotions, but when she was so conflicted, and feeling so negative, that it just didn't enter her mind. The Christchurch, New Zealand artist needed to take a step back, and when she located some perspective, she was ready to act. New single 'I Wasn't Into You Anyway' is a soaring slice of revenge, one that finds Emily C Browning taking full control of her music. Her first solo production credit, its reminiscent of those surging, empowering Maggie Rogers bops, while also containing similar DNA to Sharon Van Etten's work. Lyrically, it's absolutely her own creation, with Emily leaning on those often-hidden feelings. She comments... "Everyday for a month I wrote in my journal: I want to write a song about feeling rejected. But I couldn’t figure out how to keep it light and funny, it can be quite a painful topic and I didn’t want to sound too heavy. But I kept working on it everyday and came up with this song. I then spent another month recording it, trying to capture a sound that stayed upbeat and playful. I put so much time and energy into the song that I ended up completely forgetting about the person who rejected me in the first place (honest, I swear)." [via Clash]

Alt-pop force Holly Humberstone returns with new single 'Haunted House'. The songwriter's potent debut EP Falling Asleep At The Wheel was a sensation, racking up more than 100 million global streams. A bona fide phenomenon, Holly returns with a single that displays a more nuanced, reflective side to her work. 'Haunted House' digs into childhood, and looks at the way memory can frame the way we construct our identities. She comments: "I wrote this song about the old and characterful house I grew up in. The house is such a huge part of who I am and our family. With my sisters and I moving out and living separate lives, coming home feels very comforting and one of the only things keeping us all connected." Playing with concrete imagery and no small degree of invention, 'Haunted House' connects art to life in an enchanting fashion. She adds: "The house is almost falling down around us now though, and we’ve realised that pretty soon we’ll be forced to leave. There’s a cellar full of meat hooks and a climate so damp mushrooms grow out of the walls. Loads of people have probably died here in the past but I’ve always felt really safe. It’s like a seventh family member. It’s part of me." [via Clash]

In 2019, the Boston-born and Brooklyn-based indie rock album Crumb released their debut album Jinx. Crumb haven’t yet announced plans to follow that album up, but they’re definitely working towards something. Last month, the band came out with a one-off single called 'Trophy.' Now, they’ve followed that one with two new tracks, and they’re both winners. The new songs 'BNR' and 'Balloon' both fit nicely into Crumb’s comfort zone. The band’s sound is a rich, sophisticated take on psychedelia, with blissed-out lead vocals from Lila Ramani and with some great funky drum action. The band co-produced both songs with Foxygen’s Jonathan Rado, who’s done great recent work with people like Father John Misty and Weyes Blood and the Killers and who knows how to make oblique ’70s-style pop sound good. But Crumb themselves deserve a ton of credit for coming up with a sound this layered and weird. They’re the rare circa-2021 band who might remind you of Broadcast. In a press release, Ramani says, “‘BNR’ is an ode to my favorite colors. I had a weird obsession with those colors in winter 2018-2019 and felt like they would follow me around everywhere I went." 'BNR' also has a cool music video. Director Joe Mischo starts the clip off as a hallucinatory reverie, but he turns it sharply towards horror at the end. [via Stereogum]

Last year, Limerick poet/musician Sinead O’Brien released her debut EP, Drowning In Blessings. It was a unique work, a handful of songs featuring O’Brien’s sing-speak over spindly, post-punk guitars. It garnered O’Brien a bit of buzz overseas, and it left you wondering where she might take her music from there. Now, O’Brien’s back with a new song called 'Kid Stuff.' “‘Kid Stuff’ shows up all different tones on different days,” O’Brien said in a statement. “There’s something alive in it which cannot be caught or told. It is direct but complex; it contains chapters. This feels like our purest and most succinct expression yet.” Like Drowning In Blessings, 'Kid Stuff' found O’Brien working with Speedy Wunderground mastermind Dan Carey. Musically, it hints at a level up moment for O’Brien. There was something alluring and jagged about Drowning In Blessings, but 'Kid Stuff' places her usual approach over a song that is surprisingly groovy — maybe even a little danceable. It comes with a video directed by Saskia Dixie. [via Stereogum]

Das Beat are made up of German actress and vocalist Eddie Rabenberger and Agor of Blue Hawaii. The pair have just shared their first single 'Bubble' online now and are set to release their debut EP Identität on June 4 via Arbutus Records. Born in Berlin during 2020’s legendary lockdown, Das Beat seeks to blast both boredom and boundary. Dabbling in German New Wave, Italo Disco, Indie & Dance, their sound is unified by vocals from Eddie Rabenberger, sung in German and English. Amidst playful lyrics one finds a strong underlying pulse (das “beat”), pinning down the duo’s meandering atmospherics, dreamy synths, guitars and percussion. The duo is half-Canadian and half-German. Agor (of Blue Hawaii), moved to Berlin from Montreal in 2018. Eddie is a theatre actress originally hailing from a small town in Bavaria. Together they find a strange but alluring symbiosis - like Giorgio Moroder meets Nico, or Gina X Performance meets The Prodigy.

St. Vincent has fully embraced the ’70s aesthetic for her retro-sounding new record, Daddy’s Home. Now, she’s diving headlong into the animation styles of the era with the video for 'The Melting of the Sun'. Presented as a “betamax deluxe release” rip from “Candy’s Music Video Archives,” the clip blends live action shots of St. Vincent herself with the wavy, intermittent animation frames any Schoolhouse Rock student is familiar with. The psychedelic lines fit a song called 'The Melting of the Sun' perfectly, as do the drawings of the legends mentioned in the song’s lyrics like Nina Simone, Joni Mitchell, and Tori Amos. St. Vincent co-directed the clip with Bill Benz, while Chris McD provided the animation. [via Consequence]

Bay Area slowcore trio Sour Widows have released a new single, 'Bathroom Stall,' from their forthcoming EP Crossing Over, which they announced last month with its title track. The song’s build-up is subtle and poignant like Sufjan Stevens, but Maia Sinaiko’s evocative, sweeping vocals are one-of-a-kind, and the lyrics are graphic and tragic: “Do you remember it like I do?/ Your lips turned blue I had my fingers in your mouth/ And I couldn’t get them out.” Sinaiko said of the song: "This song is about a relationship I had with someone who struggled with addiction, who very tragically passed away three years ago while we were together. It’s about some moments we shared, and how it feels to walk around carrying that person and those experiences with me while the world stays normal. I wrote the song because I wanted to preserve and document what happened to me. to write out the scary stuff and just let it sit there forever. I think its funny that its called 'Bathroom Stall' and that it has that image in it: the song goes from heavy and dark to ordinary and totally pedestrian in a sentence, which feels absurd. And that’s kind of what it’s like to grieve. That’s kind of what’s hard to explain about grief, how absurd it is. Part of you goes to a different planet and part of you stays walking around like an alien on Earth, going to the bathroom and looking at the moon and shit." [via Stereogum]

As JUNO-nominated singer Kandle Osborne prepares to launch her new project, Set The Fire this spring, she shares the album’s third single, 'Misty Morning.' From being penned on a napkin while abroad to a Vancouver studio, 'Misty Morning' is a sonic journey that echoes soulful vulnerability and an honest reflection of realizing true love. For the video, Kandle reconnects with 'Honey Trap' director, Brandon William Fletcher, to create classic 40s noir-inspired cine-magic, filmed along the Vancouver coastline and within the lush landscape of Stanley Park. Kandle says: “‘Misty Morning’ is my first real love song, captured on a napkin while in Ischia, Italy when I was truly happy. My songwriting usually comes from a place of turmoil and catharsis, but this was simply a snapshot of a perfect, vulnerable moment. In recording it, I wanted to hide behind lush orchestration, but my producer/ best friend Michael Rendall had other ideas. He wanted to strip it down to just piano & a single vocal to take me out of my comfort zone and re-capture the open-hearted feelings I had while writing it. The song and the recording both hold for me a time when I dropped my guard for pure authentic love in spite of all my flaws and failures. In that moment, I felt my true value as a whole person for the first time.”

On 'Vertigo,' Alice Merton’s first single of 2021, the 27-year-old describes the long road from uncertainty back to self-confidence. It emphasizes the unrest that seizes her again and again, the thought: “Why can’t I just let it go?” These contradicting thoughts and emotions that are so familiar to all of us sum up to an overwhelmingly positive effect - 'Vertigo' leaves you empowered rather than anxious: A powerful indie pop arrangement with distorted guitars, plus Alice Merton’s crystal-clear voice. The result is reminiscent of the British Invasion, with no air of self-doubt. With its energetic live qualities, 'Vertigo' feeds an appetite for summer festivals and concerts that will definitely return at some point. Largely responsible for this is the Canadian producer Koz, a multiple Grammy nominee, who has worked with Dua Lipa ('Physical') among others. Here, too, he adds on to what has already made Alice Merton stand out from the crowd in the past - her classic pop appeal - with an uncompromising and indie attitude. This enables Alice to take another big step: She equally encourages a shaken generation and herself that there will be easy summers again. That you can dance again and lie in each other's arms. That it is absolutely fine to have many facets, to not always be clear, and that strength and weakness are not mutually exclusive.

Canadian artist Olivia Lunny's new release 'Sad To See You Happy' is a shamelessly poppy track centering an acutely relatable break-up narrative. The Canadian artist follows up her breakthrough success with a bouncy cut to soundtrack 2021’s long-awaited spring. There's a relatable tale of break-up at the heart of the gloriously poppy new single, belied by percussive instrumentation that creates a warm, nostalgic feel. [via Line Of Best Fit]

After sharing the single last month, Charlotte Adigéry is now revealing the brand new video for ‘Bear With Me (and I’ll stand bare before you)’. The first new music since her 2019 debut EP Zandoli, Charlotte says of the video, “The video is about being confined thus confronted to the way we live. The cruel irony of having the privilege of standing still, questioning and observing my life in all safety while others are fighting for theirs. On the other hand, the video is about trying to stay sane while feeling that the walls are closing in on you. Embracing boredom and finding joy in the little things in life.” Director Alice Kunisue adds, “When I listened to Charlotte’s song and what it meant for her and Bolis, I wanted the video to visually encapsulate that feeling of being stuck inside and confronted to our deeper selves while paradoxically sensing the chaos going on in the outside world without being able to do anything about it. Choosing to film an apartment room from one single angle was a way to reflect that narrowness of thought that we all experienced, but also a constraint that allowed us to explore and develop visual ideas within a narrow system, in a way having to think only inside the box, which artistically was a fun challenge.” [via DIY]

Millie Turner has shared a video for ‘Concrete Tragedy’. It’s a cut from her upcoming mini-album Eye Of The Storm, set for release on May 16, which also features a rework of breakout song ‘(Breathe) Underwater’. “This video is a visual representation of dancing on your own,” she says of the clip. “Combining the many parts of who we are when we’re by ourselves, I wanted it to feel like you’re entering a world of imagination that comes alive when we express ourselves.” [via Dork]

Doja Cat and SZA have come together for a new single called 'Kiss Me More.' When the song was announced Wednesday night, the internet flipped out, which is to be expected with these two — especially Doja Cat, who is regularly going viral these days for all kinds of reasons. When it comes to collaborations, she always finds the best people. That includes Saweetie, who appeared on Doja’s recent 'Best Friend' but then claimed that it was released against her wishes. Given SZA’s long history of public frustration over TDE Records holding back her new album, she is probably happy to have any new music out. Despite recent single 'Good Days' hitting the top 10, her restless fanbase is still awaiting a follow-up to 2017’s iconic Ctrl. 'Kiss Me More' is the first single from Doja’s new album Planet Her, scheduled for release this summer. It returns to the disco vibes of Doja’s #1 hit 'Say So,' this time with no apparent resemblance to any Skylar Spence song. [via Stereogum]