#but anyways!!!! can anyone tell me if it’d be alright for me to draw on her demon mark/huadian?

[jojea]

girl who did nothing wrong ever

[bamboobooshark]

Logan Howlett x GN!Reader where the reader is a somewhat introverted person that has a passion for drawing, and when Logan asks to see one of their drawings, the reader shows them a drawing of a Wolverine (the animal :3)??

LOGAN HOWLETT • 🎨

“It’s nothing!” || 1.1K Words || P.G. Rating || Fandom: Marvel (X-Men)

Author’s Note: Okay this is probably one of the CUTEST requests I have ever gotten! I’m also an introverted artist, so this might be somewhat self indulgent… Anyway! Thank you so, so much for the idea anon! I love it <3

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CONTENT WARNINGS: Reader is able-bodied, Reader is pretty shy but not excessively, Logan drives a truck instead of a motorcycle in this fic, use of the pet names bub and darling, speeding in a car (no harmful intent/consequences).

Logan knocks on the doorframe with a soft smile on his face. “Hey, bub,” he greets before jingling his car keys and raising a brow. “Wanna head to the book store with me? I don’t got anything else to do today. I thought it’d be nice to take you out somewhere,” he proposes in a knowing tone. You nod your head yes—of course you agree to go! He’s known you too well for too long. You raise your eyebrows and let out a low whistle before turning to your bedside table. “Let me grab something really quick,” you tell him. He hums in acknowledgment while walking away from the door. “I’ll go get the truck started. The weather out there isn’t the best right now,” he calls out to you before the door shuts behind him. You’re quick to pick up your bag and pack it with whatever you need, including your sketchbook and some materials to draw. You smile to yourself as you get an idea of what to draw while you and Logan relax at the bookstore. You zip up your bag and walk down the hall, then outside to Logan’s truck.

“Got everything?” he asks. You nod your head and mumble a soft “yep,” the hum of the engine almost silencing your voice. Logan pulls the stick and reverses the vehicle while looking over his shoulder. You snicker, and the man groans. “What’s so funny? Did I do somethin’ stupid?” he questions while shifting to drive. You shake your head while covering your mouth. “You always look behind you when you pull out as if anyone lives close to us,” you explain in a half-sigh, half-laugh. Logan chuckles softly as he begins to make his way to the bookstore. “Pfft. Alright. I’m just trying to make sure I don’t hit any trees. This baby might be paid off, but I plan on keeping her as long as I can,” he tells you. You exhale deeply as you cross your arms to your chest.

After a few minutes of somewhat awkward silence, you state the obvious: “It’s way too quiet in here.” Logan hums in agreement as he gently taps the leather of the steering wheel. You pick up your bag from the floor of the truck, unzip it, and pull out your small CD holder. “I’ve got a few burned CDs with our favorite songs. What are you in the mood for?” you ask sweetly. The mutant looks at you and shakes his head before focusing his attention on the road once more. “Oh, please. You should know this by now,” he teases. You roll your eyes at him and pick the one that has “LOGAN’S ‘DAD’ ROCK” written in sharpie. You put it in the player and go through the songs before he pushes your hand away. “Ah, ah. No. We’re listening to this,” he states in a slightly stern tone. It’s one of his favorite songs that you catch him singing or humming while you make dinner for him: Self Esteem by The Offspring. You lift your hands up to your chest in defense while widening your eyes. “Alright, old man. We’ll listen to it,” you groan despite enjoying the song yourself. You and Logan both get into the lyrics and find yourself relishing in the moment. The windows are down, he’s driving almost 10 over with barely any other cars on the road, the music is blasting, and the wind in your face feels so amazing.

Eventually the two of you arrive at the large bookstore. You pop the CD out of the player and put it back in the case as Logan parks and turns off the truck. He walks over to the passenger side and opens the door for you as you finish zipping up your bag. “Thank you, kind sir,” you say in a fancy accent. He smiles at you as you take his hand to step out. “But of course, darling,” he says in an equal manner. The two of you share a snicker before approaching the double doors of the bookstore. You’re both hit with the memory-filled atmosphere of the shop; the scent of wood, carpet, and fresh paper, the soft chatter scattered around, and the sound of clinking dishes at the café. Logan releases a deep sigh before his eyes set on you. “I’ve got a bit of extra money,” he says in a bit of a whisper. You look at him with a wide smile, grabbing onto his hand tightly as he walks with you towards the café. “How ‘bout you go find us a spot, bub?” he asks as the both of you enter the line. You nod softly while turning to go find somewhere to sit. You look around carefully, anxiously sticking to Logan’s side until you find a cozy corner area. Once your gaze settles on it, you make a plan in your head on how to get there without moving behind people, tripping, or being in someone’s way. You carefully make your way over and sit down. Logan looks over at you and shoots you a half smirk as you give him a thumbs up.

About five minutes later, your scruffy partner comes over holding a sweet treat in two waxy-looking brown bags. “Got us a little treat. Hope ya’ like it,” he says. He sits next to you and sets your bag in front of you before opening his own. He got the two of you delicious, glazed croissants. You guys have been getting them for the longest time, despite Logan saying he’ll surprise you with whatever he orders for you. You look at him and smile sweetly. “Awe! Thank you, Logan. I really do appreciate when you get me sweet things like this,” you slightly ramble. He hums in acknowledgment before lifting your hand to kiss it, causing you to blush. He chuckled as he felt your flesh warm and saw the way you froze up.

Once the croissants were long gone and thoroughly enjoyed, Logan sat next to you while scrolling through his phone. You, on the other hand, were drawing a little something for your partner. You hummed softly as your pencil skipped across the page to create a picture. Logan raised his brow suspiciously upon seeing your goofy smile. “What’re you drawin’ there, bub?” he asks as he sets his phone on the table. You shrug and chuckle softly. “It’s nothing! I promise,” you tell him shyly. He doesn’t falter and tilts your sketchbook down. “Let me see this,” he mumbles as he looks down at it. “What is that thing?” he asks with furrowed brows. His eyes look to you in search of an answer, and you fidget with your hands. “It’s a—a wolverine,” you whisper. He fixes his posture before wrapping an arm around you, pulling you closer, and kissing the top of your head. “I love it, bub,” he whispers in return. You blush once again as he displays his affection for you in the comfy corner of the café.

[nova-is-a-writer-now]

Hidden embers

Chapter 3

Chapter summary: Joel needs help with his yard, you need help with figuring your feelings out

A/N: Im so excited you guys have been liking this!! last chapter was a good one, but this is my favorite so far. I also started a tag list so if y’all want to be part of that comment down here <3 Hope you enjoy!

Warnings: No outbreak AU, Age gap, DBF!Joel, Mean!Joel if you squint, some accidental physical contact lol, sexual tension but no smut

Series masterlist

“You can’t spend your whole summer doing nothing. You should really find something productive to do while you’re back home.”

Four years of college, every summer break, and most holidays spent working to cover tuition and other expenses—a lifetime of never catching a break until now—and that’s what your mother tells you after just two weeks of "doing nothing"?

You knew this was coming. It was only a matter of time before she decided to insert herself into your life and dictate your every move. It’s nothing you haven’t dealt with before. “I’ve been helping out around the house,” you say, trying to sound casual.

“Oh, sweetheart,” she says with a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “that’s not what I meant. You can’t be locked up in here all day. People will think you’re wasting your life away. I’ve been asking around at the town’s pageant commission, and they would be absolutely delighted to have you around to help us organize this year’s Teen Country Queen Pageant.”

There it was. Nothing your mother did was ever for anyone’s interests other than herself. If she had no interest in parading you around her pageant organizer friends, you were absolutely sure she couldn’t care less what you did with your days.

Right on cue, just before you’re about to give her a piece of your mind, your dad walks in. “What’s the long face for?”

“Oh, Hank, great! You can back me up here. I was telling her she needs to find something to do with her days. All this lazing around can’t be good for her. My friends at the—”

“Actually, I was thinking the exact same thing,” your dad says, surprising both of you.

“Really?” you ask incredulously. For all his flaws, your dad has never been one to meddle in your affairs.

“Yeah, Joel has been complaining about his front and back yard looking like shit since Cindy left.”

“Hank! Language!” your mom’s voice rises to that ear-shattering pitch she uses when she’s trying to be stern.

“Sorry, looking terrible since Cindy left,” your dad corrects himself, laughing it off. Sometimes he forgets he can only be that relaxed when he’s alone with you; your mom is a whole different ballgame.

“Um… Cindy?” you ask, drawing a blank on the name.

“The ex-wife. That’s not the point, kiddo. The point is he’s been whining about it for the longest time but is always too lazy to figure out gardening by himself. Then I remembered you were in the gardening club back in high school. It’d be nice of you to offer him some help. Poor man doesn't know how to keep a cactus alive.”

“Dad, that was ages ago. I don’t know if I remember much of it anyway. I only joined for my college applications,” you retort.

“It’s just a few plants and flowers here and there. How hard can it be? He even said he bought everything he should need for it but never got ‘round to actually doing it, so it’s all laid out for ya.”

Your choices were clear: spend however long it took to finish Joel’s yard while pretending you don’t have a massive crush on your dad’s best friend, or run around town with your mom organizing a beauty pageant. The decision wasn’t hard at all.

“I’ll go over and check it out.”

The walk to Joel’s house should’ve been short—barely a five-minute stroll up the road—but a nasty crack in the pavement had other plans. You were so lost in your thoughts today that you missed it entirely, stepping right into the trap.

Alright, maybe it wasn’t just today. You’ve been in your head ever since you first saw Joel standing at the bottom of your stairs. The way his hands had gripped your arms, steadying you, had left an imprint that you couldn’t seem to shake. And now, here you were, back in that same position, your mind consumed by this man who seemed to be as bad for your sanity as he was for your attention span.

So what should’ve been a walk up the road turned into a drawn-out pause as you sat on the sidewalk, waiting for the sharp pain in your twisted ankle to dull.

About ten minutes later, you finally make it to Joel’s lawn. You brace yourself to climb his porch stairs, pretending your ankle wasn’t bothering you, when you notice his garage door open. You hadn’t seen him from your previous angle, but as you got closer, the view of Joel's back muscles came into frame. And what a view that was. He was leaning over his truck, completely absorbed on whatever needed fixing under that hood.

For a moment, you just stand there, staring at the way his shirt clings to the sweat glistening on his skin. It takes a few seconds to remember that it isn’t socially acceptable to ogle someone from their front lawn, so you clear your throat and take a few more steps toward him.

“Hey” he greeted you, looking up from his work.

“Hey, yourself” you say back, playing it as cool as you could. It wasn’t a particularly hot day, but Joel's face glisten with sweat, as do his arms and you don’t not even want to think about what’s going on under that t-shirt.

“Come to pay me a visit?” he asked with a smirk

“My dad didn’t tell you? I’m your gardener for the day… or however long it takes to make your front lawn and back yard all pretty.”

Joel’s response is a breathy laugh, followed by him dropping his head between his forearms resting on the truck.“My gardener, huh?” he finally brings his eyes back up to meet yours. “Your daddy don’t know how to mind his own business, do he, sweetheart?”

Let’s unpack that. This man didn’t just throw in a new pet name you’d be replaying in your mind at any random moment of the day, but he also said it in that tone he seems to reserve only for you—or so you hoped, at least.

And that other word coming from his lips… you were aware people in the south used it more casually, without the connotation it had in your mind, but the way it sounded coming from him…

Oh, it made you think of a million ways Joel Miller could say the word Daddy in plenty of different contexts.

You quickly drop your gaze, hoping to hide the intense blush creeping up your cheeks. “I uh… I’m afraid not.”

The sound of his boots on the garage floor pulls you back to reality as he steps closer. “You don’t gotta do this, y’know?” His tone shifts, becoming more serious. “It’s no big deal, I’ll get to this mess eventually.”

You look up at him once again, more desperate than you’d like to admit. “Joel, I’ve been cooped up in my house with my mother and her pageant friends for weeks now. Please, give me an excuse to be anywhere else.”

A chuckle. You could live for those, make it your entire profession to earn them. You really need to calm the fuck down and get a grip if you are to spend the entire day around this man.

“Alright, then. If it’ll make you happy, I’m not gonna say no” says before turning back into the garage. He returns with a small crate filled with gardening tools and a few potted plants, setting them down on the grass. “Got most of what you’ll need here. Not much, but it’s a start.” His gaze drops to your ankle. “You doin’ alright? You’re limping.”

You wave off his concern, not wanting to admit just how much your ankle is actually bothering you. “It’s nothing, just a little misstep on my way here . I’m fine, really.” You flash him a smile you hope is convincing enough.

Joel studies you for a moment longer, then nods. “Alright, but if it gets to be too much, you let me know, okay? Last thing I need is you hurtin’ yourself on my account.”

“Deal,” you lie. There’s no way in hell you’re backing out of this now.

He gestures toward the mess of overgrown grass, weeds, and flower beds that haven’t seen attention in who knows how long. “I guess that’s the worst of it. Clearing out the weeds should leave enough space for these plants. Don’t overthink it, I trust your instincts.”

You take your first good look at the pots he brought from the back of the garage. “Oh, daisies! They’re my favorite.” You glance up at him, sweetness lacing your tone.

He pauses, something unreadable passing over his face. “ ‘Course they are.” He says, the corners of his mouth tugging up a bit. “Well, let me know if you need anything else. I'll be working over there.”

With Joel back under the hood, you set to work on the lawn. Despite the dull throb in your ankle, you find a steady rhythm in the repetitive motions—pulling out stubborn roots, digging small holes for the flowers, and patting down the soil around them. It’s oddly satisfying, watching the neglected garden start to come to life under your hands. You’ve always had a knack for taking rugged things and making them pretty.

Every so often, you glance over at Joel, who’s completely engrossed in whatever he’s tinkering with under the hood. The way his muscles flex as he works, the concentration etched on his face and how it makes him look a lot more serious than he ever is when talking to you—it’s hard to not get distracted.

There’s something about him, something that pulls you in despite your better judgment, despite every self-preservation instinct in you. Maybe it’s the way he makes you feel grounded, even when your mind is spinning out of control. It’s such a foreign concept for you, you’ve always been the one who has to defuse tensions, be the bigger person, manage the chaos. It’s never like that with Joel.

You’re careful to keep your ankle steady, not wanting to give Joel any more reason to worry. But as the hours pass and the sun climbs higher, you can feel the strain starting to build. Ever the overachiever, you push through it, there isn’t much left to get done in the front lawn anyway.

By the time you’ve planted the last of the daisies, you’re more than a little proud of yourself. There are still a few bare spots here and there and a handful of marigold pots waiting to be planted, but the lawn is starting to look less like a jungle and more like somewhere you’d actually want to spend time in. You wipe your brow, satisfied.

Joel must’ve noticed you slowing down because he calls out from where he’s working, “How’re you holding up? You thirsty?”

You hadn’t realized how parched you were until he mentioned it. “Yeah, a drink sounds good.”

Joel gives you a quick once-over, his eyes lingering on your ankle for a moment longer than you’d like. But he doesn’t say anything as he leads the way into the house, holding the door open for you.

The cool air inside is a welcome relief from the midday sun, and you sigh as you step into the kitchen. Joel pulls a couple of glasses from the cupboard and fills them with ice water, handing one to you. You take a sip, feeling the cold liquid soothe your dry throat.

You lean against the counter, trying to take some weight off your bad ankle. But as soon as you shift your weight, a sharp pain shoots up your leg, and you can’t hold back the small whine that escapes your lips.

Joel’s eyes snap to yours, his brow furrowing with concern. “You sure you’re alright?”

“Yes, Joel. I’m fine,” you insist, even though you know you’re not fooling him. “It’s just—”

“ ‘S that why you’re whining every time you put weight on it?”

“It’s just a bit sore. Don’t—”

Before you can finish, Joel’s on you in a flash, closing the distance between you. He’s careful but firm as he lifts you effortlessly, setting you down on the kitchen counter. “Let me see.”

“Joel, really, it’s not a big deal,” you start to protest, but the look he gives you silences any argument you might have had.

“Humor me,” he says, his voice low and steady. There’s a note of authority there that makes your heart race. There’s no disobeying him when he uses that tone.

You sigh dramatically, letting him gently take your injured ankle in his hands. His touch is warm, and the way his fingers graze your skin sends shivers down your spine. He inspects your ankle with a seriousness that makes your heart flutter, his brows knitted in concentration.

“This is more than a ‘little misstep,’” he looks back up, his eyes stern and serious. He slowly drops your leg, turning back to reach into the freezer and pull out a pack of frozen peas. He presses it against your ankle, holding it there with one hand while his other hand lingers on your calf.

It doesn’t take long for his thumb to start brushing up and down in a way that feels more comforting than it should. He starts adding a little pressure to his touch, the lingering touch from before turning into a massage up and down your calf.

Your breath catches as you look down at him, the way he’s so focused on taking care of you. The tenderness in his touch is at odds with the roughness of his hands, and the combination is making it hard to think straight. It’s even harder to keep the little sounds his touch arises in you contained, some of them escaping out of your parted lips despite your best efforts.

“Joel,” you start, your voice softer now, almost hesitant.

He looks up at you, his eyes meeting yours with an intensity that makes your pulse quicken. His hand is still on your leg, his face overtaken by a dark expression you hadn’t seen on him until now.

For a moment, neither of you says anything. The air between you feels charged, like something unspoken is hovering just out of reach. You can feel it in the way his grip on your leg tightens ever so slightly, in the way his breathing seems to sync with yours.

And then, as if realizing where his hand is, Joel slowly pulls back. “I should get you back home, let you rest that ankle.”

You frown slightly, the way he spoke such a stark contrast to the tenderness of his touch still lingering on your leg. “I’m alright. I’m gonna have to be kneeling down for most of what’s left anyways, so I won’t be putting any weight on it.”

“No, it’s best if you just go. I’ll sort the lawn out later.”

The words hit you like a bucket of cold water. You’re left staring at him, confused by the sudden shift in his demeanor. Normally, your pride would keep you from asking, but something about Joel makes it impossible to let this go. “Did I… do something wrong?”

Joel pauses, his eyes softening for a split second before his expression hardens again. “No, you're fine. Thank you for your help, but I’m taking you home.”

He doesn’t leave room for discussion as he brushes past you, heading into the living room to grab his truck keys. Your chest tightens, the shame of the moment crashing down on you all at once.

Except… you didn’t do anything wrong. You weren’t the one who was running her hands up and down his body, or pulling him close and throwing him on the counter like it was nothing. He did all that. He made you feel like something more was happening, and now he’s treating you like some desperate girl who threw herself at him, needing to be ushered out of his house as quickly as possible.

The ache in your heart is quickly overshadowed by a fiery rage, building more and more with each passing second. You turn sharply in the kitchen, your mind made up as you march toward the open door leading to the garage.

“Don’t bother,” you snap, your voice cutting through the silence as you head for the exit.

“What?” Joel turns around just in time to see you storming out.

You don’t even answer him, your steps quickening even as pain shoots up your leg with every movement.

“The hell are you doin’? You can’t walk home with that busted ankle,” he calls after you, his tone much harsher than it was just moments ago.

You laugh bitterly, not bothering to look back. This man clearly doesn’t know you and your stubborn ass well enough yet. “Oh, I’ll fucking live.”

Without another word, you push through the pain, taking it one torturous step at a time. Each step feels like defiance, a middle finger to your own pride and to Joel’s sudden coldness. But it’s better this way—better to feel the sharp sting in your ankle than the dull ache in your heart. The whole way home, you curse yourself for being so goddamn stubborn, even as the fiery rage keeps you moving forward.

Tag list:

@yesjazzywazzylove-blog , @untamedheart81 , @mellymbee

[colossal-red]

Crafty Fox

TW: A smidgen of fear, overall tame I believe

WC: 670-ish maybe

—————————————————————

Day #1

Date: November 16th

Charlie told me before leaving the last house that making something called a ‘Journal’ might be a good distraction for me as I move onto my next house… personally I don’t see the appeal but I don’t have much else to do in between staying alive. He gave me this leather-bound book that had some pretty good craftsmanship, never would have expected that of the joker.

Anyway... today was a new day, for a new start.

After a treacherous journey of stowing away in a human car, as they call it, I eventually found myself in a new house… it seems simple enough, one bedroom, kitchen, living room, two bathrooms, and an attic that didn’t seem very lived in… perhaps this human had moved in recently, it doesn’t matter to me…

I need to be careful this time… if I’m seen I don’t know if I’ll be able to make it too a new home. I’ve been working on something that might allow me to traverse the house with ease… but that’s a pretty big might hehe…

I’d stick around and write more, imaginary audience… but I really need to get a layout of the house.

Til later, I guess.

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

Shit shit shit shit.

The human came back suddenly, they’d left the house earlier presumably to do some shopping and now they’re here… I’ve huddled down in a cabinet… but I haven’t a clue how long this hiding spot will last…

He seems to be busy thankfully… not checking this cabinet… sadly there wasn’t anything good in this place. Only a strangely sugary cube thing… it’s soft and squishy, maybe it’d make a good pillow of some kind… if it doesn’t get too sticky…

Fuck it got a sticky mess in my fur, great.

Update once I think it’s safe.

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

Alright I’ve settled down again.

I’m back in the attic, these vents are surprisingly easy to navigate through… I’ve found myself a nice cardboard box I could set up in, and have taken the sticky cube back up… I’ve seen a few of these before but they’re hard to get, they don’t exactly get left out.

Anyway, the kitchen… it’s a basic kitchen, a fridge set up next to three counters with an Island in the middle; Not to mention the microwave resting on the counter farthest from the fridge and the stove beside that on the other wall.

Below I’ll draw a picture for… myself, jeez you’d think I was going crazy with thinking anyone other than myself would read this.

Tomorrow I’m going to check out the humans bedroom… I don’t think I’ll be spending that much time there but it’s still important. Maybe I can borrow some of the fabric from that sweater of his to make a blanket… I get the feeling this winter is going to be cold as fuck.

Besides with how bright that yellow is he kinda deserves to get a hole in it y’know?

It’s hard to keep my eyes open… so I’m going to end this off with a checklist for tomorrow, good night Fundy.

P.S. oddly comforting to read my own name being spoken good night too… anyway.

———————————————————————

Authors Note: Andddd Cut!

Heya everyone!

Colossal-Red here, it’s… been a while to say the least XD

I’m sorry for having been on hiatus recently, and I know y’all have probably been wanting new content for my au’s…

Sadly I still don’t have all that much time to write, I really really really wanted to write something though so I mustered up the time to write this short journal entry :3

However with the lil amount of time I might have to continue this series… I won’t be able to complete or continue any of the other au’s, such as SRBF, TinyHunt, Tubbee, The Mark, Etc…

I do hope to return to those au’s at some point… but as of now it’d be impossible.

So… I can only hope this post will satisfy y’all’s hunger for some of my writing if anyone missed me xd

Until tomorrow… maybe.

Also- @kayla-crazy-stuffs @poprockpanda @brick-a-doodle-do tell the rest of the family like Squishy as well cuz I can’t find their @ xd

[latibvles]

SAD, BEAUTIFUL, TRAGIC.

beautiful, tragic. // unravelled.

everyone says this can't go on, but it does.

masterlist | gallery | taglist

TAGLIST: @liebgotts-lovergirl , @softguarnere , @brassknucklespeirs , @monalisastwin , @mads-weasley , @eugene-emt-roe

SUMMARY: up and up — until Daisy gasps for air.

WARNINGS: same as the previous chapter.

Having space and not knowing how to fill it is a little like having time and not knowing what to do with it.

Ginny gives her that — space — to think. Whenever Daisy tries to apologize, she just tells her not to. She still can’t look Ron in the eye, much less speak to him. He doesn’t force himself in, either. She knows she’ll have to talk to him, especially if she’s discharged, but approaching it is… almost nauseating.

There’s a few people she’d have to talk to — a few people allotting her space. She knows Ginny, knows that she wouldn’t gossip behind her back, not about something like this. So Rita’s smaller smiles, Eugene’s very brief nods of acknowledgment, and Joe’s lack of affectionate pestering are her own doing. Her own inability to compose herself like she should

Somehow, Daisy’s managed to carve out a space for herself to be alone and she doesn’t even know what to do with it.

It’s strange to be alone but not… disliked at all. She’s not being shunned and she knows it, but having people angry at her has always felt easier in the grand scheme of things. She probably shouldn’t wish for that chance to reaffirm the worst thoughts about herself, but no one ever said breaking a habit was ever easy. 

Ginny told her to think about it, she doesn’t know what discharging would even mean.

She’s never quit at anything. Not even if it was a sport she hated, or a book going downhill. She always… finished things. But was leaving like quitting? Not for Buck and Patty — she imagines they didn’t get much say in the matter. Daisy wouldn’t be the first person sent home over a death in the family. She wonders if she’d even be given this option if anyone but Ron had seen her react — watched the way she fell to her knees, unable to do much of anything.

She tries to imagine it — getting off a train alone, the people that matter still here. Only being bound to them by letters, having to bury James without Ron beside her. A quiet life waiting for people to come home, her mother with her again.

Though it’s a familiar sight, just like the day before she left herself, the image doesn’t bring Daisy as much comfort as she thought it would.

“Who’s that letter from, anyway?” Across the tent, Jane is sprawled out, legs outstretched and a tattered copy of A Tree Grows In Brooklyn laying in front of her — the spine cracked so it’d lie flat. Her brow is arched. “You just… I dunno — you’ve been in a pretty bad mood. Is it one of those Dear John letters? Because if it is then I say screw him and—”

“No, no it’s… not that.” Daisy shakes her head.  Jane lets out a small sigh that sounds almost relieved.

“Alright, good, I’m not too good with breakups,” She professes. They lapse into silence again, broken only by the occasional sound of the crinkling pages of Jane’s book, when she speaks again. For a moment, she thinks the conversation died out. “So what was in it? If you don’t mind me asking.” Daisy reverts her attention back to Jane from the spot on the ceiling she was fixed on.

“What’s got you so curious?” Jane shrugs.

“I’ve read this one three times. Novelty’s lost after a while. Cat’s got my copy of Tarzan of the Apes,” Jane shrugs, looking Daisy up and down. Daisy tries not to squirm under the sharpness of her stare — piercing gray eyes that seem to see right through her in a way she isn’t especially used to. People like Ron and Ginny know her well, accustomed to her language and can draw conclusions based on that. Jane is just… observant. She weighs the pros and cons of speaking freely — as she’s been weighing everything, lately. “You don’t have to say anything. M’just curious.” she offers.

“It’s fine,” Daisy reassures, turning to face her entirely but not sitting straight up. She lets out a hefty sigh. “I haven’t read it yet, to be completely honest.” Jane raises a brow, her lip quirking into a smile. She laughs, small and breathy, sitting up fully and letting the book fall off the cot.

“No shit?” All Daisy does is nod. She chuckles again, before rubbing at her own mouth. “Sorry I don’t- it’s not at you, okay? I guess I’m just trying to make sense of it.” Daisy shrugs simply, sitting up and picking at the blanket beneath her and pressing her lips together.

“Have you ever gotten a letter and just know it’s bad before you read it? Or a report card?” This time it’s Jane’s turn to shrug.

“I try not to work myself up over things I don’t know are certain,” she eyes Daisy’s letter. “Like unless a teacher told me there was an F on the report card, there was always a chance for it to be a C. Even if it turns out to be an F at least I didn’t waste more energy than I needed thinking about it,” Daisy remains silent, and Jane heaves as she lets herself fall back onto the cot, returning to her book.

“Oddly optimistic of you.” Daisy notes. Jane shrugs.

“Someone’s gotta do it, since you’ve been slacking off,” There’s a playful lilt to the way she says it, reaching to grab the book and then turning over on her other side. “If you ever get around to reading it let me know. I need to say I told you so.”

Daisy doesn’t know what to say to that, so she says nothing.

Everyday felt the same since she got the letter. Gray overcast, busy bodies, her eyes rarely ever lifting from the floor. For ten days straight, it’s been chilly.

Today the clouds break a bit in the morning, and it’s a little warmer, too.

Some things remained — while they don’t smother her, Catherine still waves Daisy down to sit with them at their table, and she has, even if she hasn’t spoken much. Today, she doesn’t. She finds a spot for herself, in a corner, not touching the bowl of what is, presumably, oatmeal in front of her.

She tore the typewriter-page from the front when she woke up.

Daisy stares at her mother’s handwriting, her mouth feels dry, her palms sweaty. The food never looked appetizing, but at least it would’ve been stomacheable if not for the knot forming in the pit of her stomach, leaving her uneasy.

It’s not like she’s done something wrong, and yet she feels like she has. In the grand scheme of things, she has done a few things wrong, but nothing relating to her mother. And yet the idea of perceiving her mother's grief almost paralyzes her, keeping her underwater like a proper ball and chain.

Summoning the courage to read it feels like biting a bullet. Daisy does it anyway.

—

My darling girl,

If you’re reading this, then you’ve received the letter we received from James’ commanding Officer. I surely hope that the censor left it relatively untouched. This wasn’t something we wished to keep from yoi, for you to learn the hard way on your way home. We haven’t heard from you in quite some time, and needless to say I spend every day worrying for you, hoping and praying that you’re safe, that you’re alive. I hope upon receiving this, you’ll write back.

Your father and I were apprehensive on letting you join the military as you’re well-aware. If there was a good and moral way to get your brother out of it, we would’ve done it. I suppose that makes us quite selfish, wanting to keep our children home rather than allow them to bear the weight of this “great undertaking.” To want to keep you when so many parents were willing to send their children away.

I am selfish. I am your mother. There is nothing more I yearn for than to have you here, at home. But I know your brother and I think he would hate it if I brought you home now.

I think of all the other mothers, who have lost their sons. I think of how I’m one of them now. I think about the articles in the newspaper about the medics, the women like you who were put under the great stress of a new duty. I think about all the lives you’ve saved in your time there. I think about all the lives that will surely be lost if you aren’t there to save them.

I won’t beg you to come home. What I will ask is that you continue what you’re doing, because I don’t believe there’s anything more important than the job you’ve been given. When the war is over, when you are home, we will grieve and mourn together. But until that day comes, you have a job to do.

We are so immensely proud of all you’ve become. We cannot wait to see you at the end of this.

All our love, Mom and Dad

—

There’s a lump in her throat. For the first time in days, she maintains her composure, which is unexpected.

But until that day comes, you have a job to do.

She recognizes her father’s handwriting on the word ‘Dad’ and it makes her nauseous. Her hands are still trembling. They’re right, she knows they’re right, but reading it from her mother’s own hand almost feels… relieving, in some way. But there’s still weight wrapped around her ankles and she still feels splintered from the inside out, like some kind of shattered reflection of herself.

But shattered or not, if she can still pull herself out of bed in the morning (even if it’s a mission to do it), then she still has a job she swore to do, and by God was she going to do it.

Daisy moves, folding the letter and sticking it in her pocket, breakfast virtually untouched and feet moving without necessarily paying much thought to her own movements — but she knows the path well enough anyway.

Up and up, she goes over it a million times, ‘till you get some air.

Daisy climbs the steps of the building, paying little mind to the shoulders of those brushing past her, brief nods of acknowledgement to those she recognizes. She finds the door, in a quiet hallway, and raps her knuckles on the door with a sense of certainty she can’t place the origin of.

“Come in.” The greeting is muffled, but she hears it nonetheless. She opens the door.

Ron’s back is to her, looking through the curtains and out onto the field. Even from her spot across the room she can make out the men running drills with their bayonets and rifles. Sunlight streams in from the drawn curtains, catching some of the dust in the light. Nothing in here especially screams that it’s his office — a night in his tent has proven that he lives his life out of his footlocker instead. She says nothing, walking forward.

“Winters if you need that—” She wraps her arms around him, letting her cheek press into his back. He’s warm to the touch. She feels his hands, rough, curling around her own, which are currently latched around him. For a second, she thinks he might pry her off, but he doesn’t. He just holds one of her hands, saying nothing for a few terribly long seconds. And she waits for him to reject it, to pry her off of him.

“Is this a goodbye?” His voice is low, even, but on the intake of breath he trembles. She can feel it. Daisy hugs him tighter.

“It’s an apology,” she murmurs into his back. “I don’t- I don’t know what I’m doing here and I just thought—”

“Christ, Dais I don’t want an apology,” He doesn’t pry her off, but he does turn to face her, looking down at her. “I’m not… I’m not mad at you. I just…” He reaches up, pinching the bridge of his nose and taking a measured breath. “I wanted to help you but I’ve got no goddamn clue what I’m doing here.” She looks up at him, at the grimace on his face, the twist of his mouth.

“I didn’t make it easy.” She points out.

“There’s a war on. They’re rationing ‘easy’.” He refutes. She sniffles, and her lip wobbles. Every now and again he eyes the door before looking back at her. She takes a shaky breath.

“I almost left,” she admits. Daisy watches him swallow hard. “But… it didn’t feel right I just- I don’t know how I’m supposed to deal with any of it. Or reel it in like I’m supposed to and I don’t…” She unwraps her arms from around him to rub at her own face. Daisy feels the lump in her throat almost intensify. She looks up at him, hazel eyes boring into her but still holding a certain softness there. “What am I supposed to do with this?”

She watches as he sighs, leaning up against his desk and rubbing a hand over his mouth for a moment. Ron looks down, and she watches as he stares off for a moment.

“Guess that’s something we’ll have to figure out,” He offers, rather than something meant to be overzealous or especially uplifting. Ron reaches forward to tug her towards him, so she’s slotted between his legs. “And we’ll figure it out.” One hand drifts up, again, caressing her cheek and wiping a tear that’s managed to slip past despite her best efforts to retain her composure.

Daisy leans forward to rest her forehead against his, bumping their noses in the process. He doesn’t mind.

“I don’t know what I’m gonna do at home,” she whispers. It feels like a confession. “They aren’t going to hold a funeral until the war’s over and I’m home but… my dad—”

“Let’s win the war first.” Ron interjects. “Then we can worry about going home.” He gives her hip a squeeze with the other hand. Daisy sniffles, then swallows the ache, letting herself be grounded in the warmth of him, the roughness of his palms, the way he still manages to be gentle in handling her.

“Okay.”

[justicerikai]

Charisma House - Superhuman Sharehouse Story “Charisma” - #15 A ghost’s chamber

Please read alongside listening to the drama track on Youtube.

Disclaimer:

Ohse goes on about crafting with metal… I’m not too well versed on the subject, so my mistake if something sounds off about it. Tried to cover as much as I could but I’m a bit lost on the topic myself (don’t know how to google it precisely)

Also TW: death/suicide

Terra: Who’s there?

Terra: And none other than Ghost-kun

Terra: What are you doing?

Terra: Ah, cup ramen again now.

Terra: Also like- Why are you wearing a plastic bag on your head

(Terra snatches it off)

Terra: Uwah, are you alright? You’re not looking good?

Terra: Have you been eating properly? Sleeping properly?

Terra: What are you always holed up in your room for anyway

Terra: Don’t tell me you’re doing weird things in there

Ohse: Uuwuh..…

Terra: How suspicious. Show me your room

Terra: Move aside for a sec. It’s here right

(Ohse holds him back)

Terra: What now

Terra: You’re happy that Terra-kun is paying a visit to your room, right? It’s what you’ve must been living for all this time

Terra: Why are you shaking your head. I’m entering

(Terra enters Ohse’s room)

Terra: Wah. C’mon~ Clean up properly, it’s way too messy

Terra: Geez~ What is this

Terra: This is more a dump than a room, are you a crow collecting objects or what-

Terra: Eeeh? What the…

Ohse: I’m sorry that it’s filthy, it’s not a place that people enter

Ohse: I think it’d be better to run away as soon as possible. You’ll get contained with filth

Terra: This is… all made by Ghost-kun?

Ohse: Huh?

Terra: All of these aren’t commercial goods, right? They’re handmade?

Ohse: Uh..

Terra: I’m asking a question.

Ohse: A-ah.. yes… everything here was made by me.

Terra: This too?

Terra: And this?

Terra: You also made this yourself?

Ohse: ….

Terra: Amaaazing!

Ohse: …Huh?

Terra: I was mistaken. To think you had such a wonderful hobby

Terra: Which is why you also wouldn’t come out of your room, huh.

Terra: Uwah, this is super cute. And the other one is cool. You sure have taste

Terra: I also design for my job so I get it. While you might either like it or hate it, but all of these are very polished. It shows you sat down and took the time to diligently make them

Terra: It’s impressive

Terra: A ring? You can make something like this too?

Ohse: Yes

Terra: How?

Ohse: Eh.. I buy raw silver… and anneal it…

Terra: Anneal?

Ohse: You heat it up in fire and then it softens from cooling down, in order to mold the form, with this.

Terra: Uwah, a gasburner

Ohse: And you mold by hitting it with this, then braze it, and if it’s to polish for a suitable size… it can be for anyone

Terra: And what about this one here? Did you carve this detailed design on it?

Ohse: It’s by stamp work

Ohse: I designed it by stamping the metal with what’s known as a burin

Terra: And for this pendant?

Ohse: That was by applying an overlay technique. With this kind of ore I bought, I cut it with a fretsaw and pasted it together, creating such bumps on it. And then I added a few decorations there

Ohse: I make a lot of things based on the techniques used for Indian jewelry

Terra: There are a lot of accessories

Ohse: But if it’s something you can make yourself then I’m able to do it

Ohse: Like woodwork, or sculpting. Also drawing, and taking pictures

Terra: Heeeh, somehow my impressions changed

Terra: And this?

Ohse: Ah!

Terra: A painting? It’s huge. Can I look?

Ohse: Th-that’s…

Terra: Show me~

Ohse: You can’t! I haven’t finished it yet!

Terra: I’m sorry. Looking out of the question since it’s not ready yet, right

Terra: Make sure to show me when it’s done.

Terra: But you know this is kind of a waste, by leaving it just as a hobby. It’d be better to get it more out there. You can use the internet.

Terra: I could help if you’d like to?

Ohse: No… It’s impossible for a scum like me to get my name out there

Ohse: Such creations made by some kind of botched piece of trash that’s disgusting on the outside and inside, would soil peoples eyes at most

Terra: No who cares about you, if you don’t want to then you don’t?

Terra: What I’m talking about is that it’s a waste for these little guys

Ohse: Huh?

Terra: I mean they’re such lovely works of art? I feel sorry that they don’t get to see the world because of your decisions

Terra: I’m sure that they’ll be loved by dozens of people. Honestly, I love them quite a lot already

Ohse: Eh… you.. you love this?

Terra: Yes

Ohse: And this…you like this too?

Terra: Yes, it’s very wonderful

Terra: Ah, that’s right. You can come visit our company next time if you want.

Ohse: A-ah.. come visit… a shitty loser like me…?

Terra: Mhm. There’s a lot of brilliant designers there, it might even prove to be an interesting experience for you?

Terra: Here, a business card

Ohse: Is it really fine…!

Terra: You can call any time

Ohse: UWAAAHAAA!! I’M SO GLAD! SO HAPPY!

Ohse: I want to put an end to my life while I’m this happy!

Ohse: But I can’t!

Ohse: Rikai-san told me that dying is no good! I have to hold back from dying! I won’t die!

Terra: Hmm… uwah, the quality on this one is amazing too

Terra: A stuffed lizard or something? Almost looks like the real deal

Ohse: It’s real

Terra: Eh?

(The lizard hisses)

Terra: UWAAAHHAAAH IT MOVED—-! HUHH?? HAH???? Nonowaynoway WHY ARE YOU KEEPING A LIZARD IN YOUR ROOM!?

Ohse: I like reptiles… They’re cool….

Terra: ARE YOU AN IDIOT, HOW DISGUSTING!

Terra: I take EVERYTHING back! Breaking off our relationship here!

Terra: See you NEVER!

Ohse: Aah-……

Ohse: …..

(Ohse jumps out of the window)

Charisma charge: SUCCESS

Minato Ohse, Terra

[jodilin65]

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 30, 1998 Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d write. Actually, I’m gonna go check my email first. Be right back.

Back just a few minutes later after getting the usual - junk mail from Evie. Why does she send me tons of poems and jokes? The poems are utterly boring and the jokes aren’t one bit funny.

I went through the photo albums and ditched 95% of Art’s pictures and 99% of Dureen’s pictures. I ditched all of Larry’s, except for the big one he’s in with the kids and with Doe and Art. I also have Doe and Art’s big wedding picture and a few others of little Larry and Jen. The freeloaders will be getting a few more for variety’s sake. They’ll be getting a handful of different people. Got rid of Bill’s pictures too.

As I went out to the recycle bin at midnight and heard those fucking dogs going off, it further enhanced my already foul mood, and I figured I’d give them a reason to go off for once. They stopped barking just as I went out there, but then I let out a chilling, blood-curdling scream I didn’t even know I possessed. I screamed long and loud two times. That set them off, alright. How can that bitch sleep to the tune of two dogs going off just a few feet away?! And she must’ve heard me scream, didn’t she? I’ll never know, but it was good to get that scream out, anyway. I mean, these fucking things have been horrendous! They just won’t shut up and they’re right back to their old ways of non-stop barking even after dark.

Later…

Larry just got his final phone call from me. The one where Mary from Microsoft Mouth says “Larry, watch out. You’re a bastard and soon you’ll die.”

I tried to have her tell him he was a fucking asshole, but Mary sounded too computerized on those words. He picked up on the first ring, too. What? Was he waiting up for me? It’s 3:00 in the morning there. Guess the poor bastard must be confused now, cuz if Tammy and Andy and others thought Mary and Brutus were for real, then I guess this little shit will too.

Here we go again. I’m up to 114 pounds and I haven’t shit. Every time I lose weight I don’t shit. The lower my weight, the more constipated I am, cuz my body just doesn’t like to be thin. It does whatever it needs to do to keep that extra weight on. Well, since I’m not shitting today, I took a water pill.

Today was a better day for me emotionally, as I knew it’d be.

Tom did a little more of the roof and now most of the house is safe from the rain they predicted for tomorrow. The tarp is down very securely over the front of the house.

He got me up at 11:30. I was pretty tired and could’ve slept a few more hours. It’s so great to not wake up wheezing, though! Although, I still have congestion most of the time and tightness some of the time.

I noticed Melie’s new look right away. Her hair was a little shorter but still long, and it was straightened. I thought she used the straightening iron. There was just a little bit of wave to it. She said her mom, who does hair, came in from California and did her hair. She doesn’t trust anyone else with her hair, she says. Her hair looks nice, but I liked it best with bangs, but instead, her forehead’s exposed. She didn’t have it up in a headband this time. She had it swept off to the sides. It still looked nice.

I was surprised at her reaction to the card I gave her. She was really impressed with the drawings and seemed to look at them forever. As figured, though, she didn’t open the card with me there. She put it on her counter.

She asked me what I did for Thanksgiving and things like that.

I got a variety of colors this time, too. I got bright yellow, purple, pink, and aqua. I have 10 brackets, so I’ve got 2 yellows, 2 pinks, 3 aquas, and 3 purples.

Then I told her I was ready to do the bottom teeth, and after the doctor checked me, he said I didn’t have to have any teeth pulled. He said the teeth can be brought out and then there’ll be a big enough arc for the teeth to all fit in. Tom was surprised they didn’t take any X-rays.

I jokingly said that I wondered if I’d lose more weight since both of us agreed that it helps with that. She asked if I lost any more. I told her just a couple of pounds and she said she wanted to lose 10 pounds. I told her she was already thin and she said others tell her that, too.

So, she put the spacers in the bottom teeth, and the braces will go on next week.

I think this is the first time I ever had appointments that were just a week apart, three weeks in a row. Hope I can make it there!

Then the week after that comes the kidney test. Yeah, I called Vicki and she called the place where I’ll have both tests done, then called me back. It doesn’t sound like it’s gonna be very fun. I have to get some kind of a prep kit that I think includes an enema. Do you know how sick those things make you?! She said she didn’t know the details of the prep kit, but to go to the place and pick it up before my appointment.

As for the uterus test, she said to call the place when my period starts, cuz they like to do this test 6-10 days after your period.

Tom said it’s no big deal and is still being a wonderful support. Yeah, until he refuses to participate and holds me back. God, I wish to hell they could find what’s wrong with me since I know it’s me that’s got the problem, and therefore not bother testing him! I still wonder if I’m making a mistake and doing this for nothing. Could it be that I was right about Tom’s having control over his cumming and therefore, he’s gonna let himself cum for the test, then go back to his cumming once or twice a year with me? I just don’t know what I’m in for here, but I doubt he’d ever cum again if he knew I was OK. If he almost never cums with me not OK, then he sure as hell won’t with me OK.

A part of me wishes I wanted a kid as bad as I did in 1994-1996. Then again, if I did, that’s all the more hurt I’d have to go through when the end result was no baby, and that’s exactly what it will be.

Anyway, I believe my kidneys are fine, but I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I were told my uterus is shaped funny.

After seeing Melanie, we went to the bookstore. The guy that’s usually there wasn’t there. Instead, there was an old man who did everything in slow motion. I got $10 off in credit so I got my 8 or 9 books for just $11.

There was a message from Laura wanting to know if I’d heard from Andy. Thanks, Andy. Thanks for telling me she didn’t have access to my number. I don’t want our number given out, I told him on his machine, and especially not to a druggie. Do you know how much drug money she could get if she broke in here while we were out? We’ve got a lot of valuable stuff. This is a hard-core druggie, too, and not just a pothead.

A few hours later Andy left a message while we were out saying he got back in an hour ago and would like to tell me about his trip when we talk live. I’d love to hear about it, I told him in my reply message, and also, since he usually has so much to tell me when we talk and since I don’t get much chance to talk too, I told him of my upcoming tests and plans for bracing the lower teeth. I told him we’ll talk sometime this week.

Anyway, he just left another message saying that Laura came into the house and went into his address book only cuz he was supposed to be back Saturday, so she was worried. Besides, if something happened to him, who’d call me? He’s got a point, as I replied to him, and there’s been no harm done. Also, I figured he’d be late due to the shitty weather we had, but if he wasn’t back by today, I’d have been worried, too.

Till next month!

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1998 I have a zillion things to write about, and most of it is not very cool.

Let me start with the freeloaders. I was right again about them. Well, we were right about them. There hasn’t been any significant trouble yet, but next weekend or the weekend after, around the freeloader’s birthday, there will be.

Yesterday I was thinking about how they must be dying to give us noise right back and would prefer to wait till we were done but were probably getting too impatient to wait much longer. Well, they did just what I knew they’d do at some point over the next few weekends. I mean, it’s quite a coincidence that that hoop, which hasn’t been used in months, was finally used after Tom’s been banging about for a couple of weeks. They couldn’t be more obvious than they were today, although it was for under 15 minutes. Tom was right, though, when he said, “Don’t bother being noisy, cuz it’ll never bother them. It’ll just make them noisier just because it’s you that’s being noisy.” Today proved him right. They just can’t stand to be left out. Such attention we crave! I knew they couldn’t handle hearing from us without wanting to be heard right back. I’m not stupid as far as these people are concerned. I know exactly what they’re up to and why. I know how, where, and everything that makes them tick. I know their MO, etc.

Yesterday, the white car visited, but that was it. Today, as figured, the cock was here. Tom said he saw the bitch hanging out clothes all day. I’m sure the cock showed up for a piece of that line, as well as a piece of her ass. I didn’t see the white car pull up, but as I stepped up to the living room window, I saw a tall, skinny woman freeloader get out of the car with a baby in a bassinet and a couple of other kids. None over 8-10 years old. It looked like two girl freeloaders, plus a newborn.

Not quite. Next thing I know I hear a ball bouncing along with Tom’s nail gun. He worked at their side of the house today. This no doubt pissed her off and she went and called these people over, but there weren’t just 3 kids. More like 5 at the very least. There were two black boys playing ball (I saw the cock move its car into the carport).

Fucking, mother-fucking freeloaders! Slam, slam, slam! That’s all I’ve been hearing. I thought something fell on the roof and that I was done with next door’s shit till next weekend, but nope. In comes the freeloader. It’s getting its clothes, I guess, but I still fear this thing may be on the verge of moving back in. It’s just coming around way too much. Well like I said, if it does, it’s outa here. Same goes for its bitch. We’ll never be neighbors again, cock, never! Hear me, cock? Never!

Anyway, as I was saying till I was rudely distracted, the two black boys, who were about 5 and could’ve been twins, played ball for a few minutes, then left in the white car. All that just to be heard back, huh Joebitch? God, we’re getting rather desperate here, aren’t we?! These boys were cute, though, Tom said, asking him if he was building this house and if he lived here. I asked if any adults knew the boys talked to him and he said he didn’t care. I’m surprised she didn’t yell up to him, “Shut up! Shut up! I’m sick of your shit. Don’t you be talking to no one here or I’ll have you served, ho!” She’s damn lucky she didn’t, though, cuz that would’ve sent me flying over there. I’m sure she did know and that that’s why the game was so short and why they left. Initially, she was probably hoping they’d play for hours. That’s what I thought they’d do too, but they will when he’s off the roof. Next weekend or the weekend after, there’ll be hours’ worth of ball games and probably some music too, and remember, Mistake’s birthday’s coming up. I think it’s the 14th.

I just know they’re gonna cause trouble as far as noise goes and it’ll be in the near future, too. The question is, this time around, do I want to go over there and beat the shit out of them? Do I want to give them noise right back (and that includes in the middle of the night)? Or do I want to have the city evict them?

freeloader’s still here. Damn! I just want this thing outa here! Its presence is really making me nervous. It came around the back of the car, jumped up and grabbed the hoop and swung off it (too bad it didn’t break the hoop), then it got stuff out of the backseat of its car. It looks like some of it could be for the mistake too, and that worries me. There’s no U-Haul as of yet, but it moved in little by little the last time and it brought stuff for the mistake, no doubt to impress the bitch and butter her up into letting it stay with her.

It was wearing a beanie-type cap. One that’s longer than a beanie. Tom told me that’s an Islamic religious cap. Islamic? Aren’t those things pretty fucked up? You ever notice that so many freeloaders are into religion? It’s obvious why. They do it as a cover for their sins/faults/mistakes and as an excuse to keep on doing them. Some people think that they can do all the wrong they want and get away with it if they just say, “God. I’m sorry.” Take a bank robber, for example. If that robber was told that all he had to do to get out of going to prison after a robbery was say, “I’m sorry,” and that’s it, it’d keep on robbing. The freeloaders see it that way, too. They think they can harass people like me and not give a fuck about anyone but themselves, as long as they go to church every Sunday and apologize for it.

Yeah! freeloader’s gone. Now stay the fuck away, you piece of motherfucking scum shit!! You ain’t wanted here, dickwad!

The dog across the street continues to not be a problem so far.

Later…

Fuck! Here we go again! I just heard a really loud slam that could be felt as well as heard over this loud fan. I could tell it parked in the carport too (probably hauling over more of its shit), where its slamming would echo off the walls. All I can see is the very rear end of the car, but you know what? I can’t really say for sure in the dark that it’s the cock’s car. I think it’s a white car. Even so, how long is the payback gonna be? How long am I gonna have to listen to them deliberately slam doors really loud? Can’t this bitch see that there’s a difference between someone working on their house and generating noise cuz they have to in order to fix their fucking roof, and someone deliberately trying to get your attention and get you to notice and acknowledge them and their existence and harass you? When are they gonna grow up and cut the immature shit? Enough’s enough! This shit’s getting fucking old. Keep it up bitch and company and you’re gone!

Karma. The idea of it would normally give me peace of mind, but not with these people. Why is it that somehow, I feel God’s gonna let them get away with the shit they’ve given me? Well, it’s sad but true, that what goes around doesn’t always come around. Not for everyone. God has different rules for different folks.

Anyway, this bitch doesn’t typically have company at 6:30 on a Sunday night, but I wonder if this car is gonna be here overnight since it’s parked halfway into the carport. I doubt it. I think it only went in just enough to enhance the slamming of the car door, but if it’s still here in a few hours, I’ll step just outside the front door and see what car it is.

It’s early evening, so the collies are going at it. They’ve been going at it for over an hour. I can hear them whenever I go into the bathroom, but for another hour or so, I’ll have the air cleaner on in the living room where I am now. I absolutely cannot believe that no one’s either shot these beasts or complained. Maybe they did complain but found that it didn’t do them any good.

Now let me back up to yesterday morning. Due to the rain they predicted, Tom got plastic sheeting and put it on the roof. He used some of the bricks that have been sitting at the side of the house to weigh them down.

I was thrilled that I’d gotten myself on days and would have no problems getting to my appointment.

Late yesterday morning, we screwed, then he used the dumbest, lamest, senseless excuse I ever heard! No, not the “I’m sick,” “I’m tired,” “I’m too sore,” “I’m too hot” lines, but the “I’m too horny to cum” line. That is the stupidest thing I ever heard! I mean, how can one be too horny to cum? That’s like saying you’re too thirsty for a drink, or too dirty for a shower, or too hungry for food. If he can’t tell me he just doesn’t want to cum, he’s gotta do better than this, but that’s the thing with him, he thinks he can boldly lie/deny the obvious. As long as he knows you can’t literally prove him a liar, he’ll tell you the sky’s green if he wants to. He’ll tell you the grass is pink. Anything he wants to bullshit you on, he’ll so boldly and daringly do so, no matter how off the wall it is, and no matter how wrong you know he is.

I haven’t exactly spilled the beans on him (not that it’d do me any good) and told him I know he’s only cum once since last April, but I did tell him that I didn’t see how we’d have the time to do any “testing” if we were told to screw 10 days in a row. Not with our schedules and busyness. Besides, what good’s it gonna do me with a guy who refuses to cum? I really feel I’m just wasting my time here and thank fucking God I don’t want a kid. I’d never get pregnant by this guy. If I were fixed, this poor, terrified guy will never cum again! Not with me, he won’t. A part of me feels guilty, too. I mean, he’s willing to sacrifice cumming altogether (at least with his wife), just so I can be fixed and be normal and have a full bag of rights as a woman. Well, it’s his choice, but how can he have the nerve to look me in the eye, after telling me not to make excuses to back out of this thing, and tell me he is going to do his part of the testing? Yeah, right! Like hell he is! Which is it - is he delusional into thinking he can really squirt for testing? Or is he that much of a bold liar who’ll knowingly and intentionally lie to my face like that with no empathy, no guilt, no remorse, and with no plans whatsoever to let them have even a drop of his cum? I just wish I knew what I was in for! Am I making a huge mistake that I’ll live to really, really regret? Or does he know something I don’t? Something like how he plans to let them have his cum for testing’s sake, then will make sure none of it gets inside me if I get fixed? Well, I always knew he was in full control of his cumming, so we’ll just have to wait and see what he does.

Now for the worst thing that happened since I last wrote. Curses come and go in waves. Right now, the coast is clear, thank fucking God! Ironically, this shit went down right as I noticed I hit an all-time low of 111 pounds. Coincidence? Or was it compensation for what happened last night? What happened? Oh, just the usual shit battling with that fucking roof. I swear I wanted to sell out right then and there and just go into an apartment till we can move to where we want to be, or sell out now and move to where we want to be, but take our dumpy furniture with us and forget about using the sale money of this house to buy newer, nicer furniture. I’m soooooo fucking sick of this shit!! I need a fucking roof over my head and I just want us to have a life! Is that too much to ask for? Of course it is!

Anyway, the nature of the desert is, is that if it rains here, it’s usually in the morning or at night. It rained in the morning but was clear from 11 AM-10:30 PM. Amazingly, the morning rain did not leak in here at all.

I was pissed at myself for falling asleep too early and for getting up at 8:30 PM, which would mean I’d have to stay up at least 18-20 hours before I could go to sleep and not get up too early. Well, I couldn’t have slept a couple more hours if I wanted to. At 10:30 I was lying in bed when I heard a crash overhead. I thought it was Tom making sure the tarp was covering things well, but nope. It wasn’t him. It was the bricks falling. That’s how windy it was out, and it rained real hard, too.

So Tom went back on the roof and weighed the tarp down with bags of shingles that weigh 70 pounds, but not without it leaking in the bedroom, the bedroom closet, and the music room first, and not without him nearly getting blown off the roof. No water came down into the music room. Just the ceiling got wet, cuz the stupid male fucks that put in our AC didn’t connect it to the roof very well. I cussed them out on their machine for it (after blocking this number), not cuz it’d change how they work, not cuz we don’t have to repaint all the walls and ceilings anyway, but cuz I was in a foul mood and have been all weekend. Tomorrow should be better, though. Gonna see Melie and maybe stop at the bookstore.

I expressed a vibe I had to Tom about waking up to water leaking on my face. He said that that’d be extremely unlikely. That’s what makes it likely. The fact that it’s not likely. If it’s unique, odd, different, abnormal, fluky, freaky, uncommon, unlikely, etc., it’s me. Anyway, I was close. I was already up, and the leak was at the foot of the bed. Fortunately, though, only a few drops came down through a crack in the plaster, but the closet got hit worse and it stinks in there. It stinks of mildew everywhere and I had to spray a disinfectant all over but thank God it was just my typed journals that got wet. They may have dried up OK. I didn’t check, but we covered my dolls, the stereos, the TV, VCR, and computer stuff with plastic.

Anyway, this whole ordeal was humiliating, frustrating, and even scary, cuz I just didn’t know if it was gonna cause sparks to come shooting from plugs or what.

I was also infuriated with that bitch next door and all I wanted to do was go over there, walk it over here by the nape of its neck, and show it how we live and how at 33 and 41, we’re still struggling and we’re still trying to get ahead. Meanwhile, this bitch uses her kid to get the city to cater to her for free. I could’ve beaten that bitch to a bloody pulp yesterday!

So the rain and wind stopped, the leaks stopped dripping, then Tom went out and made a $600 investment. He bought a compressor, a nail gun, and many other tools, gadgets, and accessories that came in a kit.

As of yesterday, only the back room and garage were done, but now he’s gotten towards the middle of the house done and says he could’ve gotten 75% of it done if he didn’t have to work tonight. He said the nail gun makes it three times as fast.

Miraculously, I fell back asleep from 5 AM-10 AM when Tom woke me up.

What? If this is the white car, is that woman and her 500 kids moving in? It’s like, yo bitch! Wake up and face reality. Hello! You can’t do this if you don’t want to lose that house, you dumbfuck cunt!

On the other hand, I’d say this car will eventually leave cuz the front porch light is on. Usually, you turn it on for the visitors you expect and leave it on till after they leave. God, I hate living next to druggies! Fucking traffic in and out and in and out as their fucking buyers and suppliers come and go like bumper cars at a carnival.

Surprisingly, I haven’t heard from Andy this weekend. I thought he was due back last night, but as Tom said, they might’ve taken an extra day or two cuz of the weather.

You know what’s sad about Andy? I mean really, really sad? He wanted to get fired as much as he did, and he’ll keep on doing it probably for the rest of his life. He’s gonna set out to deliberately get fired over and over again. When he comes back, he’ll stop or cut down the pot, get a job, then make sure he gets fired in a week, then use that as an excuse to get stoned. Why? Why is he so scared to decide whether or not he wants to keep certain jobs? Why does he want the decision made for him? I mean, why doesn’t he just ask to be fired in a week the day he goes in for a job interview that looks promising? He might as well.

Now for the last subject I wanted to cover. Tammy left a message yesterday sounding happy and even younger, saying that all was great with her, Mark, and the girls.

So I called her back today. First she told me she was really busy, cuz she refinanced the house and got $4,000 in new furniture, and that Mark was remodeling with her.

Also, Larry’s causing trouble again. Yeah, it fucking figures. I knew he’d be up to his old shit sooner or later. He or Dureen or Art. And what makes it even sicker is that they use Tammy’s kids to get at her.

Larry, you sick little fuck! If I could be there for just 5 minutes! Just 5 minutes with you, boy! Aaaarrrrrrrghhhhhh! No words could express just how much I’d like to slaughter this sick fuck! Now I see why there is so much violence and murder in families. It’s so easy to resort to and sometimes it’s the only solution. I mean, I totally disagree with those that say violence is no solution. Sometimes it isn’t, but sometimes it is, and I can see myself easily killing a handful of so-called “family” members if they were here in this room with me. It’d be no problem, and if I didn’t kill them, they’d wish to hell I did cuz they’d be hurting that bad.

Larry’s right - Tammy’s a shit mom, and I do believe he really did have the best interests of the kids at heart when he called the state (along with doing it to spite Tammy no doubt at the urging of Dureen and Art), but it takes a lot of balls to call the state on someone, then turn around and call the house to talk to her kids! I guess this happened when Tammy was out, but he called to talk to the kids. He does like Lisa and the sicko’s trying to replace Larry with Lisa, but it was mostly to spite Tammy. Not to talk to the kids for the sake of caring about them.

Tammy said something about contacting the police about his calling there, but why doesn’t she change her number or get Caller ID?

Anyway, it really pissed me the fuck off that I called his house, but Sandy answered. I hung up the first time around, but the second time she answered, I began to tell her what I’d do to her husband if he didn’t cut all contact with the girls, but as I should’ve known, she hung up. Then I tried Larry’s business number, but that was disconnected. Then I tried Doe and Art, but that too, was disconnected. I should’ve known that bitch would go to such extremes. If she could change her email address, of course she’d change her number. Did she move again too?

So I thought about forcing Larry to change his number by pranking him in a non-traceable way, by just letting it ring a half a second, then hanging up, and back and forth, but I realized it wouldn’t do me any good. For him to change his work number, but not his home number, tells me something. He wants Lisa to be able to get through somehow. I really feel sorry for that girl if she’s still in touch with him! He’s just gonna hurt her, but sometimes kids have to learn the hard way. So be it then.

What I did end up doing was calling his local police department, telling them he was making harassing phone calls to me, and to please talk to him. The guy I spoke to said someone would call him, and he took down his address too, but I doubt he did call him. Then again, maybe he did, cuz I’d think that Larry would’ve called here by now if it weren’t for my complaint. The reason I did this, is to let his police department be aware of the fact that he’s trouble, so it’ll hopefully prevent him from pulling any shit on me in the future and maybe from pulling anymore on Tammy. If he did, he wouldn’t look very good with my complaint I phoned in. They keep a log of this shit. It’ll also hopefully send a message to this fuck that if he fucks with us, there’ll be consequences for it.

Someday, sooner or later, as it’s inevitably bound to be, Doe, Art, and Larry will all fuck each other over yet again, and what’ll probably be the last time, then Larry will go back to having no one on his side of the family, and Doe and Art will have no kids. Yeah, they know how to lose them one by one. Still, I wish I had been an only child! Think how much worse it’d have been if there were 6 of us! That’s a terrifying thought.

Later…

The dogs are still going off in spurts and the white car’s still here. It’s the white car for sure, too.

I just called info to see if there was a number listed for Larry’s business. I called the number I was given but didn’t get the machine I hoped to get. Instead, an older woman answered. She just said hello and sounded groggy, so maybe it wasn’t his business number, but I don’t know.

I’ve got to stop this! I’ve got to stop letting myself get so pissed off over these people! Giving them a piece of my mind won’t do shit, and they’re in the past. As I told Tom, this may sound selfish, but a part of me is seriously contemplating not giving Tammy our new address/number when we move and just walking away. She’s still too closely connected to Bill and Larry, although I know she doesn’t want to be. It’s just that every other time we talk, she tells me something about Bill or Larry that infuriates me, and I need to get away from this shit. I need to put my old experiences/memories/emotions to rest and get on with life, but I feel like my connection to Tammy keeps rekindling the past. It keeps the emotions alive and it’s not good for me. I deserve much more and much better than this in this day and age.

Later…

The white car left at 9:05. Right around Joebitch’s bedtime.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 28, 1998 I’m in great shape schedule-wise for my appointment and for the next few days of roofing (although we don’t know if he’ll be able to work today cuz of the weather. It’s cloudy, but it hasn’t rained yet). I took a Benadryl at 7 PM and was in bed for the most part until I fell asleep. I slept from 9 PM-2 AM.

Marla replied to me saying she was happy I was going for testing and that with today’s technology, I have every reason to believe I can have a kid.

Not if my husband won’t cum. If he’s scared to cum with me sterile, he’s gonna be absolutely petrified to cum with me fixed, if they can fix me. I’ve decided also that yes, I’m gonna leave it in God’s hands should they fix me. Well, God’s and Tom’s, so to speak. I still firmly believe, I firmly know, God and Tom together wouldn’t let me get pregnant. I know what’s meant to be and what’s not as far as a kid goes, I just hope I never want one as bad as I used to ever again.

Then Marla said her bubble deflated when she read what I wrote about Andy’s getting fired and getting high. Yeah well, what else is new? After doing this since he was about 20, maybe he likes this. Maybe this is what he wants and maybe it’s what he strives for.

Another thing I hope I don’t ever go back to is wishing I could have sex regularly with my husband. Not a chance with this guy! Yet he says he’s not sore or tired. If he’s not sore or tired, and if he’s supposed to be horny all the time, then why doesn’t he want me? He can’t help how he feels, although just the other day he made a contradictory statement saying the roofing was catching up to him and he needs to hurry up and finish. Anyway, I guess we’ll get together next on my birthday, but I just hope I don’t have any irritation!

As far as my decision to let God decide what’s best for us should I get fixed, well, I’m sorry if I went into Never-Never Land there for a minute, cuz there is no fixing me. And even if there was, we’re not going to get that far. As soon as we test Tom, it’s over. It’s inevitable - and I can see how this will play out - that I call it quits as soon as he proves himself to be the liar he is when it comes to this subject and doesn’t do as he promised.

Enough of the kid, sex, and lies shit, and onto the weight. Once again, 112 pounds is as low as my body can go without many days of starving. I gained a pound in my sleep due to not shitting. Every time my body gets down to 112-113, it doesn’t shit so it can reset itself back to 115 at least. I wonder why it is that my body doesn’t want to get under 112? I guess it’s just not healthy in this day and age. Typically, a body won’t gain/lose weight if it doesn’t want to and if it doesn’t feel comfortable doing so. I’ve got two days’ worth of food in me since my body won’t shit and I have a feeling that as long as I don’t eat, it won’t shit till my body’s back to 115 first. Well, maybe I’ll help it back up there later so I can shit.

Tom downloaded a dictionary for me but hasn’t checked it out yet to see if it’s any good.

Yesterday I helped Tom by cutting shingles. I used a hook razor that really made the job a lot easier. I didn’t like getting bits and pieces of fiberglass stuck in my hands, though.

Tom stapled down the tarp, too. That’ll be a real pisser and a real curse from God if it rains today when it hardly ever rains on a weekend to begin with, and when he’s well-rested and has the whole day and night free. He only has to go in a couple of hours like he always does at the end of the month, but he can go in any time he wants. Meanwhile, when he has to work a long shift and is beat, the sun will be shining.

The cock was here for what seemed to be all day yesterday. I don’t know if he was watching Mistake all day, or if Miss Bitch was there all day, but she didn’t work. Neither did the city, so that’s why the cock was parked in the driveway, too. Most people don’t work the day after Thanksgiving. I had forgotten about that.

Anyway, the cock left at 6 PM without a bang. Shortly after, in came the pearl van. I only heard a door slam, but Tom said he heard a honk too. I don’t doubt it. Then after a while, I noticed a white car parked on the street, which left at 9:00. I was asleep when the pearl van left, so I don’t know if it gave off a little 30-second concert or not, although it wouldn’t surprise me. The people in the pearl van are the rebellious type who’ll risk Joebitch’s tenancy just to go against me and spite me. Same with the aqua-colored car. Haven’t seen that one for several weeks now, so I’m sure that I’m due for a visit from it anytime now. I’ll bet they’re just itching for Tom to hurry up and finish the roof cuz they’re dying to be heard right back!

What is it with this bitch and all this company? This is the cock’s department, I thought. There was only company like this when he was in the picture, but for the first time since she’s been on her own, she’s a company freak just like he was/is. What? Is she that desperate, insecure, and afraid to be alone, or what? Can’t she take just one day off from going out and having visitors?

Later…

OK, I’m back to 115 pounds. I had a TV dinner, but still don’t feel like I’m gonna shit, so I decided that I either shit or take a water pill. I can’t keep letting these extra pounds accumulate, cuz then it’s harder to get around. So, since I can’t shit, I went for the water pill. I knew that if I didn’t shit or take a water pill, I’d end up around 118. God, all the slavery I go through just to stay at 115! Is it really worth it? Why do I keep depriving myself of the extra food and pounds my body needs? Maybe I should give myself a set number of months that I’ll continue with the hard work and hunger that goes into staying at 115, then let myself go, and eat when I’m hungry and let my body gain whatever it feels it wants/needs to.

Later…

Tom thinks that the bitch’s company, along with the bitch itself, was showing each other what Christmas presents they got yesterday. With money the bitch isn’t even supposed to have? I don’t know if they went Christmas shopping or not yesterday, but I highly doubt she and her company were drinking sodas and playing cards. I’m sure they all got stoned.

As for the weather - the clouds out there do look nasty, but they’re moving fast. Tom says that now the current report says it’s to rain today, tomorrow, and Tuesday. I highly doubt that. First off, they always hype things up, and secondly, it just doesn’t rain on weekends here and if it does, it does it in the morning or the evening, so I still say he’ll be able to work today and tomorrow. If it rains all day today, I’ll swear God only had it rain cuz he was doing the roof! If he weren’t doing the roof, it’d be a typical sunny Saturday. Still, the tarp’s down and he’ll only lift up the sections he’ll be working on. The garage and most of the back room are done. He’s gonna finish the back room, then do the music room, bathroom, and kitchen which is in the middle of the house. Lastly, he’ll do the front which is the bedroom and the living room.

Who will come to see the bitch today? Gee, let me guess - someone in a white car and a gray car? Cock and sis.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 27, 1998 I managed to sleep from 5 AM to noon. At 9 PM I'll take a Benadryl to help keep my schedule from going too far forward, although I may need two tonight because I'm getting kind of immune to the stuff again.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 26, 1998 Tom was up when I got up at 5:30. He had been asleep, but the phone woke him up. He said he didn’t know why it woke him up, though. That’s a first.

I was just in the music room when I heard something that I thought was coming from the bedroom, then thought it was from the freeloaders' carport just outside that window, but now I don’t know. Maybe it was from the roof. Maybe the cat nudged a tool up there or something. I looked in the carport and didn’t see anything, though.

Later…

I just remembered something. Well, as I suggested to Tom, I hate to see him spend money on God knows what on the 4th (Red Lobster or miniature golf). So, why don’t we just consider the lollipop doll as both my birthday and Christmas present, then I’ll get Edie with any birthday money I may get from Mom. If mom doesn’t send any birthday money, I’ll save enough money in my piggy bank for her. Then I remembered the Christmas money. She typically gives money for Christmas. If she does, it’ll be at least $50 each, so I’ll be getting another doll with that if I do. So maybe I’ll be getting 4 more dolls instead of 3. Another few weeks and Patrice should be here. Hopefully, we can go to the bookstore and the doll store on the 4th, though.

Later…

I was right about the freeloaders. No shit from them today. The bitch was picked up early in the white car, and the cock was here for a while, but that’s it.

I wasn’t right on when, but I was so right about the roofing being harder than Tom envisioned and taking much longer than he could initially see. He’s having a miserable time with that fucking roof. The shingles require so many nails and just don’t cover as much space as he thought they would, cuz they need to overlap by 6” or so. So, he may have another 1-3 weeks’ worth of work to do, and he’ll be getting tarps to staple down to protect us from the rain we’re supposed to get this weekend. Of all the weekends it has to rain in Arizona, it just had to be this one, huh? What? Does God want him to work on the roof only when he has to work at the bank all fucking night, too? Yeah, this naturally has me furious with God. It’s like - thanks, God! Thanks for treating my husband like shit and for running him ragged like this for no reason. He doesn’t deserve this shit. He needs to have a life. We have too much other shit that’s gotta be done. He can’t keep dealing with this fucking roofing shit week after week after week. It’s like God has no mercy or empathy for this man, he won’t help him help us, and what’s the point of not having a kid if we can’t have a life? The purpose of not having a kid (one of them) is so that we can live life and do things, yet we don’t even have a life. The Chanukah shirts can be forgotten about, the library, the things we were gonna do on the 4th, and the other household projects that need to be done before we can move. All this is gonna have to be put on hold.

First, I had to worry that Marge was gonna kill him and now I worry about God. It’s like something up there really, really really does want him to be constantly tied up in shit. There’s no doubt about that, but I knew this years ago. I don’t know how he can delusion himself by thinking he could’ve had time for a kid, any more than that I could’ve handled it.

What I did amazingly handle was sleeping through his banging all day. Not smoking really helps and yes, it is better to be fat, look like shit, and feel good, rather than to wheeze, have a racy heart, and look good. He did wake me up 2-3 times throughout the day, but I just went right back to sleep. I still need to push my schedule up by at least 8 hours before I can comfortably see Melanie.

I asked Tom why he couldn’t go to his mother and say look, you’ve got the resources and funds available, so get some people in to help me for once, but he said we’re too deep into the project to call for help now.

Sex is gonna have to wait another week or two, and it’s not that I miss it cuz you know I prefer sex with the vibrator over sex with him, but I worry that this is gonna bring on another round of irritation. At least there’s stuff for that, though.

Tom told me he saw the dog across the street, and I was like - what?! He’s seen it and I haven’t heard it?! How can that be? Well, it turns out that this dog’s a really small dog and it’s kept indoors. Indoors!! Can you believe it?! Indoors! Well, at least that’s what appears to be the case so far, anyway. He said he saw it run out of the house as adults were standing around talking out front. He said he could hear country music coming from their house. He said the little girl across the street was playing with the collie kids. Every kid within a 5-mile radius plays with those kids.

I still can’t believe that we’re about to hit December and still, no one’s played ball at the freeloaders!! So this tells me that yes, she’s under the false, but wonderful impression that part of my shut-up-or-get-evicted deal with the city means that there must be no ball games either. Well, in a sense she’s right. I won’t stand for hours of ball-bouncing every week. No one that has houses all around them just a few feet away should be playing ball, anyway, any more than they should be leaving dogs out all day and all night.

Not that Tom would’ve obliged, but no one came out and told him to shut up and give them a peaceful Thanksgiving. Well, most others around here are anything but peaceful themselves between their music, dogs, and screaming kids. And I’m not surprised the people in the collie house stayed here all day, either. These people are just like the Ms were. They never go anywhere.

I wondered if this was the first potential obstacle as far as the testing goes and if God was thinking about sending me messages about him not agreeing with what I’m doing, but Tom said we’ve come this far, so let’s just get the kidney and uterus tests done. He said kidneys are important, and if we find out the uterus’s shape is bad (I vibe it could very well be bad, too) then we’ll know that’s the problem, and that’ll eliminate us having to bother with other tests.

It’s easy for me to say, let’s put the testing on hold till after we’ve moved and after we’ve built our dream house, which will take a few years, but nah. There’ll just be something else going on at that time. I’m wondering if this will ever fit into our lives and if God ever wants me to have any answers.

Later…

Gotta get Tom up in a few, but meanwhile, I was thinking of taking Benadryl to hopefully take a nap. That might push my schedule if I split up my sleeping, so I can end up being up during the next few days.

Later…

Maybe the collies have finally shut up. They went on and on and on. The people there probably had a shitload of company. Again, the people there are also very very lucky that we’re moving. But will it still be in June? I don’t know. If the roof can drag on this long and if so, many other things can too, what’s to say we won’t be able to move till 2002? As we get closer to June, we’ll see how my vibes are, cuz that’ll tell me more.

El cocko came in at 9:30 and I assume it picked its bitch up. It was too dark to be certain it was his car, but I’d guess it was. Its engine starting up didn’t sound like Bill’s and it definitely wasn’t a white car. I heard some familiar sounds that I didn’t like, though. I didn’t like those “packing” sounds I heard. These are the same sounds I’d heard when it’d come and go in the past. This took place over a course of 10 minutes or so. Now, how much fucking turkey can you unpack? I doubt it was turkey, and I wonder if he’s slowly bringing his stuff back, but freeloader beware! You step foot back here and so help you fucking God, you’re outa here! I’ll turn right around and contact the city and this time, I just may take it a step or two further than that.

This is the plan - to take a Benadryl at around 3 AM and sleep till around 9 AM when Tom comes home and starts banging away. Today he’ll be banging away over the bedroom, too. If I can sleep till around 9 AM, then I won’t go to sleep again till between 1:00-3:00 AM and will then be on days. If not, then I’ll just try to stay up as late as I can and I’ll just have my sleep dragged out longer than usual due to both his hammering and the Benadryl. Benadryl tends to put you out longer than usual, and if I’m sleeping on and off all day cuz of his hammering, that ought to help push my schedule. Tom says not to worry and that getting to my Monday appointment is a done deal.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 25, 1998 Well, that’s the first time I ever shit after taking a water pill the previous day.

The mailman was kind enough to let me have my doll catalog, after all, which came today. Tom said we’ll have to order the Sunshine and Lollipops doll, cuz her molds have been broken so time’s running out. I didn’t even notice that until he pointed it out. Well, she has been around for a while, so I’m not surprised. Rapunzel’s been around for a while too, so I’ll bet her time’s running out.

Summer Dream definitely has the best dress, but Winter Romance has the best face. Spring Promise and Autumn Reflection are just so-so overall.

I asked Alex to send a blank email to my mom as I was curious to see if she changed the name again. If he did what I told him to do, then according to him, there’s no such user. I’m not surprised.

Tom still thinks I would’ve not only been a good mom but would’ve been able to stand it physically. He thinks I’m a night person cuz Doe was when I was little. Yeah, I remember hearing her TV till really late at night on the other side of the wall. Sometimes the things I’d hear would scare me, too, when I’d hear screaming or scary music on the TV. Anyway, I told him Tammy’s always been a day person, and he said that at that time, what with Larry just a few years older, she probably was more on days. He feels that babies can adapt to their mothers and that mothers can adapt to them, and I’m flattered he has all this faith in me, but I don’t. I also know what’s in my cards and what’s not as far as that goes and I just thank God that I’m OK with it, as I have been for about a year now. 1998’s gotta be the best year of my life so far for moods and emotions. I got fat and I’ll always be fat, but I’ve had so much more happiness and peace. Things have been fairly quiet around here save for the fucking collies, I haven’t had constant bouts of depression over being sterile, so it’s great. I don’t miss all those depressing, frustrating crying spells!

I still haven’t seen Measles, and that one time I saw White Paws was the only time I’ve seen her since she disappeared. I wonder where she stays and why she and Mama Cat don’t come around at least once a day anymore. Can’t complain, though.

They haven’t moved in across the street yet, either. It’s too quiet and I don’t hear a dog.

I looked online but had no luck finding a dictionary. Not only would it be nice to have on the computer something that checks spelling for me, but it’d also be nice to have something that tells me what words mean.

Andy’s leaving for California early in the morning and he’ll be back Saturday. That’ll be good for him and that’ll give me a break from his calls for a few days. In his last message to me, he never mentioned my letter. I hope he gets it if he hasn’t yet, and that his mailman’s not like ours.

I don’t have a bad vibe for Turkey Day tomorrow, as far as next door goes. If they’re gonna be here tomorrow, which I don’t sense, then they’ll be hearing us, cuz Tom’s gotta get the roofing done by Saturday. They say it’s to rain this weekend, but I doubt it. I doubt it cuz most of the time they say it’s gonna rain it doesn’t, and cuz it almost never rains on weekends here. Well, I just hope to hell he gets it done before it rains and gets it done fast. I’m so sick of roofing, roofing, roofing, roofing!! It’s really getting to be a very old subject and I just want us to be able to get on with our lives for a week or two, till the next big project comes up, like other people’s computers, although God knows we have enough shit of our own to do. I’m just really goddamn tired of this roofing ordeal. He’s gonna have to be pounding away during my bedtime too, but it’s a lot easier for me to fall asleep to the sound of something than to already be asleep when it starts. Besides, I know what’s going on and it’s not someone deliberately trying to wake me up and piss me off, so I’ll survive just fine. Not smoking, and therefore not wheezing, helps a lot too.

There is the chance that my vibe’s wrong and next door has a big party here and acts like the fucking assholes they did on Easter by playing a 3-hour ballgame to join into our noise and give it right back, but I doubt it. I really think they’re gonna wait till after he’s done and after they see the dumpster’s gone.

Speaking of the freeloader, Bill just dropped the bitch off.

I decided it’d be nice if I listed the title and author of the books I’m reading. Well, yesterday I began a book by Patricia Wallace called Twice Blessed. I read 100 pages yesterday and intend to read more today.

My period’s starting. Why a week early, though?

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 24, 1998 Although I didn’t sleep too well last night, I still have that good, positive vibe I had all day yesterday (and I vibe a peaceful Thanksgiving too). I woke up 4 hours after crashing and had to take a Benadryl to fall back asleep as tired as I was, then I woke up several times in between till I got up at 2:30 to stay. I’d like to flip my schedule forward at least 12 hours, but with this fucking roofing ordeal, who knows? I’m starting to feel like this damn roof will never be done! It’s hard for him to balance roofing time with his regular job.

There’s a city van in front of the freeloader’s house. I wonder what they’re doing. I also wonder how they feel about finding Bill there again, and I know this isn’t the first time they’ve found him there. Meaning, do they suspect he lives there?

I like having Bill here in the daytime. It keeps people away from the basketball hoop, and I don’t have to worry about being blamed if their house gets broken into. However, one can blame me for anything they want to cuz if I didn’t do it, I didn’t do it.

Later…

Just had some grapefruit. I’ve heard of people going on grapefruit diets where they have nothing but grapefruit, but I’m getting so sick of working so hard to stay at 115 pounds and going hungry so much of the time. Once again, for the millionth time, I’m thinking of just letting myself go. This isn’t natural. You need to eat more at this age and be heavier. My body’s crying out for more food and for a good 10-20 more pounds. I look like shit at 115 anyway, so does it really matter if I gain weight? I just won’t be able to enjoy rocking, but we’ll see.

Tom’s done roofing for the day.

Later…

I just changed the mice’s cages. It’s easier on my allergies if I don’t change everyone at once. I do the pig and rat one day, then the mice another day. The guys one day, the ladies another day.

I checked for email, which I thought I’d have tons of, and got an IM from Alex. So, I added him to my address book and my buddy list.

Andy beat me to it as far as him returning that paper with different fonts and checking the ones he likes. I sent him a SASE in my letter to him, cuz he had said he didn’t have any envelopes, so knowing how broke he always is, I thought I’d help him out, but he sent me these sheets back today. So he can keep the SASE for something else or cover up my name and use it for whatever he wants.

He picked the fonts I thought he’d like. The ones that are easier to read. He also decorated the envelope with a picture of the original Charlie’s Angels and the cast of Twin Peaks. He also cut out strips of old letters I sent him.

So, the freeloaders will get a few goodies added to their write-ups. I stuck in these fonts with Andy’s handwriting and with his picture bordering the two pages, and also, a sheet of stationary Kim sent. On the sheet they’re getting, she writes about how Bob’s against her ruining her beautiful tits and all that BS.

At 4 PM there was an anonymous call hang-up. Was it Andy or are the freeloaders at it again?

I took an old gray, sweatshirt dress that I’ve had for what might be half of my life, and cut its sleeves. It looks and feels better this way.

As you know, Art was on America’s Funniest Home Videos (even if we joke and say he was on America’s Most Wanted). Well, Tom says they’re making a show called America’s Scariest Home Videos. He disagrees, but I told him that I’ll bet you anything that half the shows are home births. Babies that came too fast to make it to the hospital. That shit sells just as much as sex, drugs, violence, and rock-n-roll do. Anyway, he thinks it’ll be accident-type stuff.

I sometimes share my writings with Tom, and I shared with him yesterday’s entry. He didn’t get my sentence that said, that was Evie’s case till I came into the picture and she got pregnant. Of course, Tom doesn’t believe this stuff, but Evie’s got those two kids cuz of me. She’ll never know it, but I’m the one responsible for those kids existing. She wouldn’t have them if it weren’t for me, although I suppose if she were still meant to have them, someone else would intertwine with her having them. You see, I don’t just think things are meant to be for a reason, but when they’re meant to be is for a reason, too. Also, God intertwines and kind of mingles events with those that we know. I’m sure he decided before Evie was even born that yes, she would have two kids. However, he was gonna wait till she was older for reasons best for her, and also till I came into the family circle. This way God could kind of kill two birds with one stone. He has Evie wait till he thinks the time’s right, and he uses it to hurt me. Back then I really wanted a kid really bad and God knew I’d feel left out, hurt, and jealous if someone was having kids in the family.

Tom told me he heard that antibiotics can help a woman get pregnant, cuz the antibiotics kill off bacteria that can kill sperm. My response was, “Then why wasn’t I oh so fertile in my 20s when I was always on those things?” He said I wasn’t screwing like I am now. True. I only did it 15 times or so before I met Tom. Besides, I know my problems are a lot more serious than just popping antibiotics. It would take much more than that to fix me if I were even fixable. Also, women can only have female babies cuz the chromosomes that make up male babies are less resilient.

Later…

God, I am so sick of this shit! I’m so sick of having to have just a few bites a day and going so hungry so much of the time in order to stay at 115 pounds! Anyway, I gained a few pounds cuz I gave in to my hunger too many days in a row and had 1500-2000 calories a day. I’d have to have 1000 calories a day in order to lose weight and do you know how fast 1000 calories go?! It’s like telling a smoker who’s been used to smoking a pack a day for a long time to suddenly cut down to 3 cigarettes a day. There are hundreds of calories in just two bites, so having 1000 is close to starving, I’m sick of this struggle and I’m getting closer and closer to just letting myself go. I’m tired of the constant hunger. Besides, I’ll never be thin again, and if I were 100 pounds at the snap of my fingers, it’d be hell trying to hold it. I’d go back to 115 pounds in just a week.

No wonder so many women are miserable. Especially the ones my age and up. They set unrealistic goals. They try to get “thin,” but that’s just not possible when you’re older. You can lose a few pounds but beware of the hell it takes to do it and to keep those few measly 5-10 pounds off. Older people are naturally plump cuz that’s just the way God designed us to be.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 23, 1998 I have wonderful news, but first, the light blue car is here. Bill’s still here too. I don’t think it’s a coworker in that light blue car. I mean one who happens to be black too, and who happens to have a car that goes with this bitch’s people’s cars? I doubt that. It’s too coincidental. There are probably mostly other poor, lazy blacks going where she goes, though. Although, I wouldn’t exactly call her lazy. She gets out regularly, 5 days a week. She’s just mean, broke and stupid.

The people across the street aren’t all moved in yet, Tom told me. Yeah, I know. No dog yet.

Our dumbfuck mailman gave me a catalog that belongs to N. 21 Dr. I’m sure they got my doll catalog too.

I had bad allergies last night like I do once a week or so.

Andy’s going to be going to California after all. Good for him. He’ll be going from Wednesday to Saturday. Good. Then he’ll get the letter I sent him before he goes. He should get it tomorrow.

He broke down and got high. I told him I still love him anyway, and always will no matter what, even though I like him better sober. As I told him, though, I believe someday he’ll quit for good. Just like I quit cigarettes for good after years of many failed attempts.

He said he was proud of me for taking the first steps toward getting tested. He said he’ll support whatever I decide to do. Now that’s being a good friend. He said he was shocked too, and didn’t think I’d ever go this route. Neither did I. Anyway, I filled him in on the basics, and I also filled in Evie, Kim, Tammy, and Marla. Yup, I heard from Marla! She’s just been busy as hell.

Anyway, this doctor’s right by the Crystal Creek complex and she’s pretty nice. So is her nurse. No one there is as attractive as Melanie. They’re all just there, but at least they’re nice and seem to know what they’re doing, and that’s what counts.

They’re remodeling their office, though, and man was it dusty!

I didn’t have to wait as long as I thought I’d have to and there weren’t a bunch of pregnant teens with wailing kids.

First she weighed me as 119 since doctor’s scales are always 4 pounds more than regular scales, then I tried unsuccessfully to give a urine sample. I should’ve remembered this! I should’ve drunk lots of water.

Got a freeloader update before I go on. That light blue car backed into the street to let Bill out and I saw the driver again. A very tall and very thin black lady with two girls that were about 8 and 10. No older than 12 and no younger than 6 for sure. After she backed the car up, the freeloaders and these two girls ran around screaming and jumping up at the basketball hoop (I thought they were gonna play ball) for a minute or so, then they all went into the house. I just came out of the bathroom to check and I saw the tall woman, the bitch, and one of the bigger girls get into the car, but I assume this girl’s sister and the freeloaders were in the car too. They just took off somewhere.

My guess is that this tall thing is the bitch’s sister and that the two girls are nieces of the bitch that I was supposed to have ordered not to play around here.

Anyway, the nurse took me into an exam room, took my blood pressure, and asked a few basic questions, assuring me the doctor was really nice.

Then the doctor herself came in to get me to bring me into her office to ask me some questions.

The doctor was friendly, and in her mid to late 40s, I’d guess. She had short blond hair and was of average weight.

She asked me how often we had sex. I told her once or twice a week. I told her of my ear when she asked if I’d had any surgeries. She asked when I got my first period and I told her I was about 10. I told her for nearly 3 years when I was in my teens I didn’t get a period. She asked if I was ever told why, and I said no, but I had my theories that it was maybe related to medications. I also hadn’t been eating well back then.

I told her I wanted to see her cuz of the DES, how Cigna got several bloody cultures, and that I was wondering why I hadn’t gotten pregnant.

She asked if I were ever involved in any violent sex acts, or if I’d ever had any sexual diseases. She asked if I were married and if I worked.

She said she’d love to meet Tom after I said I wanted to bring him in next time.

I forgot to mention the atypia that Cigna said I had, but if it’s any big deal, they’ll find it and tell me what to do about it.

She asked when my last period was and when my last exam was, and I mentioned the screwy periods. She said it could very well be normal. Especially since after the spotting, my period’s light and doesn’t last long.

We were wrong in thinking that if my uterus was shaped funny an ultrasound could see it. She said it can’t and therefore, I have to have a test that’ll see its shape because from what I gather, the shape of the uterus can complicate getting pregnant. That was Evie’s case till I came into the picture and she got pregnant.

She said she’s known DES people who have had no problems getting pregnant, but the 3 problems some DES people have are conceiving, suffering miscarriages (something about ruptured membranes which I don’t quite get), and cervical cancer.

She seemed so sure of my situation, though, and once used the words “when we get you pregnant” in one of her sentences to me. She sounded too sure, if you ask me, even though I had no bad vibes of any kind.

She said I could use Vagisil or something that you put in your bath (I forgot the name of it) if I get any irritation around the opening.

Unexpectedly, she recommends kidney testing saying it’s important. The ears and kidneys form at the same time.

I thought I’d have to call Dr. Brown and ask to be able to see Dr. Wells again and do whatever she recommended, but nope, they know each other and I don’t have to do a thing. They’re gonna take care of getting things approved by Dr. Brown. In a week, I’m to call Vicki, a woman who works in the office, about going for the kidney/uterus tests. If I haven’t heard from the nurse in two weeks, I’m to call for my pap results.

After the doctor and I talked, she took me back to the exam room where she listened to my lungs, which she said sounded good. That’s a first. She listened to my heart too, which she said was beating a mile a minute. Really? I felt calm, though.

She said what she could see from the outside of me looked good after she checked my tits.

For the first time, I didn’t ask for the smallest speculum. The exam is still uncomfortable, but it was easy compared to before I knew Tom. I had cramps for a little while and some bleeding afterward.

After getting the kidneys/uterus tests, Tom and I will meet with her for a 1-hour consultation.

She said there was something (that I can’t remember) that was supposed to be visible on some DES people around their cervixes but I didn’t have it. That’s good, I guess.

I fixed my ear, I’m fixing my teeth, so I may as well fix my plumbing if I can! I still don’t see a child in my cards whether I wanted that or not, but whatever’s meant to be will be and whatever’s not, won’t be. I’m just gonna try to keep my mind and doors open to different possibilities. I know I’ll feel much better if I understand more about why my body is as it is and if I know what my options are.

I said something to Tom about wishing I’d gone earlier in our marriage, knowing I was sterile, and knowing I wanted a kid very much back then, but he suggested that it may have put too much stress on the relationship back then. He doesn’t feel stressed out by it now, though. Well, we’ll never know what would’ve happened if we’d gone in 1994-1996, but I think our love was strong enough then to endure it, even stronger now, and as Tom said, these things keep progressing with time. He’s right. Each day that passes, I love him more and I couldn’t imagine life without him. Well, let’s just put it this way. If we were meant to have gone earlier, we’d have gone. If we weren’t meant to go now, we wouldn’t have. However, that doesn’t mean that just because I now have a good vibe and just cuz today went smoothly, God’s not gonna step in and block us later on. We’ll just have to see. I’ll be damned if I’ll fight and struggle for something I’m not meant to do, though, and have to pay the consequences for “disobeying” God. If he starts throwing hurdles at us, I’m calling it quits. I’ll just carry on with my curiosities. I’d rather not, but if I’m not meant to have any answers, I won’t.

Later…

Thank God they don’t predict rain for the week, cuz the roof’s not likely to be done till Wednesday. They went as far as Friday saying there’d be no rain. Thank you, God!

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 22, 1998 I’m just one day away from my appointment, but I’m not nervous. I should be, though, I suppose, since most people are when it comes to seeing new doctors. I told God, “I’m confused. I don’t know what you want from me. Do you want me to get tested? Should I get tested? Show me the way.” I believe he will. The more something’s meant to be, the more the way is paved for you with fewer obstacles. If it’s not meant to be, you’ll be blocked. Maybe make sure that Tom doesn’t cooperate like he said he would? Cuz that’d end it all right then and there as far as testing goes. I’ll quit right then and there. I’m going to this doctor to deal with why I’m sterile. Not why he won’t cum.

I keep saying my appointment with Melanie is on the 29th, but in truth, it’s on the 30th.

Tom said they only made one quick run across the street yesterday. Well, that explains why I haven’t heard the dog. It’s not here yet. He said he saw them today, too, but again, they obviously aren’t gonna be all moved in today either, cuz I don’t hear no dog. If they don’t have a dog, I guarantee you they’ll be getting one within a month. I don’t have a bad vibe about them, and things always quiet down as I get close to making a move, but 9 out of 10 houses have dogs, so why not?

I wonder what God will compensate me with when we move. There’ll be no noise/neighbors to stress out over, and he won’t replace neighborly noise with child noise since he knows I can’t handle that, so what will he do? Give me health problems? Time will tell.

At around 9:30 this morning, the cock was on the street. Why would he only park in the driveway that one Sunday only? Maybe cuz he was too lazy to haul laundry to the street, and maybe cuz it knew it’d be here all day and coming and going a lot.

I was amazed to weigh 115 pounds yesterday at the end of my day and after being stuck for two days. I woke up at 113 pounds, though, and took a dump.

I forgot to mention a couple of other things about Andy. He went into the studio where Stevie does her recording and offered to clean the place which was trashed. He found a tape that said Stevie soundboard something and he stole it. He said the quality of it was great and sounded better than any CD he’d ever heard. So now he’s trying to get a job volunteering to clean in there so he can see her work.

Another thing he said that I got a kick out of was, “If I have AIDS, I won’t let anyone else touch me, but I’m gonna be the biggest slut I’ve always fantasized about being.”

Later…

No freeloader shit. Like I said, they’re gonna wait till he’s done before they let us have it right back. All I saw was that light blue car and a tall, skinny, black lady with a cap on getting into the car and leaving. Never have I seen a white person visit them. They’re not good enough for most of them to be visiting anyway, even if most people are assholes, no matter what the color.

There is one thing I do dread about tomorrow. Not the appointment itself or the doctor, but all the waiting I’ll have to do. I know this waiting room is gonna be the opposite of Melanie’s. It’s gonna be filled with pregnant teens that’ll piss me off and tons of screaming kids, and I’ll have to wait for a half-hour or more till seeing the doctor. I’m not looking forward to that at all, so I’ll take a puzzle book since I won’t be able to concentrate on reading.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 21, 1998 What a stupid thing to do. Yesterday I was stuck and I took a water pill cuz I felt all bloated and watery, but the day after taking a water pill I can’t shit. So now I have to be stuck two days in a row, whereas I probably could’ve shit today if I didn’t take the water pill yesterday.

Another stupid thing to do was to tell Andy in a message I left him to wait till we can talk live next week before he calls since it’ll just be a busy weekend around here as usual. Sure enough, what’s he do? He goes and calls anyway. Must he go and call just so he can say he went and did the opposite of what I told him? Why are people so obsessed with doing the opposite?

Later…

It looks like Mary may care about Tom’s roofing adventures. She called and left a message while I was talking to Andy, which I’ll get into later, and said she was just checking to see how he was, call when he gets a minute.

What do you really want Mary? What do you really want? Computer work? Car work? Plumbing? Stuff your own husband could and should learn to do for you if he wasn’t so lazy?

As for the roof - the old roof is all stripped off now and now Tom’s hammering the new shingles on. Something the freeloaders can hear loud and clear. I’ll bet you anything that next weekend, or the weekend after, I’ll be hearing from them for this, but fuck them. We needed a new roof and if they can’t handle that, they’ll get theirs for it.

El Cocko was parked on the street at 9:30 this morning, Tom told me. All I saw when I went to look out front was him in a red sports shirt and a backward cap leaning in the front seat of the car. Then he went back to the house. Then a few minutes later he got in the car and left. I don’t think anyone was with him. Mistake could’ve been, but I don’t know for sure.

Why was he parked in the street on a Saturday, though? Maybe the city only takes off Sundays when dealing with their subsidized houses and checking up on them. Now that they know this bitch’s broken at least two rules (cock/dog) they’ll be keeping a closer eye on her.

Tom and I talked about hiring someone to come in and clean up all the nails and roof bits that are all over the sides of the house, but that’d take money away from paying bills. Also, they’d probably do a half-assed job.

Now I’ll get into what’s going on with Andy. Well, he’s really miserable again. God, he’s so much like I used to be. Just an occasional bout of happiness, then it’s the same old, same old again. Will he ever get out of the rut he’s been in?

Anyway, after I saw him leave two calls in a row with his name showing, I picked up knowing something was wrong and that he needed to bitch. I told him to show his name when it’s urgent.

He hasn’t broken down and gotten stoned yet, but he bought some weed since he feels it’s inevitable that he’ll break down sooner or later. He also said that it’s a really good kind of weed that only comes around for a short time every handful of years. I didn’t know there were different kinds of weed.

Tom and I were wondering how he could manage to get time off to go to California when he just started a new job. So I asked Andy about it today and he told me that with temp agencies, you work when you want and make your own schedule. All you have to do is give a week’s notice.

The plan was that Laura would take Andy’s car to New Mexico to spend Thanksgiving with her family. Then Michelle’s mom and boyfriend would drive to San Diego on the 22nd and go to the boyfriend’s family’s house. The next day Michelle and Andy would go there in Michelle’s car. They’d stay in San Diego for two days, then go up to L.A. for a day, then home. Now Andy’s pissed cuz he cleared time off from both the temp agency and Red Lobster to go, but he may not be going after all. Michelle’s car got broken into. They broke windows and stole her CD player. So, who knows if he’s going?

The thing about it is that he doesn’t have to worry about clearing time from the temp agency after all cuz he no longer has that job. Just a part-time job at Red Lobster for pitiful money.

Andy says he’s so pissed at himself and wonders when he’s gonna learn to keep his mouth shut. Yup, you got it. Andy got fired for talking too much yet again! He admits to his big mouth, but once again, God and society’s double standards really piss him off. It’s OK for the girl to his left to talk about her suicide attempts, and it’s OK for the girl to the right to talk about how miserable her kids and husband make her, but when the gay guy speaks up, it’s not acceptable!

So he went off on his boss about it and left a picture of a guy in boxers on his desk that he tore out of a Rolling Stone magazine he was reading. Then he called for a second chance and was told by the woman he talked to that she heard he left a picture of a naked guy on his desk. So that pissed him off cuz the guy in the picture was not naked. Then he says, “See? When people don’t like you or are mad at you, they twist the truth, exaggerate, and get into all-out lying.” Yes, I know very well. I’ve seen Dureen, Art, Larry, Tammy, and many others do this.

Then he goes to this other agency and gets told that there’s nothing available when he knows there is. He thought about it and thought about it, then realized he looked like an IV user cuz of the blood test they did to check for AIDS which left a black and blue mark on his arm.

Yeah, I guess Marla, who’s been super busy, talked him into getting an AIDS test. He’s got to wait till around my birthday for the results and he’s terrified. He said he had a dream that the test was positive, and he couldn’t believe it. Andy always practiced safe sex until Quinn. With Quinn, he wouldn’t use rubbers cuz he hates them. He’s pissed at himself not only for opening his mouth at work but for having unsafe sex and giving in to anal sex like he swore he never would. He said he let Quinn cum up his ass. The most dangerous thing to do, and that the bible says is a sin. I reminded Andy not to jump the gun, though, and assume the test is positive. Also, don’t believe everything you read. I could write a book saying being tall is a sin, but that doesn’t make me right. I told him what’s done is done and I don’t think any kind of sex is a sin as long as those involved are of age and willing.

Later…

A white car just came in and honked, but it’s a different one. Not the one with the thick black trim. It’s been 5 minutes, but no one’s gotten out of that car. What? Did it pull in, honk, then go up to the door? It couldn’t have just gone up to the door? What was that honk saying? Was it saying something like, “Yeah, I hear you with all your hammering? But next weekend or the weekend after, you’ll be hearing us.”

Well if I do, they’ll just keep on hearing me and we’ll keep on going back and forth till they either shut up or get evicted.

Tom was on the roof when this car pulled in and he said he heard voices. I didn’t hear them yelling this time around, though.

As I was saying about Andy - he said he’s a very angry man now and that if he finds out he has AIDS, he’s gonna destroy Quinn’s memory by telling everyone he and Quinn were an item (only a few know) and then he’s gonna track down this girl who he believes gave Quinn AIDS, and beat the fuck out of her. See, Quinn was a major druggie and a slut. Andy’s the only guy he made it with, though, except for his brother who molested him. There were rumors saying that a girl Quinn made it with between his time with Andy, had AIDS and didn’t tell Quinn till afterward. In fact, Andy wondered if Quinn killed himself cuz he found out he had AIDS. Quinn was also just plain old miserable and was looking at jail time, too, for the drugs, but only Quinn knew for sure why he did what he did, and as cruel as it may sound, I commend Quinn for killing himself and God for allowing him to do so. This world doesn’t need people like Quinn. I told Andy that having AIDS isn’t a death sentence anymore, although he thinks it is. They have medications for that that’ll sustain his life and they’re on the verge of a cure, too. He can get treatment and therapy for free since he’s poor. Thank God for this, too. He also told me he might ignore me for a while if it’s positive out of shame and all the emotions he’ll have over it. I told him it’s fine to need time alone but to remember he can call me if he needs to talk. I told him to let his name show on the box like he did today if it’s urgent and be anonymous if he’s just calling to say hi.

He’s gonna have to go out for the hundredth time job-hunting, but at least he has the money for next month’s rent set aside, so all he has to come up with is money for bills.

Michelle goes by astrology when predicting things, I go by instinct and the feelings that come to me. Well, according to Andy, Michelle knows her stuff and is always right. One of the things Michelle predicts is that she and David won’t cut it together because Leo and Aquarius don’t mix. Well, I don’t know if that’s the reason, but all the Gemini and Leo women I’ve known are assholes, but I don’t know about guys. Incidentally, Dureen’s a Gemini, and Tammy’s a Leo. Anyway, the reason I don’t see them working out is that Andy’s not meant to have a loving relationship. It’s just not meant to be any more than I was ever meant to be a singer or a mother.

Andy says he still wants to try his best to make the relationship with Dave work out, but there are a couple of things Dave does that really pisses him off. He asks questions, and then when Andy goes to answer, he cuts him off and interrupts constantly. So Andy did it back to him and he got pissed. Andy’s like - how do you like it? Andy also hates how he’s so “Brenda-ish.” He’s possessive and jealous and Andy’s afraid he’ll smother him. As Andy said, though, if he and Dave don’t work out, he can always go live with one of his brothers. It’s not like he knows no one there.

I’ll be sending him an encouraging, inspirational letter sometime soon, cuz I know how much those things really cheer him up.

Later…

Am I going deaf? I can’t complain, but I didn’t hear the white car leave. No doors, no engine, no nothing. That tells me that she didn’t leave in this car since she and her little cock were always the biggest door slammers around here. Well, it is hard to hear over all the hammering.

Tom just tore his second pair of shorts on nails. He’s now wearing one of his two pairs of long denim pants that he wears to work.

He returned Mary’s call and spoke to her and Mom about how the roof was going. Mary didn’t get into it, but they found bad things with the thyroid they took out. She has an appointment coming up and so does Ma. They’re gonna get their own rides, though, cuz I have an appointment on Monday. They didn’t hit him for computer work, but they will when he’s done.

He says Eileen’s probably gonna make up for the little cupcake payment he got for doing the daughter’s computer when he gets around to taking care of hers. Eileen pays him fairly, so that’s good.

It looks like sex will be postponed until next weekend, which is OK with me. Tom brought up something I almost brought up, but I didn’t want him to get the wrong idea and think I was trying to get out of sex. He suggested we don’t screw till after my appointment, so it doesn’t interfere with the pap. Normally I’d say that he was making excuses, but no, this is a great, sensible idea.

Later…

Bill’s here now. What’s he doing here on a Saturday?

Actually, he just left. I know the sound of that car starting up very well now. It’s weird for a Caddy, but it makes a coughing sound as its starter catches. It left without the bitch, so she ought to be home still and listening to all Tom’s hammering.

Later…

The renters are here, and to my utter amazement, they don’t seem to have a dog. Yet. They will soon enough, though. From what Tom could see, it was a couple with a 5-year-old girl. I guess this is good. Then I don’t have to worry about college kids or teenagers banging in and out, or basketball games. They don’t have a hoop over there, but those things can always be bought.

He also says that at the old man’s house on the other corner, there’s a woman and kids living there. The guy’s still there, though, so who knows who these people are? Maybe they were the trailer people and they decided to move in and ditch the trailer. I saw a woman with screaming kids in the street the other day, but if they’re living there, why don’t I hear them? From what I saw, there were 2-3 little ones, and that’s major noise, so why don’t I hear them all day long when I’m up? Maybe because the garage separates our houses, along with the street.

Later…

Tom accidentally cut his finger while cutting paper, so I gave him a Band-Aid.

You have to put down felt paper on the bare wooden roof before you put the shingles down. He’s on the fun, quick, and easy part now. Stapling down the paper. Then he’ll be nailing down the shingles, but the shingles are big, so it won’t need 10,000 nails. He still feels he’ll be done tomorrow, but we may need to keep the dumpster past Monday for our clean-up job. For our cleaning, he’s gonna go look for this magnetic rake they have that’d be great for picking up the millions of nails that are around the house from the three asinine layers that were there.

Later…

Still no mail. Is he late? Or did he give our mail to someone else?

It’s dead quiet at the old man’s house, so maybe the woman and kids were just visiting.

Later…

I guess the bitch did leave in that white car. Tom saw her being dropped off from that car a little while ago.

Tom’s heading to Sears in a little while to pick up some more stuff we’ll need.

I’m just gonna relax and read for the evening.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 20, 1998 Woke up at 115 pounds, since I had KFC yesterday and more. I always go back to 115.

Got a letter from Kim, cuz her computer is fucked up. She and Walt are moving into a big duplex house in Northampton. Just what is the story with her and Walt? Did Walt conveniently decide he wants kids just to hang onto Kim? Or is Kim OK with his not wanting kids and willing to give that up?

Anyway, since she sent me a regular letter, I’ll send her one too, using our wedding picture bordering the paper.

I took the four remaining Christmas cards I have and made one out to Mary & Dave, Mom, Steven & Carol, and David & Evie.

I never want a damn thing again to do with Nora, Ray, Ryan, Jackie, Jim, or Pam. The only reason I associate with Mary, Dave, and Mom still is out of respect for Tom. Meanwhile, Steven, Carol, David, and Evie never did anything to us. Neither did Ryan, Ray, or Nora, but I just don’t want to bother with anyone connected to the Jackie, Jim, and Pam clan. I don’t dislike Mary and Dave, although as with Mom, I resent how they’ve used Tom. Mary and I have things in common (rodents/sterility) and Dave’s funny and cool to be around.

Tom got a dumpster extension. They were supposed to get it today, but he’s keeping it till Monday. We thought they’d charge $100 for the overtime, but nope. Just $5 a day.

He says he’ll be done on Sunday, but I don’t know. Then he says we can get on with life. Yeah, for two weeks.

I printed out some more stuff for the freeloaders and their stuff will have to go in two manila envelopes. Not cuz there are too many papers but cuz the pages fit snuggly into the envelopes and leave no room for the wire binder. So I had to trim the edges of the pages to make them fit into the envelope.

Tom says it’s no wonder my lungs still get tight and congested. He said it’s big-time polluted out there. Worse than L.A. He says I should improve when we move. Well, I hope so, cuz yesterday when I was singing, I’d swear I still smoked if I didn’t know any better. And I was wondering again why God ever bothered to give me the voice in the first place if I can’t fully enjoy it. I have to stop and keep clearing my fucking throat. I never would’ve quit smoking if I’d known it’d make me so fat and not help me more than it has, although it does save us money, and since quitting, I don’t know if it’s a coincidence or not, I stopped wishing we could have more sex and stopped wanting a child. Maybe it’s that I’m used to not counting on full-time sex with this guy and maybe it’s just because I know a kid’s not meant to be, but my life truly has improved in other ways since quitting smoking, and I wheeze my ass off, so I won’t complain.

Later…

Tom tore off 3,000 pounds of roofing. When he’s done there’ll be 1,000 pounds of roofing. The stupid idiot males who lived here throughout the years put layers of roofing on. There are three layers. That’s how and why things got so fucked up with it. Women should do more of these kinds of things. They’re smarter. But Tom’s as smart as most women. In fact, I think we’re both smarter than most people, female or male, so we’ll figure it out.

A guy driving by got out and asked Tom if he does roofs. He said only on his own house he does.

He may get promoted to bossing people around instead of bossing work around, which he kind of doesn’t want. He’d rather boss work than people, and he doesn’t want to be locked in for another year like he would be if he got promoted in that way, and he still wants days. These would be 2nd and 3rd shifts. He doubts he’ll get this promotion, though, cuz the others who are eligible have been there longer. But are they as good as he is?

Tom saw both dogs two yards down. He says they’re both collies. Why are their barks different then? He says it’s not just cuz of the chain-link fence that causes them to bark so much, is the house’s location too. They can see all the way down another alley that we couldn’t see from our yard if we had a see-through fence of some kind. The alley’s sort of L-shaped. Well, they’re on the corner of the L. So they can see a lot more to get stirred up over than a dog could in our yard if we didn’t have all block walls. I wonder why it is that we have all block walls, the freeloaders have all block walls (although they have a double gate and not a single gate in the very back by the alley), but these assholes have a chain-link fence in the back. Only their sidewalls are block walls.

I’m doing laundry now and hanging out the heavier stuff since our dryer’s sort of wimpy. The washer’s small and the dryer’s wimpy, but when we move, we’ll have a regular size and strength washer and dryer.

Later…

Bill must’ve gotten called away for something pretty important today. I didn’t hear any of this, except for the honk, but from what Tom could see on the roof, a light blue car dropped the bitch off at 11:00. Then Bill left. Then Bill returned a few minutes later. Then the blue car returned, honked, and the bitch left in it. The blue car’s probably some coworker.

The cock didn’t visit last night.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 19, 1998 Another day of Tom stripping the roof. As I predicted, he doesn’t think he’ll be done stripping today. He told me he realized that although he doesn’t want anyone putting the new roof on since they probably wouldn’t do it right, he should’ve at least paid the money to have someone come and strip it and haul the old roof away. Well, it’s too late now. All that hard work and mess and clean-up are on him. I offer to help him with picking up roof bits and nails, but he brushes me off. He said I could help with the stuff at the side of the house, but not for long since the dust isn’t good for me. I have a feeling part of the reason he doesn’t want me working in the front is cuz he worries I might attack the bitch. I wouldn’t do that unless she came on our property or threatened me from hers.

He’s gonna have to keep the dumpster till Monday, rather than Friday.

He said he doesn’t think the back room was added on in the 70s as he originally thought. This whole subdivision was built in 1950. He thinks that the back room’s been there all along and that it was one of those extra things that were optional that people could pay extra for if they wanted.

I had a flash vibe of me being 110 by February. In the past, I’d have been thrilled to know this, but now it kind of worries me. It takes the body about a year to adapt to major changes. It’s been just over a year since I quit smoking and it seems my old metabolism is poking through more and more. Well I awoke at 112½ pounds today, and we’ll just have to see if I lose more weight or not, but if I do, am I gonna have to pay for it in some not-so-cool kind of way? I’ll tell you one thing for sure and that’s that if I had to choose between not wanting a child and being 125 pounds, and wanting one at 100 pounds, I’d take the 125 pounds and the not wanting that. I don’t ever want to return to my days of obsessively dreaming about the impossible. I only want material dreams from here on out cuz I can make material dreams come true in time. If my dream was to find a million dollars in the street, that’d be different, but I’ve never had such a dream like that eat at me year after year day after day and I’m sure I’d have to become a whole different person for me to dream such a far-out dream as that. Even my old dream of becoming a famous singer wasn’t as far out as that would be.

I asked Tom why he didn’t bring up adoption or foster kids. He said that although he disagreed with those judging others by their ages or their pasts, the more he thought about it, the more he realized that adopting would be a problem cuz of his age, and fostering would be a problem cuz of my record. Personally, I never had a desire to adopt or foster, thank God. I guess I’m just one of those who felt that if she wasn’t gonna have her own kid, she didn’t want anybody else’s, but that’s just me. There’s nothing wrong with those who adopt or foster, though, as long as they’re not like the second foster mother I had was. She lied to me and starved me, and her sick friend threatened me and scared the shit out of me. It’s a miracle I got out of there without her beating me to death. Or close to it.

I’m recharging my vibrator batteries now. They’re great cuz it’s like having the same batteries that last and last and last. I used to worry about my sex drive going up in time, too, but since I’d rather take care of my own orgasms, and since I don’t want a child and can’t conceive one anyway, it’s OK if my appetite goes up, cuz I can take care of it myself, and Tom’s busyness and my schedule won’t be a problem if it goes up again like it was a problem the last time it was up.

Speaking of schedules, I went to bed just after midnight again and got up at 8:00. I had to read a good 4 hours or so before going to bed to relax and tire me down. I might sleep later tomorrow though, cuz Tom, who has to get off the roof at 4:00 to sleep 7 hours before going to work, won’t get home till around noon tomorrow.

I should have no problem getting to the doctor’s Monday. It’s Melanie’s appointment a week after that that I question.

I hope we can take a shot at doing those T-shirts soon enough, and also, I’d like to go to the library to see what Ruby books they’ve got and to check out doll-making books. I might want to take their doll-making class someday if I can keep a schedule long enough to do so. I wonder how long and how often the class is? It was something like $50-$60 for the sign language classes and they went 8-10 weeks.

I commented to Tom how I was surprised Bill and Mistake didn’t hang out in the yard more. Tom said that he’s really old so he couldn’t keep up with it, nor would he be likely to even want to hang outside. I’m surprised I don’t hear that animal screaming all day, but I guess they don’t even open their windows over there.

Later…

It’s a bit cloudy out, but there’s no threat of rain over the next 5 days or so, according to the weather channel.

I was out getting my daily dose of color till the headphones began producing static. They’re great, though. No wires, no commercials, then you just charge them back up. No constant need to change dying batteries.

Later…

I was bored shitless for a while there, but I guess I should get into some writing now.

Tom went out and got himself something to eat and I got KFC. I’m making a pot of tea now.

Bill and Mistake were seen by Tom coming and going earlier, but the cock hasn’t shown up today. Yet. I’ll bet he will later. Yes, he was here again yesterday. From 7:00-7:45 last night.

Tom’s opinion is that he found religion and that’s why he’s been quiet even when he’s parked on the street, and he’s coming around more to see the kid. I highly doubt it. I think it’s her he’s coming to see and I think it’ll just be a matter of time before he starts pushing and testing and going back to his old shit whether or not he lives here again. If he does move back in, though, he’s gonna have to park on the street during business hours. However, I’ve already decided the day he moved out last July that we’d never again be neighbors and that’s final. He is not welcomed here, he does not belong here, he is not wanted here, and he cannot live here as far as I’m concerned. Not that the bitch is anymore welcomed, wanted, or a snuggly fit in this neighborhood either, but I can tolerate her existence while we’re still here so long as there’s no shit from her or her friends, cuz if there is, she’s gotta go too.

Later…

Tom’s gonna be wrapping it up soon for the day so he can get some sleep before work.

He said he was surprised his Ma didn’t call to ask how the roof was going.

Maybe she doesn’t care.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 18, 1998 Bill’s back today. I’ll bet you that cock won’t come in for lunch today, but we’ll see. I never heard any car doors yesterday picking her up or dropping her off, so I think she was home yesterday. She also had her lawn done just as the sun was setting by a black, a Hispanic, and a tall white dude with long hair. It could’ve been two blacks or two Hispanics, but anyway, the white guy got pissed at either one of the other guys he was working with or someone in the house, but I couldn’t tell for sure from my spying angle. I couldn’t make out anything that was said either. Just “Ay, ay, ay!” as the guy walked from the front of the house where their front door is, into the carport, then into the back.

So, I think she was home and the cock only came in for lunch cuz she was there. I doubt she was home cuz she couldn’t get a ride either, cuz couldn’t the cock have chauffeured her? Maybe she was sick or hurt or something like that. Wouldn’t it be great if yesterday was a case of karma where this bitch who normally adores noise, couldn’t stand to listen to Tom bang around yesterday while she was trying to read, watch TV, or even nap?

Someone was spraying for bugs across the street in the rental yesterday, but you know what? Here I am worrying about potential Mormons, dogs, or rowdy college kids with stereos, but what about the house next door where that cop used to live? It looks like he moved out a while ago, but who’s living there now? Nothing’s changed within that house. It’s still quiet. So did just the cop move out? Or did the whole household move? Are there new people in there now?

Tom said he saw one of the dogs two houses down and said that the reason they bark so much is cuz they got a chain-link fence. Yeah, I know that’s part of it. That’s why I really dread the renters moving in cuz they have a chain-link fence that wraps around to their front, so we can hear their new dog(s) loud and clear. It’d be like it was in its front yard barking and it’s just across the street from us, although anything’s better than just a few feet away. At least it won’t be just outside three of our windows.

Anyway, Tom says he only saw one of the dogs, which was a collie, and says those aren’t guard dogs. Whatever. All I know is that they bark way too fucking much and they’re lucky we’re moving. Real, real, real fucking lucky!

Got up at 8:30 today at 114 pounds. Tom got a late start and didn’t get up on the roof till 10:00 cuz he was picking up my meds and looking for stamps which nobody seems to have.

Tom called in and found out that there’s a number you can call to see if you’ve been dismissed from jury duty. Well, first they postponed him from today to tomorrow, and now they don’t want him in till February 8th.

Later…

OK, this is the third day in a row that that cock has shown up next door and I don’t like it. Both of us never thought he’d be in for lunch today cuz she’s not there. He never comes over when just Bill’s here. Unless she’s in there sick and Bill’s tending to her, which I highly doubt, I worry that he’s on the brink of coming back, although I don’t vibe it. Let him dare to come back, though, cuz he’ll be sorry!

Today and yesterday I’ve been working on getting some color since I’m practically as white as I was when I first came here. Tom came out to tell me they were recarpeting next door and I was like - fuck! Tell the city to come recarpet our house for nothing! Then he came back a few minutes later saying it looked like they were just cleaning their carpet and not replacing it. There’s a white van out there now, but no writing on it. No city emblem or anything.

Later…

Yeah, there is writing on the van. A limb of the tree was blocking it at first, but there’s small writing on the bottom of the driver’s door. All it says is: Operated by Metrolink, Scottsdale, AZ

Cock’s gone now.

Later…

The van was gone when I last checked at 12:45.

Wow! I actually got a little color. Since I have to be on days for the next two weeks, I may as well take advantage of it and sit outside and do my word find puzzles for a while every day. Putting baby oil on really helps, too.

Later…

I just helped Tom put together the wheelbarrow he bought for transporting old bits of roofing that he’s knocked off the side of the house by the freeloaders to the dumpster in front. It’s also a good thing to have anyway.

Fortunately, the dogs let us work in peace. Just Blackie was meowing, as usual.

He believes he’ll be done stripping the old roof off tomorrow. He’s only got the side of the house and by the cooler and AC to do. A little in the back freeloader corner, as I call it. The other is the back street corner.

He says it’ll only take two days to put the new roof on. That means Saturday will be his last workday, which seems a bit doubtful to me. That’s cuz he’s so lousy with estimating time. He’s great at 95% of the things in this world, but not time frames.

I asked him about the cop’s house, and he says he doesn’t know what the story with that house is or who’s there.

I pointed out how I realized recently that I haven’t heard the old man’s dog in a while, and he says it is gone. Even the trailer people are, but that may be because they couldn’t sleep well here. Ha, ha!

I asked Tom if he thought I could maintain 100 pounds as easily as I’m maintaining 115 pounds if I could get there tomorrow. He said that in this day and age, it’d be very hard to do. I asked him if this means that I’ll gain 15 pounds every 10 years or so, but he said that after gaining the weight that people typically gain when they go from young adulthood to middle age, they usually don’t gain more. You tend to lose weight when you’re old, though. Yeah, I figured and sensed that if I were ever 100 pounds again it’d be because I was old. Or very ill.

I contemplated just going through the 4-5 days of starvation to get down to 100 just to settle my curiosity and see if it is as easy to maintain as 115 is, but nah. Too much slavery just to almost be guaranteed to soar right back up here where I am in no time. It’s not natural to be thin at nearly 33 years of age. So, since I’ll never have a child, I should be around where I am throughout my life. I sure hope so, anyway. If I had had a child, I’d be hanging at an average of 140 for the rest of my life. Yuck!

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 17, 1998 According to Tom, Bill’s not here today. Is his car dead again?

I got a really long email from Evie and in it, she said that since the roof is a big job to do alone, to call if we want help. How can David help? He has a full-time job and two kids. Plus, from what Tom’s said, he doesn’t exactly have the brains for this kind of work.

Between the way I’ve been eating the last couple of days and being stuck, I’ve gained a couple of pounds, so I’m only gonna have a bite today. I don’t want to go over 115 pounds if I can help it.

We went out yesterday to Walgreens and Staples. At Staple’s, we looked at digital cameras and Tom looked for a game, but couldn’t find anything of interest. I got cartoon disks, some color changer/stamper markers, and more iron-on sheets for the T-shirts.

At Walgreens, we were gonna get stamps and a puzzle for me, but we forgot the stamps and their puzzles were boring, so we just got nuts and chips.

Red Lobster called again looking for Andy. Looking for Mark, actually, cuz that’s the name he prefers to use nowadays. Why would they call here? I told the guy he doesn’t live here and he thanked me and hung up. Did Andy ever resolve his problems with those coworkers? He hasn’t left any messages about it, and that call he made on Saturday was his last call to me.

Spot has some kind of growth on her leg. A tumor, I guess, but she doesn’t appear to be in any pain or having trouble getting around despite how big her leg is at the hip area, fortunately.

As figured, the traps caught no mice of any kind either in the back room or the garage.

It’s 32” from the top of my head to my lower ass where the ends of my hair are (the longest ends, anyway). So that means my hair is more than half my height since I’m 59”.

After nagging Tom for months to trim the hedges and tree, I feel bad about it. First of all, he can’t help being so busy and having no time for it, and even if he did have time to do it, he doesn’t want to. He hates that stuff just as much as I hate dusting and vacuuming. So, he shouldn’t be pushed to do anything he doesn’t want to do.

Tom and I talked about taking care of ourselves sexually. I told him I liked vibrators better than my hand and that I thought of women when I’d take care of myself since I don’t need to fantasize about him, cuz he’s not a fantasy. He’s here with me in real life. He said he thinks of nothing in particular but sex when he takes care of himself. So he definitely is taking care of relieving himself as I always believed, but this is good. Better to get off by yourself than in no way at all, and I totally understand. Some of us just prefer to get off by ourselves. It’s easier that way, although his reasons are different than mine. He gets off by himself so he can’t risk impregnating me. I do it cuz he can’t know what I’m feeling. Only I can, and only I know what’s best and how to hit the spot just right that feels best to me. It’s much harder to tell a person how to do you than it is to just do yourself, cuz you know yourself and what feels best to you better than anyone else. It’s too hard to get off when he’s on the side and it takes forever, I can’t get off with him up top, and although to be eaten out is my favorite, that too takes some time because I have to keep on constantly telling him to go down lower, or up higher, or lighter, or harder. So, I may as well just save the orgasms for my own time alone, just like he saves 99% of his for himself to take care of.

So, since having sex with him just doesn’t feel as good as doing it alone, and since there’s no child to conceive motivating me, this is why I’ve come to be glad that he’s got such a low drive himself and that our schedules and busyness don’t allow us to be consistent with the sex. It’s just not something I look forward to doing anymore. I love to be close to him and to spend time with him, but the sexual part of it is not like a chore for me, but just a bore. Just something that I do and something I just go through the motions of doing. Since we both would rather orgasm on our own, I wonder why we even bother at times.

Later…

Thank God we don’t live several houses behind us. I was out brushing my hair and watching Tom, although I couldn’t see much of him since he was now at the front of the house when I heard this dog with an incredibly obnoxious bark. Worse than what the freeloaders had and maybe even slightly worse than the guard dogs, too, but that one’s too close to call. It sounded like the dog that the trailer people had. I still haven’t seen them in ages, by the way, but anyway, it had a whining, shrilly type of bark that’s between a cry and a scream. If that thing were just a few feet away next door, I’d kill those freeloaders for sure for having that right outside my window, then I’d set the dog free. I wouldn’t even wait the time it’d take to have them come out and investigate her having a dog she’s not supposed to have, then demanding she gets rid of it. Thank fucking God for her and for me that she can’t have a dog, cuz some subsidized situations let you have a dog. The NHA lets you have one dog or cat that doesn’t exceed a certain height and length.

If all dogs’ bark were like the one across the street, then they’d be a little easier to live with. The one across the street doesn’t bark much and it has a lower, softer kind of bark. That shrieking thing that I just heard, though, wouldn’t be able to be drowned out by fans if it were just a few feet away. Fortunately, though, it’s far enough away that you can’t hear it in the house.

Later…

The rest of this month is gonna be pretty tough on me. I’ve got the crotch doctor to see on the 23rd and Melanie to see on the 29th. I got up at 8 AM today. It’s too soon between now and the 23rd to flip my schedule, which I couldn’t do anyway with Tom’s working on the roof, and then it’ll be too soon between the 23rd and the 29th to flip it, so I’m gonna have to stay on days for the rest of this month. It’s gonna be soooooo hard.

The freeloader was in for lunch. It parked on the street since it’s not Sunday and the city maybe won’t do a spot check. I commented to Tom that the bitch must be home since Bill was not there and he was coming to have lunch with her, but Tom said he doesn’t think she was home cuz he seems to only come over when she's not here. Yeah, could be. Besides, this bitch knows enough assholes just like herself to give her rides. But why would the cock only come here if she’s not here? If she doesn’t want him around, and it does seem like they’ve been avoiding each other, why doesn’t she get the key back from him? And also, why can’t he go to his own place for lunch? Is it further away from where he works? Doesn’t she feel used by him coming to eat her food for lunch and to use her washer and TV?

Well, at least the black boy is behaving. It’s not slamming doors or banging bass. In fact, I wouldn’t even know it was here if Tom didn’t tell me. He’s the one that saw its car from the roof.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 16, 1998 Another day with Tom up on the roof. He said today’s going better than yesterday, but that if it takes till the weekend, fine. He had hoped to be done Tuesday, but since things take longer than expected, it may go till the weekend, but at least no rain is predicted all week.

I asked Tom if some of the roofing stuff will end up in their carport and he said yes, although he’s gonna do all he can to prevent that, naturally. I asked if he thought the bitch would run and try to have us served over it and he said no. She may not do that, but she’ll do something, although Tom disagrees. I’m thinking, though, we might be in for some more calls preaching racial harmony, although they’re gonna have to do that from a phone that they don’t mind us seeing the number to, like a payphone. So, maybe we’ll get some childish go-across-the-street-for-sex letters again.

The cock left right after the football game yesterday at 5:30 and there was no music or barbecue. Caddy kid’s on one of his absences, which is nice, but a spruce green car did bang by once. Other than that, it was a nice weekend, but as we get closer to the next weekend, I’ll be able to vibe whether or not it’ll be their turn to be heard. I know there’s to be a ruckus at least every 4 weekends or so, so we’ll see. They gotta put on some kind of show for me periodically to remind me they’re there.

I never did hear the bitch come in yesterday. Maybe she got in while I was listening to music, or in where the fan was on while reading, or after I’d crashed.

Later…

I was gonna go ahead and do some indexing of my '80s journals when I discovered 20 pages of journal 2 that I didn’t type up. How could I have missed it? Anyway, I typed and added that in.

I was surprised to wake up a pound lighter today when yesterday I had a TV dinner, popcorn, and 4 KFC chicken wings. As Tom said, maybe my body’s adjusting to not smoking. Maybe, but I’m still pretty sure I’ll stay at 115 pounds, give or take a few pounds, for a very long time.

Tom weighed himself too. He’s 213 pounds.

That dark green car just banged by again. It’s not as loud as Caddy Kid, but it still is way too loud. I can hear it long before he goes by the house. I can hear him while he’s still 15-20 houses away.

It looks like Tom’s not gonna be dismissed from jury duty, which won’t help with the roof work, cuz then he’ll have to take a day out of getting the roof done, just to go play court. That is unless he did get a dismissal notice that was delivered to N. 21 Dr.

No wonder this mailman keeps fucking up. I was wondering why he seemed to not give a shit. Why did he want to risk losing his job by being so careless with mail delivery? Well, as Tom pointed out and reminded me, he’s a government employee, practically invincible, and nearly impossible to get fired. So that’s why more mail is going to N. 21 Dr. I figured that he’d get written up and risk losing his job if I complained and that that would make him do his job right, but I was wrong. They don’t get written up. Somebody obviously talked to him, cuz we stopped getting other people’s mail twice a week. But what I didn’t realize at the time, like a stupid idiot, was that that’d only make him give more of our mail away and that’s apparently what he’s doing. I’d love to have a few minutes with this guy out front, but it wouldn’t do me no good. Besides, it won’t be the end of our world if we don’t get some of our mail, since most of it’s just junk and bills. I mean, I still don’t want my catalog I’m expecting to go to someone else, but if I don’t get it, I’ll just keep calling Ashton Drake till the mailman decides to give me one. We’ll have a PO Box when we move, though. Those are the best to have if you want to ensure that you’ll get your mail and your mail only and that others won’t get your mail, either.

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 15, 1998 The sister in the white car with the thick black trim picked the bitch up at 7:30 this morning.

Tom just went to pick up some more roofing shingles and so far, the project’s going well. Tom feels that the strenuous work is done and now it’s just tedious work from here. He says the bitch’s roof is really nice, but not over the carport and patio. He says that’s put on all wrong.

Tom told me that the guy had originally tried to deliver the dumpster to that lady on N. 21 Dr. and that she said she gets our mail, too. Yeah, I believe it. Fucking prick mailman! I shouldn’t have bothered complaining about him cuz all it did was cause him to cut down on giving us other people’s mail, but not from giving others our mail. If I had a choice, I’d rather get others’ mail than have others get ours. I’m sure he’s been giving a lot more of our mail to her too, since my complaint. People will concentrate more on spiting you and getting back at you, rather than saving their job. He obviously doesn’t care if he loses his job or not. Either that or he doesn’t think he can lose it. Some people think they’re invincible.

Later…

Tom just went on the roof for his first work session of the day. He says to call him down at 11:00 if he’s not down by then. He said he was glad to know that the roof replacement would be less time-consuming and less costly than expected, but that he has to work with this messy black stuff that he hoped he wouldn’t have to.

Still no signs of Tanner. I really believe she got out of the house. Well, if I’m as right as I appear to be and sense I am, I hope she’s enjoying herself out there. Still, I looked to see if I could find duties or chewed paper, but couldn’t find any signs of her around the house.

Later…

The bitch isn’t back yet. She might not be back till 1:00 or 2:00.

I constantly have dreams with Dureen and Art in them. Even before I ditched them I did, but now it bothers me more, for obvious reasons. I closed the chapter of my life that included these people, so I don’t need them in my dreams. And in these dreams, I almost never know Tom. I’m almost always single.

Thursday night it was them taking me out to dinner or to some kind of party.

Friday night I was single, in my own apartment, and dancing again, and I happened to live right near them. So I walked over to their place and you could tell they were still mad at me, but they opened the door and let me in anyway. We really didn’t say much to each other. Marty was there and so was Goldie. Ma sewed something for me. Then after a while, I got up and said, “Maybe I’ll come see you again sometime.”

Last night they left me alone. If they were in any dreams, I don’t recall them.

There was a dream with Tom in it, though. Yeah, a nightmare that woke me up. I was able to go back to sleep after a while, though. We lived in a big 2-story house with a wide front porch. Tom was upstairs. I had the front door open and thought I heard a footstep out there so I went to check. At the same time, I saw the guy standing off to the side of the front door, he saw me. He was in his late teens or early 20s. I don’t know what he wore for clothes, but he had boots on of some kind. He had longish light brown hair that was wavy. He said a couple of things to me during the course of the dream, but I only remember the second thing he said which was, “Looks like you’ve been thinking about me.” I reacted in utter fear and began running to the stairs with this guy following. I called out Tom’s name, but due to my fear, my voice was too soft. I had just hit the bottom steps and called out Tom’s name loud enough when I woke up.

My reaction in this dream, though, was way out of real-life character for me. I was terrified in the dream, but in real life, I’d be way too pissed for any fear. I’d be furious that a stranger was invading my territory, as I’m very protective of my property and stuff after having Dureen and people at the Brattleboro Retreat and Valleyhead fuck with so much of my stuff. Stuff that meant a lot to me. I’d have reacted with an inhumane kind of fury and I’d have probably pounced on the dude whether or not he was armed. I’d take my chances of being killed before I’d just lay down and let someone abuse me or my stuff.

What I wonder is, do they constantly dream about me, too? I highly doubt Dureen, Art or Larry dream of me constantly. I feel like it’s only me that has them intrude upon my waking thoughts and intrude upon my dreams, but I can never know for sure what’s in their thoughts and dreams.

I’m almost back to 115 pounds. As I approach my period, I’ll be more like 117-118. God, my body is so comfortable at 115! I didn’t have to eat much more to get back up here. As is the case half of the time, though, I’m fucking starving right after I just had a TV dinner. I may give myself a break today and eat whenever I’m hungry. I can’t do that all the time like I used to, though, or else I’ll be 200 pounds eventually.

Tom surprised me last night by telling me he wanted sex this morning. I didn’t think we’d get around to that till next weekend. I’m around mid-cycle, and I couldn’t believe it, but he not only didn’t use the bathroom before sex, I thought he was gonna cum, too. Unless he was acting, he was close. I thought his excuse was gonna be that he was too horny. The most ridiculous one of them all. That’s like saying you’re too thirsty to take a drink. It was that he was too sore from yesterday’s hard work, which very well could’ve been the truth. Yeah, I think he was telling the truth. Lately, he seems to be making a point of letting me know it when he doesn’t cum. As if the guilt of keeping quiet and letting me “think” he’s cumming regularly is setting in.

Those that can get hard can cum. It’s those that can’t get hard to begin with that can’t cum. Nonetheless, he seems content and happy and that’s what counts.

Later…

I absolutely don’t believe it. The cock’s actually parked in the driveway! I haven’t heard any music yet, but I don’t like this being in the driveway deal. It is the weekend, though, so the city’s not gonna check up on that house, but since I knew they’d kiss and make up eventually, does this mean he’s moving back? He’s out of here if he even thinks for a minute he’s moving back here, cuz I’ll be damned if I’ll go back to listening to his music or his constant door-slamming that went on 6 times a day for 5 minutes each. It ain’t gonna happen, Mike, so don’t even think of it. You come back here, you’re outa here! And I’m gonna go even further than eviction, I’m gonna lay his ass right out front here if he goes back to his old shit, so help me God! I’ll do it right in front of any kids that may be over there too, and show them just what happens to naughty freeloaders who don’t give a fuck about others and who harass and provoke people that never did shit to them in the first place. Cock, you better be just visiting or your ass is mine! It’s fucking mine for once and for all like it should’ve been nearly 3 years ago.

I wish this bitch and that nothing piece of shit she’s with would break the fuck up and stay that way like 98% of the couples in this world do, but fat chance. They’ll probably be together on and off forever. And even if she had someone new tomorrow, it’d be just like this little fuck. A bitch like that that’s that selfish and rude could only get someone just as selfish and rude.

The cock isn’t seeing its freeloader during the week too much these days, so it’s my wishful thinking that he’s here just to see the kid. I know better, though. It’s her he wants to see. Probably wants to get laid.

Later…

When Tom came down to take a break, I asked him if he heard the cock bang in, since it’s hard to tell the difference with all the banging he’s making from up there. He said he didn’t hear a sound and didn’t even see his car there. I asked him if he thought the cock was moving in and he said no. Also, I asked if he thought they could hear it in their house through their double-paned windows and he said not a lot. It’s all the hammering that’s to begin on Monday and Tuesday that’ll be heard as he goes to put on the new shingles. But then that bitch won’t be there to hear it. Bill will be, but I ain’t got nothing against him. He never did me any wrong.

Anyway, Tom said he’s 100% sure that there’s no way rainwater, no matter how hard it rains, will get into the house when he’s done.

Later…

Tom came down for a break a while ago, and a half-hour ago, the cock left. All he heard from the living room was a car door, but no engine. I, who was in the kitchen, heard nothing. Then it came back a few minutes later and neither of us heard it. Tom guessed that he was here watching football and doing its laundry since there was male clothing on the line out back. They only have a washer in their washroom. No dryer. The cock probably lives in an apartment complex and if it has laundry rooms, good luck getting a machine on a weekend. When I lived at the Vista, I never did my laundry on weekends.

Another reason why we could be so blessed to get all the way into mid-November without any ball games is cuz the basketball people are now on strike. Although this doesn’t stop a sick bitch from sending kids she knows to take over next weekend in the noise department and give us back a taste of our own medicine with the banging and thumping. Nor would it stop the little girl who’s about 10 and lives at the guard dog’s house from playing. She wouldn’t care whether or not there was a strike.

Later…

Eileen wants more computer work. Of course she does. The house is sold. Oh, how I get the urge to call her back and say, “Look. There’s no time for him to work for you for cupcakes. We have too much of our own work to do, so buzz off!”

The bitch should be in any sec now, but the wuss puss just left and it wasn’t alone. Some other guy was with him and one of them did have a bag that could’ve had clothes in it.

Yeah, he never would’ve come and gone this quietly if it weren’t for the city letters. At least I don’t think he would and I doubt he got a sudden trait of consideration, either.

Later…

Tom just came down for a break and says there are still clothes on the line. Maybe they belong to the teenage boy that supposedly still lives there. Or maybe the cock and whoever was with it is gonna return later for them.

I set up a trap in the back room, but both of us think Tanner got outside. Tomorrow I’ll set up a trap in the garage. If it’s triggered, I’ll have to open the trap up outside slowly in case it’s not Tanner, cuz Tanner will just sit there, but a wild mouse will come shooting out of that thing.

Later…

Cock’s back. I really, really hope that this hanging out here on weekends is gonna be a rare thing. His presence really bugs me. The more he comes around, the more likely he is to stay here. This is a pattern I’ve noticed before. I will get him out of here if he does move back. No doubt about it. But it’s a fucking hassle. Just another hassle in my life that I don’t need and would rather not have to deal with. Maybe they’ll get into a fight again soon enough. They always do. Anyway, I’m sure he’s got a few more trips to make before he leaves for the night. I remember his weekends here oh so well. He’d come and go at least 6 times a day.

Cleaning up after the roof is all done is gonna be a bitch! There are nails and bits of roofing all around the sides of the house, and when he just went to dump the solar panel into the dumpster, glass shattered all over. What a fucking bitch it’ll be cleaning that up!

Later…

The fluorescent kitchen light just died. Great. Just what we need.

Tom’s calling it quits for the day. As I knew it would, it’s taking him longer than he planned. Also, he thought today’s work would be easier than yesterday’s, but nope. That’s not what he says now. My biggest question is, will it rain on him and ruin what he’s done and flood our house? They say clouds won’t be rolling in till Tuesday, which is a typical day for clouds to come in. If it’s gonna rain, it usually rains on Mondays or Tuesdays. Some weekday, anyway. Even if it’s clear until Wednesday, what if the job takes him a week longer than he expected? He always overestimates things.

Later…

The bitch isn’t back yet and the cock’s still here. If the bitch came back while we were out getting KFC and Arby’s, I wouldn’t know it, but I’ll know it if she comes in while we’re here by the door slamming and possible yelling I’ll hear. Tom thinks the cock knew she had somewhere to go all day and planned on coming over to do laundry and watch football.

Tom said he saw the cock come in with food bags, so there might be a barbecue. They can do anything they want, they just can’t pummel my house with their bass, nor can they bang and thump for hours a few feet away from my house with a basketball.

Tom said that at least 3 houses were playing loud music, but I didn’t hear a thing. He said the people across the street had music going while they were cleaning up the place for the renters. He said he could hear people cheering on the Minnesota Vikings down the street and then the lady came out of the music people’s house where the band used to piss me the fuck off, and she yelled, “I hate the Minnesota Vikings!”

Blackie doesn’t want to come in to eat and meow. He just wants to meow outside.

It’s a hot one out there today! It’s close to 90º.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1998 Apparently, they rented the house across the street. They’re moving out right now. There’s a big moving truck out there now. Well, I’ll know as soon as the renters get here by all the barking I’ll hear. I know it won’t do me any good, but they’ll be getting a letter from me about it and more. Speaking of barking, I thought it was a pretty quiet day for barking yesterday when Tom did a little work on the roof, but he said that wasn’t the case. He said 6-8 dogs in the area were going off, but I guess that the noise from the air cleaner drowned that out.

The big dumpster came yesterday. It’s 22’ long and is almost my height. After the roofing stuff is in it, we’re gonna use this as an opportunity to ditch some big bulky stuff we don’t want, and I’d love to see that tree in front trimmed once and for all, but I won’t count on it. I just can’t get Tom to keep up on the yard work, but hopefully, I won’t have more than 8 more months of pushing him to mow and trim hedges and trees.

We made a schedule of work times for him today and breaks. At 9:00 he began working and I’ll call him down for a break at 10:45. Then he’ll go up there again at 11:00-12:45, then from 1:15-3:00, and 3:00-5:00. I was wrong in assuming he’s doing just the back room and garage area. He’s replacing the whole entire roof. He said we’re very lucky it didn’t leak in all the rooms since the roof is in horrible condition.

Later…

I was just outside and I didn’t hear any dogs, amazingly, since it is the weekend after all. It’s early still. I wish I could know that that bitch is trying to sleep in and can’t! But mothers don’t get to sleep in, and even if this one could, it’d sleep like a log. It’d sleep right through it with my luck.

Miss Bitch is gonna be awfully confused when she sees not only strange pictures in her little package but also a key. Tom had me ditch his ma’s old house keys and I stuck one of them into the bitch’s manila envelope. Every now and then I mix in senseless mumbo jumbo, of course, and I wrote something about enclosing the key to my heart and the key to my house.

I woke up at 112 pounds today. Wow. And I had at least 1400 calories yesterday.

Thank you, God, that due to him having a cold, then having this project with the roof, I’m not into sex with him anymore or wanting to hopelessly try for a kid. We haven’t had sex in a while and it’ll certainly be a while before we do, but my love for this man just isn’t sexual. It’s all emotional. So, it’s due to how I’ve become that makes the part-time, intermittent sex tolerable.

Here’s Andy’s first of what I’m sure will be many calls to come. If he’s gonna be a pest I’ll just ignore him. He needs to take care of his own problems over the weekend. I’ve got too much shit to do helping Tom, doing laundry, etc.

Later…

Well, he didn’t leave a message, but he let his name show up on the box, which means he was really hoping I’d see it was him and pick up, but can’t he wait and talk to me once a week? He’s such a pest!

Later…

An hour and 45 minutes is too long for him to be working up there, so we’ve cut down his time up there and lengthened his breaks.

He said he heard music coming from a house across the street that was about 3 houses away, but I didn’t hear anything. He also said one of the movers across the street asked him if he was having fun, but I didn’t hear that either. I can’t believe how quiet they’ve been across the street, but with Tom’s working, which sounds like people are basing by, it makes no difference.

Wait till I tell him Tanner’s missing. I don’t know if I lost her today when I changed the cages, or sometime earlier, but she’s gone. I prayed to God to let me find her, but as usual, I was ignored.

The moving truck’s gone, but there’s a pickup full of stuff out there still.

God, don’t compensate me for the peace I’ve had around here with dogs and kids, please! It’s true, though, that this is the longest stretch of peacetime around here. Ever since the cock left last July, with just an occasional ruckus since. A couple of bouts of music, some door-slamming, some voices, and that’s it. The only real constant nuisance around here is the guard dogs.

Later…

Tom took a break for an hour and went back to work a little while ago. I’ll be calling him down for another break at 2:30.

So far, no freeloaders have felt obligated to join in the ruckus Tom’s making, but if they don’t this weekend, they may very well take next weekend as their weekend to be heard. They wouldn’t want to be left out, I’m sure.

It’s been a very quiet move across the street. It wouldn’t have woken me up if I were asleep.

I’m surprised the pest hasn’t called again. Unfortunately, he’s got weekends off. The time I want to be bothered the least. He can’t sit at home and entertain himself. As he admits, he has no hobbies and hates to do things. All he likes is TV, music, pot and the phone. Food, too, but since he’s off the pot at this time, it’s food, phone, TV and music, but that’s not enough for him. It drives him up the wall to just be alone and listen to music or watch TV and he’s only got so much money to put into food. He’s got to talk to people cuz he’s lonely. The phone is his number one thing.

Tom’s not making too, too much noise, although he’s still at the back of the house. Let’s just say that the freeloaders may not hear him as well as I’d like for them to hear him. Remember, they also have double-paned windows.

I can concentrate just fine throughout Tom’s bopping around up there. I can tune it out and do what I’m doing with it being background noise just like a fan would be. I’m aware of it. Meaning, I know he’s up there banging around, but I can still carry on and do my thing. That’s the difference between some asshole out there that is deliberately trying to piss you off, and him.

I’m still not sure whether I lost Tanner today or earlier, but I have a very strong feeling I’ll never see her again and that she got out of the house. Part of being a rodent owner/breeder, though, is that they come and go constantly since they don’t live very long to begin with. Even though I’m used to not having pets for too long and am used to a lot of different pets coming and going, she will be missed.

Later…

Tom just came down and reported a white car came to get the bitch. Yeah, the sister usually gets her at this time of day on Saturdays. She’ll either be back in a couple of hours or late tonight.

Since I’m not walking anymore, I’m forced to do stomach crunches again for the sake of my lower back. That lower back pain’s back again where it feels like my spine’s being pulled apart. I didn’t realize walking was helping my back, but it obviously was. At first I was pissed about it since these exercises don’t do shit to flatten or firm my stomach, but at least they do help my back, so it’s not like I’m getting absolutely nothing out of doing them and they only take a few minutes to do.

This battery charger is really cool. I slip in the 3 batteries that go in my vibrator, and a red light lights up next to each battery. You know they’re recharged when the lights go out.

Tom thinks Tanner can get up the step that’s in between the back room and the rest of the house, but I don’t know. It seems a little high for such a mellow mouse. I’m surprised that of all the mice, it was Tanner who escaped. If anyone would get away, I’d think it’d be Bandit.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 13, 1998 Woke up at 113 pounds. Andy’s being a pest again, but it’s OK. I’d want someone to be there for me if I were in his shoes. He’s basically just tired and totally worn out, even though he loves being so busy. Keeps his mind off of pot and loneliness. He’s also fed up with a couple of people at Red Lobster. Why doesn’t he just quit Red Lobster? Isn’t his job of refilling meds enough to support him so long as he stays clean? Anyway, he’s to be calling me soon to bitch about it.

I saw Tom for a minute when I got up. He was just on his way out the door and he told me he left a message for me. In his message, he said he was 1000% better. This was a fairly easy cold for him, which looks like I’m gonna be very lucky to escape catching. If I had just looked at him from a distance when he had a cold from 1989-1992, I’d have caught it.

He also said that there’s a good chance the dumpster will be delivered before he gets home, so if I want to, but it’s up to me, I can tell them to put it in the front driveway (he’ll park in the back driveway, and it’s a good thing we’re on the corner) and give them the check that’s on the fridge. Yes, I can competently handle that.

At first I thought, what kind of shit will our rude neighborhood kids throw in it? But it’s a dumpster. They can throw whatever shit they want in it.

It’s only been 2½ hours since I ate, and I am fucking starving! Doesn’t my stomach know it was so recently fed? Anyway, I’m having tea and coffee to put something in my stomach, but I don’t want to eat again till around 9:00 if I can help it. I try to eat just three times a day. When I get up, then 5 or 6 hours later, then for the last time 5 or 6 hours later. It seems that whenever I drop below 115 pounds, I get so damn hungry. My body just can’t take it anymore being under 115 pounds, but that’s OK, I’ll be back to 115 soon enough. I believe I’ll be 115 for a long time. Like many years.

After critiquing myself in the mirror, I’m still fortunate enough to have a nice ass. It’s gone soft and it’s cratered, but it’s small and it’s not sagging. My hips have gone down, but my stomach and thighs would still be disproportionately huge even if I were 90 pounds. I feel the same about this face. What happened to this face?! It’s bigger now at 113 pounds than it was when I was in the 130s years ago. Guess part of it is age.

Later…

Wow. That was quiet for the freeloaders. There are usually at least 4-5 door slams and some talking or yelling when they all leave in the morning, but this morning, all I heard was one soft car door, then the engine started up. Bill and Mistake will be back shortly, which is no big deal. I mean, there’s not a lot of door-slamming. Nothing could be as bad as the slamming I’d get from that cock when it’d park deep in the carport. Oh, God! I wanted to go out there and slam his head sooooo fucking bad! I almost did, too. Several times.

Speaking of slamming heads, I may have to do so for Andy’s sake, but I hope he can solve his own problems, so I don’t have to have the hassle of doing it for him. I’m sure he’ll take care of it himself. He always finds a way to. If my kicking ass is the only way to help him, I will, even though God will make me pay dearly for it. A couple of guys at work are saying mean, cruel, hurtful things to him. These guys are gay, so it’s not like they’re gay-bashing Andy. They’re just telling him he’s so ugly and jealous, petty, childish shit like that. Andy isn’t as intimidating and as aggressive as I can be, so to these guys, that’s an invitation to keep on doing what they’re doing. As I’ve learned, sometimes kicking ass is the only way to get someone off of someone’s case, so let’s just let them hope I don’t have to deal with them, cuz if I do, they certainly won’t be bothering Andy anymore.

It’s funny to hear him, though, cuz he talks to me just like I talk to Tom. He goes from subject to subject real fast and on and on and on, and most of the things he tells me are things he’s told me a million times already.

He told me about talking to Marla, other family members, Stevie Nick’s parents, and so much more. Then he thanked me for being there for him and for being such a dedicated friend.

He was telling me he doesn’t want conflict with people nowadays. He just wants to live life in peace. We were talking about karma, too, and how what goes around really does come around. At least it does for us, anyway.

Andy’s life may have changed very little in the last decade, but he’s become a better person in a lot of ways. Before, all Andy wanted to do was pick fights, cut people down, and he basically had no empathy whatsoever for others who were depressed or having problems of some kind.

Speaking of Marla, I’ve gone and left one more message (this is the second in several months) saying: Hi, I’m glad Andy’s pot-free and happier, we’re fine, hope you are too.

If I don’t get a reply, I won’t ever bother with her again, but if she’s got a problem with me, it’s too bad she can’t come out and say so. I don’t see how she could have a problem with me, though. I haven’t done anything wrong to her or anyone she knows, so I guess she’s just busy. She is a mom and she works too, and doesn’t really have a life. However, if she doesn’t want to contact me for any reason, that’s her choice and her right, and I don’t want to have contact with anyone who doesn’t want contact with me.

Anyway, Andy said he really wants to stick out Red Lobster. He’s there part-time, and he’s with the pharmaceutical company full-time. He doesn’t want to run from his problems, and he needs the extra money. It’s an easy job for $100 a week. He’s really quite fed up with restaurant work, though, cuz it’s so much like being in high school with all the gossip and cliques and people pitting people against others. Yeah, I know all about it. Knowing Dureen, Art, and their son, sister, brother-in-law, and others was like being in high school all in itself.

Thanksgiving is on the 26th. So, what will Miss Bitch and her sick associates do? Will it be like last Easter? Or will she and her wussy pussy boy toy take off somewhere? Although, they ain’t getting along very well right now from what I know. She still has her sick cronies that are just as low as she is, so since people that are assholes usually get along just fine with other assholes, they should have no trouble getting together somewhere. God, I’d have to hate myself and have absolutely no self-respect whatsoever to hang with that black bitch. I know that type of person and the types of people that hang with people like that. The bitch loves to shit on her friends and they love to shit right back on her. Not only do they love shitting on each other, but they love to get shit on by each other just as much. It’s sick. It really is!

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 12, 1998 Well, I guess Bill’s back in the swing of things and so is the bitch. Just a few minutes ago I heard yelling between a female and a male, which I thought was the bitch and cock, but nope. The male, who I could barely hear over the bitch, was Bill. And since the cock’s obviously pissed off at its bitch at the moment, Bill looks like he’s taking the bitch off this morning. First the bitch loads up its animal, then they all leave, and Bill returns with the animal till they go get the bitch at the end of the day. I just saw the bitch slam one of the doors in a very angry fashion. Is this bitch ever happy? I’ll bet most of her fits and yelling are in regard to me. Yes, she’s naturally a hell of a mean, aggressive, boisterous, selfish, rude bitch, who doesn’t give a damn about anyone but herself, but I’m sure some of the yelling is in the hopes of me hearing it and being woken up by it. Well, take my word for it, you scrawny little sack of bones, if you were waking me up, you’d be outa here flat on your ass before you even knew what hit you! Your eviction is just a phone call away if that’s what it ever came down to, you little witch bitch!

It’s really too damn bad this bitch loves noise, cuz with the roofing adventure that’s about to come down, the whole block’s gonna be hearing it get torn up and replaced.

My ear is blocked. The good one, I mean. It seems that since getting the bad one fixed, the good ear’s giving me problems, but as a rule, most of us must be compensated like I’ve said a million times. I put some ear wax removal, some alcohol, and some peroxide in it, but it isn’t loosening up whatever’s stuck down there, so I’ll just let it work itself out in its own time.

Tom’s at the end of his cold now, which I’ve been fortunate not to catch. He’s mainly left with a bad cough.

Tom’s using the same dumpster service he used when he ordered a dumpster to clean out Ma’s house, and he’s having a dumpster delivered here between noon-3:00 tomorrow. This weekend’s when he’ll be tearing the old roof off, then Monday-Wednesday is when the new one goes on. The crucial part as far as rain goes is when he’s stripping the old roof and there’s nothing at all there to keep the rain out, but since it rarely rains on the weekends, he should be in luck and I hope God’s on our side and will help us help ourselves.

I don’t know if all the racket will draw the kid into ball games or what, but we’ll see. I wonder if they’ll think we’ve moved and that the city bought our house when they see the dumpster?

Andy called to let me know he’s so happy in life now and loves his new job. Whenever he’d get customers complaining of him being rude at restaurants, he’d get fired for it, but now, all he has to do is turn them over to customer service. His job is to refill medications, not answer questions, so when this woman was being all snotty to him, he did what he was told to do and he just turned her on over to customer service. So, he’s glad he doesn’t have to deal with these rude assholes.

Yesterday we went shopping and it was a fun day. I had great doll luck!

First we went to the bookstore to get some books. They didn’t have a copy of that book that was misnumbered, but the guy, who’s the same guy that’s always been there when we’d go there, gave me a credit slip for $5.50 and told me to keep the book so we could trade next time I go there.

Then we went to the Metro Mall which was closed, so we stopped at a fast-food drive-through to kill time. Then we went to Sears, cuz Tom had to replace something, but I waited in the car. When the mall opened, we found that they had no dolls, so then it was off to the Christown Mall where they had 3 really nice dolls. The best one there, which was Spanish or maybe even oriental of some kind, was out of my league at just over $400. There was another black or Indian doll that was nice, but she wore a hideous outfit. Then there was Bailey. Beautiful, long-haired Bailey for $283. Although yet another blue-eyed blond, she was so beautiful so I told the lady there that I wanted to check out one more store but may be back to buy her.

So then it was off to Dolls, Bears & Surprises to look at their large dolls. Obviously, neither the guy that works there nor the woman that works there knows much about what they’re doing, cuz the 28” dolls they had were $500. Not $300-$400. There was one large one that was OK, and a couple of other medium-sized ones that were nice, too, with nice faces, but they were all $500. He said in a month or so he’d have 36” dolls coming in from Germany that’d be $350. Well, this guy doesn’t always know what he’s saying when it comes to height and prices, and the woman doesn’t quite know her dolls either, cuz Patrice was there and I’ll bet you she was there all along. That’s OK, though, cuz I’ll have her sooner or later, but guess who else was there as a nice surprise bonus? Rapunzel herself! So I bought her, and now I’ll only be ordering one more doll from Ashton Drake. One more for a while, anyway, and I’m thrilled that my doll purchases are going as planned.

So, excitedly, it was back to get Bailey, but the gate was down over the store entrance. It’s only run by one person, so she obviously had to break for lunch or to use the bathroom, so we went into Walmart to look at their digital cameras which don’t use film, which Tom’s gonna be getting with his money, and we went into Radio Shack, too, but they didn’t have any.

By then, the store was open again and I bought Bailey. I couldn’t resist that sweet, angelic face and that long straight hair. I could’ve dropped the lollipop doll and gotten the Spanish one in the back of the store, but I said nah. And besides, she was a little over my limit cuz she wasn’t just $400. She was $435. However, I do intend to get a doll of some kind of color someday, be it black, Spanish, or Indian.

For now, I still have all blondes, but I finally have brown eyes which Rapunzel has. Her dress isn’t as bad as it looked in the catalog. It’s dark green with gold accents on the sleeves, in the front at the bottom, and in the flowers that are on the sides and bottom of the dress. I don’t know what you’d call the thing on her head, but it’s a combination of the same material that’s in her dress, and there are a bow and pearls too, that circle down over her forehead, with a diamond in the center.

They pulled hairs at the sides back into a swirl of curls at the back of her head that looks nice, and there are short curls that frame her face, too. Anne and Jessica have a yellow-blond shade of hair, but Summer Dream, Rapunzel, and Bailey have a darker blond. Especially Summer Dream and Rapunzel. Rapunzel’s was a bit frizzy when I got her, so I steamed it to smooth it down. It’s wavy, and if you pull it straight, it’s a few inches past her feet. Left alone, though, it’s to the hem of her dress, which goes down to her shoes, which are quite fancy. They’re black with gold circles. Although she’s about the same height as Summer Dream and taller than Jessica, her face and arms are thicker, which I like better. She may even be thicker than Anne. Jessica’s 14”, Anne’s 17”, Rapunzel’s 19”, Summer Dream’s 20”, and Bailey’s 24”.

Their prices in the mall store are weird too, cuz they had dolls smaller than Bailey that weren’t nearly as nice as she is, for $400 and up. She wasn’t in any fancy costume, though, just a sleeper, so maybe that’s why.

Bailey. Isn’t that an odd name for a girl? Sounds like a boy’s name to me, but it’s better than Gertrude. Anyway, Bailey’s not as big as I expected, but big enough. Standing up straight, she’d be 24”. Bailey doesn’t have a stand. She’s a sitting doll. She’s also the most flexible and realistic looking, next to Summer Dream. Her head moves and her arms and legs do too, but her legs are permanently bent at the knees. She’s proportioned really well, and her hands and feet look just like a real toddler. She came barefoot in light blue pajamas of light cotton material (1 piece), with matching light blue bows in her hair at the sides of her head above her ears. She’s my first doll who’s not wearing a dress, and this is two dolls wearing light blue and three wearing blue altogether that I have.

I polished her fingernails and toenails red. I’ve never seen doll eyes as real-looking as hers. In her eyes, you can see the flecks of colors that real eyes have. They’re not just one solid color with a black dot in the middle.

She’s got the best hair of them all which I do believe is human. It’s nearly to her knees. Her hair is straight and non-frizzy. I love it.

It’s hard at this point, to decide who’s my favorite, but it ain’t Jessica or Anne. I’d say it’s Bailey.

Jessica, Anne, and Summer Dream are in the music room now. Rapunzel’s got Anne’s spot in the living room and Bailey’s sitting on the recliner in the bedroom. When I get the three more dolls I hope to get, two of them will go in the music room to stand on the vanity with Anne and Jessica, and Patrice will be the one to stand in the bedroom, or maybe I can make room for her at the side of my monitor. Patrice is looking upward so I don’t want her up too high. Besides, if she’s up too high, you can see where her head attaches to her neck. I’m surprised her neck and upper body aren’t all one piece like Rapunzel’s and Summer Dream’s are.

So I’ve got Patrice on her way in December, I’ll probably order the lollipop one, and I’m hoping to get Edie with any birthday money I may get. If anyone beats me to her, I’ll turn the money into CDs, but we’ll see. Edie has that Spanish look, and the store still has two of her just like they did when I got Anne.

I can’t believe I already have 5 dolls and 1998 isn’t over yet! I didn’t plan on having my 5th doll till maybe mid-2000 if I were lucky, but after I get the next three I hope to get, I’ll probably take a break for a while. Yes, there are so many more I’d love to have, but they’re pretty expensive! Most of the dolls I’d want that aren’t from Ashton Drake are $400-$500. We’ll just have to wait and see how much money’s left over from buying new furniture for the new house. If there’s any left over, maybe I’ll get another big doll or that gorgeous pink, shiny southwestern wall hanging I saw for $400 marked down from $600. I plan to stop in a southwestern store anyway, for lamps and a few decorations to really give the new place that southwestern look in the midst of these dolls and pictures of pianos and stuffed animals and stuff that has nothing to do with the desert at all.

Later…

Yesterday was great for shopping weather-wise, cuz it was cloudy and cool. Because it’s always so hot and so sunny here, it’s a nice change to not be sweating my ass off and to not have the sun blaring in my eyes. It’s cloudy and cool today too, but the weather channel says it’s to clear up for the weekend, as is usually the case. This is the one weekend where I won’t wish it’d rain.

Tom’s feeling better and got some of the roofing stuff. He needs to get more stuff, but his car can only hold so much.

I moved Bailey out into the living room. She’s sitting on the speaker now, and Rapunzel’s on top of the TV.

I began scanning more family pictures and I may scan more. I figured what the hell, there’s room for it, and it’s always nice to have them backed up on the computer.

What happened to Andy? He leaves me a message saying how happy he is, then not even 12 hours later, I get a frantic message from him. Well, he wasn’t frantic, but he sounded anxious, depressed, and on the verge of panicking. I didn’t even know he left a message early this morning till a couple of hours after he left it. I was either listening to music or in the tub when he called, then I didn’t notice the caller ID box blinking right away. All he said was he thought I’d be awake and could really use someone to talk to. I called him back at that point but got no answer, so hopefully he took care of whatever the problem was, then went to work.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1998 The low-pitched guard dog’s going off now. What the fuck would be going on to stir it up at this hour? You know, sometimes I don’t think they have a reason to go off. I think they just like to go off for no reason at all.

Bill’s car is out of commission still. It wasn’t next door yesterday, and from the looks of it, the bitch and kid stayed home all day. If the city/state’s providing her with a training/work program, can’t they provide her a ride, and can’t they provide the kid with daycare? I guess not. But it’s not their responsibility to, either. When you go and have a kid, it’s your responsibility to take care of it and if you can’t even take care of yourself and pay for your own expenses, you can’t pay for a kid’s, and therefore, you shouldn’t have the kid. It’s not the city’s job to pay for those who are too stupid to have kids they shouldn’t have, and who won’t get themselves jobs and it really pisses me the fuck off knowing our hard-earned tax dollars are going to that bitch! That bitch is able-bodied enough and able to keep a schedule. She should have no excuse for not being able to support at least herself.

If the cock didn’t take the bitch or mistake anywhere yesterday, then what did it come over for? Maybe the bitch decided to call it quits with whatever she’s been doing, and he was pissed cuz she didn’t call him to tell him not to bother coming if that’s the case.

Enough about the lazy bitch, cuz guess where we’re going this morning? To the doll store I got Anne at! I hope to hell I find the big doll I want!! For $300 I’ll be damned if I’ll settle, but if none of their 28” dolls appeal to me, which is the height of their biggest dolls which range from $300-$400, I’ll go look in the mall again or wherever.

Tom didn’t have to work last night cuz of the veteran’s holiday, so he slept last night instead. He said in the message he left me that although he’s sniffling and coughing a bit, he should be well-rested for going out today and feeling well enough for it. At least the store’s open today. I called them yesterday to find out.

I don’t have a bad vibe concerning next door, fortunately.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 10, 1998 Began spotting on the 4th and had my so-called full flow today, but it was nothing. Already, my period’s ending, too. I had way more cramps for the period.

I called Ashton Drake for a catalog, and if I was told right, Patrice ought to be here for Christmas. The woman said something about them planning to have her shipped for the holiday, so I guess she’ll be here in 6 weeks, but they should’ve asked first if I wanted her shipped for the holiday. I didn’t want her for Christmas. I wanted her now.

Tom’s still sick but went to work. He said he’ll come home if he doesn’t feel well.

Later…

I couldn’t believe I woke up at 115 pounds after eating all I ate yesterday. I went crazy with the food yesterday. I just couldn’t fill up. No matter what I ate, I was still hungry. I had a TV dinner, two hot dogs, two bags of popcorn, two pieces of toast, and two ham and cheese pockets. At least 3000 calories! Today I’m only allowing myself a TV dinner, a bag of popcorn, and a can of soup. Although I’ve been sticking to 114-115 like glue, and although it’s not too much work to stay at that weight, I still do have to work at it. If I could suddenly be 100 pounds at the snap of my fingers, maybe I could maintain it as easily as I can maintain the 115 pounds after all. However, the trouble is getting there. I can’t get to 100 pounds to know if I could hold it or not. I could if I starved, but it’d take many days of starving to do it, so, no thanks. Even though it’s just 15 pounds away, no thanks. Too much slavery and too unnatural in this day and age.

Later…

It’s coming up on 7:00 and I haven’t heard or seen anything next door. She might be stuck at home due to her stupidity and irresponsibility in having that kid. If she can’t get anyone else to take her to and from school/work, and to watch the mistake, she could very well be trapped at home wishing she’d taken birth control 4 years ago so she could get on with life. I hope she isn’t stuck at home, though, cuz you know what that’d mean. That’d mean some of her lazy, jobless friends would be slamming over and doing God only knows what and I ain’t about to listen to it.

Later…

Well, well. The cock’s on the street now. Been there for about 10 minutes. Is he taking the bitch off? Taking the mistake? Waiting for someone? I’ll have to spy some more to see.

Later…

Whoa! Mikey, Mikey! Are we pissed this morning, or what? I thought I heard them yelling, but couldn’t be sure. Then some of what I just saw makes no sense. The cock yelled out something as it walked alone to its car. It was dressed up in black pants, a white dress shirt, and a tie. It had a gray wool cap on, too. This is the longest time it’s had the same car. Anyway, it opened the passenger side of its car, but I didn’t see anyone get in or out. Then it slammed it shut in aggravation, got into the driver’s side, took off a few feet, then backed up a few feet, opened and shut its door, then it left. Fucking weird-ass mother-fucker!

So, is both the bitch and mistake home? Is someone else coming, or what?

Later…

After the cock left, I haven’t seen anybody or any vehicles since.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 9, 1998 I fell asleep for a few hours after having to take Benadryl due to an allergy fit.

Tom said the mailman just left Summer Dream outside and said he didn’t see why he wouldn’t have, anyway. So she was here when he came back from the tracks, and I just had to be asleep. Patrice will come when I’m asleep, too.

When I got my email from Evie, I was asking myself if this was part of the breakdown Tom said she may be heading for, but who knows? All I know is that she sure did sound like my sister this time around. Let’s see, she had a fever, a bowel obstruction, the flu, and may have to have her appendix out, too. I think there’s more but can’t remember what else she said went wrong.

I sometimes send quick little emails to Tom while I’m online. I told him that I wouldn’t ask him again for the 50th time if he could write letters to my nieces but wanted to know if I could write to them and sign his name. See, this is what really pisses me the fuck off. Why can’t he just come out and say so when he doesn’t want to do something? Why’s he gotta go and make so many damn excuses?

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 8, 1998 There was no Saturday freeloader shit that I know of. At 10:30, just a few hours ago, I saw headlights shining into the carport over there when I went into the music room. I turned on the music room light to see if they’d see it and honk, but they didn’t. I didn’t hear any music, either. Just voices talking with no regard for anybody who might be asleep. Actually, they were a little softer this time around. I’ve heard them be much louder before. The car sat there for a couple of minutes, then left.

I can’t believe how long she and Mike have been together! They’re so different. Although Mike may be a selfish, wimp of a phony liar, he’s friendly on the surface. He politely shook my hand when he introduced himself to me and is basically uppity and nice. So what’s an aggressive bitch like her doing with him? Guess she wanted someone she felt she could control and manipulate. Just like domineering Doe wanting Art, who was always willing to be her puppet.

We had our cumless sex yesterday and yesterday’s excuse was one of his favorites - racy heart. Well, if he hadn’t gotten off in the bathroom prior to us getting together, and I just know he did, he wouldn’t have had such hard a time, but whatever turns him on.

I asked him why sex was so hard for him, why he panted so hard, and why his heart raced. He said that’s part of good sex. Gee, was it so good he couldn’t get off? Does he realize that nothing he says about sex makes a damn bit of sense? Not this, anyway. He’s still lying about the cumming regularly, too, but I know he’s only cum once since last April. I can feel when he gets off. Just about any woman can tell when a guy cums.

I would like to have a special doll display shelf someday. Obviously, if I have a 30-something-inch doll, she wouldn’t go on this shelf, but I envision two shelves that are about 5’-6’ wide. The top shelf will be about 18” high for dolls that are 12”-17”. The bottom shelf will be about 25” high for bigger dolls like Summer Dream, who’s 20”. However, due to her trailing bride’s dress, she’d take up space for 3 dolls, so she may not be good for this unless I don’t have enough dolls that need the space she’d take up. I would also like the back wall of these shelves to be mirrored. Then you could somewhat see the backs of the dolls.

Later…

I keep running in to look at Summer Dream, she’s so elegant and feminine, and that’s the sexiest wedding dress I ever did see! I figured I’d like her and Anne equally, but I don’t know. Anne may have nice long hair, but Summer Dream’s drop-dead gorgeous dress makes Anne’s and Jessica’s dresses seem like old, ugly, tattered rags.

Later…

Tom’s up now. He’s still not feeling well, but he’s hanging in there.

He said the doll was sitting out front when he got home.

I asked him why they’d break the molds for this doll in a couple of years and he said it’s to give it more of a collector’s value.

I made Summer Dream a gorgeous bracelet whose color totally goes with the pink and blue of her sash and flowers. I used a pearly melon color. Very tiny beads.

He reports no noise from the freeloader, and that he saw the cock’s car on the street this morning.

Later…

I just sent Andy a message answering a question of his. I sent him the message, rather than calling him directly. He said he’d be going to bed at 10:00, but with my luck, if I had called directly, he’d have answered, unable to sleep yet, then I’d be stuck on the phone with him for 45-90 minutes.

He wanted to know since he admits that pot really kills the brain cells, what kind of answering machine/service he had back east, saying he knew he had something. I corrected him when I left that message and let him know that when we were back there, there was no voice messaging service, I had a regular answering machine, but he didn’t. He had nothing. I’m not sure if they updated their system back east and got voice messaging yet. I think they did, though, 2-3 years ago.

Andy also says he liked the creative mail I sent him. I sent him the same sentence in different fonts. He said that as soon as he gets envelopes, he’ll check the ones he likes and send them back to me.

So, Andy wasn’t a pest for me, but Eldon was a pest for Tom this morning. I wondered if he wanted a computer job now that the house is sold, but when Tom was online, Eldon sent him instant messages asking how to delete a file. Tom told him over and over again how to do it, but I guess either Eldon was too stupid to do it, or it just wouldn’t work.

It rained earlier, but Tom said not to worry before he left for work, since he taped the wires to that outlet with electrical tape and cut the power in the back room. He only turns the power on back there when he goes to use his computer. Yeah, it figures it’d wait till Sunday evening to rain. It almost never hits the weekends.

For a minute there, I wondered if Tom was pulling my leg about having a cold (I can’t always trust his word since he lies about cumming) so he could get out of doing yard work and so he could use that as an excuse to lay around in front of the TV all day since he didn’t sound sick, but he says he’s not that bad and that sleeping most of the day helped him. He says if he feels bad at work, he’ll come home, but that it was probably due to lack of sleep. So God’s looking out for him too, by not letting him be a father.

We wondered if Blackie gave him this cold. For a few days Blackie was sneezing like hell and we wondered if he had allergies or a cold.

Speaking of cats, Tom’s gonna be thrilled to know that White Paws is back. I was right too, about why she took off for a while. She did have babies. She’s much bigger now than she was when she left. She’d come up to the door, but not in the house, so I stuck a bowl of dry food out on the patio for her, which she dove into right as I left it and went back in the house. I’m surprised she didn’t eat the whole bowl.

The dogs shut up earlier in the evening tonight. Like right at sundown. Well, last night was Saturday night after all. When more people are around like they are on weekends, that stirs them up more. They went off on the freeloaders when they got in at 10:30 last night. I say “they” meaning the 2-3 kids that live with that bitch.

Along with doing the roof, we’re gonna tear up the carpet in the back room. Underneath the carpet back there is a tiled floor. Unless the tile’s really bad, we’re not gonna recarpet that room.

I began spotting on the 4th and it’s coming up on the 9th now, so I should be getting my full flow by the 10th.

SATURDAY, NOVEMBER 7, 1998 She’s here! Summer Dream came today and she’s so beautiful I nearly cried!! There’s always that small, nagging worry that a doll will look worse in person than she did in a catalog, but nope. She’s even more gorgeous in person. She’s in the music room due to how she’s posed. Her head is turned sideways as this particular doll you kind of want to display mostly from behind to show off her beautiful backless dress with the floral sashes and bows hanging down the back from the waist. When we move, I’ll try to have things set up so she can be viewed easily from the back, front, and side. With the way the furniture is laid out in the living room, and due to the furniture’s size, she can’t be displayed nicely in there. Although I’d prefer her to be in a room I’m in most often, like the living room, she’s best off where she is in this house.

I’ve decided to leave her dark blond hair (Anne and Jessica have light blond) piled up as it is, even though it can easily be taken down. I looked and saw that it was not such a complicated hairdo after all. All they did was basically put it up in a ponytail on top of her head, then curl the ends and splay them all over the crown of her head. But I’ll leave it up for variety (that way I’ll have one with it up, one in braids, one with it loose) and taking it down would’ve covered some of the beautiful dress and the real-looking detail of her back, shoulders and arms. This dress is absolutely stunning. Its straps are off the shoulders and that’s where the joints are. Right where I broke my arm, actually, in the middle of the upper arms, so that you can swivel the arms and position them how you want. I was wondering how they hid the joints so well. On Patrice, you can see where her arms are attached since her dress has thin straps. Her arms attach at the shoulders as most dolls do. Can’t wait for Patrice, too! For now, I have Jessica and Summer Dream in the music room and Anne in the living room. When Patrice comes, Summer Dream and Jessica will stay where they are, but Anne will go in the bedroom, and Patrice will take Anne’s place standing in the living room on one of the stereo speakers.

Anyway, Summer Dream wears pearl earrings. There are pearl dots in her earlobes, and then dangling pearl drops. I’m surprised she doesn’t wear any necklace or bracelets, but she’s got a wedding band on, of course. The hands, which are shaped to hold her bouquet, have their fingers molded together like most dolls, and her wedding band, is just a half circle of gold that was glued onto the indentation of the ring finger on the left hand. I might make her a bracelet with my tiny beads. Her nails are painted red, but not quite as dark as Jessica’s (Anne’s nails aren’t painted).

Will you shut up! It’s coming up on 11:00 and that fucking beast is still going off. The high-pitched one is worse. Well, it ought to settle down soon enough, but again, these people are lucky I’m out of here in ‘99.

Anne and Jessica really do look like girls while Summer Dream really does look like a woman. I get dolls for different reasons, of course, and while I got Anne for her long knee-length hair, I got this one for its dress, since blue eyes and blond hair aren’t typically my thing. Her eyes are nice, though, as far as their shine goes. Instead of looking just shiny, they look wet like real eyes. I also like the hand-painted eyelashes better than the false ones they stuck on my other dolls.

I finally got something with pink, too! Yes, this doll’s bouquet is of pink flowers. I love the soft pastel colors between the blue sash and bows and the pink flowers.

Her shoes are white heels that are molded to her feet. They’re not real shoes you can take off and put back on like Anne’s shoes.

So it took her 3 weeks to get here from the day she was shipped. Tom was right. Parcel post is really slow. So if Patrice isn’t shipped till after December 12th, I’m probably not gonna have her till just after the New Year. She’s worth the wait, though, just like in the end, Summer Dream was worth waiting for.

I can’t believe this doll was only $92 and not $150-$200.

Like I thought I would, I didn’t get a catalog enclosed with Summer Dream, so I’ll call Monday and have them send one. Since Tom decided that we’ll probably each have $500 to spend after all our bills are paid, I’m hoping to find a big doll for around $300. Rapunzel and the lollipop doll from Ashton Drake’s catalog are each about $100, so I’m hoping to get those 3 dolls. Fuck CDs and clothes. I still may get some CDs, and maybe a couple more bigger bras, but I’m all set for winter clothes. All I really want, since I’m gonna be staying at around 115 pounds, is maybe a couple of sundresses and a couple of pairs of shorts and it’s not the time of year to go shopping for that, even here in Arizona.

I also want to enlarge my wedding band to my indefinite 115 pounds. I awoke at 114 today, though, to my surprise. I haven’t been gorging since it’s never been in my nature to do so, but I haven’t been eating just one bite a day, either. I’ve had to have been having around 1500 calories a day.

I scanned in Summer Dream’s certificate, and I intend to keep her papers, even though I refuse to ever sell her like the papers suggest I may want to do. There’s a winter, spring, and autumn bride, too, and according to this one’s certificate, the series ends forever in the year 2001 and the doll’s molds will be broken and no more porcelain will ever be cast. But why break the molds? If I was such a gifted artist/sculptor, I’d want to keep the molds forever. That was quite an ugly woman, too, who created such a beautiful doll.

I can’t believe how fast my doll collection’s starting off, but I’m psyched! By the spring I may very well have 3-5 more dolls! Guess that depends on what I get for my birthday. I’ll have to ask Tom if we’re gonna do Christmas with each other, at least, and if he wants to tell me what he wants, or if he wants me to use my imagination and pick out something to either buy or make. I’ll also ask him if he wants me to tell him what I want for my birthday, or should I let him just do what he wants? If he asks what I want, I’ll suggest that $30 Edie doll. They had two of them at the store.

I wonder if Tom was here when the mailman came with Summer Dream, or if he came and left her here before Tom returned from the tracks. I’ll have to ask him when he gets up. He’s been asleep since I got up at 7 PM.

She wasn’t as packed as I thought she’d be. She did have foam pieces as wide as the box she was in to steady her so she couldn’t slam around in her box, but only her feet and head had a plastic wrap. The wrap was actually a bag with rubber bands. Jessica, though, had layers of tight plastic wrapping. She was in her own box with her name on it that slid snuggly into the outer box that had their company address on it, our address, and the invoice. Her bouquet was in a bag and at the bottom of the box.

I hope her soft white chiffon dress doesn’t turn yellowish in time. They recommend dusting her regularly, but with what? A feather duster? A damp cloth? Maybe it’d be best to take the dolls outside periodically and shake their hair and clothes free of dust.

I plan to do some pricing homework on Monday. I’m gonna check out the home shopping channels and see if I can find out what company manufactures the dolls that they have on their doll shows, and I’m gonna call some collector’s stores to see what they’ve got, too. Tom will check online stuff.

Unfortunately, he’s got a cold. A little later than I expected, but it looks like his immune system is still not as strong as mine’s been since I’ve been out here. I hope he doesn’t give me this one. He used to get 4-5 a year, but I guess it’s now 2-3 a year. Well, hopefully it won’t last long and interfere with his doing whatever he needs/wants to do. I’m surprised he didn’t get it about 10 days from now when he goes to do the roof. Maybe it’ll rain instead. I’m also surprised he didn’t get it when I was mid-cycle, even though I don’t have a mid-cycle. He left a message saying that his throat got really sore at the tracks. He obviously didn’t win, or else he’d have said so, but I hope he had fun despite his sore throat.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1998 Bill’s car is still out there. At ten to eight this morning I glanced out right before I hit the sack and saw the car where it’s at right now, saw it again when I glanced out at 4 PM, and ever since 7 PM it’s been there. From the looks of it, it hasn’t moved since yesterday morning.

I gave my dog/cat mugs a vinegar treatment to get rid of the coffee/tea stains. It really works.

I’m not one to usually watch movies over and over again, but earlier I saw Stephen King’s The Dead Zone for what must be the 15th time.

I told Tom that I was thinking of hitting three birds with one stone and sending Dureen, Art and Larry journal excerpts on them when we move, along with the bitch’s, but Tom’s advice was not to and as I do eight out of ten times, I’m gonna take his advice. As Tom said, I’m gonna give next door the stuff in place of beating the crap out of them, but as for the other assholes, they haven’t been doing anything to me. No calls, no trying to get my attention, no trying to piss me off, etc. He said it’d be different if I wanted to send them a holiday card or letter. Hell no. I wouldn’t degrade myself like that. Anyway, they’re not worth the excerpts and they probably wouldn’t have read anything I sent anyway, and even if they did, it wouldn’t change a thing. I still want nothing to do with them. Not now. Not ever.

If I was shocked to wake up at 115 pounds yesterday, I was even more shocked to wake up at 114 pounds today. That’s because of all I ate yesterday. I had a TV dinner, a couple of bags of popcorn, and a burger and fries.

Tom took off some of his old stuff from my computer and did a backup on CDs. I got rid of some old stuff, too.

He showed me how to make subdirectories so I can have different screensaver groups. You know, like Norah in one, Gloria in another, etc., but I was too stupid to remember how to do it on my own and in the midst of things, I lost one of my favorite pictures.

And now I can’t print out the fucking grocery list, either. I went to print, then aborted it cuz I hadn’t run it through the spell checker yet, but it wouldn’t let me move on. I tried to purge the print job, but it was determined to save it after telling me I could delete it. Who knows when Tom will be up to help me, though?

Later…

Well, Tom couldn’t get to trimming the front hedges, since going to the bank and all that took longer than expected, but on the bright side, there’s $6,000 in our account. We’re gonna pay off our bills, then have fun with the rest. That fun may include getting the big $200-$400 doll that I didn’t think I’d get till we moved, along with some clothes, since I’m definitely, definitely gonna stay at 115 pounds. I’ve been at 115 since the beginning of August, so this is where I’ve leveled out at and where my body feels it needs to be in this day and age. I could still get down to 100 if I starved, but I’d have to starve many days in a row, and as soon as I began eating again, I’d go right back to 115, so it’s not worth it. Here’s where I’ll stay. It’s better than 124. guess I don’t need to walk in order to have a little bit of metabolism function these days either, cuz again I woke up at 115 after having a TV dinner, popcorn, soup, and cheese puffs.

Tom went to bed at 7 PM and I’m to get him up at 3 AM for the sex he says I owe him. Why? So he can get hard and suffer till he’s alone and can empty himself out? God, how can he stand it?! On the other hand, I’m beginning my period, so he may feel comfortable enough to get off, but comfortable is the keyword. As long as that’s what he is; happy and comfortable.

Speaking of money, Mary won $2,500 gambling. Of course she did. She doesn’t need the money. See, it’s not that God helps those who help themselves, it’s that God gives to those who don’t need, and he takes from those who do need. Same with the wants.

If there’s ever a time I wish that Tom was an only child, it’s now. If we were getting that entire $31,000 check, we could move now! Tom said that if he had been an only child, he’d have a whole different personality and I might not even have liked him since things are all intertwined. Maybe.

So, what’s Mary gonna do with this money she won? She’s gonna get a new hard drive that Tom has to be the one to install. I knew people would want this and want that as soon as that house sold, but I’ve already accepted the fact that sometimes, others are gonna have to come first. Since I’ve come to accept and be used to and even prefer taking care of myself sexually, it doesn’t bother me as much as it used to, but when too many things come up and they need this and they need that and our shit doesn’t get done cuz of them, I get pissed. I just wish he’d finish more things he starts. He almost never finishes a project he starts and if he does, he puts it off for quite a while before finishing it. Nonetheless, Tom says he is gonna tackle trimming the back and front hedges, and he’s gonna take care of weeds and the tree out front. These things, fortunately, are gonna slow down in growth for a while. They don’t grow as much in cooler weather.

I’m glad we’ll be keeping our land, when we move, in its natural state. Tom’s great with handling money and bills, and with fixing things that need fixing ASAP, but he’s lousy with keeping up with yard work.

I still haven’t gotten my doll and I hope he’s right when he says it’s not misdelivered, cuz with this mailman you never know what to expect. It’s hit or miss with him, although since I bitched he hasn’t given us tons of other people’s mail and hopefully, not too much of our mail has gone to other people. It took 5 complaints, though. If Becky addressed the letter she said she sent me correctly, then someone else got that one for sure.

Tom says Evie’s not stable and never really was to begin with and that she’s been complaining of more problems since having her gallbladder removed and wonders if she’s heading for a breakdown. We’ll see.

The cock came to bring the bitch back yesterday afternoon and to pick it up this morning. Bill’s car sat where it’s been sitting till 5:30 today, then it was towed away. I heard its engine start, but then it sounded funny, so he’s obviously been having trouble with the car. That explains why the cock’s showed up more, too. Probably to help Bill with rides and look like a good guy. At first I wondered if Bill had moved in while Tom suggested that maybe they fumigated his place. I decided that if he moved in, though, I wouldn’t report it, since Bill’s never been any trouble. I wouldn’t have reported that cock being here either, had it kept its music out of our house.

Tom straightened out the printer problem I had yesterday and helped me build some subdirectories of pictures. I’ve got 11 different groups. That’s how many color schemes I’ve got. So each week, I’ll rotate colors and pictures. My wallpaper will stay the same, though, with all the pictures. I forgot about making directories for regular screensavers, but I don’t know how I’d go about doing that.

Later…

What the fuck’s got one of the guard dogs stirred up at 11:15 at night? Well, it is the weekend, so perhaps the freeloader’s got company? I didn’t hear any car doors, though, and I don’t feel like looking. The dryer’s going now, so it drowns it out, but I guess it only went off for a minute. When those fucking dogs go off at this time of year, since sounds are louder when it’s cooler cuz cooler air’s thicker, it can be heard loud and clear in every single fucking room of this house.

Come to think of it, I haven’t heard the old man’s dog across the street in ages.

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 5, 1998 I spoke with Andy for 45 minutes (after he said he didn’t want to talk long). He’s about to hit the sack. He gets up at 5:30 in the morning now.

He got into one of his talks about God, Adam, Eve, Judgment Day, etc., but it was kind of my fault for leading him into this discussion, and once he hits upon this topic, he goes on and on. During his chat, he told me that God shits on those who believe in him. Oh, how lovely of him. Yeah, that’s something God would do.

His roommate Laura has moved out and into her boyfriend’s place, but they’re still friends. She’s been generously helping him with finances.

He’s still clean and he loves his new job. I’m happy for him and proud of him for finally doing something as far as a career change goes, rather than talking about it.

He said David’s looking for a job change too. He was a welder by trade, but lately, he’s been working in some shipping and receiving company, but is thinking of going back to welding.

Judy made him and David an incredible offer. If they get that cottage at Hawk’s Nest beach, it’s a year-round cottage, and Judy said he and David can live there. The catch is, though, that they’d have to share it with the family in the summer, so for 3 months out of every year, there’d be a shitload of people coming and going.

Andy said that if he and David don’t work out, he’s still gonna stay there, but doesn’t know if he’ll stay in Connecticut or Massachusetts.

I made Melanie a Christmas card. I didn’t make the card, actually. The card was one of the ones the Humane Society sent. I printed out a drawing I did of 3 dogs on the front and wrote her name. On the back, I printed out a floral drawing of mine, and one with a cat, too.

My doing this inspired me to print pictures and drawings out on the backs of envelopes that will be going to Tammy and Andy.

On Tammy’s stationery, I used that program that lets me insert picture borders. I can use pictures that come with the program or I can customize it by using my stuff. I used a drawing of mine, one of our wedding pictures, and a picture of Tammy in high school. I did up 8 envelopes for Tammy, and she ought to love one of them! I don’t know what went wrong on this one, but all that printed out was garbage. Just a bunch of senseless letters, numbers, and punctuation like a scientist’s lab formula. By it, I wrote, “Oops! I really screwed up this one!”

For Andy, I sent him the same sentence - were you just thinking that the rooms were all on fire? - (our famous sentence for 1989-1992), and they were all in different fonts. The ones that are complete and that I’d be willing to use. I skipped the ones that are super hard to read. Anyway, I asked him to put a checkmark next to the ones he likes and feels are legible enough, then send me back the papers.

From now on, the journals I print out are gonna have pictures bordering their pages. Pictures of family members, animals, celebs, journal covers, etc.

Still haven’t gotten a reply from Marla. Was it something I said? Or is she just that busy? Well, I either hear from her or I don’t.

I wouldn’t know it if Alex realized he didn’t add me to his email list when he went to block out junk mailers and has tried to get in touch with me, cuz I didn’t bother to put him on my list.

I’m definitely not gonna shit tomorrow. Maybe not even the next day. I shit 3 times today!

Later…

What the fuck is Bill doing here at 8:30 at night? What, is the bitch doing something at night now, too? Joebitch, you’re gonna wear your poor daddy out! Maybe she got arrested and is doing a little jail time of her own.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 4, 1998 I blew it today with the starving. I had a TV dinner and some popcorn. Hopefully, I’ll be able to survive the rest of the night on tea and water.

I was surprised to wake up at 115 pounds, though. I thought I’d wake up at 117-118 since yesterday I had two hot dogs, a TV dinner, popcorn, and soup. The popcorn and soup alone were 900 calories, 300 for the TV dinner, and about 550 for the hot dogs, and that excludes what I had for drinks.

I printed out pictures of Cocoa, Ziggy, Tanner, Patch, Ratsy, and Measles for Mom, Mary and Dave to see. Evie and company got to see them already.

Tom took Ma to an EEG appointment today and tomorrow he’s gonna take her again for another appointment, cuz Mary’s still out of it. The poor girl went through a lot of pain having her gallbladder out, and now she’s in a lot of pain with the thyroid. They said that when they took out her thyroid, it was loaded with tumors. They may or may not have been malignant, but they didn’t want to leave it in even if they knew that they weren’t cancerous, cuz they could become cancerous in time. Tom will be able to get her to her appointment tomorrow with no problem since he’s off till Sunday evening. Then he’ll be off again on the 15th-18th.

This year there’ll be no Thanksgiving or Christmas get-together since Evie and Mary are having too many problems right now and since Carol and Steven are in California, Nora and Ray are too stupid, and there’s no way we want to entertain a houseful of people. It also looks like we’ll be skipping the Christmas present routine too, but we might make a shirt for mom or maybe a pillowcase with a picture of mom and dad on it. And we’ll reattempt the shirts for Tammy and the girls. I’ll be sending Christmas cards to Mom, Mary and Dave, Evie and David, and Andy.

Another routine change next door today. At 4:00 I heard Bill’s car leave, then at 5:30, what appeared to be a light gray or blue car pulled up. Out came the little clown that’s always lived there, and then out came a girl of about 8-10 years of age too. Who are all these kids? Are these supposed to be the nieces and nephews I was supposed to have told that they can’t play here? Anyway, the car left shortly after, but I couldn’t tell if the girl left in it. This looked like the same car that was picking her up in the mornings, so maybe Bill went to where she was, dropped the clown off with her, then maybe the blue car came to bring her and the clown home, then the girl freeloader visited for a few minutes, then left. Who knows for sure, but I have a theory. I think that whenever her cronies are doing jail time, she takes in their kids till they’re released.

Ratsy got up to see me a little while ago and he’ll be getting up again soon. I really love this rat. He’s a combination of the mice and the pig. The pig only likes to cuddle and the mice only like to explore, although Ziggy does like to sit with me, but Ratsy likes to do both.

I got up at 3 PM today and shortly after, Tom came home. He said he thought the doll would get here today for sure, but it didn’t. I think it was misdelivered, but he thinks this mailman’s lazier than most and just hasn’t gotten around to sorting and delivering his parcel post packages yet. Well, Tom’s gonna call them if there’s been no withdrawal from our account by the end of next week. Last he checked, they hadn’t even taken a payment yet. I either get them or I don’t, and if I don’t, I’ll just use that $200 to get dolls in the store I got Anne at. Or was her name spelled Anne? Whatever.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 3, 1998 Still no fucking doll! What’s taking so long? Was it because I was awake when the mailman came around today and God really wants me asleep when the doll comes?

Last night I ended up being up for 21 hours. Finally, I took a Benadryl. Why am I constantly up 18 or more hours? This is why I could never handle a job or a child. If I had to be up at the same time every day, I’d be getting 3-6 hours of sleep every night and it’d eventually kill me.

I gained a few pounds from eating a TV dinner, popcorn, soup, and those fries yesterday. Again, that would never put a few pounds on me back when I smoked. Today I’m not gonna worry too much about it. I’ve had a TV dinner and some popcorn, and I may have soup later, but tomorrow, it’s back to starving again. I’m gonna have to not eat every other day to maintain my weight. This is fucking ridiculous. It’s getting harder and harder to maintain this weight and I’m getting more and more tempted to forget it. Am I gonna eventually be able to only eat every 2-3 days in order to keep my weight steady? Just like how I’m gonna cut my hair someday, cuz someday I’m gonna need a break from it, I’m gonna totally forget about keeping my weight where it’s at. It’s just too much work, so I’ll give in eventually and just take the 20-100 pounds I’ll gain when I do.

Gloria Estefan Live by Request is taping now. I took a quick peek at one point and was surprised. She looks better than I thought she’d look. She’s not skinny, but she’s not fat, either, and she’s singing pretty well, although I could still do better for the most part. When I’m not congested, that is. It pisses me off that God just won’t let me fully use my voice. I may not wheeze like I used to, but I still get tight and I still have congestion. I still have times when I have to stop and clear my throat, and it really pisses me the fuck off. I feel like God’s teasing me with this gift and like he’ll only let me use it so much, and I just wish he’d either let me use my voice free of congestion or just take it away. I’m tired of the conditions that have to go with everything wonderful. I can have this great guy, but he has to have a freaky dicky and lie about it.

He still insists he’ll do whatever they request of him for testing, that he’ll love me no matter what, and that he’ll support whatever decisions I make. I believe the last two, thank God, but I still can’t see him willing to participate in the testing.

On the other hand, his cumming is totally in his control, so maybe he will let them have his cum, then go back to rarely cumming in bed. Remember, there is no such thing as a guy who can get hard, but not cum. You either can’t get hard at all and therefore you can’t cum, or you get hard and cum. He chooses when to cum. So maybe he will choose to cum for the testing. We’ll see. I suppose that’s still a way away yet. If it took months to get a GYN appointment scheduled, I’d think it’d take another few months to get the testing scheduled, and a few more to get through the testing, unless something does come up to prevent testing or I change my mind, so if I can get any answers, you’re talking around the time we move. But will we move in June? Or will it be August or September?

No kids came out to play after dark or at twilight. Also, Bill’s bringing his sick daughter home from work, but who knows who’s picking it up afterward? As soon as I’m up at 6:15-7:45, I’ll know.

Later…

OK, I saw the Gloria show. I basically scanned through her singing her songs but listened to all the requests and all that. I’m surprised she didn’t bring her daughter on stage, but Emilio came out at the end. He’s getting old and gray. Anyway, the people who called in requested the songs I figured they’d request, and I got a kick out of a couple of those requests that I know had to be staged. Whoopee Goldberg called at one point, then Gloria told the guy who was her host that she’d be right back, went off stage, then requested a song with an English accent. She’s also supposed to have a small role in a movie with Meryl Streep that may be out in about a year, that’s got to do with keeping music in the schools.

I’ve got some shocking news about Andy. He’s keeping his Red Lobster job as a hostess but is only working part-time there now. That’s all he could get from them anyway. From 7 AM-4 PM Monday-Friday he’s now working a job typing into computers pharmaceutical orders. He had his first day of work at this new job today and loved it. He swears he’ll never wait on tables in Arizona again, but I still say he won’t go back east. I’d have to see it to believe it.

He’s also been clean for nearly a week now, so I’m quite happy for him.

MONDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1998 I really hope a ball game isn’t about to erupt cuz I’d really like to write, although the air cleaner may drown it out well enough. Well, maybe not. The two kids I can see right now who are screaming at the tops of their lungs are playing badminton in the street. In the fucking street. That’s so fucking dangerous and stupid. These things should be played in their backyard. Fuck! Now here’s a boy with a basketball. Thank fucking God it’s getting dark out.

OK, I watched them for a few minutes and that was a Frisbee and not a basketball, but oh my fucking God! These kids, and now I realize that they’re the same ones that I saw playing in the middle of the street at night a few nights ago, are associated with the Lopezs. Tom said he guesses there are 3 kids in that household. No fucking way. These are definite Mormons. I know they do daycare, but I highly doubt that at 6 PM these kids are other people’s kids. There are at least 5 of them screaming in back and another 5 up front. They’re darting in and out of the street and they’re playing on people’s lawns within a 3-house span on both sides of the street. As soon as they hit our lawn, which they came close to doing, they’ll be hearing from me. What is it with kids playing in the streets and on other people’s lawns these days? When I was a kid I may have played next door on my grandparents’ lawn, but I never played on people’s lawns who I didn’t even know, and I didn’t play in the middle of the street unless I was on my bike, even though our dead-end street was pretty dead.

It sounds like they may have gone in. Now it’ll just be the dog’s noise for another hour or so. These people are really fucking lucky they’re not next to me!! Sometimes, though, with all the screaming and barking, they may as well be next to me. They were playing in next door’s yard. Why can’t they play in their own yard? Maybe because of the guard dogs, their space is limited in the backyard. I didn’t hear those dogs at all on Halloween night, and you know a pin dropping 8 blocks away will stir them up, so I’ll bet that if there’s one night a year they pull them in or at least muzzle them, it’s that night. Too many people out. Too much risk. Guard dogs aren’t like ordinary house dogs that protect just their territory. They want to go after you even if you’re not on their turf. So, it’s risky to leave them out with all the people walking by, even if they were walking by on the other side of the street. The dogs could still smell and hear them, and you wouldn’t want to have the dogs bust loose on that many people. I’m surprised they cared enough to pull the dogs in in the first place. They also probably figured all that loud barking would scare away the little trick-or-treaters. That’s if they gave out candy.

Thank God it’s getting darker later. It helps. Somewhat.

I wasn’t up this morning to see if the cock came for the bitch or not, but the end-of-the-day routine changed a bit today. At 3:00 a white car pulled in and out. I only saw the outline of someone in the driver’s seat, but that’s it. Then at 5:45 I heard car doors, but didn’t feel like looking out at that time.

Got an email from Kim and Evie.

Didn’t get my doll today. I’m so sick of waiting! Tom said, “I told you Tuesday would be more likely than Monday. With parcel post, it can just sit in a post office in the town it was shipped from for a week. That’s why they use parcel post. It’s cheaper.”

So it’ll get here not while I’m out, but while I’m asleep. I doubt I’ll be up before the mail gets here, but I could be. If not, though, he will be.

My weight was at an all-time low today at 111½. I could wear my jeans and jeans jacket again and it was nice to be able to fit into some things I couldn’t fit into for a while. I had a TV dinner and popcorn yesterday. Today I had a TV dinner, soup, and a small order of fries at the drive-through we stopped at, and later I’ll have some popcorn. This way I won’t be stuck for too long, but come tomorrow, it’s back to either having nothing or just a TV dinner.

Once again, I had to have seen at least 3 pregnant teens on the streets as we were going to and from Melanie’s. I may not want a child of my own, but this is sick! What have God and society come to? These kids should be in school. Not pushing their kids around in strollers on the streets. All blacks and Hispanics, as usual. Does anyone in their 20s or 30s have kids anymore? I kind of think 20s is too young, but I swear, if it’s not in your teens that you have kids, it’s in your 40s that you have kids. Teenage pregnancy is so fucking common now, that I’ll bet a teenager that doesn’t have a kid is considered an oddball.

It makes me wonder about Lisa. Is she gonna get pregnant any day now? It’d be the norm. Guess that depends on how closely God wants to shape our lives. There are a few things we don’t have in common, but not much. So, if she’s just like me on that issue, too, God won’t allow her any kids. I know Becky will be a mom, though. If any of those kids are destined for motherhood, it’s Becky. She looks like a mom already. She totally has the looks God likes for that.

Anyway, seeing Melanie went fine. Oprah came out and said hi to me as she went to get someone else before Melie came for me. She moved the bracket since that tooth’s moving down and over really well. Something just hit me - you have a retainer after you have braces on your upper teeth, but what about your bottom teeth? I don’t see how you could wear a retainer down there with the tongue in the way. Yeah, we talked about those bottom teeth. I asked her what she’d recommend, and she said she’d do it; get them straightened out. She said I wouldn’t have to come in all the time since this wouldn’t be trying to nudge an impacted tooth into place, and that it shouldn’t be as painful. However, I will have the irritation at the beginning that I had with the top teeth. I told her that’s a pretty high tolerance to put up with me for longer. She said I could start anytime with the bottom teeth if I want to, and that the kids she has to deal with really irritate her. They come in with 6 broken brackets cuz of eating the stuff she tells them not to eat. She lectures them about it, but it goes in one ear and out the other. Yeah, and I’m sure the parents do a good job of watching what their kids eat. They really care.

I asked her how many patients she has and she said she didn’t know.

So afterward I asked Tom if he felt she recommended it only for the money and he said no, cuz she gets paid a salary whether or not she sees me.

Anyway, now that I’m through the worst of the top teeth, I think I’ll tell her to get things going to nail the bottom teeth next time I see her.

This sure is the decade of fixing the things God fucked up on me, huh? I fixed the ear as best I could, the teeth, and I doubt I’ll fix the sterility, but I hope that Tom will cooperate enough so I can at least get tested. Again, though, I don’t see how they can refuse to test me just cuz he won’t let himself get tested, so I guess I should go in there with the attitude of not letting him stop me whether or not he chooses to participate. Only God can do that.

Later…

I’m going to be taking my tea into bed and read myself to sleep in a little while. I forgot to say that I woke up early today. I thought I wouldn’t fall asleep till close to sunrise, and therefore, it’d be a bitch to get up at 11:30 like I told to get me up by, but the Benadryl actually went back to knocking me out. I took one pill at 11:00 and by 12:30 I was out of it. I awoke at 8:30.

I want my doll tomorrow!!

[hajimesh]

𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙢 𝙚𝙛𝙛𝙤𝙧𝙩 — olympic team / fem reader

[ atsumu, sakusa, suna, kageyama, gao, bokuto, hinata, iwaizumi, oikawa ]

the stress of the first match seems to be taking a toll on the team's spirit, and you refuse to sit and watch them fail when you know you can be of help. but can you really handle all of them?

(or, where you end up having a gang bang with 8 professional volleyball players, and 1 athletic trainer)

⥅ word c. 7,928

⥅ warnings. sub reader, gang bang, foursomes, voyeurism?, fellatio, cum play, vaginal penetration, anal, unprotected sex, creampie, facial, size + stomach bulging kink, praise kink, mild degradation, double penetration, pussy job (for like, one second), double vaginal penetration, fingering, squirting, overstimulation, someone passes out, aftercare

⥅author n. brought to u thanks to this tweet + @kmorgzz​ who suggested adding iwaoi to the mix

special mention to my wife and love of my life, runa. @tsumue​ u had me laughing at 4am as i read ur comments in the google doc. i don't know what i'd do without u, tysm for beta and putting up with me for the past week ♡ 

ps. im v sorry if ur fave didn't make the cut (╥_╥) i added the ones im more familiar with, in terms of writing

if someone had told you you’d be attending the olympic games not as a spectator but as part of japan’s team, you’d have never believed them. but here you are, sitting in the same room with the most skilled players in the country as none other than their personal assistant.

“iwaizumi-san! do you think kageyama and i could pull off a quick attack right at the beginning of the set?”

“shoyo-kun, if there’s someone you’ll be doing the quick attack with it’s me,” atsumu’s eyes land on kageyama, smirking at the other setter from across the room, “right, tobio-kun?”

“you’re a disgrace.”

sakusa’s statement earns an offended scoff from the blond setter, the rest of the team rolling their eyes and sighing at the all-too-familiar scene.

“oi! we don’t have time for petty fights!”

after iwaizumi gets everyone’s attention back on him, he barely finishes explaining tomorrow’s match opponents and their plays without losing the team’s attention. he might be there to train them and make sure they’re on top of their game, but he knows when the team is lacking morale and, sadly, today’s one of those days.

the meeting is over and all of you go to the dining hall, fetching your dinner and sitting on your respective table with you right next to iwaizumi.

since you took that part-time job at the msby jackals, you quickly caught onto their small tics and tell-tale signs when something isn’t right. atsumu becomes a complete asshole which makes sakusa lose his temper sooner than usual. meanwhile, bokuto and hinata become very fidgety, often causing a bit of chaos around them as clumsiness radiates off of them.

when the national team was announced, you were offered the job as the trainer’s assistant—all thanks to the jackals who recommended you to their superiors for said position. your pay-check might say you’re just iwaizumi’s assistant, but you’re basically there to cover the needs of the entire team—all of them.

“iwa-chan!”

your head snaps to the side as a good-looking man takes the last free seat next to iwaizumi.

“aren’t you supposed to be sitting with your team?” iwaizumi asks him, taking a bite of his food while waiting for an answer.

the unknown man huffs exaggeratedly, rolling his eyes as he too starts to eat, “thought you’d miss your best friend.”

“hanamaki isn’t here.”

the stranger opens his mouth to reply, clearly offended by iwizumi’s words, when he notices you peeping at him.

“oh? hi! i think we haven’t met,” he shoots you a charming smile, bringing out his remarkably handsome features, “oikawa tooru, it’s nice to meet you.”

you introduce yourself, bowing at him and focusing back on your food.

both friends start to discuss tomorrow’s events, which inevitably brings out iwaizumi’s concern for his players.

“they seem off,” he’s playing around with the food as he stares at the players sitting in the table in front of yours, “i don’t know if i should talk to them or let them be.”

he’s clearly concerned for them, you can see it in his eyes—the doubt, wondering if he has been doing a good job with the team.

“iwaizumi-san, i-i… perhaps i could aid them this time?”

his head snaps in your direction, a mix of surprise and worry taking over his face, “no way, that’d be too much for you.”

oikawa’s eyebrows scrunch up as he observes you two but says nothing, choosing to listen attentively at you trying to convince iwaizumi while the latter sighs and reminds you that it’s not just the jackals this time.

it takes a while for iwaizumi to accept your offer, pondering the pros and cons, but he ends up accepting it; for everyone’s sakes.

“i’m lost.”

oikawa’s words make your insides flare-up, looking down at your hands in order to avoid looking at him, his curious eyes switching between his best friend and you.

iwaizumi ignores him, standing up from his seat and walking to the table in front of you with you and oikawa watching closely. the team turns to look at him, waiting for him to speak since it’s obvious it has to be something important by the severe look on his face.

“seeing as some of you are clearly out of it, our assistant here has very kindly volunteered to help you guys for tonight.”

a few heads immediately perk up, looking at you with bright eyes once you answer their silent question with a smile.

“please, be good to her. i’ll be there supervising anyways, so don’t think of trying anything funny.”

“oikawa-san! you’re coming with us, right?” hinata looks expectantly at said male, excitement clear in the redhead’s eyes, “she’s the best!”

both iwaizumi and you freeze on the spot, gauging oikawa’s reaction who only looks more confused.

“you’re welcome to join us, if you so desire,” it’s you who’s offering it this time, surprising iwaizumi and earning a worried glance from him.

oikawa can’t deny he’s dying to know what everyone’s so excited about, and after thinking about it for a few more seconds, he has made up his mind.

“shall we go, then?”

—

“alright, ground rules.”

just a handful of the team sits in the room, the ones who know what’s happening waiting eagerly for the green light while the rest wonders what the fuss is about. as much as you want to help them all, it’d be impossible; which is why iwaizumi picked the ones he thought needed the morale boost the most.

with a nod in your direction, he lets you know you’re free to speak.

“the jackals already know this,” you say and atsumu snickers from his seat, winking at you as hinata and bokuto nod excitedly, “but i’m not too strict about the entire thing.”

you can feel the pairs of curious eyes burning holes in you—trying to decipher what’s going on. so, after taking a deep breath and getting an awkward, encouraging smile from iwaizumi, you start voicing out the rules.

“please, be patient. there are so many of you and only one of me. i promise you’ll get your turn,” you give atsumu a pointed look, and this time it's sakusa who snorts while the blond setter rolls his eyes, “which brings me to the next rule, no seconds.”

a hand raises in the air, making you advert your attention to its owner. 

“i still don’t get what’s happening,” suna’s eyes narrow down at you, noticing the embarrassment and hesitation in your posture.          

“don’t worry, suna. we’ll show ya.”

“shut it, miya.”

clearing up your throat, you smile coyly at the middle blocker, “it’ll make sense once i finish explaining, suna-san.”

he shrugs but stays quiet. taking into account the jackals’ reactions plus the cryptic rules, an idea has already formed in his mind. but it couldn’t be that. right?

“uh, again, only one round. all entrances are fine,” you pause, going through the rules in your head to see if there’s anything you might be forgetting, “oh! and you’ll be paired up in teams of three to make things faster.”

“one more thing,” iwaizumi speaks up, this time looking at you instead of the awaiting men, “don’t forget to let us know how you’re doing.”

two loud claps break the tense atmosphere, “well, we should get started then,” atsumu raises from his spot and walks towards you. his hands cradle your face between them and lift it so you can face him properly, “what do ya say, princess?”

his lips land on yours before you can reply to him, a small squeal getting stuck in your throat when his hands travel down your body until he’s squeezing your ass.

you’re too caught up in the kiss to notice the new presence looming behind you.

“i’ll take your pussy before anyone can taint it with their dick.”

sakusa’s words make you shudder. you break apart from atsumu’s mouth to turn around and face him, his dark eyes alluring and drawing you towards him.

“oi, newbie,” atsumu calls out to suna who scoffs in return, “c’mere and join us.”

meanwhile, sakusa guides you to the bed, making you sit on his lap as you wait for the other two to show up. once they do, atsumu immediately settles behind you while suna stands awkwardly at the foot of the bed. it’s hard for you to read his expression since you’re not too familiar with him, so you offer him a reassuring smile and pat the spot next to you. 

the rest of the team watches from their seats as the four of you get started. 

suna lifts your chin, his eyes staring down at you before leaning down and kissing the corner of your mouth. he trails down your neck until he reaches your chest, sucking on the skin gently before running his tongue over the delicate area. in the meantime, atsumu unbuttons your blouse, taking it off and playing with your breasts while sakusa busies himself with taking your pants off.

“i get the hype, now,” suna whispers in your ear, blowing air on it and then biting down on your earlobe, making the hairs of your body rise.

his lips capture yours in a slow kiss —savoring your taste— and one of his hands goes to the back of your neck to keep you in place. his teeth play with your bottom lip, biting it softly and pulling away, his hooded eyes calculating your reaction.

“don’t get too excited, suna,” atsumu says from his spot behind you, pinching your nipples between his fingers and prompting a whine to escape your lips, “you’ll only get her mouth.”

“mhm, is that so?” suna’s question is directed towards you rather than atsumu, tilting your chin up and smirking at the dazed look in your eyes, “can’t wait to see that pretty mouth bulging with my cock, then.”

his lewd words earn a few coughs and clearing throats from the rest, which he chooses to ignore when your hand cups his growing bulge.

“enough you two, let the poor woman have a bit of pleasure too,” sakusa’s dark eyes look at you questioningly, silently asking if you’re ready to continue.

in return, you cup his face with your free hand and kiss his cheek—knowing he wouldn’t appreciate a kiss on the mouth when you just finished making out with another man.

they finish getting you out of your clothes until your bare cunt is hovering over sakusa’s lap. he’s quick to undress and ease his cock into you, suna and atsumu observing as they get rid of their clothes as well.

“fuck,” sakusa groans in your ear, the position allowing you to hide your face in his neck and wrap your arms around his shoulders, “always so tight.”

“scoot over, i need to prep her ass.”

suna snorts at atsumu’s words, pumping his cock twice before kneeling on the mattress—right next to you. he pats your cheek with the swollen head, looking down at you with a faint smirk.

“open up.”

your eyes immediately focus on his length, your mouth watering at the sight. you open your mouth and stick your tongue out, looking up at him and observing as he rests the tip on your tongue. 

“looking so pretty with a cock in your mouth,” he slowly slides in, guiding your head down until half of him is inside, “so warm.” 

a cold liquid dribbles on your backside, making you flinch forward and causing suna’s cock to slide in even more.

“relax, baby. it’s just me,” atsumu rubs the liquid on your asshole, playing with it with his finger before finally sliding it in.

your muscles contract involuntarily, making sakusa groan as he keeps still inside your pussy, waiting for you to grow used to the multiple things going on around you.

“hurry up before i start fucking her.”

a second finger slides in and you moan around suna’s cock, spit running at the corners of your mouth which reminds you to swallow. you hollow your cheeks and retract your mouth until only the tip remains inside, running your tongue over the slit and making the middle blocker shudder.

“someone’s hungry,” he muses.

you hum around him, bobbing your head back and forth and pumping the rest of his length with one hand.

“i’m gonna try get in now, okay?” atsumu taps your ass with his cock, lining it up with your asshole and thrusting in. he watches as the head of his cock finally slips in, groaning when the familiar tightness engulfs him, “that’s it, baby. doin’ so good for me.”

you have to remove your mouth from suna’s cock to avoid biting down on him, the stretch slightly more painful than pleasurable which eventually leads to you tensing up even more. 

“you gotta relax,” atsumu says under his breath, strained by the way you feel around his dick.

it takes you around a minute to calm down, taking deep breaths until you feel yourself loosen up and, with one last push, he’s finally inside.

“omi?” you say against his neck, “could you move a bit, please?”

said man grunts as he starts to move his hips, your slick helping his cock glide in, “color.”

it takes you a few seconds to understand what he meant.

“oh! uhh, green.”

atsumu’s thrusts are slow —testing the waters— since the last thing he wants is to get yelled at for being too rough, too soon. but you’re growing impatient, moving your hips backwards and trying to get more of him inside of you.

“m-more, ‘tsumu. i can take it,” you say and he immediately complies, his muscular thighs now slapping against your ass.

suna remains kneeling next to you, cock in his hand as he waits for you to bring your attention back to him. but he doesn’t have to wait too long, your hand wrapping around his cock and guiding it back into your mouth once you’ve set a steady pace with the other two men.

“thought you had forgotten about me.”

he pushes your hair out of your face, watching your lips wrap around his girth. it’s taking all of his willpower to not hold your head and fuck your face until you’re gagging around him, afraid it might be a big ‘no’ from you. and since it’s the first time he’s getting to experience this, he decides to take whatever’s given to him.

“you’re so wet,” sakusa points out as he looks down at where you two are connected, observing his cock slide in and out of your cunt, covered with your slick.

“‘course she is, she’s being stuffed by three cocks.”

“feels good…” your manage to say after releasing suna with a pop, pumping his shaft with your hand, “a-am i making you feel better?”

a hand lands on your ass, causing you to yelp and tighten your hold on suna’s cock. 

“what do ya think, hm? we’re getting our dicks wet in none other but our slutty little assistant's holes,” atsumu plays with your ass, squeezing it and humming when the imprint of his hands appears on the soft flesh.

“mhm, quite the slut you are,” sakusa whispers in your ear, kissing your neck afterwards, “as long as i get to make a mess out of that cunt of yours before anyone else, i will always enjoy these little sessions of ours.”

your eyes land on suna, waiting for him to say his thoughts on the matter.

his gaze drops to your hand, covered in his pre-cum and your spit which sends a jolt to his cock, making it throb in your hand.

“can’t say i hate it.”

you smile at his words, recognizing the challenge hidden behind them. your mouth wraps around the flushed tip, eyes closing when both sakusa and atsumu thrust up into your holes at the same time. you try to keep your hand steady as you suck suna off, but the lewd grunts and moans coming from them, plus their cocks filling you so nicely make your rhythm falter every once in a while.

a hand starts toying with your clit, causing you to moan around suna’s cock. the vibrations make him shudder, scowling at himself when he realizes his orgasm is approaching faster than he expected.

“fuck, fuck– princess? do you mind if i cum inside?” atsumu grunts.

your muscles clench at the thought of being filled with his cum, imagining the thick liquid oozing out of your sensitive holes only to stuff it back in with your fingers.

“y-yes, ‘tsumu. cum inside me,” you pant as your hands squeeze suna’s cock, pumping it faster as you notice his hips jerking towards you. you turn your face to look at sakusa, who has his eyebrows drawn upwards and his mouth open slightly as he too feels overwhelmed by the pleasure, “omi, you can cum inside as well.”

and he doesn’t need to be told twice, his large hands holding you by your hips so he can thrust his cock into your drenched cunt faster.

moans and squelching noises echo around the room. atsumu picks up his pace as he feels his orgasm approaching, his deep grunts fanning over your neck and taking over your hearing. the drag of sakusa’s pubic bone against your clit has you cumming shortly after. your head rolls forward as both men keep thrusting in and out of you, only stopping once their cum fill your clenching holes.

“shit– look at me,” suna orders you, and you barely have time to process what’s happening.

his cum lands on your face, his hand helping you pump his throbbing cock as the ropes of cum cover your skin. he exhales heavily once he’s done, brushing the flushed head of his cock over your swollen lips, and smearing the white liquid around them.

it’s silent for a few seconds, save for the heavy breathing and pants coming from your mouths.

“holy shit,” oikawa’s voice breaks the silence. his cock strains almost painfully against his pants at the sight of what awaits him.

“yeah, holy shit,” atsumu laughs off, brushing his hair out of his face with one hand as he massages the flesh of your ass with the other, “ya never disappoint, princess.”

with a grunt, the blond setter removes his softening cock from you, his honey eyes —plus a few curious ones— observing the way his cum dribbles out from your stretched hole. the same thing happens with sakusa, who lifts your hips off of him, his cock falling on his stomach and the mix of your slick and his cum dripping down on his length.

atsumu’s fingers immediately go to your cunt, pumping the juices back into you, “god, you love this. don’t you, baby?”

all you can do is whine, your hands clenching the sheets until he removes his fingers from your sensitive pussy, and stuffs them inside your mouth. 

“we all get a turn?” kageyama whispers not so discreetly to hinata, who only nods eagerly in return.

you lick atsumu’s fingers clean which earns you a radiant smile from him.

“here.”

suna has his arm outstretched, handing you a tissue so you can clean your face.

“thank you,” you take it from his hands as you climb off of sakusa’s lap.

you’re cleaning the residues of cum on your face when a hand falls on top of your head. 

“drink some water before you start the next round,” sakusa’s dark eyes suddenly seem warmer and kinder to you, patting your head before disappearing into the bathroom.

after tossing the used tissue away, you turn to iwaizumi and give him a firm nod.

“who’s next?”

your dazzling smile has the rest of the men in awe, silently praying it’s them who get to feel your body with their hands next.

“bokuto,” the wing spiker’s immediately perks up at the sound of his name, “you, kageyama, and hakuba are next.”

the three men raise from their seats and make their way towards the bed—towards you.

“hey, bo,” you offer a loving smile to him, “you ready?”

his strong arms wrap around you, kissing your cheek loudly and making you giggle, “it feels as if i’ve been waiting forever. of course, i’m ready!”

meanwhile, kageyama and gao stand at the foot of the bed, waiting for any instructions or a signal from you that could tell them when to start. luckily, you’re quick to notice their hesitation.

”is there a particular place where you want to be?” you ask them, looking specifically at kageyama and gao, since you want to make sure they feel included.

“dibs on your mouth!”

you blush at bokuto’s enthusiasm but accept his request, stroking his cheek as you wait for the other two to answer.  

“i’ll take whatever,” kageyama says and scratches the back of his neck.

“me too,” gao smiles and takes a few steps towards you, making bokuto move away from you. his large hand tucks one piece of your hair away, his eyes staring at yours before dropping to your lips, “although, i think i’d like it better if i had your pussy gripping my cock. wouldn’t you like that?”

he presses his front against yours, his erection poking at your belly which earns a small gasp from you. you have to stop yourself from taking a look at the tent in his sweatpants, trying to figure out how much of him there is hidden inside the fabric.

“o-okay.”

the middle blocker smiles at you before diving down to your lips. his hands grab your waist, lifting you up from the ground and making you wrap your legs around his torso. he gently places you down on the bed and kisses his way down your neck until his mouth is right above your erect nipple.

“hey! i want to kiss her too,” bokuto complains, “you can’t hog her like that.”

“s’okay bo, come here.”

he doesn’t have to be told twice, immediately climbing onto the bed and leaning down to kiss your lips.

you grab the back of his head and run your fingers through his soft hair, pulling on it gently which causes a groan to rumble in his chest.

a pair of hands slide over your legs, pushing them apart until your bare cunt is spread wide open for everyone to see.

“you’re dripping, babe,” gao murmurs over your nipple, giving it a light tug before flicking his tongue over it, “do you want my cock that badly?”

you can only moan and nod, your lips still busy with bokuto’s.

but there’s someone who still has yet to join you.

“tobio-chan, if you’re not going to do anything then let me take your place instead.”

oikawa’s words snap you out of your daze. you pat bokuto’s cheek signaling him to let go of you, and the same thing happens with gao as you try to sit up. your eyes fall on kageyama who stands at the same spot with a conflicted look and an obvious erection in his pants. 

“hey,” you crawl your way towards him and sit on your knees, “are you uncomfortable?”

his mouth opens but nothing comes out of it. he can feel the weight of everyone’s stare on him, making him look away from you. 

a few seconds pass and there’s still no answer.

“you don’t have to do this, you know?” you say in a small tone, slightly confused as to why he’s rejecting you, “i just thought… i could help you relax.”

he nods, still avoiding your gaze.

you take a look at iwaizumi –who looks as equally as puzzled as you– before looking back at the setter.

“do you want to leave?”

at this, his head finally snaps towards you, “no, i-” he pauses. his eyes are immediately drawn to your mouth, making him involuntarily wet his lips, “i want to stay.”

relief washes over you, a timid smile spreading on your lips which is quickly mirrored by him. you take his hand in yours and guide him to the other side of the bed, urging him to join the rest of you. there’s a hunger in his eyes that has your pussy dripping with your slick, a sigh leaving your lips when your back hits the pillows as you watch him take gao’s previous spot.

“kiss me, tobio.”

and he does. it starts slow, hesitant, but it soon turns desperate. his tongue strokes yours before sucking on it, spit coating your lips thanks to the messiness of the kiss. the strain of his cock inside his pants becomes too uncomfortable to his liking, causing him to start humping against you, trying to relieve himself.

noticing his predicament, you move your hand between your bodies and palm his hard-on. he groans against your lips, his hips jerking forward seeking more of your touch.

in the meantime, both bokuto and gao pump their cocks with their hands, having taken their clothes off while you talked to kageyama.

gao squeezes the head of his cock between his hands, pre-cum oozing from the slit as he imagines the way your cunt is going to grip him, “babe, you’re making us suffer.”

“get in line!”

“atsumu, shut the fuck up.”

“baby?” bokuto asks from where he stands, his own cock stiff and ready to be inside your mouth, “we don’t mean to be pushy, but do you think you could get to us soon?”

“bokuto-san, you’re going to break a rule!” hinata says, clearly concerned for his teammate, “be patient, remember?”

the rest of the team laughs and you can’t help but join them.

at this, bokuto pouts playfully at you, “you’re just teasing me, baby.”

“then come here,” you gasp when kageyama’s mouth sucks at the base of your neck, “y-you wanted my mouth, right?”

bokuto kneels next to your face, patting the leaking tip on your lips.

“i’m going to fuck that pretty mouth of yours and you’re going to take it like a good girl,” he says, his tone leaving no room for questions, “open.”

you comply immediately, lolling out your tongue and waiting for him to rest his heavy cock on top of it. 

the lewd sight in front of him makes bokuto shudder. his hands grasp your head, pushing you down his length until he feels your throat constricting around him.

“fuck– baby,” he grunts and gives a shallow thrust, “i know you can do better than that.”     

you try to relax your jaw so you can fit more of him inside of your mouth. but as you are about to graze your nose against his pubic bone, a finger runs between your folds causing you to flinch.

“i’m still here.”

gao’s tone sounds stern, even if a playful smile tugs his lips upwards, you can see the seriousness swirling in his eyes.

kageyama sighs and leaves your side, stepping away momentarily to take his pants off. 

the middle blocker takes it as his chance to settle between your legs as bokuto keeps your mouth busy.

“you’re drenched, sweetheart,” he muses, running his digits over your slit, “don’t worry, i’ll fill this pussy with my cock so well that you’ll be cumming in no time.”

your eyes travel to his shaft, watching as he pumps it twice before running it between your folds. your brows furrow when you notice how heavy it feels, making you wonder if it will fit in.

he lines himself up with your hole, pushing the head inside which is enough to have you whining around bokuto’s cock.

“you look so sexy,” bokuto groans, pushing your head away from him and watching your spit run down your mouth. he looks at kageyama who stands awkwardly with his cock in hand, “i guess we’re sharing her mouth.”

the setter’s eyes widen slightly before nodding, mimicking bokuto’s position and nudging his cock on your lips, “suck.”

your breath hitches at his order, caught off guard by his demanding tone. you grab his cock from the base and guide it into your mouth, pumping bokuto’s length with your other hand. you hum around kageyama, running your tongue over the head of his cock before hollowing your cheeks and sucking harshly on it. 

but your attention on them doesn’t last too long, the sudden feel of your pussy getting split open by gao’s cock taking it away.

“so tight,” he grunts, one of his hands running over the skin of your inner thigh until he reaches your soaking cunt. he pulls your folds apart, watching you struggle to take his cock inside you—no matter how wet you are, “i bet those jackals haven’t been fucking you like you deserve.”

“oi!” “not true!”

you free your mouth from kageyama and use both hands to pump his and bokuto’s cock, “s-so big, ugh-”

gao pushes more of him in, half of his cock already inserted in you. but he’s just so thick, so big, that you can’t help but clamp down your walls around him. his thumb starts rubbing circles on your clit, trying to relax your walls, as his other hand settles on your abdomen.

“you’re going to be so full of my cock that you’ll be able to see it,” he gives a gentle pat to your belly, “right here.”

your grip on the other two men tightens as gao finally bottoms out, a whine breaking through your lips at the stretch.

“if only you could see yourself,” his thrusts are lazy, mesmerized by the way your belly bulges when he pushes his cock inside you, “so fucking sexy with my fat cock inside your cunt.”

your lips wrap around the tip of bokuto’s cock once more, closing your eyes as pleasure clouds your head. he thrusts in, hitting the back of your throat and making you gag.

“good girl,” bokuto exhales, “taking my cock so well.”

you quicken the pace of your other hand, looking at kageyama as you obscenely suck bokuto.

the setter’s eyes refuse to leave yours, “who would’ve thought our assistant could be so naughty.”

“as if you’re complaining,” gao says, lifting your leg over his shoulder. the new angle allowing him to press his hips closer to yours.

“i never said i was.”

bokuto curses under his breath when you start sucking his balls, pumping the rest of his length with your hand and squeezing the head of kageyama’s cock with the other.

“you’re going to make me cum,” bokuto groans.

giggling, you lick your way up and run your tongue over the slit, “cum in my mouth.”

the sound of collective groans echoes in the room, a fair amount of players finding your words arousing.

“what a slut, let’s see if you keep talking when you’re covered in our cum.”

gao’s threat goes straight to your pussy, making you cream around his girth. the pace of his thumb on your clit quickens once he notices your walls spasming around him.

“ngh, fuck!” you’re breathing heavily by now, barely managing to keep the pace of your hands consistent, “i-i’m gonna… i’m gonna cum.”

“let go, baby.”

one of gao’s hands travels up your body until he’s pinching your nipple between his fingers.

“shit, shit, shit,” you’re thrashing underneath him, your cunt fluttering around his cock thanks to your orgasm.

kageyama’s way too focused on the way your face contorts in pleasure to notice how his hips have started to jerk faster. that is until the familiar coil suddenly snaps and his cum lands on your chin and part of your chest. 

“h-how did you get even tighter- hah!”

warm spurts of cum fill your cunt, the sense of fullness intensifying as gao frees his load inside of you.

“i’m cumming, baby. fuck, fuck–” bokuto chants your name as he too reaches his orgasm, quickly shoving his cock into your mouth and releasing his thick cum inside of it.   

you make sure to keep sucking him, milking his cock dry. once you remove your mouth from him, you bring his and kageyama’s cock closer to your face and pucker your lips, letting the mix of cum and spit fall on their cocks before giving a few kitten licks to the flushed heads.

gao starts to remove his cock from your insides, cursing at the state of your pussy once he’s finally out.

“holy fuck, she’s tightening around nothing.”

you let out a low moan when his fingers spread your lower lips, “t-too sensitive.”

“i think that’s enough,” iwaizumi intervenes, pushing him away, “color?”

“yellow,” but you continue as soon as you see his face become stern, “relax, i just need to calm down a bit.”

kageyama offers you a towel before awkwardly thanking you for your help. and after receiving a kiss on the forehead from bokuto, the three of them leave to go clean themselves.

“iwa-chan, why don’t you give her a massage?”

you let your body fall on the mattress, extending your arms above your head and moaning at the stretch.

“mm, that’d be nice.”

iwaizumi rolls his eyes playfully when he sees you pouting at him, “get on your stomach, i’ll be right back.”

in the meantime, oikawa and hinata take the spots next to you, eager to finally have their turn with you.

“you’re so pretty,” oikawa runs his hands over the skin of your shoulders, “those idiots are lucky to have you.”

your eyes start closing up, focusing on the feel of his fingers on your skin and making goosebumps appear all over your body.

“shoyo, we should help her relax too. don’t you think?”

you catch the suggestive tone in his voice, but his touch feels so good that you choose to ignore it.

both men start caressing your body, hinata’s hands paying special attention to your shoulders while oikawa pets your hair, murmuring sweet nothings. 

“you ready?” iwaizumi pops back into the room, a bottle of oil and a clean towel in his hands.

“mhm.”

the towel rests on your ass, iwaizumi’s warm hands spreading the oil on your back and rubbing at the sore muscles.

“does that feel good, princess?” oikawa asks when he hears you sigh. you are about to reply when iwaizumi hits a sore spot, a groan slipping past your lips and making the setter chuckle, “can you tell me your color now?”

“green.”

oikawa looks at iwaizumi and both men seem to communicate through their eyes, the latter smirking before going back to work.

at first, you don’t pay too much attention to his movements, choosing to focus on the pleasure. but then you notice how his hands seem to ghost lower and lower until he’s kneading your ass, the towel long forgotten.

before you can comment on it, he moves them to your thighs, massaging the soft flesh. it all goes back to normal –or so you think– until his hands reach higher and his digits start grazing your slit.

“hajime…”

“shh,” oikawa coos in your ear, pushing your hair out of your face and kissing your temple, “let him take care of you.”

iwaizumi inserts one finger inside your pussy, curling it until he’s teasing the spongy walls.

whines escape your mouth, your hands gripping the bedsheets which are quickly replaced by hinata’s hands.

“so cute.”

another finger slips in and makes you open your eyes, looking at oikawa helplessly, “o-oikawa-san-”

“tooru,” he interrupts you.

“tooru,” you try his name and he hums, letting you know he’s listening, “could you… uh, k-kiss me?”

“of course, princess.”

he leans down to capture your lips, swallowing your moans when iwaizumi curls both fingers and massages your spot. 

you open your legs, allowing iwaizumi to finger you better as you rut your hips on the mattress, rubbing your clit against the fabric of the sheets and chasing after your orgasm.

“iwa– faster, please.”

he complies immediately, causing wetness to gush out of your cunt and making the distinctive squelching sounds fill the room.

“i’m gonna– ah! i’m c-cumming!” 

“cum for me,” he encourages you, and that’s all you need.

you gush around his fingers, your slick coating them as you squirm under the gaze of the three men.

hinata tugs at your hand, pulling you underneath him and kissing you sloppily. you gasp on his mouth, caught off guard by the sudden movement but quickly melting into the kiss.

he blushes once he pulls away, “s-sorry, couldn’t help myself.”

“it’s okay, shoyo,” you breathe out, caressing his cheek, “want me to help you?”

he beams at your offer, nodding eagerly as he watches you climb on top of him. you straddle his hips and run your cunt over his cock, shivering when his length grazes your clit.

“do you want me to ride you?” you whisper, playing with his hair. 

“wait- i think i have a better idea.”

hinata lifts you from his lap and moves until he’s sitting on the edge of the mattress. he pushes your hips with his hands, turning you around so you’re facing away from him. 

“you can sit on my lap now.”

your ass rests right on top of his cock, but he hooks his arms on your knees, spreading you open, as he lets himself fall back on the mattress.

“what are you–”

“oikawa-san, doesn’t this remind you of something?”

said man laughs, “how could i forget? we had quite some fun back in brazil, huh?”

you’re visibly confused, looking at oikawa with furrowed brows, “what do you want to do?”

“say, princess,” his tone suddenly sounds too sweet for your liking, “have you ever had two cocks in one hole?”

your eyes widen, looking back and forth between oikawa and iwaizumi—who has ridden himself of his clothes and sits next to you, his thick cock in his hand.

“i’ll take that as a no.”

“can we do that?” hinata asks from behind you, his breath fanning on your ear, “we’ll be gentle.”

“there’s literally another free hole for you to use!” someone yells, clearly annoyed they didn’t get the chance to do it.

oikawa clicks his tongue, “where’s the fun in that?”

after taking a minute to think it through, you agree to their offer, “okay… uh- iwa?” you turn to look at him, “what about you?”

seeing as there’s no room for him to take your ass, his eyes land on your mouth. and with two taps of his finger on your cheek, he lets you know his decision.

“think you can suck me off?”

they’re all given the green light when you answer his question. hinata raises you from his lap, aligning his cock with your entrance before letting your weight fall on top of it. you groan at the familiar thickness stretching you nicely, missing the flash of hunger in the setter’s eyes.  

“my turn.”

oikawa presses the tip on your entrance, pushing forward and making room for his own cock.

the burn of having two cocks in one hole is new to you, but it’s surprisingly more pleasurable than you thought it’d be. you lift your eyes to look at oikawa, his gaze already locked on you, and you feel your pussy cream around their cocks at the lust in his eyes.

“enjoying yourself, princess?”

you moan when he bottoms out, watching the muscles of his abdomen contract and feeling his cock pulsing inside of you.

the thrill of being stretched by two cocks, at the same time, has your head spinning; your thoughts becoming lewd as you picture both men cumming inside you and globs of cum dripping from your abused hole.

“oikawa-san, did you feel that?” hinata asks. half-amused, half excited, “she’s squeezing us so well.”

“naughty, princess,” the setter grunts, “don’t forget about iwa-chan.”

you turn your head to face him, catching the irritated look he sends oikawa before looking down at you.

iwaizumi’s eyes immediately soften, but a smirk slowly tugs at the corners of his lips, “you seem busy.”

“there’s always room for japan’s national team athletic trainer.”

he can’t help but laugh, shaking his head at the silly title. he raises from his seat and settles himself above you, his cock hovering on your face and making your mouth water.

“whenever you’re ready.”

you don’t need to be told twice. grasping his thick cock with your hand, you lean forward and flick your tongue on the head, looking at him through your lashes with faux innocence.

“start moving,” iwaizumi hisses, the words directed at the other two men, “seems like she needs a little reminder of who’s in charge right now.”

oikawa and hinata look at each other with smirks on their lips. as hinata said earlier, they’ve been in this position before, so there’s no need for words between them since they both know what’s coming next.

hinata moves his head slightly to the side, allowing you to rest your head on his shoulder and, at the same time, granting him the view of your cunt being filled with their cocks.

“look at her, oikawa-san” his eyes are locked on your pussy, captivated by the way you suck them in, “she looks so pretty with two cocks splitting her open.”

hinata’s lewd words prompt you to involuntarily moan, the vibrations landing on iwaizumi’s cock.  

“hmm, you like it when you’re reduced to nothing but a slut. don’t you?”

you blink up at iwaizumi as you keep bobbing your head up and down his shaft, opting to hum to let him know you’re not ignoring him.

but his words catch someone else’s attention.

“is that true?” oikawa asks, amusement clear in his voice, “you like being reminded you’re a whore? how much of a greedy slut you are by fucking an entire volleyball team?”

you’re speechless, his words –matched with his and hinata’s harsh thrusts– causing your eyes to roll to the back of your head.

“answer me.”

oikawa’s hand wraps around your throat, barely applying any pleasure but it’s enough to send your mind into a frenzy.

after releasing iwaizumi’s cock from your mouth, you take a second to swallow down your spit before answering him.

“y-yes, tooru. i like being treated like a slut.”

his eyes sparkle with mischief, pleased by your words.

“good, because that’s how you’re going to be treated from now on.”

a hand travels to your throbbing clit, rubbing circles on the sensitive nub.

“s-shoyo!”

“shh, it’ll make you feel good.”

something wet slaps against your cheek, “don’t get distracted.”

you nod and go back to sucking iwaizumi off, moaning every time hinata or oikawa hit a spot inside your cunt. you dare take a look at where your body connects with both men, and you catch yourself becoming entranced by the way their cocks slide in and out of your pussy so easily.

you are familiar with hinata’s cock, but it’s nice to see the contrast between the two of them. while hinata’s length is thick and veiny, oikawa’s leans towards the slimmer side—but still with a considerable length. either way, both men manage to hit those sweet spots inside you and make you see stars. 

“shit– princess,” oikawa falters a bit when he feels your walls fluttering around him.

“we can cum inside you, right?” hinata asks, sensing his orgasm approaching. after all, he had been waiting for his turn for around an hour.

you pull away from iwaizumi, a string of spit connecting your lips with his cock and causing it to twitch at the sight.

“you can cum wherever you want.”

“oh? the team’s cocksleeve,” oikawa adds, “i see.”

iwaizumi chuckles, combing your hair out of your face and pushing his cock back into the warmth of your mouth, “you like that nickname, sweetheart?”

with his length still in your mouth, you manage to hum in affirmation.

hinata’s pace on your clit quickens as his hips jerk faster, your cunt squeezing their cocks even more in return, “i’m cumming, ah– i-i’m gonna cum!”

he manages to say before you feel him twitch inside you, pumping his cum into your walls. the fullness plus his rapid movements on your clit cause the familiar warmth to take over your body. but it’s your fourth orgasm of the night, and before you can warn anyone, liquid spurts out of your cunt.

you squirm on top of hinata, gushing around his and oikawa’s cock while your mouth remains occupied with iwaizumi’s.

“holy shit.”

both oikawa and iwaizumi cum at the sight of you squirting before them, observing the wetness soaking oikawa’s abdomen and running all the way down onto the bedsheets. they groan as they feel their load releasing into you, oikawa filling your tender cunt while iwaizumi fills your mouth.

you try to swallow a bit of iwaizumi’s cum but it’s useless. your chest heaves in exhaustion, your eyes closing involuntarily as you’re being hit with wave after wave of fatigue.

“hey,” oikawa winces when he removes his cock from you. he shoots a worried glance at iwaizumi before he’s leaning forward so he can take a closer look at you, “princess? how are you feeling?”

iwaizumi nudges hinata with his knee, wordlessly telling him to let go of you.

the following moments become a foggy mess, your mind barely registering the pair of arms wrapping around you and carrying you somewhere else.

all you can feel is tiredness, and the dampness between your thighs, before you finally pass out.

—

consciousness slowly makes its way to you, replacing the sleepiness and making you aware of your surroundings as a familiar soreness sits heavy on your body.

in an instant, flashbacks from the previous night run through your mind.

you grip the duvet and push it away from you, only to notice the set of clothes you’re wearing: an oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants that clearly don’t belong to you. but you don’t have time to dwell on it, the sound of your ringtone blasting all over the room and making you scramble around the bed so you can answer the call.

but it’s of no use when it goes to voicemail—you were a bit too late.

when you manage to find your phone, you tap on the screen to see whose call you just missed.

‘hajime’

your fingertips hover on the contact name, debating between returning the call or wait for him to call you again. but a few notifications pop up at the top of the screen signaling you have three text messages from him.

hey, i guess you’re still asleep. don’t freak out when you wake up, you deserve the rest so it’s okay if you stay in bed. i left your breakfast on the nightstand and you can always call me if you need anything else.

and i thought you’d like to see this.

there’s a link attached at the end of the message.

you click on it and wait for the page to load, tapping your nails on the back of your phone anxiously. a headline in big bold letters takes over the screen and you have to stop yourself from squealing.

‘japan men’s volleyball team makes it past the first round.’

you start scrolling down the article, reading how spectacular the match was and how the entire team seemed to be in their best shape. you feel your face heat up when you read the argentinian team won their match too, with multiple comments praising oikawa’s performance.

with a smile on your lips, you go back to your messages to type a quick reply to iwaizumi. only to notice you have one more text from him.

it’s our turn to take care of you.

[suspicious-whumping-egg]

Alec: Whumper's Soiree

My piece for the @the-whumpers-soiree event! TW for noncon drugging and mild suggestive themes involving masochism.

Here's Alec's outfit, for anyone curious!

Alec wandered the party awkwardly, fiddling with the blue glow stick around his wrist and gazing at the lavish attire of the other guests. It was a bad idea to come without Dorian, he realized. He was awkward and tense and trembling for fucks’ sake. 

He needed a drink. 

He strode towards the bar, his ankles already twinging uncomfortably from each step in the red platformed, heeled boots he’d chosen to wear. He knew he shouldn’t have chosen those shoes when his leg already throbbed more furiously than on most days, but they were the only shoes he had that matched his outfit. 

Still, he leaned on his cane a bit more than usual. He hoped it’d fit in with the stately look of the party— maybe people would assume it was nothing but a prop— yet he still felt stares burning into him as he limped across the room. 

The bar was already spread with an array of drinks for the taking, which was a relief because Alec felt he’d implode if forced to draw a decision from thin air at the moment. He grabbed a glass of translucent red liquid garnished with a spiral of lemon peel, taking a tentative sip. The drink had the sharp burn of vodka, and flavors of pomegranate and citrus to take from the bitterness. 

He threw back a shot of something deep blue, shuddering slightly and poorly stifling a cough. 

“You alright?” The stranger behind him asked, placing a hand on his shoulder. 

Alec flinched hard at the touch, the glass slipping from his fingers and clattering back onto the bar. 

“I’m fine,” he said quickly, whirling around to look at who’d addressed him. They wore a shiny sapphire blazer over a dress of the same color, and a red glow stick was looped around their wrist. 

“It’s a nice party, hm?” they replied. “Just wanted to make sure nothing’s wrong. Can I show you something real quick?” 

Dorian would tell me to go, Alec told himself. They seemed nice enough, and there were plenty of people around— it wasn’t as if anything bad would happen with so many witnesses. He needed to stop being such a coward and just…

“Sure,” he relented. Sure? What kind of fucking idiot—

“I mean, that’d be great,” he tried again, his head beginning to spin pleasantly. “It’s been a bit awkward since I don’t know anyone else here, I don’t like going out alone anyway… it’s been a while. I’ve been, uh…” Kidnapped, tortured, locked in some freak’s basement— “I’ve been working from home for a while and don’t even remember how to socialize, so sorry about that.” 

The stranger just took his hand and led him away from the bar, across the large space, and into a smaller, tucked-away room. Their fingers were like ice against his skin. “I figure you want to be somewhere more quiet, then? So what’s your name, darling?” 

He faltered, freezing in place for a moment as his heart began to pound. His vision swam from a sudden rush of terror— that, or it was the alcohol kicking in. “Excuse me?” 

“Oh, do you not like pet names?” they asked, running a finger over one of Alec’s rings. “Sorry, it’s become a habit of mine to use them platonically. I meant nothing by it.” 

He shrugged, tugging his hand away and making his way to an armchair in the corner of the room. He sighed softly in relief when he could finally take his weight off his bad leg, sinking back into the cushions. “Don’t worry about it, I just— uh, bad memories. I’m Alec.” He stuck out his hand awkwardly. 

They shook his hand without missing a beat. “I’m Vei,” they replied. “You look gorgeous, where’d you get that shirt?” 

Alec shrugged. “It’s from…. an ex, actually,” he said, twisting one of his rings nervously. There were too many questions, and he hated the way the stranger scrutinized him, as if every movement was being measured. “I’m uh, gonna get another drink…” 

He stumbled up from his chair, beginning to limp towards the doorway. Yet before he even took a second step, Vei kicked out and swept his cane from the ground, and he fell forward as his leg buckled with the sudden agony of bearing his full weight. They caught him by his shoulders, wrapping an arm around his neck to force him upright. He thrashed against their grip, crying out pitifully as he threw out desperate blows, hoping one of them would hit his attacker. 

“Hey now, Alec, be good for me,” Vei murmured, reaching into their pocket to tug out a syringe already full of liquid. “I wouldn’t want to have to use this.”

He stilled, his eyes widening as his heart began to pound. “Nhh— no— please—“ he choked out, forcing himself still despite his every instinct screaming at him to fight back. “I’ll— I’ll be good.” He’d be dragged off to some fresh hell soon enough, he could at least keep a scrap of dignity about him. 

“You’re either smart, then, or used to this?” Vei smirked, loosening their hold around his throat. After all, he wouldn’t be as fun while unconscious. “Well, in any case, it’d be a pity to let this go to waste.” They snapped the safety on the syringe and stabbed deep into Alec’s neck, pushing the plunger in one quick motion. 

Alec bit back a whimper, barely able to keep himself from shoving Vei off of him while he was still able. The drug had been delivered, he was too late anyway. He’d been doomed the moment he stepped into the room with them. He felt his hold on his body weaken, his limbs grew heavier and heavier with every passing second, and he fell limp into Vei’s grip. 

“Aww, you’re adorable, all sweet and pathetic like this,” they praised, hefting him into a bridal hold and plucking his cane from the ground. “Whoever—“ they paused, lifting Alec’s left hand to examine the scars running across the back of it. They ran a finger over the brand marks, tracing the letters carefully. 

“Raina must have been very lucky to get a hold on someone like you.” 

They strode from the room and across the large hall of guests— notably emptier than before— and carried him through another doorway. 

Nononono not again please someone care for once please— He begged wordlessly. 

He glimpsed a guard nodding at Vei as the two of them passed. They know about it. Alec realized. They know and they don’t fucking care. And somehow that was worse than no one noticing at all. 

Vei continued their maze-like path until they came to a room that they unlocked with a keycard. 

“No one should bother us here,” they said nonchalantly as they set Alec’s limp form on the couch. He noticed a warm glow near the wall and squinted, trying to make out what it was through his doubling, swimming vision. A fireplace, he realized. And something was sticking out of it 

His captor smirked. “I don’t want you to forget me just ‘cause we only have a short while together,” they said condescendingly, approaching Alec where he lay. They tugged at the tie on his shirt until it slipped open, then pulled the blouse over his head. He flinched at the touch, twitching as he attempted to recoil from them. 

“So many scars,” they observed. “Someone’s been bad… no wonder you were abandoned.” 

“She didn’ abandon me… I shot her,” Alec muttered, the words rolling heavily from his mouth. “Killed another of ‘em… don’ know about her, but he’s super fucking dead… an’ I‘m more than happy to carry on the trend with you…” 

Vei shook their head and simply put a hand over Alec’s mouth. “You’re cuter when you’re quiet,” they said distastefully. They turned to rummage through a drawer, plucking an object out and turning back towards Alec. “Open up,” they ordered. 

His eyes widened when he saw the ball gag in their hands, yet he didn’t have the energy to fight what he knew was a losing battle. He cracked his mouth open tentatively, and Vei seized the moment to shove the ball between his teeth, buckling it tight behind his head as he choked from the pressure. 

“Much better,” they remarked. “Now, will you hold still for me, or do I need to help you?” 

Alec gestured at the gag, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. Maybe ask me before you gag me, genius. 

“Aww, I guess I just have to decide for you. I won’t make it hard, I’ll help you out, pretty boy,” Vei cooed. They scooted a wooden chair close to the couch, then heaved Alec off the couch and onto the chair, twisting his arms behind his back and then looking in the same drawer for something to restrain him. 

Moments later, his wrists were bound tightly with zip ties and secured to the back of the chair, then Vei knelt to restrain his ankles to the chair legs.

“Where do you want the brand? Shoulder? Chest? Back? Maybe I could do your other hand, so it’ll be even. If I did your face, I doubt your other owner would forgive me, but it’d be so fun…”

They plucked the branding iron from the fire, its tip flat and red-hot, and used a finger to trace the left area of his upper chest— barely below his clavicle. It would be a nice spot— only hidden under carefully chosen garments, guaranteed to remind him of them every day, but not overtly conspicuous. Not enough that his other captor would likely seek Vei out. He’d probably been sent to the party as a punishment, anyway, and they were more than happy to help with that. 

They held the brand over his skin for a split second, and Alec whimpered at the already-painful heat radiating into his chest. Desperate, fearful tears burned at the corners of his eyes, and he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch.

The agony that split through his chest was all-consuming. He screamed around the gag, his stomach lurching, and his tears began to fall. He sobbed between the pained cries that escaped his lips, thrashing weakly against the restraints. 

“Please—“ he tried to beg. The word came out as nothing but a strangled groan. 

Vei smirked, pressing the brand deeper into his skin. The mark it left needed to be perfect, and they didn’t want to have to repeat the process in another spot. 

Alec’s screams grew sharper and more desperate as the pain intensified, white-hot and searing. When Vei plucked the iron off his chest and set it aside, he dissolved into sobs once more, gasping for breath around the gag. 

“Good boy,” they said condescendingly, carding a hand through his hair and leaning down to peer at the brand, fresh and red and glistening with blood. “Just one more thing, then I’ll let someone else have a turn.” 

Vei pulled a butterfly knife from their pocket and flipped it open, twirling it through their fingers before pressing the tip to Alec’s sternum. “Hmm… where to begin?” they mused. 

They carved a shallow line down his torso, bright and sharp and wonderful. Alec shivered, but this time in pleasure. It was a nice kind of pain, and it distracted from the throbbing in his legs and the searing ache of the brand. It was familiar. 

The next cut was deeper, trailing a neat line of blood down his bicep, and he barely choked back a moan. The fear, the drugs, the burning— the bite of the knife was a balm to it all. Vei mirrored the cut on his other side, making the cut with a practiced efficiency, and he didn’t bother holding back a little gasp of pleasure. It sounded the same as one of fear, after all. 

The tip of the blade was held to the hollow of his throat, and Alec squeezed his eyes shut. Yet they only ghosted the knife over his neck, his chest, his shoulders, letting the blade painlessly brush his skin ever-so-often so he wouldn’t forget the power his captor held. The blade slipped, sudden pain bloomed over his shoulder as the point parted skin effortlessly. 

“Nnh—” Alec moaned around the gag, leaning ever-so-slightly into the blade. The prick wasn’t enough, the tiny cuts weren’t enough, he needed to escape. He needed the fear and helplessness drowned out, forgotten in the midst of the knife and the pain and the delight he gleaned from it all. 

Vei pulled the knife away. “Dirty little slut,” they scoffed, setting the blade aside. “Let’s see if you enjoy this quite as much.” 

They plucked an electric baton from the pile of weapons beside them, turning it on with the flick of a switch, and Alec’s eyes widened. His captor raised it without hesitation, grinning at the sight of their victim’s fear.  And when Alec’s body seized with the searing shock of the baton, his scream was one of agony.

[lunar-wandering]

so today i remembered to transfer the Shadowpeach Drabbles I wrote for @winterpower98 Cursed AU onto Ao3, and in honor of that (and simply because I wanted to) I have written a bonus part-

-

"Another cave? Seriously?"

The group of three stood at the entrance to the cave, looking in, trying to see as far as they could into the darkness.

"Must we explore every cave we stumble upon?" Macaque sighed.

"Well, it's not gonna explore itself." MK shrugged, turning to go in, only to be stopped as Wukong leapt in front of him.

"Oh no you don't." He said, "You're not going in there by yourselves. I'm coming with you this time."

"Wait, why would you-" Macaque started, confused.

"Because the last time you two went into a cave by yourselves, MK ended up with an injured leg." Wukong said, arms crossed. "I'm coming with you this time, and that's final."

"But what about-" MK started-

"It's fine. I'll be fine." Wukong said, walking past MK and Macaque, marching into the cave as though if he waited any longer he'd loose his nerve. "Let's hurry up and get this over with."

MK watched his mentors back with concern, before glancing to the side to see Macaque mirroring his expression. Said expression snapped back into a more neutral one once he noticed that MK was looking at him though.

"C'mon." Macaque said, nudging MK as he walked past him. "Let's make sure he doesn't freak out and fall down a hole or something."

-

Surprisingly enough, things didn't immediately go downhill.

Well, that is, up until-

A loose rock tumbled down from above, and Wukong, who was already very on edge, startled backwards, bumping into Macaque and knocking him over, sending the both of them rolling over a ledge and down a small cliff, the both of them ending up laying on top of each other.

MK, after doing a quick check and making sure they were both okay, stood on the edge of the ledge and smirked.

"I thought you said you were going to keep him from falling down a hole." He said, and Macaque groaned.

"I didn't think he'd knock me down with him." He said, slowly moving to sit up as Wukong hurriedly backed off of him, giving a murmured apology.

And then MK jumped down the ledge, landing with a thump and knocking loose a few more rocks, and suddenly Wukong was clinging to Macaque again.

(Macaque was suddenly grateful, that he was the one with the super hearing. He wasn't particularly fond of the idea of Wukong noticing how fast his heart was racing from the close contact.)

"Sorry." MK said, wincing as he realized he'd startled his mentor. Wukong gave him a nervous smile.

"It's fine bud." He said, but Macaque could feel him shaking a little. Macaque sighed, before starting to try and peel Wukong's arms off of him.

"You can let go of me now." He said, trying to ignore the knowing look MK was giving him. "C'mon, we won't be able to move if you keep clinging to me like this-"

"It...helps though. The touch, I mean." Wukong reluctantly admitted, slowly letting go. "Though you're right, I guess we wouldn't be able to move if I'm clinging to you like-"

"Why don't you just carry him then?" MK asked, and Macaque's head shot up.

"What-" He hissed, and then nearly bit his tongue to keep himself from yelping as suddenly he was being lifted up, being held tight against Wukong. The Monkey King wordlessly held him bridal style, obviously happy for a way to maintain contact while also being able to move. His arms were tight around Macaque as though he was holding onto a teddy bear for comfort. He turned around, starting to walk as Macaque remained silent in shock, trying to process what had just happened.

He looked over Wukong's shoulder, back at MK, who gave him a smirk and a thumbs up.

Oh that little sh-

The shock finally wore off, and Macaque started struggling.

"Put me down!" He hissed, fur bristling. "I can walk by myself!"

"I know." Wukong said, but didn't even loosen his grip in the slightest.

Macaque gave up on struggling suspiciously quickly.

-

Oh, how MK wished he had a camera.

Well, actually, he did, in fact, have his phone with him, but every time he started trying to pull it out, Macaque would glare at him from over Wukong's shoulder.

MK eventually resolved to committing the image to memory in order to draw it later.

As it was though, they'd found another exit out of the cave, one that lead into a wide open meadow instead of the dark forest they'd been traveling through. Wukong immediately let out a relieved sigh, slouching a little and loosening his grip on Macaque, who almost immediately jumped out of his arms, brushing invisible dirt off his clothes.

"Glad that's over." He said, before registering the muffled giggling coming from behind him.

MK kept one hand covering his mouth to keep his giggles quiet, and at Macaque's questioning look, he subtly gestured to the monkey's tail.

Which was currently wrapped around Wukong's.

Wukong seemed to notice this fact at the exact same time Macaque did, an embarrassed flush taking over both monkeys faces, their tails letting go of each other as they looked away in different directions, avoiding eye contact.

MK almost wished that Mei (or maybe even Red Son) was here so that he could have someone to lose his mind over this with.

Pretty much anyone would do, really, he just needed someone to rant to about all this-

Wait. He could have someone to rant to, now that he thinks about it.

He looked back over at Wukong and Macaque, making sure that they were suitably distracted.

And then he took one of his hairs and blew on it.

And Porty MK popped into existence.

He still looked like a monkey, exactly like how MK currently did, but the sunglasses and coat made it obvious that it was Porty. (MK never really did understand how Porty and the others had managed to maintain their clothes and personality. To be honest he....didn't really want to think too hard about it.)

Anyways, back to business.

"Are you seeing this?" MK asked, gesturing over at where Wukong and Macaque had somehow swapped from looking away from each other, flustered, to all out glaring at each other, albeit with a certain sense of playfulness in it that would be hidden to anyone who wasn't looking for it.

"Oh, I'm seeing it alright." Porty said, before smirking a little. "But don't worry OG, y'see, I've got a plan."

And really, MK should've dispelled Porty right then and there.

But on the other hand, it'd been weeks. Weeks of dealing with the mutual pining that rivaled the number of pine trees in the forest they'd been walking through.

In the end, he'd ended up accepting Porty's plan.

-

Porty shook MK awake later that night. (MK had dispelled him as they'd walked through the meadow, only bringing him back in secret before going to bed once they'd made it back to the edge of the forest.) The clone must've been hiding in the trees or in a bush, MK thought, as there were stray leaves within his hair.

"They're asleep." Porty whispered, "C'mon, OG. Let's hurry this up."

MK crawled out of his sleeping bag, shaking some of the tiredness out of his body as he stood up.

The plan was simple.

MK would push Wukong out of the tree. Porty would catch him. (MK had, recently, discovered the Monkey King was actually a heavy sleeper. His strong nighttime vigilance from legends had literally only been the result of him not sleeping at all.) Once they'd secured Wukong, they'd carry him and lay him down near where Macaque slept, and simply let things play out from there.

MK was halfway up the tree Wukong was sleeping in when he remembered something important.

"...Are you sure you'll be able to catch him?" MK asked, and both he and Porty went silent as they remembered just how easily a clone could be destroyed.

"...Good point, OG." Porty said, "Let's swap, I'll push him out of the tree, you can catch him."

With a quick change of positions, the plan was back in motion. Porty shoved Wukong out of the tree, and MK caught him, stumbling a little under the dead weight. (And oh, was he ever glad for his super strength.) The two of them paused for a moment, waiting to see if Wukong would wake up.

When the Monkey King showed no signs of stirring, Porty jumped down from the tree, landing beside MK, and the both of them turned around, slowly walking over to where Macaque lay on the other side of the camp.

"...What are you doing?"

And oh, MK had just known he had forgotten something.

Both MK and Porty startled, MK only just barely keeping himself from dropping Wukong, as they whirled around to see-

Wukong's hair clone, lounging back on his cloud, watching them with a disapproving look.

"It was his idea!" Porty quickly said, pointing at MK, who let out an offended "Hey!", before suddenly Porty dispelled himself, disappearing in a quick flash, leaving MK alone with the Wukong hair clone.

MK nervously giggled, tightening his grip on the asleep Monkey King as the hair clone's eyes narrowed.

And then suddenly the clone smirked, amusement in it's eyes, and MK relaxed, letting out a breath of relief.

"It's about time you actually tried to push things along." The hair clone said, lounging back on its cloud, looking away. "I can't say he's gonna be happy in the morning though."

MK rolled his eyes, he'd already long since accepted he'd probably have to go through some kind of stern telling off tomorrow. With the hair clone seemingly having given it's permission, MK turned, completing his mission of bringing Wukong over to Macaque, gently laying the Monkey King on the ground beside the shadow monkey.

Macaque shifted, rolling over, and MK froze, worrying that he'd accidentally made too much noise-

But then Macaque put an arm around Wukong, pulling him closer, Wukong responding by nuzzling into the other's neck as their tails curled together.

MK made no short work of pulling out his phone and snapping a picture. (And sending said picture to both Mei and his own email. One could never have too many backups after all, Macaque was sure to try and delete it once he knew it existed).

Mission accomplished, he returned to his own sleeping bag, whispering a quiet good night to the Wukong hair clone as he walked by.

(In all honesty, MK didn't think this would get Wukong or Macaque to confess. It might push them a little closer to it, yes, but it wouldn't make it actually happen, no, there was far too much going on, too much history for one night of cuddling together to lead to a full out love confession.

Until that time, he'd be fine with just watching the chaos that unfolds.

....He was fairly sure that, come morning, their expressions would be hilarious to witness though).

[deadbiwrites]

a video of supergirl grabbing lena luthor's ass starts circulating and it's very embarrassing for sc but extremely funny to their friends

(I am SO sorry. Where do these hide? Why do I never see them? How long has this been here?!

Anyways, have some cute nonsense!)

The day starts like any other, honestly.

Like, sure, Kara’s never thrilled when she wakes up 20 minutes late and has to use superspeed to get through her morning routine and into the office on time, but it happens regularly enough that she’s just sort of used to it by now. Like, the sky is blue, the grass is green, she manages time poorly. Whatever.

But she does get to work on time, with just enough to spare that she can make a brief detour to Nia’s desk for the coffee her protege has already bought for her, thank her profusely (with perhaps minor promising of firstborn children), and slip into the morning meeting just as Snapper, James, and Lena start handing out assignments for the day.

“Well, well, good of you to join us, Ponytail. Let me guess, a family emergency kept you out all night again?”

‘I mean, that Abraxian wasn’t my family, technically, but someone’s family, so…’ “Something like that. Sorry.”

Lena catches her eye and quirks a brow in question, but Kara just shrugs easily and sips her coffee, pulling a silly face at her friend when Snapper’s attention moves away from her. When her eyes uncross, she can tell Lena is fighting not to laugh, eyes sparking with mirth as she bites her lip. Kara takes another sip of coffee, feeling a bit smug that she can get Lena to smile without even having to say anything to her. That’s real talent, right there.

Especially since Lena has to stand up at the front with James, who has been by turns cold, dejected, and surly toward her since their breakup (a big, real, final one) a few weeks prior. Lena had said that the whole thing was a mistake, that she should’ve never gone for it in the first place because she’d been right the first time- they’d had some chemistry, after all, but it certainly wasn’t compatible long-term. 

Which… Kara can certainly relate. Like, a lot.

Especially about the whole… James being kind of wounded about it part. That part had really sucked- when he’d done it with Kara, who he’d gone on like, a date with, it’d resulted in him deciding to become a vigilante. Rao only knows what he’ll do when it’s someone he dated on and off for over a year...

“Ponytail!”

Kara jumps, realizing too late that her wandering attention hasn’t gone unnoticed. “Yes, sir?”

Snapper rolls his eyes. “Great, now that you’ve stopped orbiting Saturn, you wanna go get that article started?”

Kara’s eyes widen slightly in a panic as she realizes that she has no idea what he’s talking about. “Uh…” Behind his back, Lena catches her eye and nods subtly. Thank Rao. “Yes. I super do.”

Lena snorts, James sighs deeply, and the meeting is adjourned.

**

“So what exactly am I supposed to be doing today?” Kara asks Lena as they stroll out of the conference room together.

“Well unfortunately for you, you have to interview a big-time CEO. You have a meeting scheduled with her in three hours.”

“You?” Kara asks hopefully.

“You’re very sweet,” Lena chuckles. “No, Elena Watts. She’s a real estate developer, and she runs a nonprofit organization for homeless youth. It’s one of the articles we’re doing for next month’s spread. Contrary to popular belief, Cat and I weren’t the only women with high-profile jobs in this city. ”

“Oh, that’s pretty cool! Have you met her?”

“Not personally, no, but I have donated to her charity- it’s a very good cause, especially the outreach they do with queer youth.”

Kara elbows Lena gently. “You’re such a softie.”

“Mmm, maybe. But if you tell anyone, you’re fired.”

Kara clutches a hand to her chest, feigning horror. “Why Miss Luthor, what a blatant abuse of power!”

Lena shrugs. “I’m a Luthor, darling, I have to keep up appearances somehow.”

“Ouch,” Kara laughs. “See you at lunch?”

“Only if lunch includes a milkshake- I have a teleconference with both boards today. Unless you feel like joining me?”

“Wow, well as fun as that sounds, I’m gonna go do literally anything else.” Her comms crackle to life, alerting her of a hostage situation downtown, and Kara sighs. So much for a work day. “Alright, well, I’m, um, gonna go… see what I can find on Elena Watts. Maybe over another cup of coffee at Noonan’s.” She widens her eyes a bit, trying her best to convey that she’s going to be on Super-duty for a little while.

Thankfully, Lena picks up on it and grins. “You just want sticky buns.”

“Lena, I always want sticky buns. They’re like, my second favorite thing to eat.”

“Oh? What’s the first?” Lena asks, voice just a bit lower than usual. 

Kara opens her mouth and closes it, flushing slightly as she averts her gaze and adjusts the laptop bag on her shoulder. Stuff like that has been happening more and more, and she’s not 100% sure what to do about it. Because on the one hand, it makes her stomach do flips and tie up in knots and makes her brain do this… staticky thing where nothing filters in or out, just a pleasant buzz of how funny and smart Lena is and how much Kara likes hanging out with her and being flirted with (because that’s definitely what’s been happening, even if neither of them is really ready to address it) and just generally looking at Lena.... who is currently biting her lip and grinning up at Kara, and that buzz makes her kinda dumb, which is just really unhelpful. But on the other hand, it’s also kinda awesome and Kara really enjoys it, and-

“Kara?”

She spaced out again. Crap.

“Um. What time are you free for lunch?”

Lena sighs, seeming slightly disappointed that Kara isn’t flirting back at the moment (and thank Rao Lena can’t read minds), but she smiles back easily enough as they step off of the elevator. “I should be done by two.”

Feeling emboldened, Kara turns so she’s walking backwards in front of Lena and grins. “It’s a date,” she says with a grin, ducking forward to press a quick “friendly” kiss high on Lena’s cheek. She whirls and jogs out the double doors, leaving Lena smiling exasperatedly after her.

**

It is genuinely baffling to Kara that people still commit crimes in National City. It’s not even an ego thing, really, since Kara tries to keep herself humble (even when she manages to wrap up a hostage situation within twenty seconds of arriving on-scene without injuring any of the criminals or damaging the building too badly). Like, yeah, she gets that there’s a certain element of crazies who just sorta gravitate to places with a local hero, the big-bads who have their own suits and geek-toys and abilities. Them, Kara gets. Kinda sorta. But the regular ones, who are armed with like, pistols? Or knives? Just regular man made stuff without even the benefit of magic or kryptonite or something?

Why? 

She’s sure that if she asked, Lena would have some sort of statistical thing about large cities and poverty and all sorts of other factors that would end up making Kara feel like a jerk for being uncharitable to the criminal element of her city, but at the moment she’s mostly too annoyed by the fact that she has to spend her weekdays chasing them around instead of chasing stories.

Once all the hostages are freed and the cops secure the scene, Kara departs, flying into the alley behind Noonan’s and changing into her regular clothes before she heads inside to do a bit of research before her meeting with Elena Watts in a few hours (just because she’d used it as a cover doesn’t mean it was a bad idea…). She finds her favorite little two-person booth tucked into a quiet corner, plugs in her laptop, and gets to work, asking the waitress to please keep both the coffee and the sticky buns coming.

She gets a surprising amount done by the time she needs to leave for the interview, having a good foundation for what she wants to write and who Elena Watts is.

Ms. Watts turns out to be a pretty nice lady around Eliza’s age, if a bit busy and distracted by the steady flow of people in and out of her office. She answers all Kara’s questions with aplomb, happy to elaborate on most every point and eager to draw attention to the rising issue of homelessness among children and teens in the US.

“When I was young, my dad lost his job at the auto plant. It was supposed to be a temporary layoff, but the factory never reopened. We ended up losing the house, and we lived so far from our extended family that staying with them wasn’t much of an option. We lived in our SUV for six months, sleeping at shelters every now and again, if we could find one that allowed families to stay together. We showered at the local YMCA. Five people and a dog, living and sleeping in an old station wagon- even now, it sounds ridiculous. Eventually, we got back on our feet, but I never forgot that. It was just six months, but it was- and remains- the scariest, most uncertain time in my entire life, and it shaped me in a lot of ways I didn’t expect. And there are kids and families who do that for years. I just want to help them the way I wish that someone had been able to help us.”

At the end of the interview, Kara thanks her profusely for her time and for sharing her story before hurrying off to CatCo to type up a draft for Snapper (“What’s wrong with you, Ponytail, why is everything you bring me sappy and sentimental?”), which she finishes an outline of just in time to send it off before running to Big Belly and L-Corp for lunch with Lena.

She greets the newest in a series of secretaries (Anna? Amy? Ava? Lena’s really missing Jess, these days, but from what she’s told Kara, Jess is kicking butt in her new role as VP of Operations and will probably take over for the COO when he retires in a few years), and the girl waves her in distractedly.

And that’s when Kara’s day goes from normal to not, because inside the office are two masked men holding a stone-faced Lena at gunpoint on her balcony and demanding… something, probably. Kara’s a bit distracted by the loaded gun aimed at Lena’s head.

“Hey!” she yells, attracting both their attention. They whirl on her and Lena’s eyes widen in alarm, and Kara suddenly realizes three things- 1) she’s in her Kara Danvers clothes, not the supersuit, 2) she can’t speed into the suit now that they’re both looking at her, and 3) she has no plan.

Crap.

“Who the hell are you?!” one of them demands.

Kara… doesn’t have a good or snappy answer for that, and instead does the only thing she can think of- she throws the large milkshakes she’s carrying at them as hard as she can.

Which, in retrospect, is too hard, apparently because while yes, it is both funny and gratifying to see two grown men get absolutely leveled by a tasty dairy treat to the face, the one closest to Lena manages to elbow her in such a way that she falls backwards over the rail with an instinctual scream that makes Kara’s heart fly into her throat. She whips off her glasses, and by the time she’s out the window and speeding toward Lena’s flailing form, the suit is materialized. She gets under Lena, catching her carefully and dropping a bit further before slowing down (because she’s been made aware that when she doesn’t, the people she’s saving may as well be hitting the pavement), finally coasting to a stop about 20 feet from the ground.

Lena’s face is screwed up in a forced sort of focus, her hands clutching tightly at Kara’s shoulders and cape as she holds her breath.

“Are you okay?” Kara asks quietly.

Lena swallows thickly and nods, eyes still firmly closed. “I’m alright. Thank you- I’ll admit, I wasn’t quite sure how to get out of that one.”

“What was that? What did they want?”

Lena cracks an eye open. “Oh. you know, just my quarterly assassination attempt. I think my mother was starting to miss me, so she wanted to reach out.”

Kara snorts. “That really shouldn’t be funny.”

“Maybe not, but here we are.” Lena shifts a bit in Kara’s arms, cheeks a bit flushed from the adrenaline rush, and clears her throat. “Not to be rude, Supergirl, but do you think that perhaps we could continue this conversation… on the ground?”

“Oh. Oh! Yeah, sorry. I forgot we were, uh, flying.”

Lena chuckles as they ascend slowly back up to her office. “You forgot you were flying?”

Kara shrugs with an easy smile. “I guess you have that effect on me.”

Lena huffs a laugh against Kara’s neck, eyes squeezed shut again. They alight on the balcony, finding the two men still unconscious, covered in Kara and Lena’s lunch. Lena sighs as Kara sets her down, pinching the bridge of her nose. “What a mess.”

“Yeah, sorry, I sorta… panicked.”  

“I was so looking forward to a milkshake too…” Lena laments playfully.

“Well, then I have good news and bad news,” Kara says. She reaches out and gently wipes a bit of her own chocolate shake from Lena’s cheek with the pad of her thumb, tucking it into her mouth on instinct to get a taste of it. “The good news is, you do, in fact, have some shake on you!”

“Whats the bad news?” 

“Also that you have some shake on you.” Kara laughs, gathering the two men in her arms and hefting them a bit so they’re easier to carry. “I’ll get you another one. Be right back.”

She drops the men at the police station with a brief explanation before flying back into the office. Lena hands over her discarded glasses with a wry grin.

“I figured you’d need these before the police arrive.” She’s putting on a brave front, but she’s clearly still more than a bit rattled, if her too-bright eyes and thundering heartbeat are anything to go by. Kara steps closer and opens her arms in invitation, and Lena doesn’t hesitate to step into them. “Thank you,” Lena says fervently, tucking her face into Kara’s shoulder and wrapping her arms tight around Kara’s waist. 

“Always,” Kara promises, daring to press a reassuring kiss to Lena’s temple (and getting a bit of Lena’s strawberry shake for her troubles) before wrapping her up even tighter in her arms. “Are you actually okay?”

“I mean, my fear of heights has been reaffirmed,” Lena jokes, “but aside from that, I’m not hurt.”

“Good. I don’t like, love people pointing guns at you. Just so you know.”

“I’m not a fan either, for the record,” Lena drawls, burrowing even closer. “Even though I know you’ll save me, it still puts a damper on my day.”

Kara huffs a laugh. “Same.”

They stay like that for a few minutes, until Lena’s calmed down enough to stop shaking and calls her assistant (Audra, apparently) in, telling her what’d happened and that the police would be arriving shortly to take her and Kara’s statements, and please advise the security team to let them up discreetly. After the cops arrive, it’s a blur of questions, and Kara has to concentrate on telling the story of how she’d panicked and thrown the milkshakes at the men, and one of them had knocked Lena over the balcony (all true), and Kara had yelled for Supergirl, who had knocked the men out on her way to Lena (also technically mostly true. Technically. Mostly.). The police are sure to tell Kara that next time, she shouldn’t throw things at people with guns, and also to tell them both how lucky they are that Supergirl had shown up when she did.

“She’s always there when I need her,” Lena agrees, throwing a sly wink over the officer’s shoulder at Kara.

Kara just shakes her head and smiles. Even almost dying isn’t enough to make Lena not flirt with her. The woman is truly a marvel.

Kara’s comms crackle again, accompanied by Alex’s custom ringtone on her cell, and after assuring the police that she has no issue with giving another statement if they need her to later, hurries over to the DEO (making a quick stop in the back alley to change into her suit).

**

When Kara arrives, she’s told that J’onn and Alex are waiting for her in the Directors’ offices. She makes her way there, waving to the agents and scientists she knows. But it’s very weird, because every time one of them sees her, they start giggling before quickly hurrying off in the opposite direction. Like, literally everyone is whispering and pointing and giggling, and it’s giving Kara such visceral flashbacks to high school that it’s all she can do to not check her cape for a taped on sign that says ‘Kick me’ or ‘Freak’.

(Kids are mean.)

By the time Kara gets to her destination, she’s fully paranoid, sure that someone’s playing a prank on her, somehow, and that everyone but her is in on the joke. She opens the door with more force than intended and catches it just before the handle puts a hole in the wall, throwing Alex and J’onn a sheepish smile. She closes the door extra gently and leans against it heavily. J’onn and Alex just stare at her, looking thoroughly unimpressed.

“Busy day, Supergirl?” Alex asks, and after half a lifetime of spending time with her, Kara recognizes that she, too, is trying not to laugh. 

Kara’s had enough. “Okay, do I have something on my face? Or on the suit? Is someone messing with me?”

J’onn’s brow furrows. “No.”

“Then what’s the deal? Why is the entire DEO like… laughing at me? Did someone accidentally vent the lab fumes out into the main hub again?”

“No.”

“Did someone see me crash into that billboard last week?”

J’onn’s frown deepens. “What?”

“No,” Alex answers.

“Then why is everyone laughing at me?!”

“I mean, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s because of that,” Alex muses, nodding toward the big TV on the wall beside Kara.

She steps back to watch the news coverage of her dealing with the hostage situation this morning and frowns. “What, those guys? That was routine, what’s so funny about tha-”

“No, no, not that. That,” Alex clarifies, cranking up the volume.

“...reports are saying that the CEO of L-Corp, Lena Luthor, experienced an attempt on her life early this afternoon. Sources claim that she fell from a considerable height-”

“Hey, she was pushed,” Kara corrects.

“Shh!”

“...caught by Supergirl, who may have gotten a little… familiar with her.”

And there’s a video (clearly recorded on a cell phone but not the worst quality Kara’s ever seen) of Kara catching Lena and slowing to a stop above the sidewalk, of them talking quietly, of Kara’s hand definitely on Lena’s-

“Oh. Oh no.”

“Oh yes,” Alex drawls, clicking the TV off with relish, a large, evil-big-sister grin spreading across her face. “Congratulations, Supergirl- the world just watched you grope Lena Luthor’s ass.”

“But I’m not- I wasn’t groping, I was catching! My hands weren’t… If it was groping, I’d be all up on her, and I wasn’t!”

“Camera begs to differ. It’s already trending on Twitter in National CIty.”

Kara puts her head in her hands and groans. “Why?! I was trying to save her!”

“You were definitely trying to save part of her,” Alex agrees. “Granted, it’s a very nice part...”

Kara’s head pops up, and she shoots Alex a look that’s between a pout and a glare. “You’re not helping.”

Alex feigns confusion. “Am I supposed to be helping?”

“Alright, enough,” J’onn cuts in before Kara can retort. “We just wanted you to be aware. I don’t think that this is going to be taken for anything more than it is- a humorous moment in the middle of a successful rescue. You shouldn’t worry about the press.”

And truth be told, Kara isn't worried about the press- she’s worried about the fact that she’s going to have to face Lena after this. Lena, who she knows for a fact has google alerts set for herself, Kara Danvers, and Supergirl, a gesture which is normally actually sweet and kind but is right now definitely gonna bite her in the-

“Okay! So, is that all?”

Alex blinks, looks over at J’onn, and shrugs. “I mean, yeah. Try not to make a habit of groping your crush when you’re in the suit.”

“I wasn’t groping her-”

Alex grins. “So you admit you have a crush? Interesting…”

“Alex!”

**

J’onn’s prediction is mostly right- no one seems to be taking the shots of her grabbi- saving Lena as anything other than a funny blip of a moment in their coverage of it.

He was wrong about the sheer scale. The clip had gone totally viral in a matter of hours, and seemingly every major network in the country has run the clip at least once as a bit of filler-fluff, and almost every major network anchor (including the ones at CatCo, the traitors) has made at least a passing joke about Supergirl being ‘Super-Handsy'.

Which means that Kara is very late getting back to Lena’s office with replacement food. But like, she’s been busy, okay? It’s not like she’s avoiding Lena, or something, because she’s embarrassed- which she isn’t, because she didn’t do anything bad or wrong and-

Anyways, it’s well past sunset by the time Kara gets to Lena’s office door again. She hesitates outside it for just a moment before shouldering the door open and knocking tentatively.

Lena’s attention jerks from whatever she’d been absorbed in to Kara, and a relieved smile blooms across her face. “Hey there.”

Kara finds herself equally relieved to not experience a repeat performance of earlier scary situations. “Hi,” Kara says, unable to resist smiling back. She raises the bags and cup carrier. “I bring grease and milkshakes. Again.”

“Oh thank god, I’m starving,” Lena says, rolling her chair away from her desk and rising into a deep and probably much-needed stretch. Kara very determinedly does not stare at the slight sliver of soft tummy that appears between her blouse and skirt at the motion. “I’ve been staring at this screen for several hours. And Sam called to yell at me- she says hello, by the way- she and Ruby are in town next weekend.”

“Good!” Kara crosses the room to the couch as Lena does, easily spreading out the veritable buffet of fast food she’d brought over the coffee table. “I mean, not good that she yelled at you, or that you’re still at work, Miss Luthor,” she says pointedly, receiving only an unapologetic shrug in response. “But good that, um-”

“I get it,” Lena chuckles, resting a hand lightly on Kara’s knee and boy, if that doesn’t make Kara’s brain go fuzzy and dumb again… “Thank you, for checking in.”

“Of course I was gonna check on you, Lena,” Kara huffs. “Plus, I know you probably didn’t get lunch, so…”

Lena hums around a mouthful of burger, chewing until she can politely speak again. “Well it’s delicious. Did you make it yourself?” she teases with a sly grin.

“Oh, yeah, totally. Slaved away over a hot stove for this- I just wrapped it in Big Belly wrappers so you wouldn’t feel bad about it.”

“Very clever.” Lena pops the lid off of her milkshake and drags a fry through it (an advanced culinary delicacy Kara had horrified her with initially but had eventually become a bit of a guilty pleasure). “Although I have to say, traditionally you’d have to buy me dinner before you grabbed my ass.”

Kara chokes on a pickle. “Oh no,” she groans, dropping the burger onto the wrapper on the table and dropping her very red face into her hands as Lena laughs beside her. She peers out from between her fingers. “I am so sorry, I was just worried about you hitting the pavement and like, catching you in the least jarring way and I wasn’t paying attention to where my hands were and I didn’t even notice until I got back to the DEO and-”

“Well I have so say, I feel a bit offended that you didn’t even realize you were copping a feel...” When the only response is another groan and a deep flush spreading from Kara’s neck to the tips of her ears, Lena relents. “Kara, Kara, it’s fine!” she laughs, pulling Kara’s hands away from her face and giving them a grounding squeeze. “Nia’s been sending me memes about it all day, which has improved my mood significantly. On the grand scale of fallout from assassination attempts, this one was at least funny.”

“I know that’s supposed to be comforting, but all it makes me wanna do is wrap you in bubble wrap forever,” Kara informs her.

“Pass on that. But seriously, don’t worry about it- I know it wasn’t on purpose- unfortunately for me, you’re too noble to do something like that,” Lena laments playfully.

And whether it’s the knowledge that Lena is not, in fact, upset, the overall weirdness that has been this day, or this delicious burger fueling it, Kara feels a bit emboldened. “Hey Lena…”

“Yes?”

“What if I wanted to grab your butt? Just, y’know, as a hypothetical. For future reference.”

Lena quirks a brow at her, fighting a smile as she contemplates this. “Hmm. Strictly hypothetically?”

Kara scoots a bit closer on the couch. “Sure.”

 “Well, you’ve already bought me dinner…”

“And lunch, technically. Even if I gave it to the bad guys.”

“True. Plus you saved my life, so that gets you some points, probably.”

Kara pauses in her sly scooching. “Oh, hey, wait, no, that’s not-” 

“Kidding, Kara. I know you’d never use that to your advantage. I, however, have determined that strong moral fibre and nobility do, in fact, earn you more points, which is my choice on the matter and you get absolutely no say in it.”

“Oh. Um, alright, I think.”

Lena stares off into the middle distance, tapping her forefinger thoughtfully against her chin. Finally she shrugs. “Yes, I think you’re fulfilled the prerequisites for a bit of grab-ass today.”

Kara snorts, Lena laughs, and soon enough Kara takes her up on the offer.

**

“Hey Kara, remember that time you grabbed Lena’s ass and it made international news?” Nia asks around a mouthful of mushu pork.

“You mean last week? Yes, I remember,” Kara drawls. Beside her/halfway sitting on her lap, Lena snorts.

“That was the best.”

Alex glares. “Um, excuse you, no. No it was not. I had to sift through so much thirsting over my sister on like, every social media platform. It was the worst day of my life.”

Brainy’s brow furrows. “Surely that cannot be correct, Alex. Statistically speaking-”

Alex holds up a hand, cutting him off. “Trauma can’t be measured, Brainy.”

Kelly chuckles and presses a consoling kiss to Alex’s cheek, and it makes the tough agent melt into a doe-eyed puddle of mush that Kara snorts. And she says they’re gross... Kara sneaks a glance at Lena from the corner of her eye, and she catches Lena looking at her. She leans close and jostles her gently as she drops her head onto Lena’ shoulder. “We’re never gonna live that down, are we?”

“Probably not.”

“We have the worst friends.” When this elicits nothing but a chuckle, Kara tips her head back to see Lena still looking at her, a soft smile playing at her mouth and shining in her eyes. And like, this whole thing they’re doing is new, with the kissing and the actual dates and the... everything else. But the thing where Kara catches Lena looking at her and she doesn’t look away? That freakin’ knocks her out, every single time. “Hey,” she manages.

Lena grins down at her. “Hi.”

So yeah. Maybe the initial circumstances weren’t ideal, and she doesn’t love the mockery that’s been heaped upon her by all of her friends and loved ones (including Winn, who’d sent a missive from the future that literally just said ‘LOL’). But the fact is, Kara muses as she surges up just enough to kiss the corner of Lena’s mouth, that she doesn’t regret a thing.

[amethystpath-writes]

So Cold

(NOT A PR0MPT)

******

“The world is ending. You realize that, right?”

Villain’s brow twitched before his eyes became squinted in a cool, calculated gaze. He realized, Hero knew, he just didn’t care.

“You’ve already won.” The statement- that admittance- it hurt. Hurt in a way Hero couldn’t have even begun to describe herself. It was emptiness and it was starvation, but it was necessary if Hero wanted any chance at receiving a semi-proper death. “I’ll die regardless of where. Let me go,” she said- rather begged.

Hero glanced down as Villain leant forward, newspaper in hand. She’d seen this paper before- seen it more times than she cared to count. It was part of Villain’s breaking in process. “The streets are empty,” Villain told her. She nodded.

“I know.” Her voice was quiet, hardly existent.

“You would rather die alone than in my company.”

Her chin lifted in an instant, and she couldn’t tell whether it was her own response, or if Villain had made her do it. Either was likely. Both was likely. “That isn’t what I said.” Her voice was already much more solid, albeit panicked. “I just…”

“Yes?”

“I want to see light again. Real light.”

Villain hummed, his eyes becoming hooded again as he brought the paper back to himself, leaning back in his chair, crossing his legs. “There is none.”

“There has to be. It’s warm in here; that means the sun is out.”

“It’s warm in here because the sun is too hot, too close for the air conditioning to stop us from cooking.”

It was this sentence that Hero had a revelation. He’s scared to die. Not only this, but he was scared to die alone. It was why he chose to keep Hero instead of letting her go. It didn’t matter to him whether Hero had her final moments with someone else, just as long as they weren’t without him.

“You would rather die in my company,” Hero whispered. “You don’t want to be alone when the world ends.”

There was something- something hidden- in Villains posture. He was grouchy all the time, but his posture was straight, confident, and otherwise concealed. He used his stances as a veil- a mask.

“You’re scared.”

“You are becoming cocky, Hero.” It was a warning, a threat of sorts, though there was nothing for him to do to Hero anymore. She might as well have been a pet parrot, a useless thing that spoke and mocked on occasion.

“I’m curious,” she piped. Any amount of fear or caution was slipping away, crawling down off her body like a thick and slow oil. “You won, finally. You could have- should have killed me, and I’ve wondered all this time why you haven’t.” She paused, and there was a heavy silence draped between the two of them. “It’s because you knew the world was ending…wasn’t it? Because you knew and you knew there was no one else to take advantage of which would give you so much satisfaction.”

Hero didn’t say it in hopes of besting him; she knew that was impossible at this point. Impossible when she hadn’t trained in a year. It took one capture, one method of restricting her. Of course, Villain had failed at first, keeping her from escaping whatever bonds he had her in. She would twist and turn, burn her wrists to get out- could never figure out the alarm system though. Regardless, Villain finally found a way that Hero couldn’t escape, and that was all it took.

“Are you the reason we’re going to die?”

Villain cleared his throat, and Hero knew she would need to sit down if she were standing. “Not exactly,” he admitted. The constant authoritative tone in his voice dropped, the sound of his voice becoming lighter itself. “What am I, Hero?”

“An oracle.”

He nodded.

“So, you did know the world would end,” Hero snapped. “If you are so scared to die,” she began to ask, “why not stop this? You must know the way.”

He nodded once again. “I do.” Villain rolled his neck, letting it crack one way, then the other. He was stalling, but there was only so much he could do before he had to fess up. “But I’ve never killed anyone before- only hunted them down and gave them to someone else. That someone else died before I could give them the person the world needed to die.”

An anchor dropped in Hero’s stomach. It didn’t occur to her yet that she was the one meant to die. “You’ve taken others?”

“Didn’t think you were the only one worth hunting, did you?” Villain scoffed, lightly. “Prophets are cursed, Hero. Plagued with every way the world could fall into catastrophe. It isn’t fixed in killing one person; someone else just takes their place. It’s like Earth wants to die, alright?” His fists were clenched, fingernails undoubtedly digging into his palms, likely almost enough to draw blood. “You’re the first one who can’t be killed.”

To both of their surprises, Hero said, quite simply, “I can be killed.” She wouldn’t meet Villain’s eyes as she continued by saying, “If it’d save everyone, even temporarily, I could be killed.” The idea had finally struck her- that she needed to die- but she couldn’t respond as fearfully as she typically would have.

The newspaper slid across the floor in an angry sweep. “You weren’t listening.” Villain stood, paced. “I can’t kill you, Hero. I don’t have it in me to.”

A silence laid still in the room. Neither’s breath could be heard, nor the scribbles within their mind. They sat, Villain, comfortably in a chair, and Hero, uncomfortably on the floor.

“If you couldn’t kill me, why be cruel to me? Why not just let me go?”

Hadn’t she already said it herself? Villain didn’t want to die alone.

“I thought if I could convince myself you were an untamed animal, then I could just put you down. Shoot you, or poison you, or shove an empty syringe between your toes, but…dying is worth it to not have to kill you.”

“I’ll die anyways.”

“We all will.”

“You can stop it!” Hero protested. “I can stop it! Stop everyone from dying. Why would you let the world end when you know how to prevent it?” Hero didn’t understand. If killing her would save everyone, even if temporarily, why not jump on the opportunity? Villain had been doing it all along, according to him. Maybe not the killing part, but generally. “I’m going to stop it,” Hero declared.

“You are? How do you plan on executing that plan?”

“I’ll hold my breath.” And she did, but not before sucking a breath in to hold.

Villain chuckled, “If your plan is to kill yourself, taking that big breath you did was pointless. The point is to not have air.”

Hero let the breath out. “So, you won’t kill me yourself to save the world, but you’ll instruct me on how to do it myself?”

“I’m doing neither. You’ll die with the rest of the world.”

Another stretch of pause. Hero spoke up, “And if the end of the world is more painful than anything you could ever do to me?”

This was an outcome Villain hadn’t thought of; Hero could tell. His posture slackened, shoulders dropping like weights had been placed on them.

“Would you kill me then? If you knew the alternative was worse?”

“I would,” Villain admitted, “but you don’t know what the end will look like.”

“Shouldn’t you, prophet?”

“I said if it were worse then I would kill you.”

The two never bickered like this. They only ever stared at one another, while Villain might have occasionally sent a soft insult at Hero, calling her a rat, or a pesky mouse. She would do nothing because there was nothing to do.

Now, though? Now, it was a matter of the universe, and Hero had every intention of saving it. Intentions meant nothing, unfortunately. “Why can’t you kill me yourself? Beyond the end of the world doing it more gently.” She stated this last part firmly, making sure Villain had no way to run around the question by giving the same answer.

“I told you. The person that could have killed you died. He’s dead, so you’re not.”

“That’s not you,” Hero once again protested. “Whoever that was, they’re irrelevant. You can stop this. This heat. This devastation. This end. You can stop all of it in its tracks.”

Hero clearly didn’t understand that it was Villain himself who he was talking about. She didn’t understand that a piece of him died at the thought of killing her. Her. Only her, dammit. Villain had killed so many people before her, centuries before her, and yet…he couldn’t kill her.

“I have a handheld fan. It’s about the only thing I have to cool you down. You want it?”

With the slightest nod, Hero accepted the offer. She wanted to argue. Wanted to keep going, keep pushing, but she was finally gaging that doing such was pointless.

The world was going to end.

[artificialqueens]

The Big Date Night, Part 1 (Ravjanilaskianncadoramey) - Albatross

AN: You read that right.

Ravjanilaskianncadoramey.

This will hopefully become a short series. The AU is that all the women are in a very loose polyamorous arrangement. The main relationships are Ravjila, Willaska, Tatiadore, and Bitney but in the arrangement each is free to ask out/date/whatever anyone else in the agreement at any time the involved parties wish. Once a month, they all come together for a date night where the pairs are randomly selected and the odd woman out can choose who she’d like to tag along with for the evening.

“Alright,” Raja began, flashing a brilliant smile to the group, “Is everybody ready?”

A few eyes glanced down to the phone in her hand but within seconds a number of agreeable murmurs or warm smiles filled the room. There was an air of electric excitement as everyone waited for Raja to press the button on her phone and start the app.

This was the beginning of the group’s special monthly date night; a night where everyone in their poly relationship was to go on a date with someone and the fairest way, as it was soon decided, was to leave the ‘who’ up to chance. Courtney and Alaska had found the randomizer app and shared it with everyone else; after all, it was a bit easier than drawing names from a hat every single time. And most importantly, no one could argue that the results were biased in any way.

Raja gave a showy little twirl with her finger, earning an expressive eye roll from Bianca, and set the randomizer into action. Faster than she could blink, the matches for this evening were displayed on her screen and Raja couldn’t help but take a quick sneak peek. As soon as she read the final match in the listing, she found herself snickering. 

Bianca’s interest was immediately piqued and quite unceremoniously, she pulled Raja’s hand and phone close to her for a look. As she read the results even she was smirking at the outcome. 

“Well, tell us already!” Manila called out, antsy to find out who her match was for tonight.

“Yeah c’mon!” Adore and Willam chimed in.

Alaska remained silent but was wriggling in her seat with anticipation. Even Tatianna was anxious to hear the results. As the odd girl out this month, she would be able to choose who she wanted to tag along with. She already had an idea of sticking with her girlfriend but the matchups might turn her favor to someone else. 

Only Raven sat calmly in her place on the couch. Her expression read as perfectly content or perhaps a bit bored. She certainly liked the potential of going on a date with a different partner each month but so far (and it’d been about 8 months since they all agreed to this collective poly arrangement) she hasn’t really connected with anyone other than her girlfriends, Raja and Manila, and to some extent, Alaska. She liked the other girls well enough...most of them anyway...in controlled doses. But she didn’t feel anything beyond friendly interest and that was quite frustrating, both for her and them.

“Okay, okay,” Raja cut through the growing chatter of impatience. There was a hint of laughter in voice that she was trying very hard (and failed) to fully suppress. “First up, is of course, me,” she began, ignoring the playful kick to her shin, courtesy of Manila, “And my lucky lady tonight, will be...drumroll, please.”

“Raja!” came the collective groan of the group.

Laughing to herself, Raja continued on with, “Bianca!”

“Lucky, my ass,” the woman in question grumbled. Anyone who knew her could see she was quite pleased with the result. Already a smile was forming at the corner of her lips...or maybe she was just thinking of what kinds of wine they’ll be sharing shortly.

Raja glanced down to her phone and read off the next pair, “Next we have...Alaska and...Manila!”

A wave of giddiness washed through Alaska’s body and a happy little sigh passed her lips. Manila wasted no time in bounding over to her spot on the loveseat and dropping herself down into her lap. Slinging an arm around Alaska’s shoulders, Manila initiated a brief kiss before they both turned their attention back to the rest of the announcements.

“Who’s mine?” Willam interrupted. There was an odd feeling growing in the pit of her stomach.

“In a minute,” Raja assured her. An unsettling twinkle was present in her eyes that did nothing to set Willam’s nerves at ease. Especially as Bianca stifled a sudden burst of laughter at the statement.

No….there’s no way.

“Courtney,” Raja teased, darting her eyes back to Willam for a short moment, “Tonight you’ll be with…”

Please say me or Raven, please say me or Raven.

“...Adore.”

Damn it! 

Willam let out a huff. She knew who was left. Everyone knew who was left. But still Raja just had to go and say it. “So that leaves Willam and Raven as our final couple of the night.”

Fucking rigged, Willam thought bitterly. But wait...Tati hasn’t made her choice yet!

Willam rushed over to the woman just a few short feet away. Ignoring the way her head was already shaking in refusal, Willam whispered in a hushed, panicked tone, “I’ll pay you.”

Now that caught Tatianna’s attention. “How much?”

“$100.”

Tatianna scoffed at the figure. Rolling her eyes, she considered for a moment what she would ask for. Then a thought came to her. “Give me your purse and I’ll go with you.”

Willam’s eyes narrowed in suspicion as she asked carefully, “Which one?”

“The blue one.” she said simply.

“That’s Versace!” Willam whispered in indignation. “No!” Then thinking of her situation again, she offered, “I’ll let you borrow it. Whenever you want.”

“Mm,” Tatianna mused, “No.” Still not good enough. “How about those silver heels?”

“The Loubs?” Willam nearly yelled. If there was anything she was less willing to part with than her handbags, it was her shoes. Why couldn’t Tatianna just accept cash...or ask for a dress or something? Willam had no problem getting rid of those. “Are you out of your fucking mind?”

“That’s my price,” Tatianna smirked. She knew Willam was caught. Either she’d have to pay up or suffer in solitude.

Willam stayed quiet...she really, really did not want to go on this date alone...but was it worth the price of those shoes or handbag?

Ugh, damn it!

Willam let out a defeated sigh and shook her head. “$250, final offer.”

“Have fun with Raven!” Tatianna sang and she flitted away to join Adore and Courtney in their plans.

Fucking rigged!

******* “Mm,” Alaska mused softly, slipping her arms around Manila’s waist as she wriggled in her lap, “How about a movie? There’s a few trailers that looked good.”

Manila loved the idea. It’d been so long since she actually went out to see a movie from somewhere other than someone else’s couch. Not to mention there were plenty of options to choose from right now, whether it be the latest blockbusters as Alaska suggested or even an Indie film from one of the locally owned theaters. 

“And dinner?” Manila suggested. “There’s the bistro on 7th we both like.”

Alaska’s eyes lit up with excitement. "Perfect!" She could already taste their handmade raspberry lemonade.

****** Courtney and Adore were deep into planning their date when Tatianna joined the conversation. A number of ideas had already been thrown around and then quickly shot down. “We need to go somewhere fun...” Courtney reiterated, “Oh! There’s a meditation seminar downtown!”

Adore and Tatianna’s eyes quickly shot to one another. “That’s...no,” Tatianna finally said.

“Beach?” Adore offered with a shrug.

“But we’d only have an hour or two of daylight...” Courtney countered. They were silent for a moment, still thinking of other options, until Courtney added in, “Although, we could move to the boardwalk after that.”

A wicked little grin rose to Adore’s lips as she mentioned, “They just opened a haunted house where that old arcade used to be.”

“Or we could go on the ferris wheel!” 

“And the spinning cups!”

Although Tatianna was all for walking along the beach and even spending the rest of the evening at the boardwalk, she was absolutely and utterly against going on any of those rides Adore and Courtney mentioned. She didn’t like being scared, she didn’t like spinning around at high speeds, and she absolutely loathed heights. Despite how frequently or vehemently someone might assure her that the rides were safe, she just couldn’t convince herself it was true. Instead she just imagined all the ways the ride could go wrong...not exactly a fun night for her. No, she needed to think of something else they could do. And quick.

But soon she was pulled from her thoughts by her girlfriend asking, “Tati, what do you think?”

A moment of panic and dread gripped Tatianna’s heart. She had nothing to offer and Adore was looking at her so sweetly, waiting for an answer. 

Wait...she did have one idea. “We haven’t gone skating in a while,” she said.

Courtney let out a little squeal of excitement and Adore pressed a happy, sloppy kiss to her cheek. “Yes!” Courtney agreed. “Oh, this is gonna be amazing.”

****** It was hard not to overhear some of Adore, Courtney, and Tatianna’s planning, particularly as they grew more and more excited about all of the rides the boardwalk has to offer. Neither Raja nor Bianca had an interest in those particular activities, however, but their conversation did give Raja an absolutely delicious idea.

“Wine on the beach?”

Bianca grinned. “Red or white?” 

****** Within a few minutes of the match results being announced, everyone had finalized their plans and made their way out the door. Everyone but Raven and Willam. Once the cars had disappeared down the road, Raven was the first to break their night-long silence towards each other.

“Delivery?” she asked, already sounding bored to death, as she pulled out her phone.

Willam sighed, “Sure,” and made her way to Raven’s side, keeping a respectful distance between them. 

Raven skillfully tapped away on her phone, already knowing her order by heart, it seemed, and then tilted the screen towards Willam for review. “What do you want?”

Willam stared down at the screen. Something was off at first but she didn’t know what. Then it hit her. These were all drinks...All alcoholic drinks. This was Drizly’s order screen.

Not what I had in mind, Willam smirked as she scrolled through the options, but this’ll work.

****** Alaska was mulling over the menu options long after Manila had placed hers back on the table. She just couldn’t decide what to get. Her drink; that was easy, but food...that required more serious thought. “I don’t want to eat anything too heavy…” she explained with an apologetic smile.

“Saving room for popcorn, huh?” Manila teased. Alaska loved how her eyes sparkled whenever she was having fun.

Unable to keep herself from laughing, Alaska could only shake her head in denial. “Candy?” Manila suggested with a knowing glint in her eyes.

“Maybe,” Alaska replied in that special, vague tone. The devilish little grin that followed confirmed Manila’s hunch.

Manila picked up her menu again and took a closer look at the entrees. “How about a wrap?” she offered after some thought. “That doesn’t look too filling.”

Alaska’s gaze darted back to that section. Definitely some good options there. The chicken, cranberry, and walnut wrap sounded delicious...minus the chicken, of course.

“And we could walk to the theater from here,” Manila added in like an afterthought, “That’ll probably make you hungry again.”

“Oh, right!” Alaska agreed, placing her menu down with relief and satisfaction. “Thanks!”

“Anytime, doll.”

****** With their orders for both drinks and food placed, Willam and Raven returned to their comfortable silence. 

Almost comfortable. 

Each felt they ought to try to talk to the other. Make some sort of effort to get along, for the night, at least, but neither was sure what to say to break the ice. Willam pretended to be occupied with selecting a show from the TV guide while Raven stared at her phone, meticulously tracking their orders as they inched closer to their destination. She sat at the edge of her seat, ready to jump up and meet the driver. 

Oh, well. Maybe later.

****** Bianca and Raja drove with Tatianna, Adore, and Courtney to the boardwalk. It was a bit cramped in the car but the conversation was fun and the ride, quick. While the others busied themselves with removing their shoes, Bianca and Raja said goodbye and made their way towards the entrance of the ‘Wine on the Beach’ section. It was a neatly roped off little area that offered a decent selection of wine, as well as a few mixed drinks. The main appeal, apart from the relative quiet at this end of the beach, was the fabulous view of the ocean. Every so often you could see ships out in the distance or wind surfers but unlike the rest of the beach, this area was uncluttered with sunbathers or loud families. Truly just an ideal place to drink some wine and watch the waves or enjoy some nice conversation. Although in Bianca’s case, the conversation was more amusing than anything else.

She was still working on her second glass of wine but next to Raja sat two bottles; one empty and one well on its way to becoming empty.

“I used to be real scared of you, you know?” Raja said with that cute lopsided grin she always wore when she drank.

Currently she was pointing a fry soggy with cheese at Bianca yet still managed to hold her glass with a certain air of grace and class. It was an odd picture and then combined with that statement, seemingly coming from nowhere, Bianca couldn’t help but laugh.

“What? Why?”

“Cause you were always just sooo,” Raja twirled the fry around, almost like a wand, as she tried to come up with the right words. Failing, she shrugged and popped the fry into her mouth. She contemplated for a second or two until finally offering, “put together, I guess.”

“Terrifying,” Bianca agreed. Her smile was stretched from ear to ear.

“It was intimidating!” Raja stressed before snatching up another fry. “I never met someone that confident before. That could actually back it up, y’know.” Chewing slowly, she studied Bianca. It felt a little too acute for someone who had just finished off a full bottle of wine by herself. Bianca wondered what all was actually going through her mind.

Raja took another sip from her glass and set it back down. Her voice grew more serious as she recalled, “You always breezed through getting your models dressed and ready to shoot. Everyone else was just running around like rabbits on crack. But you’d get them to me, like hours, before anyone else even showed up...I actually had to be on time for you!” She began laughing again and Bianca felt a release of tension in her shoulders. 

Strange, she thought. She hadn’t noticed it was there before. A few early memories of them first meeting, Raja as an established makeup artist and Bianca just starting out as a stylist after a long-overdue career change, filled her mind. She hadn’t thought about that in years. Who would’ve guessed it’d lead to their current relationship? 

Before she could dwell on those thoughts for long, Raja’s voice, now struggling not to laugh, brought her back to the present. “And God-forbid if someone said shit about your models. You made that one guy cry, remember?” She did. “I mean, he was an ass anyway but still. You pointed out for everyone,” she really stressed that word, “everywhere he tried to cut corners. With the makeup or the hair; any place he fucked up on...And you were right! I didn’t even notice until you said something.”

A swell of pride filled Bianca’s chest. To her, those mistakes were so obvious, so why shouldn’t she point them out? But it felt pretty good, looking back on it now, that even someone as experienced as Raja hadn’t noticed as quickly as she did. 

Bianca brought the glass back to her lips as Raja stole another couple of fries from their basket. Finishing her shallow sip, she smirked and asked, “Well, what do you think now?”

“Fuck,” Raja sighed, “I’m still scared.”

Bianca had to set her glass down and hold it firm, she was laughing so hard.

****** The remaining hours of sunlight quietly slipped away as Courtney, Tatianna and Adore walked along the shoreline. Light, easy chatter passed back and forth between them until it was nearly too dark to see the footprints they’d left behind. By the time the sun had begun its descent beneath the waves, they were more than ready to move on to their second activity of the night. The plentiful lights along the strip of shops and rides made it easy to navigate to one of the many entrances of the boardwalk. 

“Ugh, how is there still sand between my toes?” Adore complained as she washed her feet under one of the many leaky showerheads placed just beyond the wooden stairs leading to the beach.

“Sand’s magic that way,” Courtney beamed as she sat on the nearby bench and watched some of the passersby. “You just never get rid of it. You’ll find it days later in your car, your clothes...your home.”

Adore chuckled as she rotated each foot one more time under the spray. Still there was a grainy sensation left over now matter which direction she turned. Sighing, she turned off the water and gave up trying to get completely clean. Tatianna gently nudged her in the side with her elbow. “I think there’s some wipes in the car,” she offered with a sympathetic smile. “Let’s go grab our shoes and check.”

“And go eat,” Adore cheerfully added in, bouncing over to Courtney and helping her up from the bench.

Playfully latching on to Adore’s arm, Courtney agreed, “And go eat.” 

The threesome debated a few nearby food choices as they made their way to the parking lot. They had almost come to an agreement when Courtney thought to ask, “And then...walk down to the rink? Or should we drive?”

A very good question, Tatianna mused. Unlocking her phone, she murmured, “Let me text the others.”

She received a reply from both Raja and Bianca by the time they reached the car. Raja’s text was an indecipherable mess of emojis and almost words. Shortly after a slightly blurred selfie came through as well. “Helpful,” Tatianna noted as she shared the picture with her girlfriend and Courtney. 

Bianca’s reply was much more lucid.

“Bianca said ‘Go ahead, we’ll walk down and meet you later’,” Tatianna announced as Courtney and Adore hunted for the wet wipes in the trunk and backseat, respectively. An amused grin appeared as she added, “She misspelled ‘meet’.”

“Drive it is then!” Courtney laughed out. A mere second later she let out a delighted little noise of triumph and held the Wet Wipes up high like a trophy.

Adore rushed around the side of the car and claimed the container with a sigh of relief and satisfaction. Without these, she was sure the feeling between her toes would have driven her nuts before long. While cleaning off the lingering sand, a forgotten thought returned to her, “But where are we gonna eat though?”

******* “Can’t you find something?” Raven asked impatiently. 

True, she’d been staring at her phone for most of their night together but now that their food had arrived she was ready to watch something else. Willam, however, was still scrolling through all of the channel options for the second or third time. How hard can it be to find a decent listing?

“Got any suggestions?” Willam snapped back. “I’m telling you there’s nothing on.”

Rolling her eyes, Raven picked up the cocktail she made (thank you Drizly) and took a long swig. As she set the glass back down, she grumbled, “Just pick something. As long as it’s not one of those stupid documentaries, I’m fine.” She reached out for one of the take out containers left on the coffee table, hoping food would lighten her mood. Searching through the Lo Mein for a piece of shrimp or pork, she grumbled to herself, “Fucking reruns of Jersey Shore even.”

The guide flipped to a new page and immediately one of the listings caught Willam’s eye. She scoffed as the read the summary out loud, “You mean an ‘in depth review of historical child labor practices and its impact on modern consumer culture’ doesn’t sound like an absolute thriller?”

“Do I look like Courtney to you?” 

“Don’t have to twist my arm,” Willam smirked. She flipped through a few more pages before finally giving up and opening the Netflix app. Glancing back at Raven, she slowly scrolled down the list of new releases, and asked if anything grabbed her attention.

“Keep going…” Raven murmured distractedly. She scanned each new icon until finally one seemed interesting enough to consider. “Stop. Go back one.” Without being told, Willam opened up the summary for the movie. There was a drawn out pause, long enough for Willam to finish the last quarter of her own drink before Raven made her verdict. “This’ll do.”

“Aren’t I considerate?” Willam teased as she pressed the ‘Play’ option.

Raven scoffed but a small smile tugged at the corners of her lips. "Sure. I mean at least you asked. Tatianna would just put something on and tell you you’ll like it."

"For like 10 minutes as the movie's playing so you can’t hear shit even if you wanted to," Willam muttered in agreement.

Scooting closer to the coffee table Willam, refilled her glass and grabbed one of the spring rolls from the container. While she munched away, Raven added in, "And Adore would sit here hogging all the lo mein until there’s like 3 noodles left."

"Or Bianca with her ‘fancy’ wine," Willam laughed, nearly spilling her drink as she tried to make air quotes.

Raven let out a burst of laughter before breaking off into a short coughing it as a piece of lo mein caught itself in the back of her throat. After she washed it down with a few sips of her drink, the pair fell silent again. This time it wasn't so uncomfortable. In fact, there was almost a warming sensation in the air…or maybe that was just the alcohol?

When Willam stole a glance towards Raven she was surprised to find the other woman still smiling.

A thought soon formed in her head. "Hey," she asked casually, "What do you think of Pandora? Did you see her last post on Facebook?"

"Did I," Raven huffed, rolling her eyes like dice. Her gaze fell back to Willam and a devilish smirk appeared.

Maybe they'd have some fun together yet.

[tklpilled]

embrace

summary: cuddling is nice, unless you're ticklish.

a/n: ive been sat at my computer all day finishing this i am so tired but here you go. also i am once again providing u with he/they ranboo.

—

Touch, Ranboo learns, is one of the best things in the world.

He loves physical contact. He’s a very affectionate person, and he’s sure part of it has to do with the fact that he’s never really been touched before. But there’s also the fact that he’s not very good with words, and touch is one of the best ways he can think of to let people know he loves them.

They don’t initiate it very often, though. They’re terrified of crossing anyone’s boundaries or doing something that someone wouldn’t like. But no one else starts it, either, so they don’t get affection very often, except for maybe a pat on the head from Phil or Techno squeezing their shoulder.

And then there’s Tubbo.

Tubbo seems to be just as affectionate as Ranboo is. He initiates a lot of the touch between them; intertwining their fingers together, kissing Ranboo’s forehead when he thinks they’re asleep, climbing onto a chair or table to ruffle the two-coloured hair (which never fails to make Ranboo chuckle in amusement, always earning a playful glare from the smaller boy).

Out of all the forms of affection that Ranboo has been introduced to, his favourite has to be cuddling. Hugs make him feel safe and happy, and cuddles are just like really long hugs to him. It’s especially good when cuddling with Tubbo, because Tubbo radiates warmth and comfort.

There’s just one problem.

-

Ranboo’s hair has gotten a bit longer in the past few months. They can never find the time to cut it, and Tubbo loves playing with it, so they decide to keep it how it is. It’s not that long, not nearly as long as Techno’s, but long enough for Tubbo to play with it and give them little braids.

Which is what he’s doing right now.

Tubbo runs his fingers through Ranboo’s hair, and Ranboo had melted into the touch almost as soon as he’d started. They begin purring softly after a bit, something they’ve started to do often when they’re content. It’s not Tubbo’s first time hearing it, but he pulls away anyway with a small smile. Ranboo bites back a disappointed whine at the loss of the warmth against their chest. Tubbo reaches up and removes a lock of hair from their face, tucking it behind their ear.

Ranboo can’t hide the squeak they make when Tubbo brushes against their ear.

Tubbo pauses, a look of slight confusion on his face. Tentatively, he repeats the action, causing Ranboo to make the same squeaking noise as before.

“Are you alright?” Tubbo asks, and Ranboo hesitates. It’s embarrassing, but he figures that Tubbo will find out eventually, and it’d be worthless to try and hide it. He knows how stubborn Tubbo can be, and he can only come up with excuses for so long.

“I’m fine,” he assures. “It just t- tickled, that’s all.”

He doesn’t miss the grin that grows on Tubbo’s face, but he doesn’t do anything more, so Ranboo decides to ignore it.

-

“Give me your hand,” Tubbo says one day. He’s curled up and nestled into Ranboo’s side, with their arm wrapped around his shoulders.

“Wha- why?”

“Just do it!”

When Ranboo still doesn’t move, Tubbo sighs and grabs Ranboo’s other hand. He holds it with one of his own hands, using the other one to draw shapes on Ranboo’s palm.

Ranboo can’t see what he’s doing very well, but he can feel it. Mostly just random squiggles and lines, though there are a few actual shapes that he can make out; some hearts and the letters I-L-Y, which Ranboo flushes slightly at.

There are others, but he doesn’t pay much attention to them. He’s more focused on the feeling on his hand. He tries to hide his reactions to it, because it’s dumb, but he can’t keep the smile off of his face.

Tubbo notices it.

He gets a fond look on his face, one that tells Ranboo that he knows what’s happening. “Your hands are ticklish?”

“Sh- shush,” Ranboo mutters, looking away and attempting to hide his face.

Tubbo uses one finger to scratch at Ranboo’s now exposed neck, making him giggle and turn his head back. “Don’t hide!” he says with a grin. “You have a nice smile.”

Tubbo should not have the ability to make Ranboo’s face feel as warm as it does.

-

Tubbo has his arms around Ranboo’s waist, moving his hand up and down over their side comfortingly. Ranboo is already half asleep, even though it’s only just gotten dark.

“This is nice,” Tubbo says quietly, earning a hum in agreement. “It’s quiet. Relaxing.”

And it is nice, until Tubbo accidentally pushes Ranboo’s shirt up a bit and drags his fingers over their skin, and Ranboo gasps and flinches.

Tubbo chuckles at him. “Whoops.”

“Sorry,” Ranboo mumbles.

Tubbo pulls away, confused. “Why sorry?”

“I mean,” Ranboo refuses to look at the brunet. “is it not annoying? You can hardly touch me without… that.”

Tubbo looks a bit startled. “It’s not annoying at all!” he reassures the hybrid boy. “I think it’s really cute, actually.”

“Oh,” Ranboo says softly.

“But I’ll stop if you want me to,” Tubbo continues. “Or at least try not to.”

Ranboo stutters for a moment, trying to figure out what to say. “You don’t— it’s not— I don’t mind it,” they stammer. They don’t miss the excited look on Tubbo’s face. “Don’t look at me like that—”

He cuts himself off with a squeal that morphs into laughter at the feeling of Tubbo’s hands on his sides again. “Hehey! No fahair!”

He can hear Tubbo’s grin in the way he speaks. “How’s it not fair? You said you wouldn’t mind.”

“Gohod, shuhuhut uhup!”

Ranboo’s tempted to push him away, especially when he moves towards their stomach and suddenly the sensations are so much worse, but they resist. It’s unbearable, yes, but. Well. It’s not unpleasant, and it’s not like Ranboo has much to laugh about anymore.

And later, when Tubbo teases him endlessly about how he clearly wasn’t trying to push him away and accuses him of enjoying himself, it’s not like he can deny it.

[letsfluxshitup]

​Technoblade Learns How To Relax (now on ao3)

Tommy's face became more and more contemplative as he guided Quackity to the ravine dubbed Pogtopia. 

He led him down the winding stairs at a pace that had Quackity fumbling to keep up with. 

On the last step, Quackity stumbled, heading face first into the dirt before an arm caught him around the waist.

"I told you we needed the guard rails." A voice huffed from behind him.

Quackity thrashed violently, whipping around and ending up on the ground anyways, staring up at the Blade himself.

"Oh! Technoblade-- Mr. Blade, sir, I didn't see you there--" Quackity stuttered, scrambling to his feet. He slipped twice on the gravel before Tommy took pity on him and offered him a hand.

Quackity took it, allowing himself to be dragged up before slightly frantically brushing off his jacket. He scrubbed at the mounting flush on his face, refusing to be embarrassed, and waved away Tommy's concern.

Tommy broke the silence, abruptly clearing his throat.

"Right- anyways, I was just showing Big Q around. He’s with us now, you know." Tommy nodded self-assuredly, glancing between Quackity and Techno.

Techno just nodded, making a noise half agreement half dismissive.

"I'll be in the--" Techno started before Tommy interrupted him, fisting a hand in Techno's cape.

"He needs a room to stay in! We don't have enough, we're going to have to share. I was thinking he could stay with Wilbur but he's a little uh..." Tommy trailed off, scratched at his chin before gesturing vaguely. "You know?" 

"I know." Techno sighed, turning to face them. "He can stay with me."

"No that's-- that's not necessary, I can just-- I wouldn't want to inconvenience you--" Quackity started, praying the panic in his tone wasn't too noticeable.

Techno just gave him a leering smile, too much teeth and tusk to be considered anything other than threatening before Tommy smacked him.

"Quit messing with Big Q, he's an ally now, alright?" Tommy said, biting down on a laugh. 

Techno snorted before shoving him in retaliation for the smack and Quackity backed away quickly before he got dragged into the rough-housing.

Finally, Techno ended it, sitting on Tommy's back effectively pinning him to the ground. Tommy flailed wildly before whining out a childish 'uncle', and Techno released him. Tommy got one last jab in before sprinting off deeper into the ravine, laughter echoing off of the walls. 

Quackity wished he hadn't left, the stale air suffocating as Techno eyed him. 

"You like what you see?" Quackity blurted out, before slapping a hand over his mouth. "Sorry-- I didn't-- that was an accident I didn't mean to say that, sorry." 

Techno just raised an eyebrow at him, and Quackity just knew he was laughing at him, on the inside at least.

Techno gestured in front of him, a silent request to start walking.

Techno followed close behind, managing to avoid stepping on his heels but still unbearably close. His hand was resting loosely on his sword, did he really expect Quackity to attack him here? In his base, all by himself?

Before he could think more about Techno's paranoid tendencies, like the fact that Techno hadn't turned his back to him once, they stopped at a simple wooden door.

The wood was pockmarked with arrow holes, centering around a makeshift bullseye on the door. Above the bullseye was a crude drawing of Techno, Techno's name carved into the door above it.

"Tommy decorated." Techno deadpanned, gesturing vaguely at the door's decorations. 

Quackity just nodded mutely, following Techno into his room.

The difference between the rest of the ravine and Techno's room was jarring, to say the least.

The floors were meticulously clean, a broom propped up in the corner. 

Everything was shoved to one side, except for the sole bed that was lodged in the far corner, the perfect vantage point to see the door and every part of the room. 

There weren't any nooks or crannies to hide in, everything flush against the wall and on ground level, too short to hide behind.

Every corner of the room was lit up, no shadows to lurk in, no area left in the dark. 

Techno's bed was frameless, mattress box directly on the floor. He wanted to make a teasing remark about being scared of the monsters under your bed but he swallowed it, all the details clicking into place.

Maybe it wasn't monsters but considering everything else, Techno must have considered the space under his bed a security risk. Part of him wanted to poke fun at his paranoia but another part just felt... Sad. 

Did Techno relax? Ever? He couldn't imagine what it must be like, constantly keeping your guard up.

Even now Techno had positioned himself with clear access to the door, and with Quackity at hand’s reach. Well, more accurately, at sword's reach.

Quackity cleared his throat, trying to interrupt the uncomfortable silence they'd settled into. Techno had just quietly watched him look around, and Quackity desperately wished he knew what he was thinking about. His face was as blank and impassive as always.

Finally, Techno spoke.

"Do I need to feed you?" Techno was eyeing him up again, as if he'd be able to tell if he was hungry or not just from looking.

"Uh-- well, I'm a little hungry, but if it's too much trouble don't worry about it, I'll be fine!" Quackity squeaked when Techno abruptly moved forward, hands curling around his shoulders as he nudged him back into a sitting position on a chest.

One of Techno's hands moved from his shoulder to his jaw, forcing his head back slightly.

This was it, Quackity thought, This is where he rips my throat out.

Instead of ripping his throat out, Techno made direct eye contact with him, which was, in Quackity's humble opinion, objectively worse.

Techno broke eye contact first, mouth opening like he was going to say something before his eyes caught on a shallow cut at the base of Quackity's neck.

He'd gotten it on the way to Pogtopia, a skeleton getting a lucky shot on him from the shadows. Thankfully it had barely nicked him, and he hadn't bothered patching it up.

Techno leaned closer to it, forcing Quackity's head farther back, his other hand moving to lightly thumb at it.

Quackity's heart kicked into overdrive, because hey, what the fuck, Technoblade had his sharp ass teeth inches away from his jugular, but he didn't move. 

After another uncomfortably long pause Quackity finally mustered up the courage to speak.

"Am I dying, Doc?" He blurted, twisting his head to try and see Techno's expression.

"Huh? Oh, no. You have a heart shaped mole on your neck." Techno huffed a laugh, warm breath ghosting across his neck and Quackity hadn't realized before how fucking cold it was in the ravine.

Techno moved away after that, and Quackity could breathe easier now that he was less worried about dying. 

Techno still hovered close, though, nearly nose to nose and without thinking Quackity spoke.

"Are we going to kiss?" He mentally slapped himself afterward, but Techno let out a loud snorting laugh as he moved away more. Quackity was slightly proud he'd gotten a genuine laugh from the man but was still absolutely mortified.

As Techno moved away from him to dig in a chest, Quackity mourned the loss of Techno's warmth. He wondered if it had something to do with being half piglin, or if he always naturally ran hot.

Irrationally, Quackity worried that he had a fever, before squashing that down because the piglin theory made a lot more sense than the Great Technoblade catching a cold.

Techno moved around the room quickly, plucking two bowls out of a chest and giving him a look that silently screamed stay there, before he left the room.

He was back minutes later, and he handed Quackity one of the bowls of soup.

Techno plopped on to the floor and without thinking Quackity slipped down to join him. Techno side eyed him, but rested his back against a chest and started eating.

Quackity ate quickly, the food burning his tongue, and if you asked him he'd have no idea what was in it. When he was finished he carefully placed the bowl next to him, and Techno eyed him expectantly.

"More?" Was all he said, and when Quackity shook his head, a muttered no thanks following, Techno shoved bread at him anyways.

"You don't have to eat it now, but it should stay good for a bit. If you want to keep it on you." Techno went back to his soup, expression once again impassive.

Quackity scooped the bread up, tucking it away into one of his bags. He wondered what made Techno give him extra, if worrying about where your next meal would come from was as inherent to him as it was to himself. 

--

Techno lay on his back, eyes closed and breathing even. He doubted Quackity would be able to tell if he was actually awake or not, but he also didn’t have a very good read on Quackity. It was the main reason he’d offered up his room to him, he wasn’t sure what Quackity was capable of so the closer to him the better. 

He didn't know if Quackity could hold his own in a fight, and what if they were invaded in the night? He’d rather be there to protect their weakest link than leave it to the hands of Wilbur or, God forbid, Tommy. Tommy was an adept fighter, sure, but he still hadn’t quite grasped defense over offense, something that would leave Quackity vulnerable.

On the flipside, what if Quackity was a spy? It’d be a lot more difficult to snoop around if Techno was there to watch over him. He was a light sleeper, and his door creaked louder than the others, something he’d never bothered to fix considering it alerted him whenever anyone entered or left. 

Quackity also wasn’t known for being particularly quiet, either. Techno was sure that if anything happened when he was asleep, Quackity’s loud panicking would wake him up instantly.

Speaking of his inability to be quiet, Techno listened to him roll over and shift again, his uncomfortable shuffling capturing Techno’s attention in the relative silence of the room. Techno tilted his head, looking at Quackity. He was curled up on the floor, on a thin mat that Tommy had produced from God knows where. He had the blanket stuffed around himself, shivering slightly. Techno hadn’t realized it had been that cold, his back was pressed against the wall behind him that was unnaturally warm due to the lava pool on the other side of it. 

“Quackity?” Techno said into the quiet of the room, voice hushed.

“Uh, yeah? What’s up?” Quackity’s voice was high pitched, a nervous titter to it. “Was I bothering you? I can leave--”

He’d moved to a sitting position as he spoke, his shoulders tense and looking ready to bolt. 

Techno sighed. Quackity being afraid of him was fun, but also very inconvenient. He gestured at Quackity, beckoning him closer.

Quackity shakily got to his feet, muttering under his breath, this is it, this is the end, this is where he kills me, curse my poor circulation, why do I get cold so easily. 

Quackity stopped next to the bed, and Techno lifted up the blanket with one hand and patted the bed next to him with the other. 

He stared blankly back at him, looking between the spot next to him and his face, expression quizzical. 

“Sleep with me,” Techno huffed, impatient.

“Woah, woah, woah, you seem like a really nice guy but c'mon isn’t this a bit--” Quackity stuttered, looking genuinely surprised and vaguely amused.

At least he doesn’t look afraid, Techno thought absently.

“Not like that. If you’re cold we can share, the bed’s big enough for the both of us.”

Quackity studied him again, rocking back and forth on his heels before letting out a sigh and shrug in the personification of fuck it, and slipping into the bed next to Technoblade.

Techno studied Quackity, frowning before scooting closer.

“Climb over me, the wall gives off heat. You’ll be warmer over there.” 

After a bit of fumbling and a push from Techno that was more of a drag, Quackity ended up on his other side. 

Techno squinted at him again, before dragging Quackity back into his chest. Quackity huffed, offended that Techno could manhandle him so easily. He wasn’t tiny, it was unfair how strong Techno was.  

Techno’s arms wrapped loosely around him, he hooked his head over his shoulder.

“Aw, I didn’t take you as the cuddling type,” Quackity teased, pressing his cold feet against whatever part of Techno they could reach.

Techno huffed again, and Quackity wondered how many emotions he could express with just a huff. 

“It’s not cuddling.” Techno readjusted his arms, absently rubbing warmth back into Quackity’s cold fingers, “It’s a tactical advantage.”

“Oh? Well, sorry to say, buddy, but your tactical advantage is crushing my wings.”

“Wings?” Techno echoed, abruptly pulling away. Quackity’s face scrunched in displeasure at the rush of cold air that met his back as Techno sat up to look down at him.

Quackity sat up too, unzipping his jacket. Techno eyed him warily for a second, before impatiently tugging at his jacket, trying to lean around him to get a look. A wing hit him in the face then, fluttering slightly before folding back against Quackity’s back. Quackity squeaked, looking terrified but desperately trying to hold back laughter.

“You need to groom your wings,” Techno finally said, after Quackity’s laughter faded.

“Hey, hey, you don’t just comment on a man’s wings!” Quackity’s voice pitched upwards, defensive as he crossed his arms and his wings puffed up slightly, only accentuating the issue. They were small, smaller than Philza’s certainly, and Techno doubted that Quackity could actually get any air time from them. 

They were kind of cute though, Techno thought. Objectively, of course.

“What if I spoon you--” Quackity started, only to be cut off by a petulant Technoblade.

“It wasn’t spooning. It was tactical. If someone came in here and saw me, they’d likely leave you alone. I doubt you made any friends when you defected from Manberg, and you’re kind of an easy target.” As if to accentuate his point he gestured vaguely at, well, all of Quackity, and Quackity’s wings puffed out again, expressive now that they weren’t trapped under a jacket.

“I resent that,” Quackity said in response, sticking his tongue out at him. 

“Alrighty, if you want a tactical advantage what if we hit 'em with one of these--” Quackity abruptly flopped across Techno, throwing an arm across his chest. Without thinking Techno’s arm came up, catching him across the throat and shoving him backwards against the wall.

“Sorry-- I didn’t mean that, sorry.” Techno pulled away quickly, straightening Quackity’s shirt and fixing his hair, hands dancing nervously across his chest.

“It’s alright,” Quackity rasped. “You’re a bit jumpy, that’s fine, we can work with that.”

Quackity waved away Techno’s mother henning, before slowly lowering himself against Techno’s side. 

“This alright?” He murmured, moving so he was laying across Techno’s chest, head on his collarbone. 

Techno curled an arm around Quackity’s waist in lieu of a response, careful to avoid his wings.

Quackity opened his mouth to comment on it, but Techno beat him to the punch.

“This isn’t cuddling. It’s a tactical advantage. Now you can’t sneak away without me knowing, how do we know that you aren’t a spy? I don’t know if I can trust you, yet.”

“You don’t trust me, buddy? We’re literally snuggling in your bed.” Quackity snorted.

“It’s not snuggling, it's a--”

“Tactical advantage, right, I know.” 

“Anyways, I know I could take you in a fight. You aren’t a threat to me.” Techno continued, as if Quackity hadn’t said anything. 

“You don’t know that--” Quackity started before Techno moved to make eye contact with him, a single eyebrow raised. “Ok, you’re probably right, but I think I could get, like, one lucky shot in, you know?”

“Sure,” Techno said dismissively, patting Quackity’s hip placatingly. His hand moved to rubbing up and down Quackity’s back and Quackity realized how tired he was. It’d been a long day, with a lot of running and the fighting with Schlatt took a lot out of him. 

Schlatt.

He was sure the man had already forgotten about him, labelled him a traitor and a coward, but Quackity couldn’t stop thinking. He tried to focus on Techno’s steady breathing, to ignore the rising memories from his earlier fight, but it was too much. He finally felt like he could think again, wasn’t panicking or in survival mode. Had he done the right thing? Had he made the right choice? 

He was pulled out of his thoughts by a sharp tug to one of his feathers.

“You’re thinking too loud,” Techno murmured, smoothing the ruffled feathers back into place. “I’ll protect you from whatever’s got you all flustered, just go to sleep.”

Quackity huffed, but buried his face into Techno’s neck anyways, curling their legs together.

“Fine. Didn’t realize Grandpa had such an early bedtime,” Quackity mocked, earning him another warning tug on his feathers. He smothered his snort against Techno, before sighing out a quiet good night.

Techno just hummed, eyelids growing heavy, surprised that he was comfortable enough to sleep.

[katnissmellarkkk]

General #7

Hiiii! Okay, well I bet you thought I forgot about this! Or, more than likely, you forgot you even requested this back in Decemeber. But never fear, my child. I remembered and have been thinking of this fic and what to write for months. 

And so I’m so sorry, I’m a total perfectionist and I started and discared like 3 ideas for this before deciding on this oneshot sooo if this sucks, I’m at least comforted by the fact that I accomplished something in writing this itself? That sentence made zero sense but... I’m tired 🤷🏼‍♀️😅.

Prompt : General # 7 :

“Is that blood?” 

“Yes but that doesn’t matter right now, what does matter is-” 

“You are literally bleeding.”

Anyways, thank you for the prompt and here we go! 

Whispers Of Light

I don't know exactly how I got roped into this. How exactly Delly Cartwright, Peeta's best friend—and alright, my friend now too—managed to convince me to help her and Leevy and about three dozen other members of the community with sorting boxes.

Sorting boxes. Organizing contents. Decorating with "found treasures".

The type of activities Prim loved doing with our mother. The type of activities I refused to do after my father died, to punish my mother for her depression.

The type of activities I now kick myself for walking out on, that I'll never be able to take back. I'll never be able to get those moments back with my sister. I'll never know what those hours between her and our mother entailed, because I chose to exclude myself, just so I could hold onto my petty anger for something that was out of all our control.

Maybe that's why I agreed to help Delly and the others with sorting through boxes upon boxes of debrief, of the items that scarcely survived Twelve's bombing almost two years ago. Maybe I only agreed out of guilt, both for never doing this type of endeavor with my sister and for being the direct cause of the bombing itself.

But whatever my reasons were, I agreed to help nonetheless, and I always follow through my promises. If there was one part of me forged in the war, if only one minor aspect of me was amplified in the smoke and haze and blood of revolution, it was the importance of keeping your promises, against all odds.

The dire consequences of a broken promise has long lasting aftereffects, beyond anything either Haymitch or I wish to dwell on.

"Katniss!" Delly calls, holding up an old, half-ripped paper book that is completely void of a front cover. "Look! I think this book is from the old Apothecary Shop!"

I squint at the dusty, decimated item, not entirely convinced. "I don't think so?" I murmur, unable to even decipher the words on the now melted, conjoined pages. "I'm pretty sure my mother kept the only apothecary book in her family?"

Kanon Bagley turns to inspect the battered item in his girlfriend's hands as well. "I don't think this is a medicinal plant book, Dells," he says sheepishly, a small smirk playing on his lips.

She gives him an incredulous look. "What do you mean medicinal?"

I peer up at him too, not comprehending his meaning any more than Delly. "What kind of plants do you think are in here?" I ask, taking the nearly destroyed object myself and flipping through the worn pages again, seeing odd herbs that neither of my parents ever mentioned or had on hand. "These don't look like the poisonous ones my father told me about?"

Kanon bites back a laugh now and I can't help feeling a little perturbed. As kind and soft-spoken as he usually is, I'm foreign to the feeling of him laughing at me. "What?" Delly snaps at him before I even can.

He still chuckles though, in spite of both our nasty glares. "You guys, it's a book of plants that'll get you high."

It takes a full minute for the meaning to dawn on me. Long enough that Leevy and a couple guys I used to go to school with come over to inspect the book as well. Long enough that they confirm Kanon's assessment just as I realize we're talking about plants that'll make you feel akin to how the morphling made me feel while confined for I killing Coin.

While everyone else snickers—and Delly full on chortles—I pass the book back to Kanon, sliding out of the crowd and moving towards a brand new box of savaged items.

It's not that the mention of plant-based drugs is a trigger for me. It's not something I ever truly gave any thought to before, to be honest. My father likely knew of them but it's not like he was about to bestow that kind of knowledge on his eleven-year-old and my mother perhaps felt it was inappropriate to mention.

No, it wasn't the subject in itself that hit a sore spot for me. But like so many times before, it's where the subject led my mind. It's where the topic took me back to.

Snow's Execution Day. The day I chose to kill President Coin instead. Being thrown back into my old tribute room. Getting high on the morphling.

Trying to forget all that I'd lost. Trying to forget my little sister becoming a human torch before my very eyes. My district engulfed in flames. The ambiguous loss of my best friend.

The connection between me and Peeta that I believed then would be permanently severed. That I believed then to be irreparable.

I suppose I believed then I was irreparable too.

And I miss Peeta suddenly, even more than I already did. Because he always knows what to say when my thoughts turn dark, when I'm suddenly triggered out of the happy, every day events and suctioned backwards to a war torn bird with her wings clipped.

But he's not here to talk me down or scare away the ghosts haunting my mind. He's not here to comfort me or even shoot me a supportive glance. No, he's at his very busy business today.

Peeta's bakery—the Mellark Bakery—has only proven to withstand the test of time these past few months. Since someone accidentally burned down the place, with nothing more than a croissant and a fancy Capitol toaster, the rebuilt bakery has been nothing but a success.

And also extremely time-consuming, I grumble internally, as I begin to pull out stuffed toys that once belonged to dead children.

"If any of those are still intact, we can donate them to the community home," Leaf John says as he opens the box across from me.

"And what exactly are we supposed to be use as decorations from these boxes?" I murmur, peering into another cardboard container, full of half-charred papers and cloths.

The general idea of today, as Delly had pitched it to me last week, was to help the community of Twelve finally sort through these boxes, donate what we could to those in need and decorate the new Justice Building with the leftover contents inside.

Somehow though I can't imagine pinning up terrible drawings of plants that'll inebriate you or headless teddy bears is going to bode well with the district.

Delly rolls her eyes in my direction—a whole new kind of response that I never thought I'd be receiving from the girl who skipped through the town square until she was fourteen years old—before nodding towards boxes on top of the ladder. "We're decorating the Justice Building with the surviving photos from those boxes, Katniss."

"Oh." Then why am I sorting these grimy, dirt-covered playthings? Why didn't anyone give me more clear instructions on today?

And why has it taken almost two years for Twelve to get a group of people together to organize the surviving items from the bombing?

I have no idea how Peeta's managed to get two bakeries built in the time it's taken for thirty-eight of us to come to the Justice Building and look through fifty cardboard boxes. And if I'm being honest, I have no idea why I'm even still here helping. I'm clearly not contributing much to the event. There's definitely more than enough volunteers without me.

And, of course, I could be at the bakery right now. Without a doubt, I'd be of more service there than I am here, digging through dusty knickknacks. I could be helping Peeta and Thom and the other part-time employees, exerting more knowledge and authority than I have here.

After all, Peeta did say the bakery was partially mine. In his mind, at least.

The ulterior motive of getting small, fleeting moments with my boyfriend, of basking in the feeling of safety with him beside me, of the occasional stolen kiss or hand squeeze when no one is looking, runs through the back of my mind.

And sways my decision immensely.

I open my mouth to tell Delly and the others that I'm about to head out, that they clearly have it covered here and I'm just in the way, when at the worst possible second, Leevy kindly murmurs, "Katniss, do you mind starting on the box on the ladder? Seeing if any of the pictures are in decent enough shape?"

I hesitate for a long moment, realizing immediately my predicament. It'd be rude to leave right after someone just essentially assigned me a task. I did agree to be here today, to help out with this tedious project. Leaving right now would only come off as rude and inconsiderate.

This is the reason I never did enjoy group assignments in school. The longer I'm here, the more I'm rediscovering this fact about myself. The division of the workload, the bore of the standing around, not knowing if you're doing the right or wrong thing, the lack of total control.

But I still nod after waiting a beat too long and agree with the nicest flare in my tone I can manage.

I'll go through the one box at the top of the ladder and then subtly make my exit afterwards. The image I unintentionally conjured up of Peeta and the bakery is still pulling at me, making me anxious to get back to him, to see him again even though we were together only three hours ago.

Since we officially became a couple a few months back—though Haymitch scoffs at that notion, claiming we've been together since Peeta first started sleeping over in my bed—I've found myself growing far more clingy to him than I ever could have anticipated. I hate when he leaves for the bakery in the mornings now, even as I still revel in the solace I find inside the woods. I look forward to his return home every night. More than even look forward to it, I'm usually at the bakery around the closing hours, helping him clean and inventory, asking him when he's coming home. Maybe looking somewhat unconsciously flirtatious as I say it.

I grab the box sitting on the ladder's top stair and pull it open, easily maintaining my balance one rung down, the same way I maintain my balance on a tree branch while hunting.

Inside pours out a plethora of photographs, mostly of Twelve's now past citizens. Near the top of the pile I see images of Greasy Sae's daughter, Dolly. The mother of her granddaughter. The daughter who died of croup a few years before the war.

Those photos must belong to Sae, I realize. Which means more of her items are probably scattered throughout the boxes here. And despite the fact that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that she'll tell me not of be impractical, that if she's made it two years without these things she doesn't need them now, I still make a mental note to return her lost items. If nothing else, I make a mental promise to give back to her the photos of her daughter.

I know better than anyone what kind of comfort photographs of the deceased can provide.

As if in line with my thoughts, as if I alone manifested it somehow, the next image that catches my eye is one I entirely do not anticipate.

It's a shiny photo, on the kind of glossy paper my family could never afford. In the image is a blonde man with broad shoulders and a tall build. Wrapped in his embrace stands a petite girl, with long blonde curls and mascara accentuating her already long lashes. The couple both have eyes that match the color of the sky and are dressed up in some of the nicest clothes in all of Twelve. A white dress with lace. A gray suit with a black vest. The pretty girl wears jewelry and lipstick and there's a familiar glint in the male's eyes and I find myself mesmerized.

And I can't pretend I don't see my boyfriend in both of their faces. I can't pretend Peeta isn't the spitting image of both his parents.

He has his mother's smile, I realize with startling assurance. I never saw the witch smile personally, at any point in my life so I suppose I wouldn't know where he got his charming, sweet grin from.

The mannerism looks so out of place on his mother. The kind smile Peeta has, the one that could light up a blackened sky, doesn't bode with the woman in the picture, even on her wedding day. The charming smile doesn't fit with what I know of the woman's character. With what little about her Peeta chooses to share.

But I'm even more surprised to find how much Peeta has come to resemble his father. How much Peeta has grown to favor the now deceased man.

The last time I saw the baker—the original baker, that is. Haidon Mellark—before the Quarter Quell, I resented the fact that Peeta wasn't as tall or as broad as his father. I privately believed if he'd inherited those traits, he'd be even more likely to win the games again and I could worry about him less.

Peeta was always taller than me and was always remarkably strong, after working in the bakery since childhood. But his father was a whole different level. Haidon Mellark, I'd forgotten until now, had a body that could only rival my own father's.

And as it turns out, Peeta did inherit Haidon's physicality. He just also happened to be a late bloomer. Like his mother, I imagine, staring at her tiny frame in the picture.

The change in Peeta's form occurred so gradually I barely even noticed until a couple months ago, when I woke up with my head against his heart and abruptly realized just how broad he had become. Until I couldn't even reach to kiss his jaw on my tip toe. Until he started laughing at me and had to lift me up in order to properly embrace the way I like.

"Katniss?" I hear Delly beckon, trying to bring me back to reality. Trying and failing, that is. I hear her but only in a vague, distant sense. My mind is still stuck on the image in my grasp. Still stuck on the novelty that I managed to find a remembrance for the boy who still at times questions if his memory is full of lies.

"I still cry about my family and somedays I can't even remember their faces."

I never even considered the possibility of finding a token of Peeta's departed family here. It never occurred to me, the potential finds in this box at my fingertips, that I could take home to my boyfriend. I never imagined finding him something to hold onto when the inevitable dark day came again like a storm cloud, full of thunder.

I'm so entranced what this could mean for Peeta, so lost in my own little world, that I'm barely even hanging onto the ladder. I'm definitely not as steady as I should be, standing near the top rung.

And I'm definitely not steady enough to hang on when Delly gives it a rough shake, trying to catch my attention.

/

The boxes break my fall. Sort of. Kanon and Leaf John had taken the liberty of placing the empty cardboard, already looked through and emptied, beneath the ladder.

Falling headfirst into a large, void box is better than falling plainly onto the filthy, concrete tile floor. But not ideal. Not as helpful as falling into a box of surviving clothes or toys would have been.

Delly apologized profusely for shaking the ladder. She'd even begun to cry when she noticed the blood seeping from my forehead.

Thankfully Kanon was there, as I didn't have the energy to console her much. I don't even know how I managed to cut my head at all, but it stung a fair amount and it provided me the excuse I wanted minutes prior, to escape the group project and head for the bakery.

Even after the fall, my mind still was cemented on the newfound treasure. My first instinct was still to show this memento to Peeta as soon as possible.

Kanon though, like a good friend, insisted on walking me home, despite my many protests that it was unnecessary, that I was just fine, that I could walk home blind if I had to. He insisted, foiling my intention to walk directly to the bakery and not wait for Peeta's return home, which still remained hours away.

Kanon was surprisingly stubborn when he felt strongly about something and I chose to relent, to give in and allow him to accompany me back to what used to be Victor's Village—where he now resided with Delly, inside Peeta's old home—without much fight.

Fighting for your independence and autonomy doesn't exactly present you as rational when there's a bloody gash in your forehead.

"Doesn't that hurt?" Kanon asks as we make out way up my porch.

I look up, maybe a little startled, from Mr. and Mrs. Mellark's wedding photo. "My head?"

"Yeah," he says carefully, looking at the blood like it's a mutt in an arena.

I shrug, doing my best not to indicate how dizzy I actually feel. Either from the fall or the blood still dripping out despite my attempt to plug the wound up with old cotton rags someone sorted into the trash box. "I've had worse."

He chuckles, a little sardonically. "Yeah, so have I."

I thank him for walking me home—for it was as inconvenient as it was sweet—and close the door slowly behind me, before leaning my ear against the wooden frame, waiting. Waiting for him to climb the steps down from my porch and make his way back to the Justice Building. Waiting for him to be far enough out of sight that I can sneak back out without him also trying to accompany me to the bakery.

It's not that I don't appreciate Kanon and Delly and all of my other friends' concerns. It's the fact that I wish to bestow a likely loaded item upon my boyfriend and I really don't need an audience to do it.

It's not the easiest feat, to slyly time it so Kanon won't hear me opening and shutting my front door again. And it's probably not my smartest plan, to walk alone along the rocky cobblestones and the uneven concrete, with a less than level head and body.

But I make it to the back door of the bakery still, just as I knew I would. It takes three times as long, but I make it there nonetheless.

Still clutching the photograph of his parents between my fingers too. Still with the same primary focus on my mind. To give him a token of remembrance, a token of the imperfect family he lost so tragically, that he still greatly missed, even when he can't say their names. Even when he can't conjure up their faces.

"You don't remember your family?"

"Sometimes I do... I'm not so sure other days. My memory isn't exactly top notch, if you know what I mean."

I push open the heavy-weighted back door, using all the energy my body can muster up. To my relief, Thom is already in the back room, sweeping flour off the floor.

"Hi, boss," he greets slyly as I walk in, barely glancing up at me. I shoot him an over-the-top eye roll, though I can't help smirking myself at the stupid nickname, when he beckons Peeta. "Hey, your girl is here!" He yells loudly. Too loudly to be packed with customers at the counter.

I take that to mean the daily rush has come and gone. Which would be very convenient, as it means I can present Peeta with my finding that much faster, without having to worry about his business—or our business, as he teasingly calls it—being held up.

I hear the sound of my boyfriend's quiet laughter from the front. The sound that I akin to my father's singing or my sister's squeal of delight. The last sound still alive that can make my heart do a flip.

But it dies out the second he peaks his blonde head into the back room. The moment his baby blues, the same color as both his parents', meet my silver ones and then trail upwards.

Almost as if remembering the gash in my head, I reach to my forehead, to ensure the makeshift cloth bandage is still in place.

"Katniss?" Peeta says, his eyes looking far more nervous than I anticipated. Which I can only take to mean the red liquid has seeped through the plain fabric. "Is that blood?"

I don't want him to focus too heavily on that fact though. Like I told Kanon, I've had much worse injuries in my life. Me and Peeta both have.

Just look at his prosthetic leg.

"Yes," I reply easily, before moving closer to him, pushing the glossy photograph towards him. "But that doesn't matter right now. What does matter is-"

"You are literally bleeding."

I sigh, feeling slightly perturbed now. "Peeta, look," I insist, thrusting the image of his parents towards him, waiting for it to take anchor.

And it does. It takes a beat longer than I expect, but it happens nonetheless. I watch silently as the image captives him, as the shiny photograph takes him back to a time when this exact location was the only home he'd ever known and this business was run by the two people inside the picture.

He touches the photo, as if to test it's realism, before looking up at me in disbelief. "Where did you find this?"

"The Justice Building today. Inside the boxes, with all the things lost in the bombing."

There's a long pause as Peeta process this. The silence makes me antsy, finding myself abruptly uncertain of what could be going through his mind.

Finally, he whispers softly, "I never thought I'd see this picture again."

And the awed, tender smile that spreads across his face swiftly encompasses me in its warmth.

And I suddenly don't even feel the gash in my head anymore.

/

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