#but i will say FUCK YOU to whoever fucked up the printing settings at the color printer at the library

[fandom-blackhole]

Guys I'm getting beat the fuck down this week.....

Edit: IT JUST GOT FUCKING WORSE

[fallingformatt]

SINCE WE’RE PLAYING GAMES M.S.

Matt x fem!reader

summary: what happens when you try to cheat your way to win a game of twister?

warnings: SMUTTTTTTTT! unprotected sex, slight bdsm.

word count: 2.5k

a/n: Yall are some freaky fucking fucks… over a thousand notes on my post? Yall are insane, im so thankful for yall dirty minded ass people. I truly did not expect that to happen on my second post ever. And thank you all for almost 300 followers yall are the GOATS!!!

Let me know if I should write a pt. 2 for FIRST GLANCE M.S. available here

post is not proofread

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I'm currently at the triplet's house. The sun is setting, casting a beautiful orange hue to the living room where we all are sitting, drinking some drinks, and just talking. The music in the background isn't loud but I can hear it clearly.

"I'm bored, let's do something fun," Matt says looking down into his half-empty cup. "Well I don't have any ideas," Chris shrugs his shoulders. "I have an amazing idea," Nick yells, startling me. "Nick, you scared me, I almost spilled my drink," I say out loudly slapping his shoulder. "Please ask me what my idea is, please, please, please," Nick tries to plead to make us ask him what his idea is.

"So what is ur 'amazing' idea?" I ask looking at him with a serious face. "We're all gonna play twister," Nick says ecstatically clapping his hands together like a kid. "No Nick, we are not playing twister, we're not five," Matt says annoyed. "Oh look I'm Matt, I'm so tuff and boring, I don't like to have fun," Nick mocks Matt, making me and Chris laugh.

"Well I don't know about y'all, but I'm tipsy, there's no way I could play twister right now," Matt says tugging on the collar of his black t-shirt, his eyes from across the room to meet mine, sending butterflies to my stomach.

I've always had a little crush on Matt, but I never really did anything about it, because I didn't want to ruin the friendship between us. I mean yeah, sure I would sometimes tease him, wearing something revealing, making his eyes wander to places they shouldn't, for example, today, I was wearing short, low-waisted shorts and a small leopard print baby tee, but I knew that, me doing something with Matt would probably change the dynamics of the group as a whole, so I left it as is, hoping my crush on Matt would sooner or later die down.

"You're just scared that you'll lose, so I have a proposition, whoever loses takes a shot of vodka," Nick says proudly. "That's the dumbest thing I have heard in my life," Matt says crossing his arms. "Well, as far as I know, five-year-olds can't drink vodka, so who's the five-year-old now huh?" Nick defends his idea. "We all are a bit tipsy so the chances of you winning are fair, you're just a pussy," Nick says trying to provoke Matt. "Yeah Matt, don't be a pussy," Chris joins in. "Okay, that's it, we're playing, and I'm going to win," Matt says and smiles confidently. Nick claps his hands excitedly as he stands up and walks to the pile of board games that are stacked on a shelf above the TV.

"Found it! Y'all are going down, I hope y'all like the taste of losing, because y'all are gonna be licking the L's shortly," Nick says with a devious smile. "Okay, this one's clearly had more than enough to drink," Matt says as he facepalms.

Nick sets up the game, laying the playing pad down on the floor and placing the spinner next to the mat. "So, who wants to go first?" Nick says grinning. "I'll go," Chris answers and bends down to spin the indicator. "Right foot on red." He says out loud and steps on the playing mat. We all take our turns and the game is starting to get intense.

"Nick you are going to lose," Matt says his voice getting higher at the end of the sentence. The poses we are in are criminal. We are four, grown adults standing on this little mat, meant for children. At this point in the game, the slightest movement could make us all fall down. "Chris, you look like a deformed frog," I say as I'm laughing, almost snorting. Chris's right foot is still on red, his left foot is on blue, his right hand on blue, in front of his left leg, and his left hand is in front of his right leg. Nick is chilling in a comfortable position, meanwhile, I'm stretched out, so close to fall.

We all spin a few times. When all of a sudden Chris loses his balance and falls. "Hah, it wasn't even your turn, you're out, take a shot," Nick yells, happy that he's still in the game. "This is so annoying, 100 bucks on Nick falling next," Chris says as he takes a shot of vodka. I'm now in a compromising position, both of my hands are on red and my feet are on green and yellow, my position is leaving my ass high up in the air. Nick is now barely staying in the game.

"Nick it's your turn," Chris says out loudly, the alcohol he's had, making him unaware of the volume he's speaking in. Nick spins the spinner, "right hand green," Chris says. As Nick tried to move his hand, he lost his balance and fell. "Fuck," he yells out as he stands up. "Where my money at?" Chris says as he hands Nick a shot of vodka.

"Spin it," I say to Matt, and he does. "Left hand red," I say and Matt starts to move his left hand. Now both of his hands need to be on red and the only place in order for him not to fall is on either side of my hands. As he moves over me he brushes against my ass making me lose my balance slightly. Placing his hand next to mine, his head is now next to mine, "sorry," he says quietly, his hot breath brushing against my skin, sending shivers down my spine.

It's now my turn and if I don't think of something quickly, I'm going to lose. I look over my shoulder to see what Chris and Nick are doing, they are currently in the kitchen getting some drinks. My lips move making a small grin, this is perfect.

As I reach for the spinner, I pop up my ass, making it brush against Matt's crotch. "Right hand red, looks like I'm safe for now," I say as I turn to Matt, a smirk appearing on my lips.

After taking my turn, I move back, again brushing against his crotch, now feeling something hard. "Don't do that," Matt says in an almost moaning tone. "Do what?" I say looking at him. "Don't try to act all innocent," he says in a serious tone. "It's your turn," I say, a smile plastered on my face.

Matt takes his turn and spins the spinner, "left foot green," He says, looking at the spinner. As he tries to move, I once again pop up my ass, making him brush against it once again, the tension on his crotch getting too much for him, making him lose his balance and he falls. "Ha, I win," I say as I stand up clapping my hands together. Nick and Chris rush over to the living room.

"Did Matt lose?" Nick asks. "Yeah because she cheated," he says, anger and frustration can be heard in his voice. "What did I do, that counts as cheating?" I ask, raising one eyebrow, as a smirk creeps on my lips again, knowing he can't say anything without explaining him further. "Nothing," Matt murmurs. "What's that? I couldn't hear you," I tease him. "I said, nothing," Matt raises his voice, standing up and storming off to his room.

"I am too drunk for this," Chris says throwing up his hands as he turns around and heads to his room. "Can you help me clean this up?" I ask Nick, and he nods kneeling down.

We cleaned everything up and put the game back in its place. "You ready to head to bed?" Nick asks. "You go, I'm going to come later, I'm going to check on Matt," I say as I start walking to Matt's room. "Goodnight Nick," I say smiling. "Goodnight." He answers.

Without knocking I open the door to Matt's room. "Hey, you okay?" I ask as I look at him. He's sitting on the edge of his bed looking straight at me. "I was waiting for you to come in, want to play a game?" Matt says. "Sure, what game?" I ask unsure what game he had planned.

"Since we're playing games, let's play a game you can't cheat in," he says a smirk creeping on his lips. "Simon says, close the door," Matt says. Oh shit, we're already playing. I close the door not moving an inch. "Simon says turn around and lock the door," his voice getting deeper. I do as he says. "Simon says turn back around and stand in front of me," he says. As I turn around, about to walk in front of Matt, my eyes meet his, his eyes grow dark and his lips form a slight grin.

"Simon says strip," he says his tone getting even deeper, a hint of lust accompanying his voice. "What?" I ask, my voice slightly trembling. "You heard me, Simon says strip," he repeats. I start off by taking off my baby tee throwing it on the ground leaving my upper body fully naked. I slip out of my shorts, letting them fall to my ankles before stepping out of them. I pick up my head to look at Matt, he stares me up and down licking his lips.

He stands up and walks closer to me, his hands move my hair to one side of my shoulder, then proceeds to leave a wet kiss on the back of my neck, sending shivers down my spine. His hand reaches over my body, touching my neck as he stands behind me "Left hand red." He says as slides his hand down my neck stopping at my breast. He massages my boob, pulling on my nipple making me moan.

"You like that?" He whispers in my ear. I don't answer. "Simon says answer," Matt says as his other hand slides down into my panties, pressing his finger against my clit before rubbing circles, making me moan. "Yes Matt I like that," I say as I throw back my head resting it on Matt's shoulder. He pulls out his hand, "Simon says turn around," Matt says and as soon as I do, he smashes his lips onto mine.

Matt wraps his hand around my waist taking small steps, leading us to his bed without breaking the kiss. I brush against his clothed cock, rubbing it slightly before I feel a slap on my hand making me break the kiss, I look up. "Nuh uh," Matt says shaking his finger, "Simon didn't say," he smirks and pulls his black t-shirt over his head throwing it to the ground next to my clothes.

He removes his belt, sliding it out of the belt loops of his oversized jean shorts, making them slide down a little, revealing the band of his boxers. He looks at me before moving his gaze to my hands.

"Simon says, extend your hands." His voice was demanding, I brought out my hands, and he grabbed them and put them together before wrapping and tying them together with his belt.

Matt puts his hand on my hips pushing them back, guiding me backward. As I take steps backward, I eventually fall on his bed. He crawls on top of me, spreading my legs with his knee, making space for himself.

He yanks up my hands by the tied belt, pinning them above my head, immediately, Matt attacks my neck with his lips, leaving a trail of kisses from my neck to my breasts, he kisses softly, slipping in a few bites. His hand slides up my thigh, stopping at my heat, his thumb starts to draw circles on my clit.

"Matt," I moan out. "Shhh, we don't want Nick or Chris hearing us do we?" He says looking up at me, taking his lips off of my breast. I shake my head in response and he smirks, "good girl," he says as he continues to rub circles on my clit his lips now moving back from my breast to my collarbone to my jaw before meeting my lips.

"Matt," I moan out as I try to pull my hands out of his grip. "Matt what?" He says as his hands push harder on mine, making sure I can't move. "Please, I need you," I whimper. He lets go of my hands and pulls away from my clit, making me let out a whimper from the loss of contact.

I immediately bring my hands down to my clit and start rubbing circles on my clit, pleasuring myself. As he unbuttons his jeans, he notices my hands, he grabs and pins them above my head again. "Are you gonna make me punish you?" He says his voice filthy and dark. "No," I say, shaking my head and looking at him. "Yeah, be a good girl for me," Matt says practically growling.

I move up and down my hips trying to get some relief as I watch him undo his jean shorts pulling them down, his boxers with them making his cock spring out, hitting his lower abdomen, precum glistening on his tip. Matt looks at me, "see what your little strategy to win did to me," he says raising his eyebrow.

"Please Matt, I can't take it anymore," I say as I scoot closer. Matt moves on top of me pinning my hands again, his other hand sliding my panties to the side before aligning himself with my heat. He pushes his cock in slowly before pulling it out almost completely, then pushing back in hard. "Oh- my- god- Matt-" I moan out between thrusts, his hand moving over my mouth to muffle my moans.

Matt fastens his thrusts, with each thrust going in deeper, making me moan out loud, he leans into my ear. "That's it, sweetheart, take my cock so good," Matt growls, pushing in me deeper than ever, his tip hitting my g-spot with every thrust. "Mmmm Matt you feel so good, I'm close," I moan out feeling my climax creeping up tension building in my stomach.

Matt moves his elbow next to my head, positioning himself so he's able to thrust even deeper. I arch my back as the pleasure takes over my body. His quiet moans landed in my ear, his hot breath sending me over the edge.

"Matt, I'm about to cum," I moan out. He smashes his lips onto mine in order to contain my moans as he plants a few more thrusts before I feel my walls tighten around his length, feeling the knot in my stomach releasing, my climax coming over me, I moan into the kiss. His hips continue to move as he thrusts in me a few more times before planting his cum inside me groaning, breaking the kiss.

He pulls out falling next to me, turning his head to look at me. "Who won?" He says smirking. "I did," I answer smiling, knowing this will piss him off. "Can you untie me?" I say as I shake my hands. "You didn't say Simon says," Matt answers teasing me back. "Simon says round two," I say as a devilish smirk appears on my lips.

I guess I won't be heading to Nick's room tonight.

[forcemeanakin]

ᴠɪᴄᴛᴏʀɪᴀ'ꜱ ꜱᴇᴄʀᴇᴛ ᴀɴɢᴇʟ!ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ x ʜᴀʏᴅᴇɴ ᴄʜʀɪꜱᴛᴇɴꜱᴇɴ

Okay so this is a alternate of @hanasnx starlet!reader but with my own little twist because I just love the scenery and the glamour of the shows <3 So I present to you: VSangel!reader x Hayden Christensen (let's ignore the fact that I've been working on some of these scenarios for YEARS now).

This is hella long and nsfw, so beware. 3K.

Previous inspo: Link

BACKGROUND:

Hayden has probably seen you in a big billboard before, maybe an ad on TV, but didn't remember your name. He thought you were hot though. A pretty little thing that was probably out of an old man's league anyway.

You are in your 20's, so you grew up with the Star Wars prequels and without a doubt Anakin Skywalker was your childhood crush. Posters on your walls, watching other movies Hayden was in just to see him. Most of your classmates probably made fun of your Star Wars obsession because you were only into it because of the hot guy in Revenge Of the Sith. How wrong they were!! It was also because of the hot guy in AOTC!

Also you're like a total SW geek, but we'll talk about it later.

THE BEGINING: How did you two meet?

Considering that both of you are from different areas of show business, you had to meet in a common ground. I don't see Hayden going to a fashion show before you (and then that's the only place paparazzi can catch him for sure <3). So after a lot of thought, you two met at an Award show (my mind goes automatically to the Tiff Tribute Awards). Or more specifically, the after party.

I picture Hayden saying hello to a couple of people he knows before heading to the bar and sticking around there, just sipping on his drink and greeting whoever comes along to shake his hand and pat his shoulder.

You already saw him back on the red carpet, making your best effort to not get your drooling face captured by a paparazzi. Your stunning dress and detailed makeup made you look like a million dollars !!!

And he noticed. Fuck, did he notice.

Walking by the bar, after pep talking yourself into talking to him for like half an hour, you pulled up right beside him to order yourself a drink. A cosmo or some shit like that. Very fancy and pretty, like you.

He was hypnotized by you the second he saw you up close. Actually, the second he saw your ass swinging his way.

That was it. You two were done for the moment your gazes crossed.

He made the first move, saying a polite "hey" and offering to call the bartender for you.

You were batting your eyelashes, grazing his biceps with your long nails and giving those "fuck me eyes" that worked every time. Someone so much more mature and wise, you didn't think he would want you for something besides fucking, so why did it matter if you were a bit sluttier than you were used to?

But you started talking and it was an actual good conversation. He seemed interested in getting to know you and his jokes actually made you laugh. He was all smooth with his compliments and subtle stares at your dress.

I feel like he would give you a nickname from the very first night. Something related to your attire or the sparkle of your eyes, accentuated by the glittery eye shadow.

It would be a downright shame to let that amazing chemistry go to waste for a meaningless hookup. Luckily he didn't let that happen.

Like a true gentleman, he walked you to your car, using the back door and called it a night. Not before asking for your number and teasing a goodnight kiss.

The next day, while you were getting ready to shoot a campaign, you receive a text from an unknown number, but you immediately knew who it was.

"Hey, starlight." There's a whole other version of this with them meeting over a smoke break, but I know that's not everyone's cup of tea.

BEFORE AND AFTER YOU:

Okay so let's set some things straight. Hayden's not a public guy. he hates having his private life printed on newspapers and he's not a fan of social media. At all. Heck. he doesn't even like to leave his house on weekends. But after you? He had to get used to it. You're this generation very own Gisele Bündchen. You're everywhere. You're everything. You are the fashion world. So paps are very much included in every moment of your life.

BEFORE GOING PUBLIC:

You tried to keep it hidden as much as you could. It was not very hard with you traveling almost every day and him living in LA, at his new house. And whenever he could, he escaped to his own little paradise in Canada.

So texting was basically everything you could do.

He even learned new lingo just to keep up with you :)

But you both craved more, so the next time you were in LA, you were going to grab dinner.

The damn paps got a few pictures of you and that's when the rumors started.

At first not many people recognized him, mainly because the pictures were taken from behind him, but the curls and the outfit ratted him out to a few observant fans.

But media didn't believe them, I mean, why? And the selected group that decided to run with that narrative used headliners like: "how the fuck did the awkward guy from SW pulled y/n's ass?"

After weeks of trying to be low-key for his sake: going on coffee runs using his caps and sunglasses so people wouldn't recognize you, having dinner dates at his house and/or choosing far away locations to stroll with a bit of privacy; you gave up. Your already public life was catching up with you two. So it was better to ride the wave than to escape it and fail in the process.

BUT BEFORE ABSOLUTELY GOING PUBLIC, I love the idea that interviewers were trying to drag the information out of you. Maybe at a red carpet or at an interview with a digital magazine, people would throw you some questions to see if you bite the bait:

"So, Y/n, who's your favorite SW character?"

And you would grin knowingly but never backing down. Your answer would vary from Obi-Wan Kenobi (to mess with Hayden) or R2 when you felt like sharing some of your SW passion.

But right before you two decide to go full-on public, you decide to mess with them, for your own entertainment: "You know, I do have a soft spot for Darth Vader."

PEOPLE GASPED AT THAT CRUMB OF CONFIRMATION.

GOING PUBLIC:

It was at a red carpet

You two went in separate cars

Hayden walked first, having his picture staken and signing autographs while you barely arrived at the event

The second you entered the carpet the cameras went off on you, total focus on getting pics of your designer dress

You were posing like an absolute goddess, answering some questions with wit, trying to spot your boyfriend with the corner of your eye

Finally you locked eyes and he raised a dubious eyebrow, like saying: "Are we seriously doing this?"

And you gave him a bright beam, stretching your arm to him as he walked to you, taking your hand and kissing the inner side of your forearm before placing it on his shoulder. Fingers dropping to your waist and pulling you to him while you laugh, his mouth lowering to your ear to whisper: "You always get your way, huh?"

You chuckled and kissed his cheek, you two turning to face the cameras, just for a few seconds before moving on.

DATING:

I'll not get into the heavy details of how you two managed to make your relationship work, with your traveling and photoshoots, because fuck that. I'll only say that there was a lot of sexting and he was a fucking natural at it. Mile high club as well.

You two would still try to remain unrecognizable by the paparazzis but more chill this time.

That meant having more pictures of you on your candle lit dinners or your fun Sunday mornings in the park out there.

I JUST KNOW THERE'S A PICTURE OF YOU KISSING IN THE PARK. YOU ON YOUR TIPPY TOES WHILE YOUR ARMS ARE AROUND HIS NECK. BIG GRIN ON YOUR FACES, LIKE IT WAS TAKEN SECONDS BEFORE YOUR LIPS MADE CONTACT.

The media would still release some mean headliners but thanks to the dilf culture cultivated in social media, some were actually rooting for you. Oh, and fans were torn between you; hating you because you were clearly fucking him and loving you because since your relationship started, you gave them more Hayden content.

The SW questions were constant in the interviews and talk shows, to the point that you were always brought some type of SW merch: a Grogu plush, a kids lightsaber, a little R2 replica. Whatever it was, it was always pulled whenever the question about you and Hayden was brought up.

You still kept answering "Obi-Wan" with a laugh and no additional information. "He has the high ground." You shrugged your shoulders, shaking your head with a cheeky smile.

Later in bed, when Hayden was giving you your daily dose of healthy cum :))) pounding into you with an admirable expertise, he whispers: "Who has the high ground now, baby?"

CLICHE BUT LET ME HAVE THIS

You never revealed to Hayden that he was your childhood crush, I mean, you could have mentioned it the first night but you didn't want to approach him like a fan. And then you didn't want to look psycho so you just let it be. And now it was too late.

But then

In the middle of an interview, a girl that actually gained your honest trust, asked you the anticipated question:

"How does it feel to date Anakin Skywalker?"

And... (the next bit was written by Indy during a brainstorm and I just wanted to share the exact words <3)

"in the interview you’re visibly nervous, rubbing on your knee, leaning forward, adopting a slackened posture. “yeah..” big grin, “he was actually my childhood crush.” “no!” the interviewer says in awe. “yeah! yeah,” you kinda laugh and cover your mouth. “i didn’t tell him. is that bad?” you put your nail in your teeth to fidget, putting on a little lovable twist to your face"

And then he sees the interview and he shots you an immediate text with the link like: "Oh???"

You know what you'll come home to

He's sitting on his usual chair, reading a book when he hears the door creak. You showed up with a shy smile, his arms opening up to let you crawl on his lap. Knowing that he'll bring it up, you hide on his neck, blush all over your cheeks. Hayden is caressing your thigh up and down, while he hugs you with his other arm and snorts: “did you keep that from me on purpose?” with a little swat on your ass (Indy, 2023).

THE REACTION OF PEOPLE ON SOCIAL MEDIA AFTER THE INTERVIEW. you cackle at the comments: "Not Y/n admitting she is dating her childhood crush!! She's one of us!!!" “HE WAS NOT” “bro no 😭 i thought she was single” “darth vader. you win again” (Indy, 2023).

Also dragging you to hockey games <333 you start to love the sport because of him but at first you didn't understand shit

He laughed at your reaction when you saw the first fight in the rink

"Do they just... start beating each other up and the ref let them?" You winced exaggeratedly.

"Yup." He laughs, drinking a sip of his beer.

KISS CAM KISS CAM KISS CAM

Also opening the car door for you after a date night, protecting you from the paps???? That's a head canon I'll take from starlet!reader and apply it here because YES YES YES

FASHION SHOWS AND SOCIAL MEDIA

ofc he goes to your fashion shows !!!!! front line baby !!!!!!!! And he is so fucking proud of his beautiful girlfriend.

So motherfucking supportive it hurts.

He comes home and peppers kisses all over your face, praising you for a job well done.

"I would buy all the clothes you sell, baby"

Or if you wore something he particularly liked, he would be desperate to get home and show you just how much he loved your teeny tiny dress on the runway.

He even learned how to dress appropriately to match with your outfits. NEVER LEAVING THE CAPS BEHIND OFC !! But his personal style improved so much, we are proud of him :)

ALSO whenever he is out and spots an ad of yours he takes a picture of it and sends it to you. Maybe with a little heart or smile, or a little text like: "so proud of you baby." Sometimes he takes a selfie with the campaign!!! such a dad selfie, his head tilted back and kind of blurry because he's trying to get the right angle !!!!

also social media with him !!!! again, he doesn't have any active accounts but you do. For his sake, you don't post a lot of things about him, however, some things are too adorable not to share. And fans love you for the little crumbs you give them

A list of photos I think would be posted on this reader's insta stories:

A photo of him in the garden, checking his tomatoes. I KNOW HE HAS TOMATOES

A photo of your shadows during a coffee run. Bonus points if it's Tim Horton's and it has the Canada location tag

A photo of his back while he's making breakfast

A photo of the view from his house. Bonus points if it is from the bathroom window. Extra points if it has any indicators that you two were previously fucking in there, like steamy doors.

A casual photo of you on his couch and you can see the famous chess game

a video of you two watching the prequels and you can hear yourself saying: "omg who's the handsome guy?" when he appears and he laughs.

A photo of you with one of his caps. Bonus points if it's the Toronto Maple Leafs one.

VS FASHION SHOW

OH YES. THE GOOD PART. THE FUN PART.

He never thought he would be in this position. Front line at the Victoria's Secret Fashion Show. But he is. And he's there to support his girlfriend. Heck, that still sounds funny to him-

You're out there, strutting your gorgeous figure for the world to see: with your six inch heels, your pretty wings and tiny lingerie- You're a fucking dream. His dream.

He's there at the front line with the Proud Boyfriend club, along with Adam Levine (I know but he got us fooled for half a decade) and Caleb from Kings of Leon.

His heart is pounding hard when your face appears in the initial video where they present all of the models walking

The first time you walk, he stands up, cheering loudly and smiling brightly at you. You were opening the show!!!!! how huge!!!

You focus on the cameras and getting the pose right but when you turn, walking on the side he's in, you point at him, even blow him a kiss.

The other two times you walk, because the initial pressure is off, you can focus more on him, and shoot him a playful wink and/or wave at him. He's grateful that you're giving him that attention, now he can brag around with hard evidence. :)

They dressed you up in a very flirty little piece, a pair of panties with a black bow on your rear side. When you get to the end of the runway, you turn around and show it off, maybe even playfully shake a little.

You know you'll pay for it back home

You will also pay for flirting with the music guest in the middle of the runway

I mean, you were not flirting, just doing the regular thing of pointing at them and dancing with them for mere seconds. But the music guest really focused on you and your strut. Maybe you did take advantage of the moment to get him all jealous and get some angry sex out of it

He could understand that part of your job. It didn't mean he liked it. He made sure to send some backhanded comments in the after party to make sure the musical guest got the picture. That you were taken.

It was so fucking hot.

He loved loved loved your police woman outfit, offering to pay for it himself so you could take it with you.

He was a fan of your angelic look with the enormous big, white wings. Almost drowning you in feathers but making you look like a real life angel. You were to him at least :)

You take such cute pictures on the pink carpet <3 he's looking like arm candy, an absolute accessory of yours. And he was happy to do it ! It was your night and he couldn't be any happier to be there with you !

Although the paps did catch him while he was staring at your spilling boobs. But could you blame him? That dress was TIGHT.

Hayden also has a photo of one of your VS campaigns in a giant frame in his office <3 you were so ashamed at first but you secretly loved that he paraded you around like that <33333333

you can catch glimpses of it during online interviews

LAST BIT

You are in a talk show, talking about the VSFS 2025, when the interviewer gets all serious and jumps:

"Last question, Y/n... is it true you and Hayden Christensen are engaged?"

You open your mouth in bewilderment, scoffing loudly.

"Where did you hear that?"

"Rumors are all over the place... but is it true?"

"No! Of course not." You squealed, acting offended before cracking a sly smirk. "We are married." And you show off the rock on your left hand.

PEOPLE GO WILD.

AHHHHHHHH- I could do this forever but I need to shut up :) also let me know if you want more nsfw content about this couple :)

Also some of these are stolen from my hockeyplayer!Anakin Skywalker / hockeyplayer!Hayden Christensen private headcanons. :)

Last pic because this is how I imagine this reader and Hayden backstage:

[1-800-imagines]

red dress. | rafe cameron

part 1

set in season 3, episode 1! part of this is literally the scene word for word with dialogue LOL

you had been manhandled all the way into your house and ushered upstairs before you could even really get a good look. an armed guard had left a hand print on your arm from him gripping you. once you were finally in the room and he let you go, you just scoffed, "great manners."

he showed no emotion and just said, "dinner at eight. I'd clean up."

"can't you just tell me what I'm here for?" you said in a frustrated tone. after he just closed the door. you tried the handle and groaned - it was locked.

the bedroom was nice and had everything you would need including multiple of the same red dresses in different sizes with a note that said - pick your size.

after a while, you decided to put it on - not wanting to piss off whoever was keeping you captive. you were sitting on the bed, dressed way too fancy for a dinner downstairs when there was a knock and then the door opened and a woman stepped inside, "he's ready."

you followed her out of the bedroom and down the stairs, trying to get a glimpse of anything that might be useful for an escape.

the woman showed you into the dining room and you looked around, spotting a man with a buzz cut standing with his back towards you. he was pouring a drink - most likely liquor. "hey - uh," you said unsure what to say to your potential captor.

your heart flipped when the man turned around. it was rafe. it was your fucking ex-boyfriend.

rafe's eyes lingered on your body, scanning you up and down as he saw you. it was like his brain hadn't fully processed who you exactly were.

"you're fucking involved in this shit? what? did you have your dad kidnap me so i'd be forced to talk to you??" your tone was harsh. you hadn't spoken to rafe since you broke things off and jumped off the ship with john b and sarah, obviously picking their side. it had broken your heart to do it but what rafe tried to do to sarah - that wasn't the man you loved.

"what the hell are you talking about? why are you here anyway? trying to fuck up my deal?" rafe said gruffly while walking towards you.

"I wondered if your little reunion would cause sparks, you know." said a voice from the other room. your attention snapped towards the other man.

"who are you?" rafe asked, his tone shifting and his body moving closer and in front of yours.

"me? my name is carlos singh. it's a pleasure to meet you, mr. cameron," your stomach dropped at the fact that the unknown man knew rafe by name.

"and ms. y/l/n, I do apologize for the rough tactics to bring you in today." as mr. singh said that, rafe's eyes scanned over your body, his teeth gritting when he noticed the bruises on your arm. "come, I don't bite." he continued, turning on his foot to go into the other room.

before you could follow, rafe blocked the entrance and whispered, "did he hurt you?" his hand brushed against your arm.

"I'm fine rafe, but I want to leave here - like now." you said softly and continued to walk into the next room.

you could tell rafe wanted to kill the man for anyone putting his hands on you, but now wasn't the time. "rough tactics? what about me then?" rafe was seething and after every sentence his jaw clenched harder.

"yes, mr. cameron, false pretenses for you, but the ends justify the means, I'm afraid."

---

after sitting through singh's speech about what he wanted, him interrogating you about the diary, which you had denied knowing its whereabouts vehemently, he had walked you and rafe back to the room where you had been held earlier.

after opening the door, singh then threatened the two of you with only having one day to tell him where the diary was and that there was going to be a demonstration at the window. and with that, he left the door locking behind him.

while rafe banged on the door, you walked over to the window and pushed the curtains out of the way. rafe joined you, "who the hell is that guy?"

"he's the guy that got us off the island." you murmured, "his name is jimmy portis. he was trying to help me." your stomach dropped, yet again, when singh pulled out his gun as he looked up at the window towards you and rafe.

you and rafe both jumped when the gun fired and you turned instinctively into his chest. his arms wrapped around you and he put his face against your forehead. he put one hand in your hair on the back of your head to pull you closer.

"baby, I need to know, the diary, do you have it?" he asked, pulling away and tilting your face up towards him.

you hadn't even realized that he had called you baby at first, but there were bigger things than that going on so you just shook your head no, which was the truth, and said, "no I don't have it."

rafe nodded and kissed your forehead, "I'm so sorry. for everything."

comment if you want to be tagged for this fic OR my obx tag list in general!!

keep an eye out for part 2 where it's the rest of their night!!!!

[streetlightyeri]

the misspoken chapter ; scott miller

chapter I of the 28 series

“you took a train to the south side of boston, you showed me where your old man stayed.”

w.c: around 7000

warnings: misogyny, extended writing of being trapped in an elevator, mention of pregnancy in medical setting, not well proofread.

-

Aspen rested her head on Scott’s shoulder as the Red Line railcar thundered back up across the Charles River. His arms were folded across his chest for the beginning of the ride, but his sleepy girlfriend had wedged her arms through his, intertwining her fingers into the hand closest to her. He busied his other hand with grabbing the sliding tupperware of leftovers her parents weighed them down with. It was a short train trip; Scott wasn’t sure how she was able to fall asleep and get so comfortable so fast. It must’ve been her plan from the moment he saw her heavy blinks after dessert.

When they finally got to their stop, he flexed his hand she was holding before shaking it, the movement making her grumble and lift her head. He pressed a chaste kiss to her hair before standing, her arms still wrapped around his. “This is our stop.”

She stood and let him guide her back to the street where the cool air started to wake her up. He let go of her hand to reposition himself on the outside; he flexed his hand in the absence of hers, but her warmth found him again quickly, without him having to ask.

They finally made it back to their shared apartment, their soon-to-be alma mater shining in the distance.

-

The two met when she overheard him bitching at an undergrad she was just helping about how he messed up a line of code and didn’t deserve the second chance to correct his homework for something as simple as a parenthesis. When the student asked what he could do to learn from his mistake, Scott looked through stacks of paper and pulled out a piece with lines of letters and numbers printed on it. “Find whoever this is, and hope they have pity on you to teach you.”

Aspen scoffed from behind her computer screen, recognizing the paper. She never understood why they had to print out coding homework, but Dr Muher was weird. Scott’s eyes narrowed in her direction; the other two students using Dr Muher’s TA’s Study Hour quickly gathered their things and bolted out the door.

“I’m sorry, is another student’s struggle funny to you?”

Aspen stopped typing and shut her laptop as though she had all the time in the world. She interlocked her fingers and rested her chin on them. “No, just that you’re using my work as an example and you don’t even know what I look like.”

Scott looked between the paper and the girl and before letting out his own scoff. “Yeah, I will not believe this is your work.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Why not? Please enlighten me.”

“This is too advanced to be a junior’s work.”

“This is a junior level class, is it not?”

“Yes, but-”

“The name on the paper is Aspen Lee, is it not?”

The TA’s hand tightened around the paper in anger at being defied.

She stood, palms resting on the table. “Why don’t you say what you’re thinking? That it can’t be me because I’m a girl. You’re the TA, why is it my job to teach my peers? I know the army doesn’t pay you shit, but that isn’t my fault. You don’t see my name on a fucking building here, and I’m not making it someone else’s problem.”

She zipped her backpack and wrapped her laptop in her arms. Just before she was out of the door she turned back, hand on the doorknob, “And by the way, his work is missing a bracket, not a parenthesis.”

-

A few weeks later, after very fiery glances being thrown between the two, Dr Muher called the two to her office hours. She sat with perfect posture as she looked across to the two biggest headaches of her entire teaching career, both with their arms crossed and scowls set deep in their faces. “I will not have my TA and my highest performing pupil glaring each other down every second of my class! I do not care what animosity you have for each other, but your rivalry is causing a rift to form in my classroom. You will both give apologies in front of the class for the way you two have behaved.”

Scott went to speak, but the stone coldness of Aspen’s voice lowered the temperature in the room, “No.”

Dr Muher pulled her head back in a mix of surprise and disbelief. “I’m sorry Ms Lee, but did you just say ‘no’?”

“I’m not apologizing when this is his fault.” She jutted her thumb in his direction.

He let out a groan, “What are you, five?”

Aspen rolled her eyes and swallowed hard, standing from her chair and throwing her bag over her shoulder. The professor held her hand up to Scott, warning him to stop, before turning her gaze back to Aspen, freezing her in place. “Ms Lee, I will not tolerate the environment you two have created in my classroom, you must understand this.”

Aspen’s voice was throaty, years of anger seeping into her words. “Why is it me who always has to ‘understand’? And speaking of ‘understanding,’ I thought you of all people would! You are the only woman on this goddamn computer science faculty, you know what it’s like having to prove yourself, downplay yourself, humble yourself, just to make the very essence of you palpable for the men in this field. You’re trying to tell me my work was good enough to rub in another student’s face until he saw that it was me who did it? And you expect me to just lay there and take it? I will not apologize to my peers for something that is not my fault, especially when I have yet to hear an apology from him! And if proving the point that the woman always gets the worse end of the deal requires me failing this class, that is something I am willing to do.”

-

Seven days later, Scott had not apologized and neither had Aspen. She was missing from all three following lectures. Just seeing her name as he transcribed attendance from everyone’s clicker made him grip his pencil to near breaking. After that third lecture, Scott was sitting at his desk in Dr Muher’s office, grading freshman coding assignments. He nearly threw his laptop after the 4th student in a row couldn’t make a circle turn 360 degrees. When Aspen walked in, he pressed the 0 key on his keyboard so hard that the student’s grade input as 000000000/10 and tanked their grade to a negative seven.

Her backpack hung off one shoulder, and she had a single piece of pink paper in her hand. She didn’t acknowledge Scott as she handed the paper over to the professor.

Dr Muher pulled her glasses off her head and perched them on her nose, pretending as if she needed to read what the paper said to know that the Pepto Bismol pink paper was a drop slip. She dropped the paper on her desk with a sigh, “Ms Lee, you are aware that dropping my class this close to the end of the year will impact your financial aid and your transcript?”

“This class isn’t even for my major, I took it as a free elective.”

The professor blinked, rubbing her eyes with her thumb and forefinger, “Remind me again why you are taking junior level C++ and are a . . . what major?”

“I’m here for coastal engineering. My programs are in MATLAB and Python. I just needed the A from this class. I’ll get it elsewhere. So, can you sign the slip?”

Dr Muher sighed again and sprawled her signature onto the slip. When the door shut behind Aspen, she turned to Scott, pointing in the direction Aspen disappeared to with the end of her glasses. “Fix this.”

-

The first flurries of winter were falling around Aspen as she made her way across campus and into the student union. The snow was a month early; it was only the beginning of November. It was early morning, the first class section still multiple hours away. She paid for a coffee and redirected herself to the elevators to go to the study rooms on the top floor.

An irritatingly tall man in a military uniform walked up next to her, freshly showered but still flushed from a workout. “May we talk?”

Aspen gave him a side glance, refusing to turn to him and have to look up, continuing to walk down the breezeway. “No.”

That made him falter. Scott pursed his lips and took a deep breath, summoning all of the patience he never knew he possessed. He took two steps to catch up with her, shoving his hand in the door of the elevator she had already made it to. His teeth were grit as he spoke, “Please, may we talk?”

“Why, Dr Muher threatened to give you a bad review to your Lieutenant?” She made eye contact with him through the mirrors that surrounded them as the elevator slowly ascended.

“You have to be such a dick all the time?”

Aspen finally looked at him, eyebrows lifted and eyes widened as if to say “oh, I’m the dick?” but couldn’t finish her sentence, the jolting of the elevator before it stopped prevented her from finishing. The fluorescent light above them flickered; the two turned their heads up towards it. “You have got to be fucking joking.”

She was nearest to the buttons, the two having left enough room for a squadron of kindergarteners to stand between them. Aspen pressed the open door button, hoping the stop was a fluke and the pair just hadn’t realized they were already at the 3rd floor.

The door did not open.

“Shocking.”

Aspen swung her head to glare at him. “And if we pressed the emergency call button and hadn’t pressed that, what would we have done if that was the fix?”

Scott narrowed his eyes back at her, shooing her away from the buttons. She tried to resist but his arm pushing her backwards against her shoulders was too strong and she stumbled to the corner he just vacated. His finger hovered against the emergency call button. “No smart comment about how I might tell whoever answers that there’s only one person who needs help?”

“What would they do when they came? Pry open the doors to get you out then snap them back shut and cut the cable line to let me fall to my death?” Aspen swiped open her phone with her free hand but only an SOS signal shined back at her.

Scott mumbled out a Jesus Christ at the morbid quip before pressing the button. The two sat in tense silence for a few seconds before a voice cracked through an unseen speaker. “University Police Department, what’s your emergency?”

“This is Staff Sergeant Scott Miller, a civilian and I-” Scott saw Aspen mouth civilian to herself and quietly snort out a laugh, “are in an unmoving elevator in the student union breezeway.”

Aspen rested her head against the wall with her eyes closed while he continued the call. The mirrors reflecting off each other creating infinite Scotts was too much for her to handle.

“Please prepare to be there for up to multiple hours, as we need to ensure there is nothing wrong with the wiring due to the weather. It is pertinent that you do not open the doors from the inside; the elevator may resume working on its own and can be deadly if one of you is caught between a floor and the elevator.”

The voice clicked off just before it could hear the two of them say, “Hours?”

Then the light went out.

-

It took only a half hour for Aspen to suck her coffee dry and begin to lose body heat. The breezeway elevator shafts were connected to the outside, meaning whatever temperature was outside translated to the inside. The box was slowly becoming an ice locker. Scott was still warm, fully dressed in his three uniform layers that kept in his body heat from his post-workout shower. Aspen looked through her bag multiple times, hoping to find an extra scarf or gloves but was out of luck each time. She breathed into her hands and rubbed them together before putting her hands in her armpits. She kept her head down to blow warm air onto herself.

A camouflage jacket hit her body before falling to the floor. She looked at Scott, who was sitting on the opposite corner of the elevator, feet planted and knees up. She lifted a brow in question.

“Put it on so you don’t die of hypothermia. If I get saved and you’re dead, the military police are going to have my ass.”

-

Aspen was still shivering under Scott’s military jacket. The metal of the elevator was absorbing more of the cold air from outside and turning the cube into a certified meat locker. She pulled out her textbooks and stacked them on the floor so the two of them could avoid putting their cores near the cold metal. She didn’t want to admit that it was Scott’s idea, but he had little to offer for them to sit on aside from cold, sweaty clothes in his duffle bag.

She curled into his jacket, trying to seal in any warmth left from him. Her knees were pulled to her chest and she dipped her head to meet them so her hot breath warmed up her skin through her pants.

After a few minutes, Scott noticed a decrease in her shuddering breathing movements. He nudged her side. “Are you still alive, Lee?”

She let out a grumble. “Yes, Miller. I think I am alive because if I was in hell, it wouldn’t be this cold.”

He snorted, “Going to hell, eh?”

She peaked out of her cocoon, only one eye visible to him. “If I die and you’re there, then yeah, I’m in hell.”

-

“What were you going to say?” Aspen asked, her voice muffled.

“What?”

“What you were chasing me to say.”

Scott sat in the silence that followed for a while. “I wanted to apologize.”

She pulled her head out the cocoon she made, brows knit in surprise.

It looked like it pained him to say it, but Aspen could tell there was sincerity in his words. There was no need for him to be as truthful as he was being. “I was an asshole to you that day in study hour, but I feel like you put words in my mouth. It made me angry - livid, so I figured if you saw me as the bad guy, I might as well let myself play the part.”

“What words?”

“You said I inherently valued your work less because you’re a woman - it isn’t and never was true. I knew that whoever Aspen Lee was, she was a woman, or at least identifying as one, according to MIT’s gradebook. The part that I couldn’t believe was that you were already there, helping him. I heard the way you spoke to that student, the way you pointed out his mistake but didn’t make him feel bad for it but didn’t baby him either. You knew that you were right and were unapologetic about it, but not mean. I’ve spent my entire time in the STEM field learning to cope with being belittled and scolded for a mistake. I think it’s why I do so well in the army - it’s the same shit.

“The company I work for outside of the military wants me to recruit talent in coding, C++ specifically. When I first saw your work, I thought you had to be a graduate student. I think that belief, that refusal to admit that someone younger than me could be so good at something I do day in and day out, prevented me from finding you. I’ve been trying to figure out who you are for months now. Dr Muher refused to introduce us, said something like we were too alike and would either bite each other’s heads off or . . .” Scott trailed off and cleared his throat, blinking away whatever memory came with what he just said, “All of that being said, I understand why you took what I said the way you did, especially here, at this school, but I would never devalue someone’s work based on their gender. What you heard in my voice wasn't misogyny. It was jealousy.”

A sudden wave of guilt washed over Aspen, causing her to hide her face again. She spent so many hours burning with hatred over him only to be wrong. “I guess I’m so used to being seen as someone who’s here to meet a rich man then do nothing with my degree once I graduate that I struggle to see people’s true intentions. And, there’s nothing wrong with doing that, but I’m just so tired of people seeing me and thinking they know my future while my male peers get asked what their aspirations are. Dr Muher is such an inspiration for me, and I felt so betrayed by her, like she was doing exactly what everyone else had. When I was in elementary and high school, I was in a STEM magnet school, and I felt so out of place, but when I’d go visit my grandmother in Oklahoma over the summers, I felt like I couldn’t belong there either. So, I’m sorry for my reaction. I think a lot of my anger was projection. But I am not sorry for the emotions I felt after."

Scott nodded, taking in her words. He extended a hand, “Truce?”

She wiggled her hand back into the sleeve of his jacket and shook it. “Truce.”

-

The door creaked and the elevator rumbled after a man shouted what Aspen thought was gibberish or possibly a German sneeze. SNECF. Her head shot up while Scott was already fully up and standing. She followed suit. The doors started to pry apart, the butt of a crowbar sticking out; whoever was prying was grunting with the amount of force it took. Scott kicked his steel toe boot into the crack the man made and positioned himself to push one side out, forcing the mechanisms in the elevator to open the other as well. The face of a plump man in a fire suit peered down at them. He was belly down on the ground, only a small sliver of the elevator was open to the 3rd floor. The rest of the door was blocked by the shaft.

He reached his hand out and waved her up, “Come on, Miss. We’ll get you up first.”

She abandoned her belongings but tried to take the jacket off herself to hand back to Scott but he shook his head, nodding in the direction of the fireman. “Least of my worries right now, come on, get up.”

She understood this was not a time for joking, nor was she in the mood for it, watching as Scott held open her only exit with his body. Aspen lifted her hands and the man took hold of her forearms, pulling her up with the help of another fireman. When she made it out, she felt like she entered a sauna. The heater on the third floor was working overtime, and she was thankful for it. She breathed out a sigh of relief, but her brow knit when she noticed the man who helped the fire chief get her out pick up an industrial fire extinguisher and take a few steps back from the elevator.

All she could see was Scott’s head, but through a tiny sliver of mirror she had access to, she saw a million versions of Scott take a shaky breath and reposition himself in the elevator doors, starfishing himself through them, palms out against the doors. Aspen looked between the two firemen, one who was not helping and another who was face to face with Scott and only held a crowbar between the doors. She quickly made her way over to the doors, but before she could grab a door and help keep it open, the man with the fire extinguisher grabbed her by the oversized jacket and flung her into the opposite wall with his full force. Her temple collided with the drywall, the thin material crumbing around her head as she collided with the stud. Scott leveled him with a glaze that Aspen couldn’t tell was anger or thanks. “If you two aren’t going to help, at least let me.”

“It is too dangerous, Miss.” The man who grabbed her said.

“You guys said you wouldn’t get us until it was clear.” She rubbed at her temple, grimacing as she pulled back and saw her hand coated in red.

No one responded.

Scott hoisted his legs up, holding the doors open with nothing but his hands and the crowbar, his knees rising to his chest. He took a second to breathe before lifting his legs to the patch of floor and sliding his body out, belly down on the floor. The second he let go, the doors snapped the crowbar in half with a ferocious thunder. Then the elevator fell down the shaft with a deafening crack, leaving a gaping hole in the wall. Aspen quickly wrapped her hands around Scott’s bicep, helping him off the floor, opting to not mention the bloody handprint she left on his shirt.

“Jesus Christ, you’re freezing cold.” Aspen immediately shrugged off his jacket and tried to hand it back to him. He dug in his pants pockets and pulled out a cloth, pressing it to her temple, hard. The two firemen were calling in the rest of UPD and whoever else the school deemed in need to handle the fallen elevator. The man who flung her earlier took position at one end of the hallway while the chief took position at the other to direct any passersby away.

He grabbed her by the shoulder with his free hand and walked her away from the gaping elevator shaft. He finally took his jacket from her as she took over applying pressure, sliding his arms through and trying not to react as the smell of cherry vanilla perfume filled his senses and as though there wasn’t a patch of her blood on the collar. Scott barely had time to zip his jacket back up before a man rounded the corner, shouting Scott’s name and title. It was clear he knew who was speaking; his feet shot together as he pivoted, his posture correcting itself, his chest puffing out, and his hands coming to his side.

Aspen took a step back as a man in his mid fifties approached. When he was about 6 steps away, he spoke again, “At ease, soldier.”

Scott’s hands came to rest behind his back and Aspen averted her eyes. It felt weird seeing Scott so obedient, so tame. Her wandering eyes found the elevator shaft; if she focused she could feel the cool breeze coming up it. It was pitch black in the gaping hole in the wall, the other elevator sitting pretty and untouched. No doubt there was caution tape already put up in the breezeway. She was certain that there would be crazy rumors about the incident on the school’s YikYak page.

But as she stared at the shaft, all her brain could play was different imagingings of Scott pulling himself out of there a second too late and going down with it. Her mind conjured up scenarios that made no sense: him headless, him bodiless, all different ways of him dead. All because he let her out first. She must’ve been staring for a while because when someone touched her arm, she blinked hard and turned to see Scott looking down at her. 

“Sergeant Miller, bring this lady to an urgent care. No school affiliated doctors.” He turned to walk away but hesitated, turning back to Scott. “Get yourself checked too, while you’re there. Report back to me.”

“Yes, sir.”

She tried to protest, but his commanding officer had turned to another soldier who came up, giving orders.

“You okay?” He glanced between her and the elevator shaft.

She gave a half-hearted smile and nodded, “Yeah, yeah, I think so. You really don’t have to bring me to urgent care. I’m fine. It’s just bleeding a lot because it’s on my temple.”

He pursed his lips, eyes flickering from hers to the drywall dust sitting in her hair and the roll of blood down her cheek. He didn’t think she was aware there was a strip of blood on the exposed stud. “I cannot ignore an order from a commanding officer.”

-

The urgent care physician had eyes the size of saucers when he was taking down the reason for this visit. He started with Scott who kept a clenched jaw and flared nostrils nearly the entire time. He received a clean bill of health and a hand written and signed note stating he was allowed to continue duty as needed. Aspen on the other hand was given a doctor’s note excusing her from classes for the rest of the week for a minor concussion, only after a few too-nosy questions.

“I do want you to avoid screens and long periods of staring at boards and notebooks, so I’ll write a note excusing you. But Miss, are you pregnant?”

“I was stuck in an elevator for four hours, not an orgy.” Aspen was annoyed. She had already told the nurse that she was not pregnant and had to deny a urine test.

Scott let out a choked sound in the back, but the doctor pushed. “Exposure to the cold for that long can have an effect on a fetus. Are you positive you’re not pregnant?”

Aspen let out a scoff of disbelief. “Exposure to the cold that long can have an effect on me. How many times do I have to say I’m not pregnant until I’m believed? So unless you’re about to get on your knees and pray over my virgin womb for the second coming of Christ, then just write the fucking note.”

Scott gave her the keys to his truck once the doctor finally discharged them. He swiped his card as she climbed into his passenger seat. He joined her a minute later, their printed visit notes in hand. He handed her hers and she glanced over it and snorted before reading out loud, ��Miss Lee presents to the clinic today with complaints of a possible concussion and extended cold exposure. Voiced complaints of mild double vision, ringing in bilateral ears, and nausea. Denies any slurred speech. Upon examination has poor eye tracking ability and has laceration on left temple. Cleaned and bandaged.”

“Sounds normal.”

“Yeah, until: Patient is argumentative and vulgar. Pregnancy status remains unknown.”

Scott took his hand off the gearshift, turning to her. “No way.” He’d glanced over his report earlier and the doctor had referred to him as ‘pleasant,’ something he hadn’t been called since his great-grandmother was alive.

Aspen held out the paper for him.

“You’re sure?”

She let out a belly laugh, shaking the paper for him to grab, “I think we were one more ‘are you pregnant?’ away from you watching me have a pap smear. No, I don’t care if you look.”

Scott looked over the report, “I’m taking you to a different urgent care.”

She waved her hand to dismiss the idea, adjusting in her seat to try and escape the beaming sun that came from behind a cloud. He reached out and pulled down the visor before producing a pair of sunglasses. “I’m fine.”

“If MIT sees this, they’re going to try and weasel out of any blame. You need to see a doctor that isn’t going to write off valid points as you being argumentative.”

She inspected the sunglasses, trying to tell if they were actually going to stop UV rays. “If MIT wants me to piss in a cup to prove my unborn child didn’t stop the elevator, I will. But right now I just want my bed.”

“You need to see a-”

She turned to him, fast. “What I need right now is to be alone because quite frankly everytime I see your face my brain plays the sight of you almost dying this morning all because you let me out first. I am holding onto my composure with the thinnest thread of humor right now. Please just take me home.”

She turned back in her seat and put the sunglasses on, hoping it would hide the welling tears in her eyes. Scott didn’t quite know how to react, so he just let her direct him to an apartment building near campus. When he parallel parked, she took a deep breath and went to take the sunglasses off.

“Keep them.”

She lowered her hand back down. “I just realized all of our stuff was in that elevator.”

“I’ll see if anything was salvaged and see if I can get it to you. You have a way to get in?”

“Yeah, my roommates don’t have class until 10, so at least one should be there. I’m in that one.” She pointed to a window on the 3rd floor with a Christmas tree in the window despite the fact it was nowhere near the season for it. A beat of silence passed. Aspen couldn’t find the courage to look at him. “Thank you. For everything, I-”

He held his hand out. “Don’t.”

More silence followed that Aspen didn’t know if it meant she was to leave.

“See you next Monday?”

She gave a small smile before nodding, “Yeah, I guess see you next Monday.”

-

She was freshly showered and no longer smelling like Scott Miller’s stupidly attractive cologne. She swiped open her phone and lowered the brightness, busying her mouth with biting her thumb nail, and typed in what she hoped was the spelling of what she now knows was a command.

SNECF

Nothing besides a few Polish articles about sunscreen.

SNECF command

Nothing aside from dog training and a targeted ad about Polish sunscreen.

SNECF military

Jackpot. But in a bad way. Aspen locked her phone when she saw it and processed what it meant. 

SAFETY NOT ESTABLISHED, CIVILIANS FIRST. This command is given amongst first responder and military personnel when a situation may be dire or serve as a threat to life and/or property, but civilians are present and informing them of said situation may cause panic that would worsen or in some way prohibit the ability of personnel to adequately perform safety evacuations or further assessments.

-

She saw Scott before the next Monday. He knocked on her door three days later. One of her roommates opened the door and waved him in. He wasn’t sure if that meant this girl had no sense of self preservation or if that meant Aspen had explained what he looked like - or possibly even shown the horrible photo of him on the MIT ROTC webpage - to them. The apartment was clean, if a little dilapidated. They had a small Roku TV as the centerpiece of the living room, a tapestry of a shirtless Marvel or DC or some other superhero pinned above the couch with thumbtacks. The area above the cabinets in the kitchen were decorated with empty liquor bottles. It reminded him of the house he shared in undergrad. “She’s in the room with the pink door.”

Sure enough, down the hall, there was a room with a hot pink door decorated with My Little Pony stickers. It didn’t seem to match any of the other door styles in the apartment and didn’t fit in the doorframe currently. The edges of it were sawed and sanded down poorly. He knocked.

Aspen’s voice responded. “Why’d you knock? Just come in.”

Scott assumed she thought he was one of her roommates. It wouldn’t have been fair to walk in. “It’s Scott.”

Shuffling ensued, but after a few moments the door opened to Aspen, still dressed in her pajamas. She gave an uneasy smile, “Hi.”

Scott held up her backpack and smirked, his dimple popping, as he tapped her door with his knuckle, “Hi Pinkie. I was able to convince UPD to give your things back from evidence.”

“My roommate’s boyfriend fell through my door, and I got the Landlord Special. Be careful, Pinkie Pie will give you a splinter.” She took her bag from his hand and opened the door more to let him in. She sat on the edge of her bed, motioning for him to sit wherever. He opted for her desk chair. Aspen pretended to not notice the way his legs spread and his arms crossed. “UPD has an evidence locker?”

“It was mostly confiscated scooters, but yes.”

“God, the only thing UPD does that benefits this campus is infiltrate the scooter gangs. I shouldn’t have to fear for my shins walking to class.”

“They do also save people from elevators.”

She snorted, still sorting through her bag to make sure everything was there and undamaged. “The fire department did that.”

“Then the fire department threw you into a wall so hard you cracked the drywall and got a concussion.”

“My mother would classify that as a symptom of my hard-headedness.”

“She’s got that right.” He muttered. Scott was met with an attempted pillow to the head. Instead, it grazed him and knocked down her pencil cup. He pivoted in the spinny chair to clean it up and to gather his thoughts as he was once again clouded by her scent. He should’ve just given the backpack to her roommate and left, but no - he needed to see her. And good thing he had.

“Just know that hit the other you I see.”

His brows furrowed. For a mild concussion, she should’ve been far on the mend by now. The weeklong excuse was liberal to ensure she was fully healed. “Still have double vision?”

He turned back to her after putting the cup back in order. She shrugged, placing her laptop back in its home at the charging dock on her nightstand. “Nothing worse, just continuous symptoms. double vision is only for stuff not in front of my face, though.”

“So most things on Earth?”

She placed a finger to her lips and shushed him. She went back to looking through her bag, squinting at different items such as chapstick and lip gloss. The room was only illuminated by a floor lamp by her bed, casting the entire room in a warm glow. That response wasn’t good enough for him; he stood from his spot and walked over to her, arms crossed as he hovered over her. When his shadow cast over her, she looked up, head tilting all the way back to take him in. He held a small flashlight in his hand that he produced from one of his many pockets. “Hello?”

“Let me see your eyes.”

She jokingly tucked her hair behind her ear. “At least buy me dinner first.”

“Aspen.”

She gave a little pout but repositioned herself so her feet were touching the floor as he widened his stance to bring himself closer to her. He reached a hand out but stopped short of her jaw. “Are you okay if I touch you?”

She nodded, too nervous to give him her usual snarky comeback. She had curled herself into his jacket in a broken down elevator and was half asleep in his passenger seat after the urgent care, but this was somehow the most intimate moment the two shared. His hand was warm and calloused, rough against the skin Scott was sure she had a 10 step skin care regimen to maintain. He turned the small flashlight with the other hand to the lowest setting he could manage. He slowly ran the light over her eyes, watching her left pupil fail to shrink, staying wide. He tried to ignore the two butterfly bandages on her temple. When he finally let her go, she could barely see his jaw tense amidst the white splotches in her vision from the light. She blinked and looked around the room, trying to escape the splotches but they followed wherever she looked until they dissipated a few moments later.

“You need to go to the doctor again. A real office, not an urgent care. ER preferably.”

She huffed, “Not this again.”

“Really? ‘Not this again?’ Your concussion is bad. You need a CT scan.”

She laughed out loud at that; his expression stayed serious. She held her hands out around her room. “I can’t afford to live in an apartment where I have a normal bedroom door. You think I can afford an ER visit for them to tell me that I need to rest for the next couple of days?”

“I’ll pay for it.”

“What? No. I’m fine. And speaking of-” She reached to dig in her bedside drawer, producing a wad of twenties. She held it out to him. “For the urgent care copay.”

He shook his head, his arms crossed across his chest. “It was $60 dollars. And I’m definitely not taking your money for it when I think that doctor’s a total quack.”

She ran a hand through her hair, “Please take the money, Scott.”

“Not unless you go to the ER.”

She leveled him with a stare. “I’m not saying this to be difficult. I do not think I need to go to the ER. My symptoms haven’t gotten worse, just persisted, which isn’t unheard of from what my Harvard premed roommate tells me. They check on me periodically and make sure I haven’t asphyxiated in my own vomit. Please just take my word.”

He took a deep breath through his nose to ease his emotions. He didn’t understand why he was so concerned about this girl he considered his number one pain in his ass a mere 4 days ago. All he said was “Okay.”

“Thank you.”

He reached into his breast pocket and pulled out a business card that had his name and ROTC office phone and scribbled his personal phone number on the back and placed it on her nightstand, next to a full glass of water and a pack of gum. “Call if anything happens.”

She blinked at him, reclining back on her palms on the bed. “Where do you get these things from? A cloth, then a flashlight, now a business card? And you kept your wallet in your pocket and not in your duffle bag that day. Very convenient. Very Mystery Mousekatool of you.”

“It’s called being in the military. Everyone should have that on them, sans business card.” He took a seat back at the edge of the bed, showing he was only staying for a few more minutes.

Aspen nodded. “Speaking of being in the military, why’d you join?”

“As you so eloquently put it, my name’s not on a fucking building. And Kansas isn’t really known for its rich families who can send their kids to MIT as legacies.”

She sighed, understanding all too well. She readjusted to recline against her pillows. “Too bad you didn’t get stuck in an elevator before the recruitment officer found you. I got a refund check for the semester’s tuition already, along with a promise of all-costs-covered for the next three semesters.”

He sat with his elbows on his knees, hands clasped. “You civilians have it so easy. I got a letter stating it was a ‘hazard of the job’ for me, so they will be providing a refunded copay for the urgent care visit that may take 6 to 8 weeks to process.”

She had to suck in her lips to keep from laughing out of shock. The two talked for another few minutes, Scott skirting the topic of what he reported back to his commanding officer (there was no way he was going to tell her that his captain asked how his “girlfriend” was doing and when informed that they were in no way a couple, was told “she should be - she makes you a lot nicer”). They got a few more subjects in before Scott noticed her responses getting slower and mumbled, her eyes fluttering open and closed, fighting sleep until she couldn’t. He quietly stood and turned her lamp off, making sure not to touch the edge of the door before he shut it behind himself.

The same girl he saw earlier was still in the kitchen, prepping her dinner. Another girl in maroon scrubs sat in the chair at the bar, a piece of pizza in one hand as she scrolled on her phone in the other. Both girls glanced at him when he closed the door before making eye contact with each other, having a silent conversation that Scott knew was about him. He figured if they were already talking about him, it didn’t hurt to interject. “Has she been doing okay?”

The first girl pointed her knife at the girl in scrubs, deferring to her. She put her pizza slice down in the box. She nodded as she finished chewing. “Yeah, for the most part. But if her symptoms stay this prominent for another day or two, I’m taking her to the ER.”

He raised his eyebrows, feigning as though he hadn’t tried to talk her into going a few minutes earlier. “ER?”

“I’m more concerned about the vomiting and nausea. She can’t keep anything down. I’m scared she’s dehydrated.”

“If she needs to go, call me, my number is on her nightstand. I’ll take her. I can tell them what happened.”

She tried to subdue her lifting brows and growing smirk. “Will do.”

Luckily, Aspen was on the mend the next day, her vision combining into one big picture again and her nausea slowly subsiding. She was back in class the next Monday and back in Dr Muher’s class for the first time in a while. Students murmured when she walked in, but settled quickly. She gave Scott a smile and took her usual spot four rows back and eight seats in. As Scott graded papers during the class, he found himself searching the faces of the massive class, continuing to land on Aspen’s, except instead of trying to incinerate the other with their gazes, she gave a small smile before turning back to the lecture. After everyone filed out, Dr Muher walked over to his desk, her heels clicking deafeningly on the tile floors. “I told you so.”

Scott fixed her with one of his famous glares.

She held up her hands in mock surrender. “Just remember what I said, you’ll-”

He shooed her away with his hand. “‘-either bite each other’s heads off or get married.’ Yeah, yeah, I remember.”

[veren-cos]

I just can't do this!

Alex (sdv) x gn!reader

Kinda hurt/comfort but more just the reader getting out frustration. Lots of the reader swearing lmao

Not proofread, approximately 1k?? I really need to get a word count on these..

Today sucked. Today fucking sucked!

Nothing was going right. Oh my Yoba why can't anything go fucking right?! A new season started so all of your crops died, and you miscalculated how much money you would need for new seeds. Then you went mining to try and make up for the money. But you ended up getting beat by a zombie and needing medical attention from Harvey that you couldn't exactly afford.

You lost your best sword. You used up nearly all of your left over berries from the last season and Yoba knows how long it'll be until this season's start growing again.

And that's what you came home like to Alex. You hadn't cleared the old crops so now you were just stomping over and over on a poor old parsnip.

"You uh.. you alright there babe?" Alex walked over to you, kinda laughing at your pathetic attempt at rage, but was genuinely curious.

"No! No I am not fucking alright, Alex! Nothing is fucking going right. The whole town can go to shit for all I care! They won't get my crops anymore! Pierre can go fuck off, claiming my shit as his own. The mayor can piss off and cry to his girlfriend. But oh wait! He can't! because he is too much of a fucking asshole to actually say Marnie is his girlfriend!!"

You stomped more at the dust that was a parsnip. Every attempt got mildly more and more enraged and pathetic. All of the emotion and pent up anger was boiling to the surface but you were so tired from the repeated stomping it had become deranged.

"Okay, whew that was.. a lot(!) of emotion! You need out of here, like now." He went up and grabbed your shoulders. "I know just the place!" He shot you his signature smile before holding your hand and leading you away. You attempted to pull him off of you but couldn't manage to do anything. Today was rough and you were getting tired.

"Here, babe. Drink this. I just opened it before you came home. It's still cold!" He handed you a protein drink.

"Thanks," You spat out. You weren't meaning to be rude to him. But today was just so god awful!!! He knew you didn't mean it though, so he just kept walking.

Eventually, the two of you arrived at the bus. "What are we doing here? It is way to late to go to the desert."

"While we may be going to the desert, we are going somewhere you have never been before!"

You gave him an intense staredown. "And you're sure this is a good idea? It's mid-afternoon. Everything will be closing soon."

"Not everything! C'mon babe, let's go. You'll see." He pushed you forward onto the bus. And Yoba, that drink was awful! How did he drink those everyday..??

By the time you arrived to the desert it was nearly 7. You were still upset, and starting to get annoyed at the fact you didn't know where you were going.

"And here we are!" It was a beat up old building.

"Alex. Dear. What are the fuck we doing at an abandoned building in the middle of the God damn desert?!" It was too late for all this shit.

He stepped up and opened the door to reveal a dingy 24 hour gym. How had you never known this was here????

"It's been a while since I've been. Probably like 2 years? But they have this!" He gestured to a set of boxing gloves and a punching bag. "Perfect to get out frustration!"

"Babe I don't think I need a punching bag I think I need to legit punch someone in the face."

"They have a printer so you can print whoever's face you want and punch it." He pointed over to an old printer in the corner.

Holy shit, they really did! Too bad you didn't have your phone to print anything.

"Babe. Your anger is totally valid, and a lot of the times it leaves you with a lot of energy that you don't know what to do with." He looked around, reminiscing a bit.

"I know when I can here I was still pissed to all hell about my dad. Sometimes even thinking about him still makes me upset. And now, obviously, you can't go around kicking dead parsnips everyday. So here is a thing you can punch all you want! No danger from the mines, and no repercussions if you screw up. Perfect to let out some frustration."

For how beat up the outside looked, the inside was still pretty nice. There was a table of boxing gloves, and a few mats you could hit. Next to the table, there was both a hanging and standing punching bag.

"Now let's see what you've got."

He tossed you a pair of gloves, and picked up a large mat to warm up on your swings.

"This is silly" you kinda laughed the sentence out, but it truly was a silly thing. You knew that it probably would help, but he made it into the grand reveal that was just so silly.

"It may feel stupid, but you will fell better! I found that it helped more if I said out loud what I was angry at before I punch something."

"Okay... let's try" You put on the gloves, and they were a little too big, but that's okay.

"Whenever you're ready." He looked at you up and down. Even pissed as hell you were still hot.

"I hate that my crops die the second a new season starts!"

*bam*

"I hate Pierre for taking credit for my work!"

*bam*

"I hate that Mayor Lewis is a dumb greedy bastard who mistreats Marnie!"

*bam*

"I hate how long to damn community center is taking to build!"

*bam bam*

Your list went on and on. Punch after punch landed into the pad. Alex at first was trying to stifle laughter from how silly your complaints were, but quickly shut up when you started putting force into your hits. He was stumbling from the impact you left, where honestly it turned into a workout for him too.

When you were finally done, you felt great. It didn't solve anything, but all of the pent up energy got realesed in a shocking fun way.

"Babe.." Alex looked at you. "Remind me to never piss you off"

You burst out laughing. "Awh dear, I could never get mad at you." You booped his nose after setting the gloves down. "Is there anything else you'd like to do here? I seriously can't believe you've never taken me here!"

"No. No I'm good. Trying to not fall from you hitting the mat was enough for me." He laughed, and you could genuinely see he was wiped out.

So the two of you went home, and made casual conversation. He tried to get you to drink another protein shake but you strongly declined. Those things are seriously gross.

"Thank you Alex. It was really nice of you to take me there."

"Of course!" And he shot you another one of his signature smiles, just like earlier. The two of you made it a habit to go at least every other week from then on.

Masterlist

[kitthepurplepotato]

Part 11 / This Wedding Sucks.

Summary: Mr. Katsuki goes to Denki’s wedding and gets drunk (and sappy). Things get weird. Mr. Katsuki does NOT want to kiss the Menace. Kirishima almost looses his poor balls. This summary does not make sense but neither is the chapter. Author went all deep and shit on this one. She’s not sorry.

Warnings: Mentions of alcohol, drunk Bakugou, swear words, suggestive

First Chapter 💥 Masterlist

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“Wow, this is…”

You are not sure how to describe this wedding hall.

One thing for sure, this place was re-designed especially for this occasion; Who the actual fuck would want such an obnoxious piece of furniture at their wedding?! This massive, expensive looking sofa has leopard print on it, the legs are pure gold and if that’s not enough, the whole shape of it looks like they have stolen it from a porn film set or something.

Otherwise, the place looks super fancy; the main color theme is black and white with a hint of golden all over the place; the door knobs, the accents, they are all shiny and expensive looking.

The other weird thing is the music; instead of the usual classical music, your ears are met with the sound of acoustic guitars. It’s sophisticated, but… different. You will definitely ask about the artist, just in case you ever get lucky enough to find an idiot who can tolerate you enough to spend the rest of their life with a lunatic like you.

“This is the bougiest shit I’ve ever seen.” Mr. Katsuki finishes your sentence, and honestly, he is not wrong; Kaminari Denki might not be the worst payed hero in the industry, but he’s definitely far off from being a millionaire and this place is way past his pay grade.

“How did he pay for this?” You ask the question of the century; and for your surprise, there is a really easy answer for it.

“Denki saved the owner’s son a few years ago.” Kirishima butts into the conversation. “They only need to pay for the catering.” He laughs and makes his way into the main hall.

“If there’s no caviar on the menu, I’m leaving.” Murmurs the angry blonde and stomps over to his seat.

“Jealous much?” You snicker and sit down next to him.

“Tch, why would I be jealous? This is a joke.”

“Yeah, it’s a bit too much for my liking.” You agree while you sip on your champagne.

Mr. Katsuki looks exceptionally hot today, you need to say. He’s wearing a black tailored suit with a dark red, super skinny shirt which doesn’t leave much for the imagination; his tie is loose which gives him a look of a rebellious teenager who doesn’t want to dress up but tries his best to fit in anyway. Having such a shitty personality in this godlike body is such a waste.

After the hall gets filled with heroes and family members, the event is about to start; sappy guitar music fills the hall as the couple of the day walks down the aisle.

“Whoever cries first need to chug down a bottle of vodka.” Mr. Katsuki smirks at you and the others, but his words are met with eye rolls and shush sounds. “This is not fun.” He sighs with a massive scowl on his face.

“I’m in.” You whisper into the blonde’s ears; he can barely hide his challenging smile as he leans back on his chair.

Honestly, you are not a big fan of weddings. You will never understand why would anyone pay so much money just to exchange some words and a bloody ring. Also, you’ve never been at a wedding before.

As the ceremony goes, you kind of start to understand the whole thing though; even you tear up by the end of the ceremony.

“If you cry…” Mr. Katsuki whispers in your ear in a deep voice, and damn if that doesn’t do “things” to you. He also smells really nice up close.

Ahh, fuck. Since you met that fucking Bakugou doppelgänger you’ve been having confusing feelings towards this person next to you. It’s not like he’s the same person. Get your shit together, woman.

“I almost lost, dammit.” You grin at him, tears long gone and the closeness feels weirdly comfortable. He’s literally in front of your face, yet you don’t feel threatened. It’s just two wedding-hating idiots having a banter in the middle of the ceremony. No biggie.

“I bet that’s his girlfriend.” Comes a loud whisper from a pink haired girl behind you, her name is Mina if you remember it right.

“I bet he’s secretly gay.” Comes another whisper from a black haired guy. Bakugou called him soy sauce face, but you are quite sure that’s not his real name.

“You are both wrong.” You turn to them with a mischievous smile on your face and the two start giggling like two teenagers; it’s not like you actually now if Bakugou sways that way or not, but even if he does you are quite sure he doesn’t want anyone to know that.

“Guys, behave!” Comes Deku’s high voice from somewhere behind the two, so you turn back with a roll of your eyes.

“It’s really not fun.” You sigh and turn back to main event; you can’t wait until this shit is over. This dress is really uncomfortable.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

Bakugou Katsuki did not get to eat caviar today.

Also, this fucking afterparty sucks.

Everyone wants to talk to him. Everyone. Even the heroes he has never met in his goddamn life want to talk to him about the shitty weather.

Can’t they at least try to make a proper conversation? This is an absolute waste of time.

“If another extra comes over to tell me about the current stocks, I’ll catapult out of here through the window.” He grumbles to no one in particular, and to be fair, non of his friends care about him today anyway; they are all having fun and dancing while he’s stuck on the sofa with a bottle of champagne he’s stolen from the dining room after the hundredth small talk he had to suffer through.

He did such a good job in hiding from all the extras that he ended up alone in the far corner of the room, overlooking all the cheery people on the dance floor while drinking himself into a “sensitive bitch”.

He can’t take alcohol too well, okay?! Especially champagne and wine, but there isn’t anything else.

And now, after half of the bottle being gone, he is a little bit lonely, but not lonely enough to move from his comfortable hiding place.

His eyes wonder around the dance floor; he can see the Menace dancing with Kirishima in her motherfucking fancy dress; she works in unisex hoodies and massive boots, so this is the first time Katsuki realizes how stunning the Menace actually looks like behind all the oversized stuff she’s wearing. She did wear a skirt on her first day, now that Katsuki thinks about it, but he wasn’t really interested in her enough to take a good look back then; not like he’s interested now. He’s absolutely not.

There was also the fight two days ago when the Menace kicked his ass in a tiny sports bra but he was too angry to actually appreciate the view; not like he’s sad about it or anything. As he said, he doesn’t like the Menace that way.

He’s just… not blind.

Thanks to his drunk ass self, his staring got noticed by the demon itself and she’s coming over with a fond smile on her face.

Fuck.

Oh, fuck.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

While you enjoyed meeting all these new people, you couldn’t take your mind off your anti-social boss, especially after he disappeared into thin air in the middle of the after party.

Did he kill someone and fled the scene? He looked super intense and constipated the last time you saw him talking to a random guy. The fella looked super annoying and loud, and to be fair, you would have killed him too. You are just about to finish the conversation and look for Bakugou in case he needs help in hiding the body when you find his crimson eyes staring at you from the far corner of the hall, his face emotionless and bored. As you get closer you realize something’s wrong; he isn’t wearing his usual scowl and there is no indication of him being annoyed by your existence as you come closer and closer to his secret hideout.

When you see the bottle of champagne in his hands, you understand why.

Now here you are, face to face with the bane of your existence, and you are willingly sitting down next to him. Damn, things have changed, haven’t they?

“I’m tired. And it’s cold.” You announce, trying your hardest to get comfortable without showing off your favorite panties to the whole world. It’s a challenge, let me tell ya’.

Instead of a proper answer, the blonde takes off his suit jacket, and throws it in your lap in an unfriendly way.

“Put it on. I’m hot anyway.” He grumbles and looks to the other side; there is a slight blush on his cheeks thanks to the alcohol.

“Mind to share your stolen goods with me?” You grin at your companion, who answers you with an eye roll, but shares his drink anyway.

“I hate this so much.” He grumbles again, but this time, he doesn’t shy away from the eye contact. This might be the first time he actually looked into your eyes properly. No one can blame you when your heart skips a beat from the soft, drunk look in his eyes. “Why do people feel like they need to make such a big deal out of their stupid love? It’s not our business, is it?”

You are not sure if he’s jealous or just grumpy, but you do your best to answer as honestly as you can; seeing the amount of booze missing from his bottle, he’s probably drunk enough to be able to have some emotions to understand your answer.

Needless to say, you are extremely excited about this whole situation. Since the alternative universe shenanigans, having a drink with your grumpy boss was on the first place on your bucket list. It’s out of pure curiosity, really; you just want to know if there is any chance the Bakugou you’ve met back then is a part of this Bakugou too.

Since the accident, you’ve been wondering about Katsuki���s real thoughts; the ones hidden behind all the anger and ego. You have a feeling there is so much more to him than the pure aggression he shows to the world.

“They’ve been together for ages. They had their fair share of privacy already. Let them have some fun.” You answer. “This is a new beginning for them. It’s not my cup of tea either, but I think I can understand.” You sigh while you rest your cheeks on the backrest of the sofa. The blonde shuffles to mimic your pose; you are both facing each other now.

“I would never make such a big fuss out of my wedding.” He murmurs, deep in thought. “A small wedding in another country, with only the most important people in my life - the stupid hag, my father, Eijirou, Shitty Deku and Candy Cane face… my teachers, maybe.” He mumbles with a dreamy face; a face that painfully reminds you of the other version of him.

“Am I not invited?” You snuggle closer, the liquid courage in your veins doing a great job at tearing down all your protective walls.

“Do you think you are important enough to be there?” He scrunches his brows, but there is no edge to his voice. It’s an actual question.

“By the time you get married, I might be.” You smile and take the bottle from the blonde’s hands to take another sip. There a slight electricity going through your body as you touch his fingers in the process. “I don’t think I want to get married, to be honest.” You admit with a sigh. “I have impossibly high expectations for my significant other.” You giggle into the small space between you two.

“Like what?” He asks like he actually cares about your answer, and the curious glare makes your heart melt. You wish to be able to see this side of him every day.

“Like… I want my other half to be really close to me. Someone who I can talk to about anything. I also want them to be strong enough to talk back to me when I go overboard. I want them to be able to have an argument with me without stepping back and letting me have everything in my own way.” You are way too deep in your thoughts to realize the blonde snuggled closer. You are also too drunk to realize that your answer isn’t hypothetical anymore; you are describing someone who you already know. “I want them to challenge me every day. Keep me entertained. But I also want them to be able to communicate their feelings towards me, otherwise I’ll always think I’m not good enough.” You sigh and look up at the blonde who’s looking at you with wonder and true interest. You definitely can not ignore the way your heart skipped this time. “What about you?” You ask shyly, but you don’t move back; you can feel Katsuki’s breath on your lips as he answers.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

“What about you?”

Mr. Katsuki is way past his drinking limit; he’s drunk enough to not be able to contain his emotions, and he’s about to burst.

He wants to explode from all the confusing feelings; the way his heart is about to jump out of his rib cage from the closeness; the way he can’t stop snuggling closer and chase the warmth of Y/N’s body, the way he can’t help the shiver going down his spine when he can feel Y/N’s breath on his lips while she talks about her love interests.

For a weird reason, he wants to be that person; he wants to make Y/N’s dreams a reality and the sudden realization scares him deeply; he might be a sensitive drunk but he’s also a honest one; this is him, these are his real feelings coming up to the surface, even though he tried his best to push them under the rug for months. Now, with his emotions up his sleeve, he can’t lie to himself anymore. He will definitely deny everything, even to himself the next day when he sobers up, so this is his only opportunity to come clear.

“I want…”

What does he want? This right here, right now?

He can’t fucking say that.

Being so close to Y/N is extremely… uncomfortable, in a really weird way. His sober self wants to run away, snap this weird connection between them, even if it causes him pain, but his drunk self wants nothing more than to get sucked in by the abyss that’s calling him so desperately; it feels almost unbearable, the way his whole body just reacts to this person in front of him, like he can just mold into this person and be a whole; like the last puzzle piece in a massive picture finally being put in it’s right place.

“I want to feel a connection. I want to be pulled in, I want to feel like being close to someone isn’t a necessity, but the only way for me to finally breathe. I want to feel something that isn’t anger or frustration; find someone who can wash away my anger with a cheesy soft touch. Someone who can turn my fucking world upside down, twist it, untangle it, until I don’t even know who the fuck I am anymore.”

Katsuki is not sure if his words make any sense without seeing the full picture here, but he doesn’t care.

The truth is, Katsuki had his fair share of fooling around back when he was a teen. He forced himself out of his shell, tried everything to be able find out what makes his heart beat faster, but after all the meaningless make out sessions and unappreciated touches, he got to the conclusion that he just doesn’t have a heart.

Instead of a pleasant shiver, his mind was filled with disgust from the soft touches, he felt sick in his stomach when someone tried to caress his cheeks on a bad day, he broke so many hearts on his journey thanks to his inability to love that he decided to give up completely on it.

Bakugou Katsuki has never felt such a strong urge to pull someone closer, like he needs to close the distance, to chase the sweet release of this sudden tension or otherwise, he is going to die. He has never felt his chest this tight from the thought of someone, from the thought of being in someone’s arms; he has never craved the safety of a loving embrace as much as he is craving it now.

“Sounds like this person needs to move mountains to be able to get your attention.” Y/N comments, but there isn’t an edge in her voice when she says that.

“It’s impossible, I know.” He sighs, no offense taken by the harsh words. “No one would ever tolerate me enough to…”

“Kats.” Katsuki’s heart is about the explode by the nickname. He always hated it, hated the whole pet name thing, he wanted to throw up and run away, when anyone in his past ‘relationships’ - if you can call the few weeks of fooling around that - tried to call him anything else but his surname; but for a weird reason, right here, right now, his stomach is filled with butterflies from the sound of it. “There will be someone who will find their way into your heart, you know. You might be rough and angry on a normal day, but there is so much more in there.” Y/N’s hand caresses Katsuki’s chest, and the blonde wants nothing more than to put his hand over it, like a lovesick fool. “You are caring and sweet, always listening to everyone’s problems and trying to help in your own way. It’s a pain in the ass sometimes to understand you, but there is someone in this world who will see all the good things behind the mask you’re wearing. I can see it. I can also tolerate you… well, kinda.” She giggles, her face blushed and embarrassed. Katsuki can’t take this anymore.

“Y/N…” Katsuki leans in, their breaths mingled in the small space between them. Y/N pupils are blown wide from hearing her own name from the blonde’s mouth and also from the sudden closeness, but by the look of it, his presence isn’t unwelcome. “I…” Katsuki’s body moves on it’s own; his hands find their way into the back of Y/N’s head, caressing the soft hair, like it’s the fanciest silk Katsuki has ever touched and Y/N relaxes into his arms like she belongs here, she snuggles her nose to his own in a weird Eskimo kiss and Katsuki can’t stop himself anymore, he leans into the touch; their lips brush for a millisecond, for just enough to get lost in the feeling…

“No, no, no, fuck no” There is a fucking hand pushed in between his and Y/N’s lips, just when he was about to move them. Katsuki looks up at the intruder with murderous intent; Kirishima stares at him, his eyes blown wide, his face slightly mental from the utter embarrassment.

After a few moments, he looks to to other side of the couch; Y/N moved away, her face hot and red from the sudden realization.

This is when the happenings of the past few minutes hits Bakugo like a truck.

Oh.

Fuck.

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

5 minutes before

Kirishima doesn’t want to pry.

He really does not.

He is about to come back from a quick toilet break, taking his time looking around the area; it’s such a rare occasion to have everyone together like this these days.

They are all busy, they are all pros, fighting against the evil with their lives on the line. They don’t have time for silly chit-chats and party games anymore; those few hours they have left from their day is usually used for taking care of their loved ones, or to be at the shrink’s office after having a massive meltdown/life crisis.

This is hero life for ya. Not all shit and giggles but shit piled up on another old pile of shit until you suffocate and die.

But don’t worry, you die with a smile on your face. Because you are a fucking hero from the beginning to the end.

No, Kirishima is not depressed. He’s just realistic.

As the redhead sighs into the void, his eyes wondering around the corner, he can’t believe what he’s seeing; Bakugou and Y/N is almost SNUGGLED UP on the sofa hiding in the corner of the hall, giggling and chatting away.

Kirishima has been Bakugou’s best friend for almost a decade, he knows this man as the back of his hands; it only takes him a few seconds to find the almost empty champagne bottle on the floor next to the blonde.

It’s not like he’s absolutely shocked by the scenario; he knew this will be the end game from the first second Y/N came into the office, but something just doesn’t feel right about this; it feels too sudden, too forced.

If this goes the way Kirishima thinks it will; because let’s be honest, he could feel the sexual tension between these two and it’s honestly unbearable at this point; Katsuki will ruin everything the day after, run away like the fool he is. He will run away from the responsibility, from the feelings, from the unnecessary complication that is Love, the second he sobers up.

So Kirishima says farewell to both of his balls as he sneaks closer to the two lovebirds, ready to act as a shield between them when it’s needed.

For his surprise, the conversation is nothing what he expected it to be; instead of shameless flirting his ears are met with reassurance and pure, heartfelt consolation. For a second, he thinks it would nice to just let have their way with each other; as we all know, Kirishima is an absolute softie and he can’t take this away from his explosive friend; he’s been praying every single to day for Bakugou to find someone who can appreciate him for who he is, and his prayers were clearly answered when Y/N came into their lives, even though this whole scenario wouldn’t have been possible a few months ago when the office was nothing but smoke and destruction when the two were in the same room for longer than 5 minutes.

By the end of his monologue the air got filled with tension and sparks; he only closed his eyes for a long second but when he opened them up again, he saw something he will never be able to unsee; the two drunk and emotionally overwhelmed idiots are a millimeter away from kissing each other in front of the whole hero industry.

Kirishima takes a moment to asses the situation.

With the alcohol melting their protective walls away, his two friends finally realized their feelings towards each other and that’s amazing and lovely and cute and Kirishima isn’t at all jealous right now.

But….

If Kirishima let’s this happen, Bakugou will be mortified tomorrow, his non-existent relationship with Y/N will be out in the open before they can properly talk about it, Bakugou will end everything the first second he wakes up to his friend’s stupid messages about his “new girlfriend” and he will never be able to face Y/N again. He will cause Y/N as much pain as he can chase them away; he will break Y/N’s heart into pieces and also his own, out of spite; Katsuki isn’t in deep enough to not run away from all these new feelings yet. It might already be too late, but fuck if Kirishima isn’t the best friend the world has ever seen when he moves his hand between the two just in time to stop their drunk shenanigans.

“No, no, no, fuck no”

Well, that’s a poor choice of words, but he’s freaking the shit out right now.

Can you blame him?

He’s probably about to get castrated by his own best buddy after what he’s done.

They both look like they’ve just woken up from a fever dream, barely knowing what’s happening around them.

Kirishima thanks God for sparing his balls today.

“Katsuki, we are going home.” Declares the redhead, grabbing the blonde’s shoulder to pull him up. “I’m calling you a taxi, Y/N. Please, give me a call when you get home, okay?” Wasted Dynamight on his shoulder and the phone in his hands, he orders 2 taxis on the app.

“Yes, mom.” She swallows loudly, and without a single other word or eye contact Y/N makes her way outside the building. The 2 stumble after her; he wants to make sure she actually takes the taxi and doesn’t wander away to clear her mind in the middle of the night.

“I can’t believe you cockblocked me, you fuck.” Slurs Bakugou, his eyes glaring daggers.

“You’ll thank me later.” He sighs into the void and makes his way to the second taxi after he made sure Y/N took the first one.

They don’t talk at the way home and let me tell you, nothing is scarier than a quiet Bakugou, but in this case, the quiet is a good sign; it means the blonde is willing to give his new feelings a chance; he probably won’t act on them yet, but he won’t ignore them either.

“Thanks, Ei.” Murmurs the blonde as Kirishima helps him to his bed with a bottle of water and an empty bucket ready by his bedside drawer. He puts his phone on charge as well to make sure it doesn’t die on him in case he needs help during the night.

“Thank me by not running away from this. You deserve it, whatever that was.” Answers the redhead with a fond smile on his face.

“Fuck off.” The blonde mumbles, his blushing cheeks safely hidden between his pillows.

Kirishima doesn’t answer, he only laughs.

He’s just happy to be able to be there for his best bud. “I can hear your disgustingly sappy thoughts, shut it. Just stay here for today, it’s late.”

Kirishima doesn’t need to be asked twice; he makes his way to the couch and falls into it face first.

Whatever will tomorrow bring, he’s ready for it.

… Next Chapter!

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

*author is silently screaming into a pillow*

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!💥💚

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[fable7122-writing]

Contracted Personnel:

First Day

So I started writing a new story set in the same universe as the other story here. Here’s the exposition

I should’ve read the fine print. I’m lying down on my company assigned bed in my company assigned room with 5 other people, on the verge of tears. I’ve just gone through my first day at Seventh Heaven Inc. A more fitting name would be Seventh Layer of Hell, but I don’t think the higher ups would like that kind of publicity. 

My name is Rita Coy, and I just signed my death warrant, otherwise known as the contract that gave me this job. I’m basically a door to door salesman, and my shifts are 8 hours long with no breaks. Even worse is that I have to go through very shitty neighborhoods filled with assholes who either want to kill me on sight due to me being a half-animal, or want to fuck me for the same reason.

The company says they’re supportive of us, and they are, they just neglect to mention that they treat us all equally like shit. All they want is to sell their shitty off-blue desk fans. They don’t even work! I took one with me to try out, and the speed settings are all fucked up. Plus it just looks ugly as shit. The kicker though, is that I have to work at this job until I’m either fired or I die. That’s why I needed to read the fine print.

Now getting fired should be pretty easy, right? Well apparently not. They’re so short staffed due to people actually reading and not being desperate for a job that they are willing to hold onto the employees that they have no matter what they do. You could kill a man, or 50 while on company time and they’d brush it off as, “It was self defense” to the public while scolding you and lowering your pay to that of a child during the industrial revolution.

That’s enough backstory for now though. I look at the ID I was given earlier. 

Name: Rita Coy

Gender: Transfeminine

Age: 26

Species: Half-Deer

Height: 5’4”

Extra details:

Long brunette hair, hazel eyes, usually wears the same black flannel, moderate breast size

Next to those descriptions was a photo of me, showing the exact same details… seems a little redundant if you ask me. Plus having the age on their means that they have to replace it once a year. Also, why did they have to put my boob size? And they didn’t even bother putting the cup size either. Whoever the horny fuck is who wrote that must not see very many boobs, because mine are fairly small. But that’s not important.

I force myself to sit up on my bed, hiding my face as best as I can while watching the other people. They look like they’ve been through this countless times before. The girl sitting on the bed across and one to the right of mine is really pretty though… but no. I’ve watched enough romancy shows to know that work relationships are never a good thing. Besides, she’s way too pretty for me. The way her dark pointed wolf ears stick straight up, and her very light brown hair flows down her shoulders. Even the way she’s reading that book is so delicate. I love it so much. Maybe one day I’ll learn her name. That should be enough, right?

Anyways, I should head to bed now. I need as much rest as I can get so I don’t collapse tomorrow. I hope she shows up in my dreams…

[fandsart]

Wishing for Roses

I didn’t expect to write anything for Valentine’s Day, but I got this idea at work in the middle of the day, so it’s a bit late in the day now

1983. Some girl comes into class and starts passing out roses for the school telegram program. Eddie hates Valentine's Day for the obvious consumer problem of it all, but it's also always just been a bit of a bummer to be left out of all kinds of festivities every year. With the roll of the eyes, he returns back to his worksheet, doodling in the free spaces.

He's working on some kind of sea demon and is debating on giving it a trident or something when a plop on his desk startles him from his focus. He looks up at the girl handing out the telegrams, waiting for her to 'whoops, I dropped this.' Instead she moves on. Eddie looks around the class, waiting for the snickers to start up. He checks the tag, finding that his name is actually printed on the paper; no message though. Obviously this is some kind of prank, in which case, whoever set it up would be ready to point out the absurdity to the rest of the class. But everyone else is either too focused on their own roses, or their disappointment, or anticipation as the girl works her way over to their tables. Instead of looking at the broad overlay of the room, Eddie decides to think of who is the most likely in the class to pull this kind of prank and hone in on their reaction.

Steve Harrington sits across the classroom and a row behind him. He is, in fact, the only one in the room who isn't following the crowd of the room. He's looking out the window, away from Eddie. The rose girl hasn't reached him yet, and Eddie feels like he knows how this is going to go down, how Harrington has probably scripted this out. He's going to get however many roses he's about to get. Popular jock he is will probably get a fucking dozen at least. Then he'll reveal that he sent Eddie's as a prank and his own stack of roses will certainly help with the statement of the whole thing. Harrington gets more than he needs of everything constantly and the only thing Eddie will ever get is a joke.

But the girl passes Steve's table, dropping nothing, and he doesn't even react. Ok, maybe Steve isn't the one who sent Eddie's rose.  Maybe he bribed someone to get his early. Honestly it doesn't matter, because now Eddie has a real mystery on his hands. He doesn't want to rule out that this could be a prank, but everyone knew the telegrams would be delivered during second period and why would someone send a prank when they couldn't even fulfill the thing. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but it actually seemed like he'd gotten a genuine telegram from someone. And well, it's not exactly like much will likely come of it, Eddie being gay and all, but it's a nice thought that he's not universally hated by everyone outside of his friend group.

He brings it up to the rest of the Hellfire Club later at lunch. He figures it's super possible that one of them decided to send it as an act of friendship or something. Seems a bit more of an actively affectionate act than his friends tend to participate in, but that's his best guess. But no, none of them sent it. The idea that it was a prank does come up, but Eddie sights all his reasons against it.

"It's still possible though," Gareth says cautiously.

"Yeah, I'm aware of that," Eddie says. "But I figure it's gotta be like a twenty percent chance at this point. And I'd still like to know who sent it. Besides, what kind of prank is it to not draw attention to?"

"The kind that makes you lose your mind in your own bafflement?" Nate asks. "Ok, sure. Thirty percent chance it's  a prank."

"Still, wouldn't you rather just let it go," Jeff suggests. "Either it's a prank or you're just going to draw attention to yourself trying to figure it out, and the big dogs around here are going to think you're doing the whole 'fake girlfriend' thing."

"I'm always drawing attention to myself at risk of social perspective. I don't think this is going to make people think any less of me."

"Well it's good you think that," Gareth says, "because you've been waving that rose around this whole time and Hagan and Harrington is coming this way. Heads up."

"Gift that to yourself, Munson?"

"Well, I was hoping it would still have thorns on it so I could slice your face open and say it was the school's fault for giving it to me," he snarks. "Oh well, se la vie."

"Do you know who gave it to you?" Steve asks.

"Bet she's 'from a different school,'" Hagan cackles with his baby hyena laugh.

"People from other schools can't send telegrams," Steve tells him.

"Yes! Exactly!"

"We don't know who sent it," Gareth interrupts.

"Well doesn't that just figure. So either she's fake, or there's some secret girl freak around here."

"Hey, Carol's here." Steve nods towards the entrance of the cafeteria where Carol Perkins strolls in.

"Hey, Carol!" Tommy calls. "Guess who got-"

"God, Tommy," Steve interrupts. "You can tell her when we sit down to eat. Yes, there's gotta be something seriously wrong with whoever sent that, but can we just go eat. I missed breakfast."

"Fine, fine." They turn to leave. "She's gonna flip though," Eddie hears him say as they get further away.

The rose doesn't make it home. Doesn't even make it outside the cafeteria room before it gets in the trash. Even in the small chance that it was serious, he feels less guilty getting rid of it when he sees a few other roses already in the bin.

He doesn't really think about it until the next Valentine's day when he gets another. He's even more prepared for this to be a prank than last time, given it got around that he sent himself one last year. But nothing comes. He makes sure to not carry it around with him this time. It comes home with him this year, 1984. It's not until he gets home this time that he realizes there's a message on the tag this time.

Sorry about the trouble from last year. Sorry I can't sign this off as "secret admirer." I don't have a crush on you or anything, but I think you're cool.

Ok, so this is some kind of weird platonic telegram. Except the only times he's ever seen that happening is between people who are already friends. He can only hope that this is some kind of gay boy in denial, but it's entirely possible that it's a straight girl in denial about her taste in men. 'He can only hope?' No. No no no no no. He's not going to start hoping that something comes of this. First of all, Eddie is a senior, a super senior at that. He's already ready to leave Hawkins and if it is the case that this is a gay denial case, then he can't really expect that they'll get over it in time for Eddie to graduate in like 4 months. Especially when whoever it is had been fixated on him for a year and still hasn't come to.

Most likely it's a girl, and if not, it's not worth dwelling on. Besides, if his first one came last year, whoever it was must have been a freshman and he was still a senior last year so that just feels like it would be a bit creepy.

It was probably just some underclassman who admired Eddie's self assuredness and open expression so sent one once, then felt embarrassed for Eddie when it got out of hand and just wanted to put through an apology. It's not a big deal.

=0=

Apparently it is a big deal though, because apparently it wasn't just an admiring underclassman who sent them, it was Steve fucking Harrington.

=0=

"I guess I couldn't accept the fact that Steve Harrington was actually... a good dude... and fuck I mean, I can't even believe I'm saying that after how you were in high school."

Steve snorts. "Yeah? You have a crush on Tammy too, or is this about my old friendship with Tommy."

"I don't really know what Tammy has to do with this, but I was mostly thinking about how there would 'have to be something seriously wrong with someone to like men's as you apparently thought."

Steve stops in his tracks. "Right. That whole thing."

"I'm surprised you remember. I mean, I get how that conversation would seem less impactful to you than me. Less memorable"

"I never said there would have to be something wrong with someone for liking you."

"Pretty sure that's exactly what you said. Again, I'm sure I remember it better than you."

"That might have been more memorable to me than you might think. I didn't say that. I said there must have been wrong with whoever sent the telegram."

"That's the same thing in that context."

"Not when you know who sent it."

Eddie sighs. "So it was a prank. Gotta admit, sending a second rose was a clever coverup."

"It wasn't a prank," Steve groans. "Why would someone try to coverup a prank anyway? That defeats the entire point."

"Ok, so if it wasn't a prank then we're just talking in circles. You think there's something wrong with someone because they sent me a rose. Are you going to tell me who it is by the way, or are you sworn to secrecy?"

"I sent you the fucking rose! Ok?"

It takes Eddie a moment to process that and he has to catch up with Steve who is storming ahead now. "But not as a prank?"

"No, man. I don't prank people."

"So... why?"

"I don't know, man. First time was on a whim. Second time I couldn't stop thinking about the previous year and how embarrassing that whole situation was. Figured I owed you an apology."

"You sent it... on a whim?"

"Yeah, man, kinda."

"'Kinda?' So you did have reasoning."

Steve groans. "Ok, yes. It's not like I drew the decision out of a hat. It's just... I thought you were cool, man. And I also knew you never got any and I never did either, so I just... I don't know. It was stupid."

"There's... so much to unpack here. First of all, that's... really sweet actually. Not stupid. Wait, what do you mean you never got any? Everyone fucking loves you."

"Literally name one person."

"Nancy."

Steve actually scoffs at the suggestion. "I liked her and opened her mind to the idea after an honestly embarrassing amount of time trying to woo her. The only people who actually chase after me don't want to get cute with me. They want what I'm capable of. No one's sending me fucking-" he let's out a broken laugh. "Yeah, I mean sure, if I bring someone's attention to it I guess. I've had Valentine's dates before, but I'm always the one to ask. I'm just not... associated with it I guess. And that's fine, you know. But that's why I sent them, you know? I felt bad because you probably don't even get to have that problem."

"I don't need your pity."

"Yeah, whatever. Sorry. I was just trying to be nice. Always fucking that up, huh?"

"No, just... for future reference ok? Don't go beating yourself up over it." Then an earthquake hit again.

Part 2>>

[f0point5]

I have to say that i was waiting until the end of the investigations to say something about the Christian Horner case because in these days you can never really trust anybody.

When i first saw the accusations the first rumor that i saw was the SA one then the Agressive behavior one (i think that's how it was but i think you get it) and i was literally shocked because 1. Christian is one of my favorites TP's (the other one is Toto) and 2. If the SA one was true i was disgusted bc he has daughters, i know that these don't matter bc even if someone has they still can do this but anyway. But then i saw that the informations that were getting out weren't clicking like a SA case and it took months to get it investigated? Weird from me.

Well but now that the conclusion is out how much you wanna bet that someone(s) will say that it was a fake investigation, that it was always gonna end up like this and bla bla bla

Ps: loved your posts with your "analysis"/ your opinion about this (and many others subjects)

You really can trust NOBODY that game of Chinese whispers was intense. I hope De Telegraaf loses all access to anything RBR related because the shit they were able to print was ridiculous.

I knew as soon as they said “female employee” that the SH allegations were coming. You never really know who is going to be that guy, they can have daughters, they can be the office dad, and at the end of the day, inappropriate comments in a work setting are a very slippery slope (this comes from someone who had a long office flirtation with senior exec that definitely could have been submitted in a similar report if I’d ever decided to cut it off). But RB were never treating it like an SA/SH case. When they didn’t suspend him, it signalled they weren’t worried about liability for his continued behaviour, which if it were sexual misconduct they would have been.

Everyone is going to say “it was a lawyer hired by RB that cleared him”, and “they just paid to keep it quiet”, as if both things are not standard operating procedure for corporations the world over. Christian Horner is not top dog in Red Bull, if he was a liability to the company, they’d have cut him the fuck out.

But as we know, people are just looking for reasons to hate on whoever they already dislike. I just feel for Christian’s kids. His stepdaughter and I think his daughter must be old enough to understand what’s been going on.

[jammie3132]

Fandom: Glee Pairing: Blaine Anderson & Sebastian Smythe Chapter Title: Back to November Chapter Summary: Blaine has no idea what’s going on and everyone keeps telling him it would be better if his memories returned organically. What happens if he never remembers? What happens if he does remember, but not what people want to hear? Chapter Note: I'm not making any more notes about chapters. This is taking a big turn. Think of the previous 6 chapters as set-up. And since this is like a separate fic, I eliminated my "only MCU canon before Endgame" rule. I will not tag which show/movie but still...spoilers. Warnings: Deaths (not by Snap) of canon Glee characters are hinted at but not confirmed 

REPOST 2/20/24: I accidently posted the rough draft 🤬

Hello, Blaine. My name is Sebastian. It’s nice to meet you.

He stared at the beautiful man…Sebastian. Something about him felt so familiar. It made him feel safe. “The little girl called me Daddy.”

“Yeah, I wish that didn’t happen.”

“Why?”

Sebastian chuckled and leaned into the door frame. He seemed to drop his guard (slightly) so he did the same. “I’m going to go make sure the kids’ lessons are ready.”

“I thought you said they were going to Kindergarten?”

“That’s what we call it…no, sorry. We were told, at least in the beginning, to let you try to regain your memories slowly, naturally.”

“Regain my memories?” Yes, he'd realized he had almost no memories from before he awoke, but how did Sebastian and whoever gave him that bullshit advice know he didn't?

“Tea or coffee?”

“Tea or coffee?” Was this a test? What if he said the wrong thing? Would it mean he’d have to wait even longer for someone to tell him what the fuck was going on? “Uh…I feel like I should say coffee, but I’d really like a cup of tea, Earl Grey with a little sugar and, this might sound strange, a splash of cinnamon.”

Something he said brought the beautiful smile back to Sebastian’s beautiful face. He must have answered correctly. “It doesn’t sound strange. One Earl Grey with a little sugar and a splash of cinnamon coming right up.”

Once he was alone, he got out of bed to survey his surroundings. The first thing he saw was a pair of glasses on the nightstand. He put them on and yes, these were definitely his.

The room was nice but plain. It felt more like an unoccupied dorm room than a bedroom in a home. White walls, hardwood floors and beige area rugs. No wall art, tchotchkes, or framed photos. The bedding didn’t have patterns, just grey sheets and a dark blue comforter with red trim. There was a full-length mirror in the corner, so he went to take a look. He was older than he anticipated. His hair was ridiculously curly and he was in need of a shave. The dark blue pajama pants he was wearing were unremarkable, but his t-shirt had Dalton printed across the front.

The shirt was the only thing that brought out any sort of recognition. Whatever Dalton turned out to be was irrelevant. To him, Dalton meant home.

Next to tackle was the dresser, but when he opened the top drawer, everything else came to a stop. There was only one item there. The only item since he woke up this morning that he recognized without an ounce of doubt.

The lightsaber Tony Stark made for him.

He climbed back into bed but sat up against the headboard, clutching his find. It was an anchor within the chaos of his situation. This Tony Stark guy was obviously important to him. So, why could he remember the lightsaber but not the man who made it for him?

He closed his eyes and tried to settle his mind.

“I’ve told you a thousand times, you can’t overthink everything.”

The voice embraced him with love, bringing out his first genuine smile of the day. “But I can sure try.”

Two gasps, one his own, had him opening his eyes. The sight of the person in the doorway confused him even more than why he gasped at what was said. “I know you…but I don’t know how.”

The woman plastered on a smile and set up the breakfast tray she’d been carrying. “It’s ok, Sweetie. Sebastian told me you wanted tea. I thought you might want some toast as well. There’s some…”

“Honey butter.” The woman's smile changed to resemble Sebastian’s when he answered the tea question.

Another test passed?

She sat beside him and gently brushed back his hair. It was if she’d been doing it for years. “Are you my mother?”

“Not biologically but over the past 6 years you and I have adopted each other as family. About 4 years ago you started calling me Mom. Maybe that’s what you’re remembering.”

“Maybe, but I don’t think I can do that, call you Mom, right now.”

The woman smiled again, easing their tension even further. “I understand, Sweetie. My name is Carole.”

(A younger) Carole stood next to a man in a baseball cap. The man reached out for a handshake. “Call me Burt, Kid. Kurt talks about you so much…”

“Dad! You said you wouldn’t embarrass me!”

Kurt? His first impression was one of fondness but then he was hit with feelings of animosity. No, animosity wasn’t enough. He might not remember this Kurt guy, but he really, really hated him. The memory troubled him so much he backed away to the other side of the bed, bringing his lightsaber, his only anchor to reality, with him. “How have we accepted each other as family when I hate your son?”

Carole chalked his statement up to his memories coming back in bits and pieces. At least they seemed to be coming back. That was progress. “You remembered Finn?”

“Kurt”

“Oh, that makes a lot more sense. Kurt isn’t my son. He was my stepson.”

He scooted back to his original spot, willing to once again try trusting the woman with the kind smile. “Was?”

“I was married to Kurt’s father until he died 6 years ago in a plane crash. Kurt disappeared at the same time, and we all thought he'd died as well. About a year and a half ago Kurt showed up out of nowhere. When he found out how my life moved forward, he said he would never forgive me. I haven’t heard from him since.”

“Was it because of me? Does he hate me, because I really, really hate him…although I don’t know why.”

“My relationship with you wasn’t the problem. He hated, probably still hates, the man I married and his son.”

“His son?”

“That would be me” Sebastian said from the end of the bed. Next to him was a distinguished-looking gentleman. Both men's eyes were darting back and forth between Carole and the lightsaber. She subtly shook her head as a signal to let it go for the time being.

He pretended he didn’t notice.

The distinguished-looking gentleman ended the awkwardness with his introduction. “And I’m the new husband, Sebastian’s dad, Xavier Smythe.”

Did he say… “Smythe? Your name is Xavier Smythe?”

“Yes. Do you remember me?”

His focus moved from father to son. What he found had him trying to catch his breath. The man from earlier was gone. The person at the end of the bed was a beautiful 16-year-old boy, dressed in a perfectly pressed school uniform.

And when she knows what She wants from her time And when she wakes up And makes up her mind

”Sebastian Smythe.” ”Are you a Freshman?”

Once a Warbler, always a Warbler. Right? He remembered November 8th, 2011 and November 8th, 2012…as well as every moment they shared in between. He remembered November 9th, 2012…waking up, realizing he’d been in love with Sebastian the entire time and minutes later Kurt telling him he was dead. He remembered every second of pain between that moment and November 8th, 2024…the day he traveled back in time. Everything hadn't returned, only his memories of Sebastian and the aftermath of the accident. It didn't matter. His beautiful boy, now beautiful man, was less than 10 feet in front of him.

“Bas”

Sebastian ran from the room. He was devastated but didn't want the others to know. "Guess I failed that test."

Xavier looked to Carole who told him Go, I’ve got this one. Once he was gone, Carole grabbed hold of his hand not grasping his lightsaber. “I’m so sorry, Sweetie. This must be so confusing. But when I came in and told you to stop overthinking…”

“I said But I can sure try. I don’t know why I said that.”

“Because that’s how my Blaine would always answer. That’s how Sebastian’s Blaine would always answer.”

Her Blaine? Sebastian’s Blaine?

He didn’t know what Carole was trying to say but he didn’t care. Something didn’t feel right. He pushed her away and went as far as he could while remaining in the same room “Get out.”

“Sweetie…”

“I’m not your Sweetie. I want to talk to Bas.”

Carole stood and sighed, a signal of surrender. All the goodwill she'd attempted to build was gone. “I’ll tell Seb, but don’t get your hopes up. There’s a change of clothes in the bathroom if you want a shower.” After she pointed out the proper door, she picked up the long-forgotten breakfast tray. “Please stay here for the time being.”

“You can’t keep me prisoner.”

“I…we’re not trying to. However, there are two small children in the house and all they know is something is going on with someone they love. They’re scared enough.”

With everything that happened between the time the children left his room, he’d forgotten them (couldn’t blame the memory loss for that one). “I’ll stay here…for now.”

“That’s all I ask.”

The shower helped. He didn’t want to say it made him feel like himself again because he didn’t know who the hell he was. More specifically, who these people expected him to be. Carole must have returned while he was in the shower because a new breakfast tray of tea and toast was neatly set up on the table next to the window. Although, this time she'd included some eggs and bacon. He appreciated the gesture. As he sat down to eat, he looked outside (why hadn’t he thought of that sooner?). He didn’t need a rush of memories to know he was at Dalton. But this Dalton wasn’t either of his Daltons.

There was more than one Dalton? Why would he believe that? The only Dalton he remembered was the one where he met Sebastian. He was too hungry to obsess about it now, so he turned his attention back to his breakfast. The food was so good, and he was so mentally fried, he didn’t hear someone enter the room.

”You don’t have face hair anymore. You always have face hair.”

”I shaved.”

“Oh, ok. I got this for you, Uncle Blaine.” Sammy, the little boy…not the dog he still had no answers about, was holding a quart of Stark Raving Mad ice cream. “It always makes you feel better.”

He cocked his eyebrow and tried not to smile. “Makes me feel better, huh? Is there a reason I need two spoons to eat it?” The little boy’s face fell, and his heart shattered into a thousand pieces. “Come here.” Sammy ran into his open arms and quickly settled on his lap. “Thank you, I ate my breakfast but I’m still hungry.”

“Grammy Carole says you’re always hungry” Sammy told him between shoveling spoons full of ice cream into his face. “Uncle Seb said you don’t remember us because you bumped your head. Is he right? You promised you’d never lie to me, but I guess you don’t member that.”

WTF? Blaine shifted the boy in his lap. First, the kid was heavier than he looked. His leg was falling asleep. And second, why had Sebastian told Sammy about his memory loss when Carole basically begged him to stay away from the kid and his sister? “Your Uncle Seb told you I bumped my head and lost my memories?”

“No” the boy admitted “I heard him tell Grampy X. He also said you were the other Blaine now, not his B. I don't know what that means.” That bit of information took him from frustrated to completely horrified. How could Sebastian be so reckless to say this where one of the kids could overhear him? His Bas was an impulsive brat (hello, eye surgery) but the things he did stemmed from being a child (teenagers, no matter what they believe, are children). This Sebastian was a late 20-something year old parent. He should know better!

The ice cream was gone (he might've gotten in 3 bites) and Sammy was beginning to doze off. It gave him an idea. “You heard right, I don’t have my memory and my head still kind of hurts. I was going to take a nap. Do you want to join me?"

Sammy wrapped his arms around Blaine’s neck, making it easier to be carried. Once they were settled, the boy began to wiggle and brought something up from underneath the sheet. “Where did you get this cool lightsaber…or you don’t remember?”

How could he have forgotten his lightsaber? Was he losing new memories every time he remembered something from the past? It wasn’t the time for panic…yet. “I found it in a drawer. Someone named Tony made it for me. I don’t remember him, but I know he loved me and always made me feel safe.”

“Like you love me and said you would do anything to keep me safe...when you remembered me.”

“Hey” He lifted the little boy’s chin, so he had to look at him. “I don’t care if I never remember anything else. I will always remember to make sure you and Susie are safe.”

Any tension in Sammy’s body melted as he snuggled even closer. “Uncle Blaine, I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For getting scared and thinking the bad space monster would take me away again because you forgot to keep me safe.”

“Take you away?”

“Pepper brought you to Dalton to recover in peace. No one’s looking for Iron Man in bum-fuck Ohio.”

It wasn’t the time for questions. Tony had been through hell. And even though it had been a month, his brain was still dealing with the reality of Infinity Stones and how an alien got ahold of them, snapped his fingers and turned half of all living beings in the universe to dust.

Oh no, no, no. Sammy had been Snapped by Thanos. Blaine rolled to his side and hugged him as tightly as possible. “Never be sorry for being scared. Let’s talk about that…” He didn’t have to finish. The little boy was already sound asleep, clutching the lightsaber. 

“What the hell were you thinking?”

*Blaine continued to love and be loved by Sammy...the hyperactive puppy* Me? You gave me the lightsaber and the rest of the technology I needed to do it!”

Tony walked around the basement of the Dalton he built, inspecting the time portal Blaine, Brittany and Bruce (technically Brittany and Bruce) built out of the material he sent. “I trusted Banner. He should've called off the whole thing knowing those substitute PYM Particles were compromised! And Barton?! I thought you were the little brother he never wanted. He and his whole fake SHIELD family loved you!”

“They do…did, whatever. And Bruce told me…ok, he tried. I still don’t get all the timey-whimey shit.”

“Which you should've before you TIME TRAVELED with defective particles! I understand not going back to Hank Pym for help. The guy has a Stark hate-boner so big I’m amazed he fathered a child.”

“Like yours for Steve Rogers?”

“Hold on…fine, point for the Bow-tied Wonder. But seriously, Banner let you use the damaged particles without seeing what Britt or that Princess in Wakanda could come up with? What about Strange? He was keeper of the Time Stone for fuck sake!”

“Then why didn’t the Avengers include them in the Time Heist?”

“Dr. Weirdo, Princess Kitty-Kat and our lovable but ditzy genius were dust at the time.”

“Don’t say it like that. It took forever for Britt to realize constantly singing Dust in the Wind wasn’t appropriate, especially in front of others who were Blipped.”

“Yet another reason I love that girl. And before you say Wong, we also thought he was dust…Snapped. We were wrong but not our fault. He’d snuck back to the Mystical Monastery of the Mountains and gone off-grid. Oh, and …THANOS DESTROYED THE STONES. Since we didn’t have any extra laying in a drawer somewhere, I, the most brilliant man who ever lived, had to solve time travel.”

“Yeah, I’d forgotten most of that. Not because of the memory loss, I think, but because it made my head hurt to listen to you and Bruce, or Bruce and Britt, talk about it.”

“Again…you didn’t understand and yet decided it was a good idea to TIME TRAVEL! I should tell MIT to take back your degree.”

“You’re dead.”

“Heroically departed, yet here I am…Iron Man.”

“Seriously?”

“How about*overdramatic superhero voice* I am...Dream Master and Gate Keeper to all your memories, so don’t piss me off?”

“I hate you.”

“You love me. And hey! What about Wanda? She’s a witch with super-sized magic courtesy of the mind stone. Did any of you supposedly brilliant idiots think of seeing what she could do to help?”

“Uh…after you left…”

“Heroically departed.”

“After you left, Wanda tried to get Vision’s body from the government to give him a funeral.”

“I don’t know if I’m more offended by the fact the government had Vision’s body and I didn’t know, or Elphaba wanted to put billions of dollars worth of Vibranium…”

“No, Wanda wanted to say goodbye with a funeral for the man?...person?...cybernetic being she loved. When she couldn’t get him back, she went a little Coo-coo for Cocoa Puffs.”

“How little?”

“Mind fucked an entire town, a small town, in New Jersey into believing they were characters in old sitcoms. Manifested a new Vision and a couple of kids. After the government caught on and all hell broke loose, she freed everyone, essentially killing her imaginary family. Last anyone saw of her, she flew off, no airplane necessary, to parts unknown with something called The Book of the Damned.”

For the first time ever, Tony Stark was speechless.

*Lengthy amount of (Dream) Time later* “And you questioned why I wanted Britt kept away from all that shit!?!”

“I didn’t question, per se…”

“Liar…and why didn’t Legolas do anything about the Wicked Witch of New Jersey?”

“Wanda told Clint, and Laura, she was going back to Sokovia to help with rebuilding what the Avengers and Ultron…”

“No need to elaborate. I was there…no comments.”

“So...that’s why they didn’t question her going no contact. It’s not their fault the government was stupid and for some reason didn’t bringing in the man who convinced Wanda to turn her back on Ultron, gave his son her dead brother’s name and freed her from your house arrest.”

"I said no comments!”

“I didn’t say a word about how you were responsible for Ultron, but if the title Avengers Dictator fits…”

“My bad. And while I want answers, you dream-summoned me to help you understand what the hell is happening in your pudding brain. That doesn’t mean I’ll stop yelling about the fact you never should have TIME TRAVELED with faulty particles in the first place! I’m gone for one itty-bitty year…”

*Blaine rose from where he’d been sitting the entire time and Sammy (the dog) ran off* “Tony…” “Ok, ok, I’ll drop it for now but be prepared to be chastised in future dreams.”

“I would expect nothing less from you.”

*Seconds later (because…Dream Time). Tony is now surrounded by all the computers he’d sent to Dalton over the years* “I figured out how badly you all fucked this up without me.”

“Can we postpone the I Told You Sos as well as the yelling?“

“You take the fun out of everything.”*Blaine answered by giving him a middle finger* “See? Was that so difficult?”

*Blaine answered with double middle fingers* “What did you find?”

“The faulty particles sent you to 2011 instead of 2012. Like with Rogers and his trip to finally get laid…”

“Oh, he’d already been laid.”

“...by Peggy Carter. And I’m still angry with you for not sharing your Stucky theories while I was around to use them to my advantage…in a fun way, at least a fun for me way. I would never use information like that against someone, especially after what happened to your platonic apocalypse partner.”

“My what?”

“That Dave guy?”

“Who?”

“Ok, your memory has improved to Swiss Cheese, but one thing at a time. Like I was saying, you went back to 2011 instead of 2012 and physically became that Blaine Anderson. During the Time Heist, we just had to avoid the Battle of New York Avengers.”

“That’s what I expected, hoped, would happen to me. Did you figure out why I physically became 2011 me?”

“No clue.”

“So, you can’t fix it?”

“To send you back to your original timeline? Not a chance. You wanted to be here, so…ta-da!”

“Not helpful.”

“If you want helpful, I can tell you when you are. It’s November 8th, 2024.”

“The day I left?”

“Makes sense. From what I understand, the Centurian lived decades with no memories of his 70 year side trip. Those memories took over when his two timelines intersected. He did eventually wind up with both sets of memories. My highly educated guess is you’ll eventually do the same.”

“I don’t have eventually. Right now, I have a scared little boy to take care of.”

“Yeah, Sammy. Do you realize you haven’t mentioned Sebastian once since you sought my wisdom? When I was alive you wouldn’t shut up about the guy.”

“Fuck you”

“You didn’t get the big Rom-Com reunion you wanted?”

“Not even close.”

“Did you ever consider the fact that for Sebastian, his Blaine essentially died when you woke up this morning? And you? While you saved Sebastian, Bas died November 8th, 2012. Is that something you’re prepared to accept? And what about Sam?”

“Sammy…”

“Not Sammy…Sam.”

I, I will be king And you, you will be queen Though nothing will drive them away We can be Heroes, just for one day We can be us, just for one day

I, I can remember (I remember) Standing, by the wall (by the wall) And the guns shot above our heads (Over our heads) And we kissed, As though nothing could fall (Nothing could fall)

And the shame was on the other side Oh we can beat them, for ever and ever Then we could be Heroes, Just for one day

“Last night there was a major accident on the highway. A big-rig blew a tire causing the truck to flip over. It smashed into several cars before landing on two. Blaine, Sam was in one of those cars…and, and Sebastian was in the other. They didn’t make it. I’m so sorry.”

"Sammy, the little boy…obviously not the dog, is Sam’s son, isn’t he?"

"Yes"

"But Sam…if I saved him, where is he? Why isn’t he with his son?”

“I can’t tell you what happened. That’s Blaine 2.0 territory. However, when you wake up, you can have some more of Bow’s memories. I can do that much."

“Thanks.”

“Don’t thank me. This is your dream.”

*Next thing Blaine knew he was hugging the man he considered his father. In this Dream State he could actually feel Tony’s arms around him* “I miss you so much.”

“Of course, you do. I’m awesome.” *Tony tightened his hold* “I love you, Blaine Anderson.”

“I love you too, Tony Stark.”

“Good, because I want you to do something for me.”

“Of course, you do. What?”

“Go back to your music.”

“But…”

“What was the first thing you thought of when you remembered Sam? *Blaine tries to move away but Tony won’t let him* “You remembered the two of you singing Heroes. It was good…really good. Not hard rock enough to be my theme song, but I would’ve put it on the list.”

“How do you know that?”

“I’m Dream Master and Gate Keeper to all your memories, Dumb Ass. Now, about you going back to music…”

“Tony…”

“If I didn’t burden you with hiding Brittany…”

“She wasn’t a burden.”

“Then hiding all my extra toys in the basement at Dalton…”

“That was a burden, a little one. But only when you came to Ohio and (air quotes) played science with my home. It would take days to get Saturday back to working correctly after you left.”

“I always thought if I didn’t uproot your life, you would’ve eventually found your way back to music. You were too good not to.”

“Tony…”

“Bow, just this one time, don’t overthink this and promise me you’ll try.”

*Sigh* “For you? I promise to try.”

Blaine felt movement next to him. It was enough to end his dream but not enough for him to move out of the comfort cocoon he was wrapped in. That was until he heard…

Come on, Big Guy. Time to go.

“Says who?” Blaine asked a startled Sebastian.

“Sammy shouldn’t be here.”

“And you shouldn’t have talked to your father about me without making sure you were alone.” He didn’t regret what he said, but maybe he didn’t have to say it like that.

“He overheard Dad and I…?” Sebastian didn’t need a verbal response. He’d seen that expression thousands of times. “Do you know how much he heard?”

“Enough to come to the conclusion my forgetting him meant the bad space monster was going to take him away again.” He motioned for not-his-Bas to go around to the other side of the bed and join them. Sebastian took the hint and laid down next to the sleeping boy, brushing his hair aside much like Carole had done with him earlier.

It finally dawned on him how much the other man loved this boy and had just been trying to protect him. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” Sebastian asked, surprised by the apology.

“That I failed your test. That I’m not who you wanted me to be.”

If Sebastian was surprised before, he was now in full-on shock. “How do you know?”

“You didn’t hide it very well. That, and while I was sleeping, I came to a couple of realizations, like how you lost your husband.” He held up his left hand to show him rubbing the underside of his ring finger with his thumb. “I can’t stop doing this. It’s a muscle memory I have no control over. Susie said something about having a Daddy and a Papa, but this…” he held up his hand again “this is a habit developed over a long period of time.”

“B’s ring belonged to my grandfather. It was always a little big but with everything going on the past few years, getting it resized wasn’t happening. When we finally found someone to do it, B said no, the ring’s perfect the way it is. And you didn’t fail. We knew this would happen. I just hoped…”

Huh? We knew? “How? How the fuck…” Sebastian glared at him until he realized “Oh sh…cra…darn? Guess I need to learn to watch my language.”

“We have a curse jar. You don’t put money in because money doesn’t have any real value right now. The jar has pieces of paper with monthly jobs no one wants to do on them. B usually takes out 10 at the beginning of the month so he can space things out.”

He chuckled quietly, not wanting to wake up Sammy. Obviously, he and the other Blaine would have similarities since they were technically the same person. He never considered his swearing habit would be one of them. “He, your B, has or had…”

“A potty mouth? Yes, but it did get better after Susie’s first word was fuck.”

That was all it took for him to lose it. Whatever came out was somewhere between a laugh and a sob, the problem was it was loud. Sammy smiled waking to see the men he called Uncle on either side of him, until seconds later when sheer panic overtook the boy.

On the other side of the room, sparks had appeared out of nowhere. Fortunately, he remembered what this meant, but how to explain it to a traumatized child was a different story. “Sebastian, how did everyone Tha…the bad space monster took away come back?” he asked, hoping it was at least close to the version he knew. “The Sammy version.”

“Um…Avengers broke the space monster’s curse and everyone just reappeared. No one knows how.”

“What did the Avengers do next?”

“Uh…a big battle with the space monster. They think they’re going to lose when a bunch of people joined them…”

“Awesome! Sammy, I know people who were there when the Avengers fought the space monster. Everyone who joined them? They got there through a magic portal just like that one. Only heroes can go through them.” He tousled the less-scared little boy’s hair before getting out of bed and putting himself between Sebastian and Sammy, and whoever (or whatever) stepped out of the portal.

Not that he was going to stop a magical being or anything, but it felt like the right thing to do.

Any doubt was quashed when their visitor arrived. “Wong? What are you doing here? Wait, how did you get here? The Sorcerer Supreme is a master of time. Yes, I time traveled here but Sebastian and Sammy didn’t. Oh my God! Are we in an alternate universe?” He’s so excited his voice kept getting higher and faster. “I think I finally understand some that timey-whimey shit…stuff Tony, Bruce and Brittany yapped on and on about.”

“Brittany? You said you didn’t know my Mommy.”

He turned so fast he almost knocked himself over. “Brittany is your mommy?” For some reason what Sammy said both made perfect sense and blew his mind. Sadly, this had to wait. “Wong?”

“Sorry to burst your bubble, but you’re not even close. I thought you were some sort of genius like Stark since he sent you to MIT and then kept all his Iron Man stuff in your basement.”

“You went to MIT?”

He motioned to Sebastian he’d answer the question later. Maybe he should get the others to leave. No, a little late for that. “Wong, just tell me.”

“When I first met you, your Temporal Aura was off, more like wrong, but I was a little busy. Do you know why?”

“Testing me?"

"Yes"

Considering the man could turn him into a frog, he determined it wasn't time for snark. Sammy didn't need to see that. "The first time I met you, you and Pepper brought Morgan to me before the battle at the Avengers Compound.”

“Ok, just checking, you never know with time travel. At Stark’s funeral I pointed your Aura out to Strange and he agreed with me. You were on the wrong timeline.”

“The what now?”

“The wrong timeline. People don’t stay on the wrong timeline. Those things get taken care of.”

“Taken care of?” Well, that didn’t sound good.

“Let’s just say there are more beings affecting time than those possessing an Infinity Time Stone. Lasting almost 30 years in the wrong timeline only to return to the correct one without assistance from any form of timekeeper doesn’t happen…until you. It’s fascinating.”

“Fantastic isn’t the word I would use.” This conversation was getting more confusing (and terrifying) by the minute. “So, what does all of this mean? And please no timey/whimey or magicity/smagickity explanations?”

“It means I need to have a discussion with Strange but I can’t find him. He’s off universe. It’s so frustrating.” Wong waved his arms and another portal began to open. “Maybe you can help. What’s the name of Stark’s other lost boy?”

“Huh? Oh, you mean Spider-Man?”

“I know that. What’s his real name? His identity?”

“I don’t know. He wanted it to remain secret, unlike his mentor.”

“Someone must know.”

“Pepper?”

“None of Team Iron Man. Maybe this has something to do with why I can’t find Strange. Do me a favor…no more time jumping until I get this figured out.”

“I won’t know how.” 

Once he was sure Wong was gone, he turned back around. Sammy was bouncing with excitement. Sebastian…have you ever heard the expression If looks could kill? Neither was a good thing. Like his other self, he should probably get a head start on the curse jar because…FUCK!!!!!

[marknee]

mists of celeste

a series by @hongism: by marknee

(contains spoilers! please be wary when reading)

let me start you here, with the understanding that this isn’t - in any way shape or form - an essay, nor is it an attempt at such. i rather just want to blurt everything into writing regarding my thoughts of this incredibly crafted series, so my head may feel that bit lighter. because holy shit. i have a lot to say. and i cannot ask anything of you, but to believe me when i say i’m not one to sugarcoat my words, leaving you with only the purest of faith that everything i write here, i undoubtedly mean. with that trust in mind, i present to you a very unorganised mind dump (?) of mine from over the span of a fortnight of reading.

i had to pick this series up twice during its entirety as i had an unfortunate epiphany halfway through, and i only just registered the hefty loss i knew i was going to grieve over the moment my eyes gazed upon the last word, causing me to postpone reading as much as i could — which, if you should know, didn’t last for a full twenty-four hours either time. i managed five, perhaps six, at most.

if i had a physical copy of this series, a highlighter, and a shit ton of index tabs, i fear what would become of me. the author has this series so incredibly well written that every single sentence deserved highlighting and placing into a buzzfeed quiz titled, “choose a quote and we’ll guess the state of your mental health,” ‘cause fuck me, i had a lot of self reflection to do after some of the chapters. at least one thing is clear, both the characters and i need intense therapy. and maybe a warm bubble bath with a cute rubber duck.

however, i will spare you the sob story and list some of the quotes from this series i either, 1) cried about, or 2) added to my list of topics to bring up with my therapist when i see her next.

“constantly looking at the negatives will get you nowhere in life. just thinking: what’s going to go wrong? that’s a recipe for disaster, as is only thinking about the past. what went wrong in the past doesn’t necessarily mean that it will go wrong in the future.” — seonghwa to y/n, chapter 17.

“you love her. what is love compared to duty?” — jisung to seonghwa, chapter 33.

“you would do well not to romanticise love in such a way otherwise you will be sorely disillusioned. love contains the freedom to choose what you want without the other person making any decision for you.” — seonghwa to jisung, chapter 33.

“what makes me more deserving than the man who died for me?” — y/n to seonghwa, chapter 33.

“oh, darling, if you could see yourself through my eyes, you would know that you are the most deserving person in the universe.” — seonghwa to y/n, chapter 33.

i want to give you beautiful and happy memories, my darling. i want to see you smile everyday for the rest of my life, even if it’s just for a moment. i want so much for you, and selfishly, i want to be the one to give it all to you.” — san to y/n, chapter 41.

“in answering the haunting question of “what do you want from me”, perhaps, simultaneously, you want everything and nothing at all.” — chapter 41.

“whoever came up with the saying ‘the truth will set you free’ clearly should have left paragraphs worth of fine print detailing how atrocious and painful it would be before that freedom.” — chapter 45.

“should this be a monster of his hatred’s creation, you will put your hands to the clay and mold its grotesque features further into obscurity.” — about yeosang, chapter 45.

“do you wish for me to bear it on my shoulders so you can sleep comfortably at the devils side?” — hongjoong, chapter 47.

“if love is meant to be part of life, then why is it draining seonghwa of his?” — chapter 48.

perhaps i cried! honestly, the two most impactful quotes on this list for me were, “what is love compared to duty?” and “what makes me more deserving than the man who died for me?” i think they both represent this story in the most heart-rending, glorious and tragic way possible as everyone is trying to confront the demons of their past, but of course, there is no reward without sacrifice.

in a way, every crew member on the horizon sacrificed something — perhaps, in their own personal way but still, all their wounds are equal in validity, so they’re basically on the same playing field of what it means of sacrifice. y/n lost her memories. most of them lost their freedom. half of them were subdued to others control and dehumanised and belittled. and every backstory broke my heart the more the pieces were revealed throughout.

i’m praying as the story unfolds further, every member finds their own redemption and closure, and allows themselves the peace they’ve deserved from the very beginning — in whatever form that may take. i just want them to be happy. so, author, please leave my boys alone. they’re tired. i’m tired. my poor y/n has been through more shit than i can comprehend. we’re relying on you, love.

also, i want to lay out all my cards on the table right now and admit there are the two members i genuinely want to physically fight (fists ‘n all): yeosang and hongjoong. the pair of them i want to throw off the airlock myself, never mind them threatening to do it to me. watch me do it. firstly, starting with the former: what the fuck is my guy’s problem? i cannot count the amount of times i got punched in the gut, slammed against a wall, choked (not in that way, people), almost DIED because of this motherfucker, and for what? it’s not my fucking fault wooyoung and i are halves of one soul. like i asked for this shit? dude needs to get his shit together ASAP, and i’m not saying that for his behalf (even though i’m sure therapy would be very good for him), i’m saying it for my behalf. because best believe he tries me again, i will swing, and i will absolutely clock his crown jewels, no pun intended. i’ve been sparring with jongho recently, and he tells me i’ve gotten better. so don’t even try me, mate.

his ONLY redeeming feature and the last remaining bit of patience i have for him relies in how good he was in bed in chapter 45. that’s it. i don’t fucking blame wooyoung. for anything. because i understand it all.

secondly, the absolute audacity personified himself: kim hongjoong. him and i are on a poorly constructed rollercoaster at the moment where the worker is dozing off behind the control system. one minute, the man has me seething, and the next, i’m wildly attracted to him. and then he says something shitty and the rollercoaster starts again. they’re not allowing me off at all, so i suppose i’ll be here forever. unless… they solve their problems within the sheets. and hear me out, okay? it (kinda) worked for yeosang, so sex with the captain? how scandalous. and it would help let off some of that pent up frustration between the two of us — my frustration with him, mostly. he genuinely gets on my tits. but i love him.

(don’t think i forgot that bath scene, miss author.)

on note of that, i actually made a list in my notes app at the beginning of reading this series where i ranked how good the sex would be with each crew mate (that’s if she were to do it with all of them). however, i did remove the members we’ve already done it with, so here’s my hypothesis (of the members we still have yet to):

rank 5: mingi. cons include, haven’t actually had a proper conversation with him ever, he scares me still a bit, i wonder if he even knows my name. pros include, has the power for it, no doubt he’s probably amazing, but please take me to dinner first.

rank 4: jongho. cons include, dude is like my little brother, would be very very awkward during and afterwards, endless teasing from the others and i’m too sensitive for that right now. pros include, he’s a berserker so no doubt he has the capabilities in him, he’s not a touchy person, sigh.

rank 3: yunho. cons include, is still figuring out his feeling towards seonghwa and hongjoong, would hate to become between that, he’s my doctor so also very awkward. pros include, my man is hot as fuck, would be an absolute boss about aftercare and take it seriously (as he should), very romantic and sweet.

rank 2: wooyoung. cons include, yeosang would fuck me up, like seriously. i’d probably die. he’s half of my soul, so… no comment there. pros include, an absolute tease, the fucker, so caring, though he would definitely want yeosang there (is that a pro or con i can’t decide?).

rank 1: hongjoong. cons include, literally none. pros include, that man hates my fucking guts so no doubt i won’t be able to walk for the next month (not complaining), immediate bragging rights that i’ve fucked the scourge of the black sea yeah get fucked everyone hahaha, would genuinely ruin me, i get to sleep in the captains bed like how exciting is that? i haven’t even been in his quarters never mind his bed! will be a very interesting and intense chapter.

now, moving on to later in the series with that choice with the serum for mingi. i simply cannot fathom the amount of voice messages i recorded over this. it was gobsmacking to me that everyone was against her for wanting mingi to have a choice, instead of lacking him of such a ghastly thing apparently. she didn’t want to deprive him of making his own decisions and deciding his own fate, and the fact the entire crew got mad at her for it, knowing they didn’t even ask for his consent in the first place?! nah, i have beef with all of them at this point. literally fight me, i don’t care that you’re pirates. i’m a raging woman, i’m worse. and don’t even get me started on the jisung and hyunwoo ordeal. actually, let me start a new paragraph for this one because it’s gonna be a long one.

the whole situation is genuinely indescribable of how upsetting it was (not to me, but to y/n. well, i guess to me also, then). hyunwoo is very much worse than jisung, but jisung still fucked up from his shitty choice of decisions. y/n’s backstory is very unsettling and she’d never really had a solid ground and people to rely on, until she had her team in the military. perhaps they weren’t exactly a family, but they cared for each other. and that was enough. but, what hurts the most is she genuinely believed they were good people (i quote: “hyunwoo was like a brother to me”), trusted them wholeheartedly, openly defended them, and even spent years of her life to pardon the guy she thought died for her (ouch). in return, they manipulated her, backstabbed her to the gods, and planned on injecting her a third time to keep the good image she had of them for their own benefit— fuck me, i’m seething just writing this. however, i too, am mourning their deaths for the sake of y/n. they were the closest thing to family to her, and knowing hyunwoo had a family of his own… but, i guess the lesson we learnt here is once you make your bed, you have to lie in it.

i realise this story isn’t over yet, but so far, it was been such a incredible ride. the world-building is out of this world— can we take a moment of appreciation for the google docs of each planet? what. i’m so excited for what’s to come, but i just wanted to share everything. i have cried too many times over this series that it felt like a reblog wasn’t enough appreciation for me. i wanted to do more. my love language is words of affirmation for a reason!

main points of this rant (of sorts):

if hongjoong and yeosang piss me off any further it’s on sight. there’s nothing scarier than a woman whose been messed with for too long, i’ll tell you that.

i fucking loathe hyunwoo, and i hate jisung slightly less, but i mourn for them also. and for the sake of my own pride, i will not enclose how hard i sobbed over that scene. i will not. ever.

hongjoong and y/n need to fuck already. there i said it. the tension is too much i’m sure mingi could sense it from another fucking planet.

san and wooyoung and jongho deserve the world. i love those sweethearts. they could never do me wrong. i will love them ‘til the end of time.

the yeosang sex chapter was everything and more. etched in my mind eternally. incredible.

i’m so mad i can’t add this to my shakespeare series as it’s not a bts fanfic, but i am seriously thinking about making a series for ateez just to add this in there. should it be charles dickens or jane austen? ahh, don’t tempt me, please.

that’s it! a literal dump of my entire thought process going through this 48 chapter-ed (for now) series! i wanna take a moment to thank @hongism for spending her time writing and creating a piece of art for us. i, and many others, owe it to you :) we appreciate you so much.

if you do want to read this (if you haven’t already spoiled it for yourselves), the link is under ‘a series’ right at the top of this post. or you can go on @hongism’s account and check it out there!

thank you for reading,

nini x

[smellslikehome]

Post 3: Nat’s Perspective:

You know that annoying phenomena where once you want something or notice something, let’s say a car, and everywhere you look you can see that car. The exact make, model and color. Almost as if the car was haunting you. Or how once you see in your mind you want something, almost every ad you see is directed to that thing. It’s known as the frequency illusion for those of you that don’t know. It’s not that these things show up more frequently, it’s just that your brain is more likely to notice them once they have taken up a significant space in your mind. Unfortunately, for the past 3 weeks since I obtained my journal from the post-grad, I had seen him everywhere. In the halls, in the courtyard of the campus. Hell he even tried to talk to me one time while I was sitting with Barry and Bridget in the dining hall. 

    “Hey, we’re in the same class right?” he asked as though we had never spoken before.

    “Yeah, you stole my notebook… Can I help you?” I replied sternly.

    “Oh right of course! I think we got off on the wrong foot I-”

    “And reintroducing yourself like we’ve never met is somehow better because?” I asked. 

    He stopped stunned before he rolled his eyes and said “Nevermind. Have a good day,” and walked off.

    “Ooooooh who was that?” asked Bridget.

    “Some stalker from my class. He’s the guy that had my notebook,” I replied.

    “Hm…. he’s your type,” added Barry.

    “Go to hell,” I chuckled. 

Barry wasn’t wrong, but to be honest, I didn’t like the guy. Everywhere I looked it seemed he too follow. However, I didn’t have time to fool around and worry about someone that was inconsequential. I had my studies and my work to keep me occupied. I simply was too busy to trouble myself with… trivial matters such as this. The last time I allowed… let’s say ‘extracurricular interests’... to come between me and my work, I didn’t come out unscathed. 

Nevertheless, the 3 weeks since the fiasco with my journal had come and gone and I had just finished reporting to a client about the whereabouts of his missing father, as he hired Barry and I to investigate. Luckily I was able to wrap that case up and get paid just in time for me to head to class. I arrived to class about 5 minutes late, when the professor said, “Ah, glad you could join us Mr. Hicks. We were just going over midterm plans.”

    Midterms already. That makes sense. Luckily I take time twice a week to study so I don’t have to cram as badly. Though I am thankful I have no ongoing cases to distract me too much from my studies. I sat down and the professor continued, saying, “Now like I was saying, the project will be for you all to critique a story and write how you would do the story better. Then, write the story. Since that’s a lot for just one person to handle, and we have an even class, you will be put into pairs. Think of it like an editor working with a writer.” and he kept droning on and on. Honestly he lost me when he said this was going to be a group project. Group projects were a waste of time and energy. I do partner projects almost everyday, so I’m a good team player….

At least when I know the entire team.

    “I’ve already made the pairs. Though they’re posted online and I’ve also printed out a physical copy,” the professor said. 

    Under my desk I pulled out my phone and pulled up the classes online board. I looked around and it seemed like only a few people were doing what I’m doing. I guess since most of the post-graduates knew each other, whoever they were working with wouldn’t be seen as a stranger so that left me as the odd one out.

    ….Greeeeaaaat. I wonder who Brandon possibly set me up with to make my midterms hell.

    That’s when I saw it.

[Nathaniel Hicks  —-- Redgel]

 “Fuck…” I mutter under my breath. 

“Excuse me. Mr. Hicks, are you paying attention?” asked Brandon.

“Naturally,” I said, looking up as annoyed as possible. 

He dismissed class early and the class rushed the board to see who their pair was. I hear lots of ‘yes!’ and ‘yay’ from the board so I just decided to leave the room. I put on my headphones and was going to listen to music when in the distance I heard, “Hey! Wait Up!”     I turned around and of course I saw the large post grad that had been following me. “Looks like we’re partners for the midterm project!”

“Hm…” I nodded in agreement.

“So…” he started. “When do you want to get to work on it? We have 2 and a half weeks to work on it sure but-”

“We have 2 and a half weeks to work on the 1st half. Up until the end of the semester to finish writing,” I corrected.

“Oh… well I just don’t want to-”

“Wait until the last minute. Trust me neither do I , the sooner this is over the better,” I replied. Just then my phone buzzed. I looked at it to see it was Barry. “I gotta take this. Saturday, either your place or the library it doesn't make a difference. Email me the details through the classroom and I’ll show up.” I looked down and answered the phone and walked away. Luckily it wasn’t a case, it was just Barry trying to decide on dinner.

Later that night I was playing games with Bridget and explaining the situation when she said, “Ohhhh I hope he invites you over to his place.”

“I only suggested it because his profile suggests that he works better in an environment where he could be the most comfortable and I don’t need anything impeding my work. I just want to get it done and move on,” I confirmed.

“Well what if he wants to do something…. Extra?” asked Bridget, nudging me.

“Bridge… remember Riley?” I asked.

She reeled back a bit, “Yeah…. I do…. But Nate, that was freshman year… Not everyone’s like that.”

I sighed, “Everyone's like that to me. And he was the worst… I don’t feel like doing that again.”

“Hey. I was just kidding. But still the guy seems nice,” she commented. “I know you aren’t a big ‘let people in’ person. But maybe try to act a little less cold toward him. He really doesn’t seem bad.”

“And if he is?” I asked. Frankly I was in disbelief we were even having this conversation. I’m not just going to open up. Not like last time. Then again, I am unnaturally and unreasonably cold. I’m not blind to my own shortcomings, I know I could stand to improve how I treat people. But some habits are hard to change.

“If he’s as bad as you think everyone in the world is, I'll gut him like a fish,” she said confidently.

…Oddly enough, it made me feel a little better.

[lonely-soul-02]

I'm struggling to understand how such an article would benefit Noel so much that he'd want it printed, it literally makes him look like he's so childlishly bothered by a 20-something years old boy presence with whom he doesn't actually have to talk. This was clearly The S*n trying to spin some kind of narrative, I get Noel was and is mates with some of their showbiz writers but if they as a tabloid can fuck someone up they will, and that goes for people that are much more powerful and influential than Noel will ever be.

I agree - Sun writers do whatever they want to whoever they want, no matter how influential, and they don't give a damn about the consequences. I don't think Noel would have wanted that article to go out. I don't think he approves Sun articles that are published about him. He just doesn't do anything about it if said articles do him no harm and/or maintain the status quo. This one might've done harm so he might have something to say to them.

I know you think the article portrays Noel badly and it does make him appear overly sensitive with the whole 'he had to leave' thing (which Noel would never do). But it is interesting how the writer chose not to demean, make fun of, or belittle Noel like they did to Liam's son, like how Sun writers used to do to Liam. The language used and the photos chosen clearly position Noel to be the man-about-town, smiling, women laughing in the background, the crowd pleaser. As opposed to the photos chosen for Lennon that make him look like some skulking weirdo fleeing the scene. Lennon is described as 'wide eyed' whilst Noel is the 'famous uncle'. Noel and Anais are 'not wanting any trouble', whilst Lennon is described as 'badmouthing' Anais in the past, being a 'buzzkill' and 'changing the atmosphere' of their peaceful night. It's designed to be divisive and set one side off against the other.

The Sun absolutely had an agenda here and that's the other reason I think Noel had nothing to do with it. The clue is in the subheading: Noel and Liam Gallagher's never-ending feud.

[jodilin65]

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2003 Now for what may very well be my last entry of the year – aside from the fact that I’m still inhaler-free, there was a service truck of some kind in front, but I doubt anyone will move in too soon after the new year, assuming the first house hasn’t sold yet and the second one’s not even ready to go up for sale. I don’t care so much anymore because I know we’re out of here within a year from now. Right now my moving vibes have settled on the month of June and we’ll remain in Arizona, but again, I don’t trust these vibes. They keep fluctuating too much.

Every few months I try to clean the house really thoroughly. This time around it’s going much faster what with so much of the knickknacks packed away.

Now here’s something that’s as hopeful as it is frustrating. Of the 5 numbers I picked for the Fantasy 5 drawing, one was right on and 3 others were just one digit off! I was just a digit away from $500 which is what you get if you get 4 of the 5 numbers!

Tom and I were talking about the fact that I might’ve been taking the wrong approach to winning on non-scratch tickets. See, on scratch tickets, the numbers already exist, but they don’t exist on the others till they’re drawn. This means that I have to try to influence the numbers that get drawn to be the ones on the ticket. So I’ll be concentrating really hard on tonight’s Powerball and The Pick, which will be drawn at 7 and 9 PM. I have to go into a sort of trance.

I should make a list of abilities I’d like to try to accomplish from high priority to low, like winning money, killing every other hair follicle on my head, fixing it so I never have to shave again, making myself need just 8 hours of sleep instead of 9 or 10. I wouldn’t try to make money magically appear in our account, though, because all transactions have to come from somewhere and it may look suspicious. As it is, I’m wondering when the Slingo people are going to realize they’ve paid out more money than what their set of printed winning tickets is supposed to pay out altogether.

Just like today. Tom went to Circle K for our New Year’s treats (my last treats before jumping back on the diet). He realized he had forgotten some stuff when he was halfway back, so he pulled over knowing that the Slingo ticket he bought would probably be a winner, found that it was a $3 winner indeed, then used it to pay for what he returned to get!

Right now it appears they’re putting the septic in for the second house. If we get fucked over on the next move the way we did with the move to this place with contractors and other workers fucking up and cutting corners, I swear I’ll make sure whoever’s responsible compensates us!

Later…

That wasn’t a septic tank after all. I took the binoculars and saw the word Rinker written on the tank when I realized it was too small to be a septic tank. Plus, the thing was turning like it was a cement truck. So I looked them up online and found a picture of the exact same truck and it is a cement company. I guess they’re pouring either carports or patios.

Starting next year I may start doing two years’ worth of journals per file. Especially since I seem to be able to store two years per floppy if I compress them.

How wonderful it’ll feel throwing out my homemade 2003 calendars, the last of the many years with the freeloaders in it!!!

I think the next coming year will bring us lots of changes, but that’s okay, for none of them can be nearly as bad as some of the changes I’ve been forced to endure in the 38 years I’ve been alive!

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2003 Got 4 OB sample tampons in the mail today. They glide in and out easier, but I prefer applicators, and these don’t have them.

I also got drafts from Mary and a letter. She didn’t say much. Just that she continues to be dominated by other inmates, whatever that means, but is otherwise okay. At one point in the draft, when she and Justin were in Fort Myers and quite wanted, a newscaster doing a caption on “young lovers” interviewed them and asked what their secret sexual fantasy was. Mary said hers was to make love on the beach. I’d have loved to have seen the reaction on the newswoman’s face had I come out and told her I’d love to get it on with the Kate Jackson of the 70s! Along with the Linda Ronstadt of around 1980 and the Gloria Estefan of 1990.

Tom got me a lobster from Walmart which now steams live lobsters. While $12 is certainly better than the $30 Red Lobster would charge, it was still a bit much for a few measly bites. It was close to the same size Red Lobster would serve, but with no stuffing or anything like that to go with it, there wasn’t much to it.

This morning I awoke from a very vivid dream of winning $47,000 on what I think was a scratch ticket of some kind. Why such an odd number, I don’t know, but I had Tom get a Fantasy 5 ticket anyway. I mean, I can’t imagine the dream meant anything, though it sure made me wonder. I’ve been having vibes, as I get better and better at psyching tickets, that we are going to someday, some way, win a large sum of money.

He pointed something really neat out about the Slingo tickets. The odds are supposed to be 1 in 4 with those tickets, yet of the 11 tickets he got, 6 of them won! So, as long as I can rig more than half of them to pay out something, we’re going to keep getting tickets whenever we can afford to.

The incense people say they expect to ship my order on Friday and will email me to verify it. I should get it next Monday or Tuesday.

The best news of all is that finally, after wanting her for so long, Haiku’s been ordered! I spoke with Ricki and told her how I wanted her made up. When I asked if she had a standing-legs option, she said she didn’t know, but asked if I wanted her to go ahead and pour them if she could find other standing legs of proper proportion. I told her she could, but not to worry if she had to have bent legs. For no extra charge, she’s even going to make nostrils and earring holes. She’ll email me with the UPS tracking number when she’s on her way and says that although she usually gives herself a 6- to 8-week leeway, she should probably finish sooner since things are slowing down, as I figured. In fact, she said she’d begin working on her today! I think I’ll have her the first week of February or sooner.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2003 The “package” turned out to be nothing but an oversized Dove shampoo/conditioner sample.

The foul odor still makes itself present from time to time and Tom still can’t smell it. I’m almost certain it’s the evil entity that inhabits this land, and with me being the psychic one, I’m the only one sensitive to it.

It was incredibly cold last night at just 12°! It’s up to 50° now.

Tom and I were discussing various ideas for our website to get people to return often enough and to want to make donations. One outrageous idea he came up with was to write journal excerpts the rats, dolls or outside animals are supposedly keeping. When I told him that sounded silly, he said that we have to come up with something unique if we want to attract people. Pictures alone won’t cut it as there are too many other sites with pictures. We even discussed putting Nocturnal Obsession out bit by bit and making a few changes within the story as a way of getting my writing noticed, but I still say that no one’s going to be interested in lesbian suspense stories. They mostly want romance or comedy with very straight characters. But I am what I am and I’m not going to change that to conform to society’s desires.

Eventually, we’ll add the psychic touch where I give readings to those who submit their birthdays and just general information. Only unlike most quacks out there, I’ll be the real thing!

Just like I wondered if Tom got fired because my letter to Teddy Bear may’ve gotten her fired, I’ll be wondering something else if we lose the house. I’ll be wondering if perhaps maybe our city letter did cause the black bitch to lose her house and that’s why we lost ours. Even if they brought on their own problems and it was their fault that they might’ve gotten fired/evicted, it still wouldn’t be acceptable in God’s eyes. To God, it’d be just like I got them in trouble for no good reason whatsoever. It’s never okay for me to affect other people’s lives that way, so God would “retaliate,” so to speak and make sure that what went around came around if these things did happen. I’ll never know for sure, but I still doubt Teddy Bear got fired. I also doubt the black bitch lost the house like she claimed. First of all, they went out too peacefully for that to have been the case. Secondly, I think the state simply got fed up with supporting her and said enough is enough. We’ve taken care of you for 3 years, and now you’re on your own. When you have kids, they’re supposed to be your responsibility and not the state’s or that of others. This is why it really bothers me to see people having kids when they know damn well they can’t even afford them. Kids are ferociously expensive and if you don’t take home at least $30,000 a year, you’re going to struggle like hell.

Later…

It’s 60° warmer than it was when Tom got up.

Since the palm wasn’t going to make a comeback of any real kind, I dumped it but kept the dirt and pot.

My abilities continue to astound even me. Tom got his final tickets – 2 crosswords and 2 Slingos. One of the crosswords won $5. Then, as he started doing one of the Slingos, I told him I felt strongly that the other Slingo would win and it did! It won $10, so altogether he made a $45 profit on account of my spells. Not many people can turn $33 of tickets into $45!

Not many people can have bad asthma all their lives and just up and walk away from inhalers after being on them for about 30 years either. I concentrated so hard last night on my lungs that sweat was pouring from me, but today I’ve had less tightness and virtually no congestion! Tom thinks I had the power to do this all along but just didn’t know it. I guess most people wouldn’t think to try to cure themselves with their minds. I doubt most people could do it, but there are probably enough people out there who don’t realize they can.

Tom’s ear, just when we thought he was going to have a nasty relapse, is much better now. It was blocked for the longest time, then it was draining like crazy and now it’s staying open.

I was pissed to find that one of the books I ordered is one I’ve already got, so I listed it with Amazon. This one will bring me $6.02 if it sells.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2003 It got down into the 20s last night. At 11:30 it was already down to 38°. When Tom got up it was 28° and the sun had already risen.

I haven’t seen any other prairie dogs since I spotted the one at the side of the house.

I gave Tom my extra $33 that was leftover between my birthday and Christmas money for him to do what he wanted and he decided to get 11 Slingo tickets which are $3 each, though not all at once. He’s already won $34 and still has 3 more tickets to get.

Now here’s my most shocking news, yet it’s good news. I haven’t had to use my inhaler since last night when I wrote about how I was sick of them making me congested and that I’d prefer tightness over that! I woke up tight an hour before I got up (it was like old times with the shooting, so I heard), but have been fine ever since. I had a tiny bit of congestion after I got up and that’s been it so far aside from occasional waves of tightness. I don’t want to get my hopes up, but if I can heal or at least control my asthma inhaler-free, that’d be so wonderful! I’ve spent so much time healing others or making others sick that I haven’t really concentrated on myself. It seems I could’ve very well been sitting on a treasure chest of powers all these years and never known it. I just never thought of it or the possibility that I could heal or curse people. It would mean so much to me if I could have some control over my health. After being stripped of my birthright to bear children by God (even if he made the right and the best decision to do so), to finally have some say concerning my own body means a lot to me. A real lot.

It makes me wonder other things like, could I heal myself if I had cancer, not that I’d ever want to have to find out? Could I prevent pregnancy if Tom and I were more than friends and he’d get off more than once in a blue moon? Then again, I suppose that one wouldn’t count. Meaning, if something isn’t in your cards anyway, it doesn’t matter what you can or can’t do, or what you want or try to do. I still believe Tom could get off in me a dozen times a day and nothing would happen, though I also wouldn’t be that foolish to let him do so what with not wanting a kid and us being broke every other half hour.

I’m going to take Tom’s advice and not spread myself too thin. Meaning, I’m not going to try to make any physical changes for the better between him and me unless they’re necessary. This means that I’m not going to try to influence my weight when I return to my diet on the 1st. It’s not necessary to lose weight, but it is necessary to breathe, so I’ll focus on things like that. I get waves of tightness here and there, but am fighting them by doing the ballooning technique and trying to make myself yawn which always opens things up. Yawning is caused more by a need for extra oxygen than tiredness, though most people don’t realize this. I’m basically doing the things I did in jail during the times when the welfare bums said I couldn’t have an inhaler.

I can’t help but wonder – where did all these powers come from and why was I chosen to have them? Tom and I had to laugh when I told him that if he could run into the old folks and tell them all of all the abilities I’ve developed since I saw them last, they’d think he’d gone completely insane.

I don’t think, for instance, that I’d put a “miscarriage spell” on a pregnant teenage crackhead if I could because I don’t think God put me here to correct or undo other people’s mistakes. It wouldn’t be my mistake to make. It’d be the kid’s mistake to make.

As I said, the 1st is when I start back up with the diet. Now that I know how to keep regular, my only two challenges will be keeping my mouth shut to the extra calories, and not succumbing to the boredom that an hour of trudging away on the treadmill brings. I’m going to settle for losing just 10 pounds. At 38 years of age, I can’t expect to ever have my 25-year-old body back again anyway.

I read that they’ll remove my book listing if it doesn’t sell in 60 days, and I’m sure it won’t. No one ever wants to buy anything from me except pipes! Tom doesn’t think it’ll sell because it’s a common book. He wants to list some rare books he has and see if those will sell.

If there were two curses I’d lift from us if I could, it’d be the money and breakage curse for sure. I wouldn’t even bother with our lack of desire for sex. That’s just not as important to me. I’d rather not struggle and not be horny for Tom than be struggling and wanting to get it on with someone who doesn’t want to get it on with me. I hated that; how I always wanted sex in the beginning and he never did.

Later…

It’s not even 7:30 yet it’s already 37°! It just may be in the teens come 6 AM.

As always, I have my incense going. My favorites seem to fluctuate. My top two favorites were fruit and honey, but now I’d say it’s chocolate and angel.

Haven’t heard that loud truck the renters had since the trailer disappeared so maybe someone really was living in it.

This is the longest we’ve gone without seeing spiders in here. How much of it is me remains to be seen. Once the weather warms back up, we’ll find out. I miss summer already, but I don’t miss the huge electric bills or working out when it’s really hot. The fans help, but I hate to crank up the AC and cost us a fortune when I’m working out, so I just sweat my ass off. We try to keep it in the low 80s during the hot months.

I love my Little Fella, but never have I had a problem with a rat pissing like this before. He doesn’t just piss when he’s out of the cage, but every time I go to pick him up, he’s wet. Tom suggested that maybe he has a form of incontinence, but where is all this piss coming from? I mean, I just don’t see how this rat can have that much piss in him to begin with no matter how huge he is!

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2003 I guess that because there are only a few days left in the year and I haven’t heard from the picture contest people that Little Buddy didn’t win anything. That is unless it’s now that they’re making their final decisions and aren’t planning to notify the winners till after the new year. If it was a choice between winning nothing or a medal, I’d rather just not win anything. I can’t do anything with a medal like I could with money, and I don’t need an object to tell me what a good picture it is as I already know that.

Later…

We had quite a time shopping for books online earlier. I wanted to go through Ade Books which was linked with Memolink, but all their used books come from stores all over the country, making shipping a bit costly. Shipping on books is bad as it is as they aren’t exactly feather-light.

So I ended up getting 20 used books at Pyramid Books. Most of the books cost just pennies, but the shipping was $22. It’s pretty comparable to walking into a store and buying books for 1-4 bucks and cutting out the shipping costs. Anyway, they’ll be here between 5-21 days.

Then I browsed Amazon’s books and found you could list books to sell for free, so I listed a book I finished a few weeks ago for a recommended price of $3.84, based on its condition. It’ll be something like $2.26 to ship it by the standard shipping method, so they say (we’ll wrap it in brown paper), then once they take their commission, I should have almost $5 to cover the shipping cost and my share of the sale money.

When Tom went to the PO today, he found we had a package waiting for us, but with it being a Saturday, of course, we couldn’t get it. I’m thinking it’s the Cosmetique makeup intro offer I signed up for under a bogus name.

I decided this is it – enough with the inhaler congestion. It’s time I try to learn to live without the inhalers. Seriously, with the way I get congested at times, I’d rather be tight than congested.

The leak curse was at it again today when I noticed wetness under the dishwasher. I wondered if it was the source of the foul odor I still smell at times, but it doesn’t seem to be. Whatever it is, though, is leaking slowly enough to not have to be concerned with and hopefully it’ll stay that way.

Speaking of books again, he finished Nocturnal Obsession earlier and says it’s my best one yet. I was surprised too, as I didn’t think he’d like this one that much. Maybe he likes it best because there’s hardly any sex in it and he doesn’t like sex himself.

Next, he can read the story that goes nowhere. I probably won’t mail a copy of that one to Mary till I’ve sampled the rest of the incense and can afford to send Paula her package. That way Tom can shoot two birds with one stone. Even though it’d be nice if Paula would send the lousy $10 I know she’ll never send me, I also know she’ll be delighted to receive the stuff and appreciate it greatly. As Tom pointed out, we do go back to 18 and 19 years of age, so in another year I’ll have known her for 20 years. It’s nice, I must admit, to send these things to her every so often. Especially when I know she could never afford most of the things I’ve sent her.

When Walter was here, we got to talking about selling things and it turns out that his wife also tried to sell dolls on eBay and had no luck, so I guess it wasn’t a mistake to send them to Paula even if they sit in the closet most of the time. Besides, if they didn’t sit in her closet, they’d just sit in ours.

It’s super cold out! It’s not even 9:00 yet it’s already down to 41°.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2003 I haven’t gotten any email from the incense place yet, but they may not return to work till Monday.

When Tom drove by it, he verified that the second house was definitely at ground level. The reason it may not appear so from here is because of the way the land slopes upward. When you look out front and towards the right, it slopes upward. When you look towards the left, it slopes downward.

The first house is for sale for $90,000. So, if a 3-bedroom, 2-bath house with a shared well can go for that, we ought to be able to get $140,000 for our 5-bedroom, 2-bath house with its private well.

Mary says she’s got a bunch of drafts to send me. I hope they have some punctuation!

A storm blew through here late last night, and of course it had to wake me up. I’m surprised I even went as long as I did before this latest wake-up call.

Later…

Jeff, Bob’s assistant, emailed me saying he made the changes and thanks for the order. I figured they’d be there, too. They seem to be workaholics. They’re there on weekends and even at night, so it seems.

Tom did some research and learned a bit about making the stuff. All it mostly is is a blank stick they take and dip in water that has unscented oil and a few drops of the fragrance mixed in. They let them soak a while, then they let them dry out. This is why it takes at least 5 days to process the orders. It’s the oil that makes it burn, releasing the scent.

The more I think about it, the more I think it’d be cool to have an online incense store of my own. It sure sounds like it’d be a lot cheaper than kilns and a lot easier to make than dollmaking. There’s so much mess, work and time that goes into doll making. That’s why the dolls are so damn expensive. As always, though, I worry that God will make sure I don’t succeed. I swear he’s got a no-doing-the-things-I-really-want-to-do rule on me. At least for the most part, he does. For most of my life, I’ve wondered why. Why is it so important to him that I don’t get what I want in life? Did I have it all in some former life that now he’s compensating me, or what?

Later…

I just checked and it’s 69° where Mary is, 37° where Paula is which is actually quite toasty for this time of year, 55° here, and just 28° in Post Falls, Idaho where my incense is being made. I guess it really is colder there than MA like Tom says!

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2003 Piggy didn’t make it. We figured as much by the way he sounded and looked. Meanwhile, I don’t want to get anyone new till Little Fella goes. With that old rat, it could be anytime. He’s about 15 months old. As much of a problem as he is with the pissing, I hope he doesn’t go anytime soon. I really do love that big fat rat!

Anyway, Tom’s going to deposit the pipe sale money and check out the signs where the new houses are. He’s also going to stop at Circle K.

At some point today I’ll make my incense order and maybe even email my Haiku order so they’ll be there when everyone gets back to work.

For new scents I’m getting: 1000 Flowers, Abysinnia, African Jasmine, African Musk, African Plum, African Queen, African Violet, Anais, Apple, Apricot, Arabian Night, Avocado, Bergamot, Bijan, Bill’s Musk, Black Cherry, Black Diamond, Black Flora, Black Grape, Black Henry, Black Love, Black Magic, Black Musk, Black Narcissus, Black Pearl, Blackberry, Blossom, Blue Nile, Blue Sonata, Carnation, Cashmere, Cedarwood, Cherry, China Musk, China Rain, Choctaws Mouno, Cinnamon, Citronella, Clove, Cranberry, Cucumber, Cut Grass, Desert Rain, Dragon Blood, Dragonfly, Drakkar, Egyptian Musk, Evening Forest, Evergreen, Fast Cash, Fig, Fir Balsam, Firdaus, Floor, Floral, Florist, Florist Dream, Frangipani, Frankincense, Freesia, Gardenia, Ginger, Guava, Halston, Harlem Musk, Hawaiian Garden, Hawaiian Orchid, Hawaiian Plumeria, Hemp, Herbal, Hibiscus, Honey Almond, Honey Musk, Honeysuckle, Hyacinth, Hyssop, In Too Deep, Indian Flower, Jamaican Musk, Jamaican Night, Jamaican Plum, Jasmine, Joe Blow, John Henry, Jojoba, Joop, Jungle Fever, Kush, Langerfeld, Latin love, Lauren, Lavender, Leather, Licorice, Lily of the Valley, Lotus, Love, Love Supreme, Magnolia, Majmua, Mandarin, Mawa, Mecca, Melon, Mermaid, Michael Jordan, Mojo, Money, Morning Mist, Mother Love, Muddy Waters, Mulberry, Myrrh, Nag Champa, Narcissus, Nautica, Nephritis, New Car, Nubian Musk, Nubian Rain, Oasis, Ocean, Orange Blossom, Opium, Passion, Passion Flower, Patchouli, Pear, Pina Colada, Pine, Pineapple, Pinon, Plumeria, Polo, Potpourri, Puddy Cat, Rain Barrel, Raspberry Musk, Relaxation, Rock & Roll, Romance, Rose, Rose Geranium, Rosemary, Sassafras, Sitting Bull, Spice, Spikenard, Sudan Musk, Sugar Plum, Summer Rain, Sun Moon Stars, Swamp Root, Sweet Black Pussy, Tea Rose, Tea Tree, Sweet Love, Sweet Musk, Sweet Rain, Tanganilla, Tiger Tail, Tommy Girl, Tommy Hilfiger, Touch of Love, Tropical Musk, Tunisian Honey, Tutti Fruity, Vanilla Musk, Whisper, White Ginger, White Love, Wildberry, Wisteria, Woodstock & Ylang Ylang.

I’m also getting some of my favorites like Angel, Baby Powder, Bump & Grind, Butter Rum, Brown Sugar, Cedar, Chocolate, Escape, Fruit, Grape, Joy, Watermelon, Honey, Hot Love & Raspberry.

Later…

I made my incense order, which took forever. I’ll never be making such huge orders again, though. The only reason it’s so big now is that I’m still sampling things. Once I narrow down my favorites, I’ll order in smaller quantities. I screwed up and ordered a 20-pack of Mermaid when I meant to order a 5-pack, so I emailed them, asking them to adjust it for me. Also, I had to make a few substitutes because Oxygen, Rain, Spike and Sweet Grass weren’t on the list.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2003 What a Christmas present we just got!!! Walter, the well guy, just stopped by and paid us $203 in cash for our old PVC pipes that were stored under the house just sitting there doing nothing. After all the money we put into this damn well, it’s so nice to get some back! I’m getting more incense for damn sure. I’m going to sample the rest of the ones I want to try out, then maybe get a kit to try making my own from another site that sells it. I still intend to save up for that mannequin in my lifetime, but not till we know what’s going on and where we’ll be.

Anyway, as Tom pointed out and as funny as it may sound, we try to sell dolls and we can’t, yet without even trying we can get a couple hundred for pipes of all things in this world. Pipes that are 4 years old and that were used for 2 of the 4 years.

I called Paula and told her I’d still like $10 to ship her package to her. After all the time and money I’ve put into her, that’s only reasonable. I know I’ll never see a dime, though. She’s loyal but stingy. Anyway, her package is going to consist of a few odds and ends I have no interest in. I added in the extras mainly to fill the box up so things don’t get jostled around like crazy. She’ll get 5 CDs, a few little rugs that came with the Indian dolls, the hangable fairy that wasn’t worth the $12 I paid for it, a camera case, an oriental fan, foam soda can holders, plastic flowers, nail polish and facial cleansers, a coupon off a tooth whitening kit, a few little stuffed bears and a wolf, a bit of perfume and the incense I don’t like. Actually, I may omit the animals and use the newspaper they use to wrap the incense in as a filler.

Anyway, between the two incense orders and Haiku, I’d say I’m doing pretty well. Next, I’m going to hope to sell as much of the junk I don’t want at the swap meet and add the long-wanted Alexa to the list since I highly doubt I’ll make enough for a mannequin.

The satellite images are so cool. We were able to locate the two houses I lived in in Longmeadow, plus the two apartment buildings I lived in in Springfield. I’m going to enclose a copy of the Springfield shot in Paula’s package so she can see my old building, plus hers a few buildings away. We also found this house, plus our old house in Phoenix. We’re pretty sure these pictures are 5-10 years old and that we were probably living in the Phoenix house with the naughty blacks when the picture was taken. You could even make out the pool and the big tree the welfare bums had in their backyard that used to make a mess of our yard with its leaves. What was way cool was how you could “fly” down the map. This software is used in flight simulators when they’re training pilots. Anyway, we flew an hour southward and watched the land roll by till we came to our current house which is pretty much in direct line with the old one.

I finally heard from Mary again. In fact, it was mailed by José and our first thought was that he was writing to ask if I’d heard from her. They were doing their Christmas cards together so that’s why he mailed it. She did her part, mailed it to him, then he mailed it to me. They each wrote a little poem and it was really nice.

Mary asked me to email a note to Dr. Phil. I guess Oprah made him famous. She told him of her case and asked for guidance on how to cope, saying she wasn’t allowed to attend Gretchen’s funeral, etc. Then, after I sent the message, Mary’s aunt left a message saying that Mary’s changed her mind and not to send it if I hadn’t already, but I had. I don’t know why she changed her mind, but I told her not to worry. I mean, I don’t see the harm it could do her. Who knows if I’ll even get a reply back about it? The guy must get millions of messages.

I totally disagree with Mary when she insists she’s not guilty of child neglect. The man beats her and her kids over and over, yet she continues to stay with him till he kills one of them, and she’s not guilty of neglect? My ass she isn’t! No, she isn’t responsible for Justin’s sick actions, but she could’ve prevented things from escalating. She was just too high on getting her ass beat to do so. As Tom and I agree, though, jail is not necessarily the appropriate place for her. She’s not a danger to society and keeping her in jail won’t bring Gretchen back, but this isn’t the 70s either.

I quit my diet, though just until after the new year. It’s just that now’s a lousy time to try to diet with people giving you goodies and all that. There’s no hurry on getting my question answered anyway, as to whether or not I can get under 127, but regular or not, I think I know the answer to that.

It looks like my palm tree is going to die, and Piggy might, too. He’s been making these really weird wheezing noises as if he’s having a hard time breathing. He may have a tumor in his throat or something. He’s also not growing even though he eats like a pig.

I’m not going to bother to print out the whole year as I still don’t think it’s necessary. Not with all the backups I have, so this will be the last printed year.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2003 Now it seems our ghost can make things disappear. I’m sick of the pranksterish spirit inhabiting this land! See, my second incense order consists of 100 mini-sticks in brown sugar, fruit and chocolate scents, 20-packs of angel, raspberry, honey and butter rum, and 5-packs of grape and watermelon. Well, when I got up to light a watermelon stick, the package was missing. I searched everywhere for it to no avail. I know I received it, though, because I went through a checklist when I first opened the box. I can’t imagine accidentally throwing it out either, so since Tom has no interest in it, where did it go?

Tom found some really cool software yesterday that takes satellite images. We saw our land too, but the picture was about 5 years old. They’re probably not allowed to release pictures on the web too soon after they’re taken so people don’t feel spied on, not that I’d personally give a shit. It was still really cool. You could see next door’s place and Dan’s old place, but no rentals, and of course, our house wasn’t here when the picture was taken, but it was so cool to be able to make out certain trees on our land!

Tom’s doing the grocery shopping now, the poor guy. Walmart is no doubt a madhouse being just two days before Christmas.

I got letters going out to Mom, Mary, Paula and Bob, but the ones out of state shouldn’t get there till next week, the tail end of the year.

It’s a pretty cloudy day out there today and cool, too.

Tom insists that they did lower that house, but it doesn’t look lower from here. There’s a sign up over there too, which I imagine is to sell or rent the places. Maybe they won’t be occupied just after the new year if no one’s bought or rented them yet.

Later…

Well, there’s doll delay number one. Ricki, the woman I spoke to yesterday, is out of town. I spoke to some other dimwit who knows absolutely nothing about dolls and I can’t fathom why she’s even there. She took my number to give to Ricki if she calls her. Worst case scenario I’ll have to wait till Tuesday to place the order when she returns. They can’t really do anything till then anyway, but if there’s any good in it, the new year is the slowest time for most businesses, so she may be done faster.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2003 What a surprising and wonderful day it’s turned out to be so far! I didn’t see Tom last night as I was already asleep when he got in, but the surprise was waiting for me when I got up.

Not only did they remember my birthday after all and give us Christmas money, but they gave Tom $60 for his work and for gas. Although we know we should put all the money into bills, we decided we deserve to splurge since we haven’t gotten much fun stuff lately. So, I called Pala Creations in North Carolina and for a base total of $105, including shipping and the beaded armature that’s normally $15 extra, they’re going to make up Haiku! Then my $33 remaining dollars will be for Tom to do as he wishes, along with his $100 which I’m sure he’ll put towards bills. This is why I was glad there was $33 left over. If I’d had the $158 I’ve supposedly saved, I’d be getting a mannequin now, but I’ll get it someday. We didn’t order Haiku today, though, as Tom needs to get the money in the bank first. We’ll probably order her tomorrow. She’s not going to charge me for the wig change either since I’m not requesting human hair, or for the inset lashes. When I do call them back, I’m going to request standing legs if that’s an option, make sure the eyes are realistic and the lashes are inset, and that I get the UPS tracking number when she’s shipped so I can track her journey out to me. I should receive her between February 3rd – 17th so long as the truck doesn’t go breaking down or there isn’t some other delay.

As for our gifts, Tom got the usual shirts, plus a 1600-piece tool kit from Mom, Mary and Dave.

From Steven and Carol, we got a pretty canister with chocolate and eggnog biscuits, but Tom doesn’t like them because there are almonds and walnuts in them. He hates nuts.

From mom, Mary and Dave, I got two puzzles, an inflatable punching pillar, and an exercise ball with 3-pound dumbbells. I have no interest in the punching pillar, but the big rubber exercise ball is cool. I’m going to sell my Denise Austin equipment and my Thi-Master, along with the punching pillar.

I got my wonderful incense today too, and thanked them for it. He asked for another testimonial that I gave. I wonder if he remembers that I already gave one, not that I mind doing it again.

They’re working in front and I think the second house will be put in place today. I also think that shortly after the new year is when they’ll be moving in, along with the dogs they’ll no doubt permanently affix in front to badger me with.

If it turns out we’re staying, then we’ll have to decide whether or not it’ll be worth putting fences up if we’re just going to turn around and move 6 months later.

The rats are doing well, but I wish every other one we got wouldn’t sneeze like crazy. It’s common with rats, though.

No Mary mail, though I did get a letter from Bob, along with some jokes he enclosed. The jokes are just so-so, but they were nice to get anyway. I’m not surprised I didn’t get mail from Mary. I know how depressing the holidays are for her being away from family and all that. I’m sure she’ll pick up on her letters to me as well as book drafts after the new year. Of course, there’s always the chance she’s sent stuff I never got. I hope not!

Later…

What a pisser. They did both what I feared and vibed they’d do and didn’t lower the second house which is in excellent view of ours. I can see it better than the renters as the renters are at an angle.

Bob, the owner of the incense store, sent another message explaining that he had wanted me to leave the second message to show others that I came back to make a second order and wished me happy holidays.

I was both shocked and delighted to see a prairie dog out and about! This is the first time I’ve seen them come out of hibernation before the new year.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2003 Miss Perfect called last night, but of course it was only because she wanted something. She wants Tom to do some computer work for her, and as we both agreed, if he’s going to get paid for his work – sure. I warned him, though, not to be too nice as that’s how you end up being taken advantage of. He’ll be going there today at around noon.

We’ve been going through a lot of boxes and stuff around here in preparation for the after-new-year swap meet and or a moving sale. We even played an old horseracing board game.

Later…

I talked to Paula at 2’ of snow and 6°! At least one of us gets restitution for our screw-overs. She’s getting a little over 4 G’s for the bus accident she was in. I’m really happy for her, but why oh why is it that most everyone else gets paid for being fucked over while we have to pay to get fucked over?

She didn’t have much else to tell me other than the usual man problems she loves so much to have, and DSS being on her ass. She goes, “They try to tell me I’m not a good mother when I know I am,” and I thought to myself how I wish I could believe I was good at the things I know I’m not.

She says she didn’t receive the Christmas card or the letter with the small envelope made out to the incense place for a sample. I hope it’s just the holiday rush that’s delayed it and that she will get it. I wonder if Mary’s gotten all my mail. I told her to check and let me know. Meanwhile, I’m not sending anything else till after Christmas and maybe not even till next year. It’s just a lousy time for sending stuff.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2003 I was worried when my incense didn’t show up yesterday, so I emailed them to ask when it was shipped. Well, it turns out that it wasn’t even shipped till the 18th, and not the 15th or 16th as I thought was the case. This means that as long as all the Christmas packages don’t hold it up, I should have it on Monday.

As I figured would be the case, I still can’t get my money from Netflip any more than I can get the two gift certificate cards I was supposed to get. It makes me wonder if Memolink will do the same thing and cheat me out of my certificate once I gain enough points.

We still don’t know for sure when we’re moving or where to, but Tom assures me we won’t end up where there are people because it’s too expensive to go where there are people which is usually where there are paved roads, sewers, mail and trash services, etc.

Another pound bites the dust. I’m at 128 now. The hunger gets pretty bad at times, but I’m surviving. I seem to have gone down a bit in the waist, lower back and thighs, but at just a 2-pound loss this is mostly due to the toning and reshaping of my muscles rather than weight-loss. I’m going farther in less time too, picking up my pace as my legs get stronger and I gain more stamina. Ideally, I’d like to lose 30 pounds but will settle for 20. Hell, I’d even settle for 10, since weighing 120 would be better than 130, even if I’d still be rather chubby.

As with most things in life, I have mixed emotions about us cutting off all ties with Marge which we are prepared to do if they continue to be as selfish and as uncaring as they have been. On the one hand, we could really use the money we normally get for Christmas, but on the other, I don’t want to know her or Mary anymore. I’m just sick as shit of them. While they may never be as bad as my family’s been, they’ve been bad enough and I certainly wouldn’t miss them if I never saw them again. We just don’t want to know people who don’t give a damn about us. Also, if they have any connection whatsoever to Art and Doe as I believe they do, that’s another reason I don’t want to know them. When one of them croaks, the other’s going to go running to Marge about it who’ll run to me, and I won’t want to know about it then any more than I’d want to know about it now or since ’98 when I cut them out of my life for good. Sooner or later, be it Doe, Art, Tammy or Lisa, one of them is going to try to use and go through Marge to get at me, be it to cause me more trouble or try to reunite with me, and after 32 years of dealing with their never-ending cycle of abuse like I did, I don’t need history repeating itself. I know all I’d have to do is ignore them, even if Marge does give them our address and number against our wishes, but still, it’s the reminder of their existence I could do without. I’m reminded enough as it is in my memories and nightmares, so I don’t need the extra help. Nonetheless, whether or not we cut them off is up to them. It’ll depend on how things go when Tom sees them next.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2003 I’m down a pound and a half, but I’ll just call it 129. After all this hard work and hunger, I better get under 127! I’m going to be so pissed if I don’t.

I’m also going to be pissed if my incense doesn’t arrive today. Given the time it’s been since I placed the order and when they took the money, there’s no reason it shouldn’t come today unless someone fucked up, leaving yours truly here to once again be the one put out by it.

Anyway, the hunger has been pretty bad even with the suppressants due to the increased amount of exercise.

Rich or poor, I’ve decided to cut down on my mail to Mary as long as she’s cut down on hers to me. I still wonder if there’s something more going on than the death of her cousin. I haven’t exactly had lots of good, cheery news for her lately, so I don’t know; maybe she’s sick of hearing the same old uncertainty. I hope not, because while we all want to hear good things, if you can’t be a friend throughout the bad as well as the good, then you’re not really a true friend. I’m beginning to wonder just how true of a friend she is, too. After all, she too, blew off my birthday. A simple “Happy Birthday” would’ve been nice. I give what I get, though, so I’ll have no problem with ignoring hers next October 15th, assuming we’re still friends at that time.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2003 I’m quite shocked and delighted to report that the computer problem actually turned out to be a quick, simple fix that didn’t take hours or cost anything. A computer has two little fans in it. One to keep the supply box from overheating, and then there’s the CPU fan (central processing unit) which is what got old and worn out. Tom simply replaced it with another one.

Just when I thought he might be right about the foul smell coming from the garbage disposal, and thinking the baking soda killed it, I got a whiff of it earlier, and I have a feeling it’s not going to be going away anytime soon. Especially if it’s connected to any evil entities like I think it may be, and me being the psychic one here, am more sensitive to it than Tom. Lucky him!

I did my 1-hour walk which came to 2 miles. If I was able to walk at a normal pace I’d probably have gone almost 3 miles, but this particular walker is designed to make it like you’re walking up a very steep incline, and that slows you down.

I’m trying to space my food between 4-hour gaps. This week’s menu consists of chicken for protein, popcorn for fun, potatoes to keep regular, and fruit for its vitamins. Knowing I was going to begin the diet today, I ate like crazy over the last few days so I’m back up to 130. If I can’t get under 127, then I’ll have to decide whether or not I want to just maintain that or see a doctor whenever we’re insured again. I should lose 2-3 pounds a week on a diet like this, so it’ll be a couple of weeks before my question is answered as to whether or not anything’s wrong.

I’m still going to try to make my uterus go bad when we’re insured too, but I don’t know if God will let me do that. He doesn’t like women in general and he obviously wants us to suffer more than men do. I also don’t know if I can cure my asthma or even make it better, because again, God wanted me to suffer in the first place. I just don’t know why or why any God would want to see so much pain and suffering occur on earth like it does.

As funny as it may sound, and although Tom’s been putting in job applications, it’d be best if he didn’t get a job till after the new year, given the timing of our billing cycle on the electricity and the satellite. He plans to use the remaining two Tuesdays of the month, which is when the unemployment check comes, to pay the electric bill and the satellite. Meanwhile, we’re going to lose the TV any second now. Fortunately for me, it’s no big loss. I never watch it anyway. All I’ve been watching are my CA episodes while I walk. You have to be late on the electric and satellite bills for a month before they can turn you off, so this is why he wants to make sure they get paid, whereas if he got a job now, it might be 2-3 weeks before we got a check which means that by then they’d have shut us off. Although our generator only needs a $1 part to function again, we don’t care to live off of this generator like we were doing when we were first moving in here!

I just wish I could snap my fingers and have it be a month from now! I’d at least like to know if we’re staying or going. My vibes have been swinging from one thing to another with that and I don’t know what to believe anymore. First we were going to Nevada, then northern Arizona, then we were staying right here, and now we’re stuck somewhere in Maricopa on 2-5 acres with people barely 50’ away. I try to tell myself, “Don’t worry about history repeating itself. The tormenting freeloaders you lived with was just a fluke.”

But it wasn’t just a “fluke.” Flukes don’t keep happening over and over again, even if they have variations of sorts along the way. As far as I’m concerned, it’s a curse when the same kinds of bad things keep happening. Identifying its source may not always be the key to removing it, but I’d sure like to be able to identify it someday, and I’d certainly like to get rid of it, too!

I still wonder – just what haunts this land that doesn’t want us here? And could we really be meant to never have money, and is that why God wants us out of here; so we lose out on making serious money off this place in the future as it continues to build up around here? Or does he just want to see me stuck back with people and their damn dogs again?

It’s gotten rather cold. It’s only 33° right now, and of course, Maricopa’s dogs are going off about it. They’ve been barking non-stop since I got up at midnight.

I hope I have Mary mail and my nose treats waiting for me at the PO today. I could really use it in the midst of all this poverty and uncertainty going on.

I just got a third mail-return, but only sent Miss Perfect two messages. Or tried to. I get this every now and then, but Miss Perfect’s the only non-business source of return. When I’d get mail returned claiming there was an error in delivery, they were when I’d try to unsubscribe from spammers whom I had thought deliberately set things up to reject those trying to unsubscribe to use as an excuse to keep badgering people.

I don’t know if my mail got through to Miss P., but I also don’t care anymore. It’s always been rather hard for me to care about those who don’t care about me. Tom will go visit after Christmas as soon as he can afford the gas to do so, then if need be, we’ll be done with them. It’ll depend on how the visit goes. I mean, sure it was nice of them to lend us money when we’d ask, but we don’t need people who can’t take the initiative to care and help us on their own, not to mention the way Mary treated me in the casino, her rude picture obsession, the possibility that they may be sending mail to people I asked them not to send mail to that they know I don’t like and that were abusive, rarely caring enough to call, then ignoring my birthday. It wouldn’t surprise me if they ended up blowing off Tom’s birthday as well. Like I always said, though, you can’t change people. All you can do is avoid the ones you don’t like, or at least try to anyway.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 17, 2003 I am so, so furious right now!!! Now my music computer’s broken! This curse is really getting scary. What are we going to do when it starts breaking us? I’m in tears of utter rage, frustration and fear right now, and am within inches of breaking what’s left that does work so that it can’t break any more of our shit! I’ll have to wait till Tom gets up, but it appears that the drive has corrupted or there’s something wrong with the way it spins. Not a quick $10 replacement. We can’t afford to keep fixing things here. This shit’s got to stop or we’ll just have to do away with most of our things that are mechanical and I’ll end up picking at the carpet instead of vacuuming it, scrubbing clothes and dishes by hand and never using computers.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2003 Finally, the spell has worked! I killed his infection and prevented it from entering the inner ear. He’s still not 100% yet, though he’s much better. This week he can aggressively search for a job (he feels confident a temp agency will take him on), then about a month from now, we should know once and for all if we’re staying or going. I still think we’re going because even if we both got good-paying jobs, I don’t see how we could catch up fast enough. This isn’t a $425 rent payment we’re talking about, but a nearly $1,000 house payment.

As for Miss Perfect ignoring us, they’re hurting themselves more than they’re hurting us by stiffing us out of any birthday/Christmas money (unless Mom plans to give it all to Tom after Christmas) because if they don’t give us anything, we’re both done with them, and that will mean that sooner or later they’ll need someone to come fix something within their little shitbox that they’re too stupid to do themselves, and Tom won’t be answering their cries for help. It’s Tom’s family so he has to do what he wants if they stiff us and even sit back and watch us lose the house, but if it were all up to me, we’d never again answer any of their calls/emails much less contact them in any way. At that point, I’d say let them sit and worry and wonder why we’re ignoring them, and it amazes me just how stupid people are, too. Meaning, they fuck you over, you ditch them, then they ask why. Miss Perfect asked Tom why there wasn’t any email from me and he had to remind the ditz of her childish, selfish little casino outburst. People are so dumb at times it isn’t funny, but like I said, if they do what I think they’re going to do, let them go figure for all we’ll care.

I realize more and more that nobody gives a shit about us but us, but at least we have each other and aren’t alone. I couldn’t imagine life without him, rich or poor, no matter what we lived in. If we’ve got to be stuck in a dump for a while, though, fine as long as it isn’t next to any Jew-hating freeloaders with the wrong connections!!!

Later…

No Mary mail today. I’m surprised I didn’t get a letter as well as drafts because she had said she was going to get cracking on the book again. I guess she’s still depressed over her cousin. Because my flop of a story will be like 3 or 4 envelopes worth of stamps to mail to her, and I’m sure I need not remind her how broke we are, I won’t be writing as much but will get a letter off to her when I get 8 pages full as I don’t like to mail more than 4 sheets at a time. As I also told her, it isn’t just stamp money I gotta watch, it’s ink. My laser printer’s broken and I’m only half-full on ink. Fortunately for me, I don’t mind writing, so if I have to write by hand I will, but I think, I hope, it doesn’t come to that! If things get so bad that I can’t write at all, don’t think I’m dead, I told her, but again, if things ever got that bad, then something up there really, really does have it in for us! I’d like to think that not even we could rank that low on its shit list, but time will tell.

Things are still looking pretty bleak here but come mid-January we should definitely know for sure if we’re staying or going. I think we’ll end up going. Circumstances always force us to move before we’re ready to do so on our own, though if we do end up staying, we’re still going to look for better land deals that are more isolated. And fence this damn property!!!

I wish I loved noise cuz then I’d want to stay in the city where there are sewer systems, mail and trash services, and stores close by, but Arizona cities are a symphony of chaos! I suppose it’s that way in any area where it’s nice for most of the year. However, as long as people gotta act like animals, I couldn’t stand to live with them.

I called and left Paula a couple of messages.

They put a big water storage tank in front, but still haven’t dropped the second house, nor am I in any hurry for them to do so. The first house is still unoccupied as well.

They traded the trailer in back for a horse. I knew they’d get another horse unless this is the same one and it was sick or something. It’s hard to tell. Like I said, though, I knew they wouldn’t put all that time and money into a corral just to give up on horses that quickly. Especially such outdoorsy people like they are. They’ve been quieter, though, as far as that old truck with the loud motor goes, and have been burning their trash. Most of it anyway. They’re really not that bad when they can keep their dogs to themselves. The dog does get annoying at night, but they could be much worse, so I can’t complain too much. It’d be hell having them next to us in Phoenix, though, that’s for sure! There are just too many of them and too many dogs.

Tom got baking soda which I poured down the disposal as he thinks the foul odor I’ve been smelling is coming from that. I find that hard to believe, but we’ll see.

It’s been 7 weeks since I sent in the form for the $20 Toys R Us card. I’m sure I’ll never see it any more than I got to see the other cards. Why do they even have these offers if they know they’re not going to send the cards? Just to tease people? Or is this just our rip-off curse that never seems to quit?

Tomorrow begins the 1000-calorie/1-hour walk to finally find out for sure if something’s wrong or not. Again, I don’t know if it’ll show up in testing if there is. God won’t let what he doesn’t want fixed show up broken. So, if I don’t lose weight I better hope it’s a medical problem and not a curse.

Though the cold weather helps, along with spraying the doors, I have been getting better and better at keeping spiders out by placing spells on the insides of the doors.

Tom found that my prescription inhaler is $20 without insurance, yet the store-brand one was $10 which is what the prescription ones are with insurance, so he went and bought the store-brand one and said to hell with the last prescription one like we agreed he’d do if it did turn out to be more expensive. I’m going to be using the store brand one from now on anyway. Rich or poor, though, a person shouldn’t have to pay to breathe.

Tom said there were a few booms today that were about a 5 on a scale of 1–10 in severity, yet I amazingly slept through them. I had the fan on high, though, so maybe that’s why.

Again I got a message saying my mail to Miss Perfect wouldn’t go through, but I don’t know if this pertains to the first message I sent or the second.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2003 I was thinking that if we do end up forced to move into some dive somewhere, I may not have the guts to leave it for fear of losing another nice house, too. After all, you can’t lose what you don’t have. If we can leave this place willingly on our own time and at our own pace, that’d be different. With so much of our lives dictated to us, though, I still think we’ll be forced out of here.

Unless they haven’t picked it up yet, Dave and Miss Perfect are ignoring us. I said it before, and I’ll say it again – they’ll never see or hear from me again if they stiff us out of Christmas money. I’ll take the damn t-shirts, pictures of my fat face, and other useless odds and ends if I have to so we can get our annual money.

Even Tom’s pissed that they ignored my birthday and as he said, if they didn’t want to send money, they could’ve at least sent a card. But they have no problem with sending the people who made my life a living hell Christmas cards. I still think it’s because I stood up to Miss Perfect and let her know that I’m me and she’s her and that she’ll just have to live with it. Most people would see that as my being rude and insulting, and most people hold grudges, too. Anyone who knows me knows that the quickest way to lose me is to try to change me, so I guess they just didn’t know me very well or they just didn’t care.

Anyway, Tom’s ear infection is still holding on, but improving little by little. I was really hoping to cure it faster. I even want to try to become powerful enough to make my uterus go bad once we’re insured. I’ve had enough surgery in my life, but it’d be a worthy investment if it’s going to cut me out of the 250 periods I have left.

He changed the fan inside my computer because it was making this obnoxious screeching sound.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2003 I know now for sure that getting under 127 won’t be any easier than it has been for the last year or so. I’m not stuck, I’ve worked out consistently, I only had 1000 calories so far today, yet I’m already 3 pounds heavier than when I woke up. Oh well. At least I should be able to stay the same for quite a while. I don’t like having to work so hard to do so, but it’s better than nothing. Besides, if it were that easy to lose weight, most of us wouldn’t end up hopelessly fat like we do. If someone had told me back in my skinny 20s that I’d one day be heavy and have no control over it, I’d never have believed it in a million years!

Tomorrow’s the day I’ll probably get woken up because they didn’t fly today, and they’ve been flying every other day for the most part. It’s bad enough that I wake up for no reason!

I’m wondering if Miss Perfect and Dave have a block on me. I tried to send a quick message to remind them of our existence, hoping it’ll help them not forget about us over the holidays, but it was returned. The reasons why were confusing. It said something about an error, refused connection, and it being delayed. This has happened before too, so this is why I think they might have a block on me. I’ll ask Tom about it when he gets up. Anyway, if they do stiff us out of our holiday money on top of my birthday money and not caring enough to call, I swear I’ll make them sicker than sick! I’ll bring them to the brink of death and put the biggest spell on them ever!

Later…

Just when my spells seem to take effect on Tom’s ear infection, it seems to come back in full force. He’s still sure he’ll be better by Monday and able to be more productive. He better be. We don’t have the money for a doctor to treat this. I worried about this too; of God inflicting some sort of illness or injury upon us when he knows we’re vulnerable and without insurance.

I also wondered if this was Tom’s compensation for me sparing him from colds so far this year, but I don’t know. He said his throat was getting sore, so he may be coming down with one, too. Then again, it may just be the infection draining.

I sent Miss Perfect the message a different way and it went through, but as expected, I haven’t gotten a response. I don’t expect to either. I’m sure that when they read that we may lose the house they’ll be like, oh well, that’s their problem. Then they can go gamble away the extra money that we could use, and Mom can let her many thousands just sit in the bank. I disagree with Tom, though, in that I still don’t think this is all basic selfishness. I think part of it is they don’t like me because I stood up to Mary and let her know I wasn’t going to take her shit or be anything I’m not just to satisfy her. I still can’t believe just how much Doe in them they’ve turned out to have! They kept it hidden for quite a while. Usually, these things come out right away. Mary’s nothing but a control freak with no tolerance for those who aren’t like her and Mom is as selfish as can be.

Someone was blasting music on and off for hours earlier. I don’t see how the hell someone can stand to sit in a car and blast their music with the temperature in the 40s if it was a car stereo or blast music with doors or windows open if it was a house stereo. I tell myself to get used to it because we’re going to be hearing a lot more of that when we move. At least I fear we will. I just can’t get away from people. No matter how hard I try, I can’t shake them off. If I must end up forced to go where there are more people, though, I’d rather it at least be in the free world than in jail. A part of me wishes that if we were going to be forced onto less than 10 acres we were back east. I don’t miss the cold, snow and humidity, but at least there are very few small houses there, the water’s drinkable, and they don’t leave their dogs outside to bark 24/7. But we are where we are, and most curses never die. Meaning, I know we’ll end up next to the loudest people in the area, and if they aren’t there when we move in, they’ll join us in a matter of months. I don’t know if the main source of annoyance will be barking dogs, screaming kids, thumping bass or really loud engines like in a motorcycle, but there’ll be something.

One of the annoyances we have inside the house here which I’ve had to deal with ever since we’ve been here is the on-and-off foul odors that waft through here that only I seem to be able to smell. I know my nose is like a bloodhound’s, but I was amazed that Tom couldn’t smell the burst of foul smells that ran through here earlier. It’s been worse lately and every day I’m assaulted by foul odors that seem to have no pattern or source. I had thought it was coming from the septic, but now I don’t know what to think because oddly enough, it seems to be connected to the vents. I smell it more when the heat’s on. It made me wonder if something got into the vents and died there, but if it did, why didn’t one of us hear it before it died? And why would I only sometimes smell it? I don’t smell it every time the heat’s running and sometimes it’s stronger than others. This, combined with the unexplained crack in Tom’s office window, among other happenings here, are just so supernatural-ish. As most people know, I don’t scare easily at all. The only things I can think of that I really consider scary are open heights and spiders, especially if they’re big. In other words, ghosts and goblins don’t scare me, but these events really fray my nerves. It’s just another source of trouble I can’t fight, as far as I’m concerned. I really believe this evil entity is that of someone who died on or around this property about 50 years ago and they’re lost, in a sense. Maybe they don’t even realize they’re dead. Especially if they’re trapped between the land of the living and the land of the dead if there is such a thing. Either way, I don’t think the shit we’ve gone through in this house is all on account of some lost or angry spirit.

I just wish I knew what was going on and where we’ll be in a few months from now. I’m also so, so sick of having to hope that this one doesn’t fuck up or that that one doesn’t fuck up, because I know that if they do, we’ll be the ones to pay for it. It’s like so much of our lives is what others make it and I’m just so sick of it!

As for another one of my long-term curses, after the next grocery run, I’m going to cut my calories to 1000 a day and up my walking to an hour a day. If that doesn’t get the weight off, then there can’t not be something wrong. This will tell me either way and I’d really like to know for once and for all. Of course, just because there may be something wrong doesn’t mean God would let it show up on a doctor’s test. Not if he doesn’t want me fixing it. If it doesn’t work, I promised myself that I would no longer continue to torture myself over the subject. I’ll still try to maintain the weight, but no more trying to lose it after this. There’s a time to try our best to achieve whatever, then there’s a time to let it go and move on, and that’s what I need to do if this doesn’t work. We all have things we can’t do. We win some, we lose some. Not everyone can lose weight any more than everyone can quit smoking.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2003 I’ve been sleeping really weirdly the last couple of days. I wake up a million times, then I get up too soon. Today I managed to go back to sleep, though.

I fell asleep at 129 and woke up a few hours later at 127, but when I got up for good, I was still 127. That pretty much tells me something right there. For some reason my body just won’t budge under 127, but should I really be all that surprised? I never had much control over my own body in the past, so why would I now?

No booms yet, but they may boom by tomorrow. They boomed by twice yesterday. This is just when I thought they’d stopped flying again too, so once again, I better try to stay on days next time I get there.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2003 This is certainly a surprise change in weather. I had just finished listening to music and when I stood up, I heard this steady sound. I was like, what the hell is that? My first thought was that it was the heat hissing through the vents, but as I passed by them, I didn’t feel the air moving. Besides, I knew it was still a few degrees away from coming on. The heat’s set to come on at 69°. When I went into the living room, I realized it was pouring down rain. It rained rather hard and for quite some time too, with gusts of wind to help the rain leak in the back door.

I decided to end my book, A New Life, a New Love, and I’m not happy with the way it turned out. I just ran out of ideas. This is why I could never be a romance writer – because without the suspenseful, adventurous twists murder mysteries have, it’d make for such dull writing/reading. At least, in my opinion, it would. Murder and mayhem seem to be my thing. Maybe that’s why there are so many more mystery writers out there than romance writers. What much more can you add to a romance book after they meet, fall in love and get it on? Either way, I’ll still save and print out this boring, gone-nowhere story for Tom and Mary. It seems I do best with characters who are either in law enforcement, medicine or the performing arts.

Anyway, all that really happened in the story was that a young girl gets hit by a car and is found with no ID on her. Neurologist Rene names her Katrina and the two fall for each other while Katrina undergoes all kinds of therapy to help her amnesia and partial paralysis. Eventually, her ex-girlfriend goes to see her in the hospital and Katrina, whose name is really Brittany, gets her memory back bit by bit. She decides to take Rene’s offer to live with her because her family was abusive.

My next book, Imprisoned Love, will have the usual suspense I like to both read and write. It’ll mainly be about a prisoner who falls for a guard who isn’t always nice to her. Sometimes she is, though, and so the prisoner ends up sort of torn between wanting nothing to do with the guard and wanting to hang onto her as they get it on in and outside of the prison. Meanwhile, while the prisoner is somewhat frightened of the guard, the guard grows increasingly obsessed with her, killing those who try to get in their way.

The dogs still bark their asses off at night, and I’m like, just what are they barking so wildly at anyway? Is it the nocturnal wildlife scurrying about that stirs them up? Or are they just that cold, lonely and neglected?

Piggy may turn out to be an okay rat after all. He let me pick him up last night and all 3 of them were out, though briefly.

I still worry just how much worse things will get before they temporarily improve. With the way God loves to see me stuck in places I don’t want to be, I still fear we’ll end up in some shitbox with neighbors just 50’ away. It’s better than 3’, but much worse than 450’. My vibes pertaining to moving/staying are totally screwed up. As I said before, it seems logical that we’re going to lose the house. We still want to move, it’s just that we’d prefer to do it on our own terms. Instead, whenever I moved as an adult as well as with him, we were pretty much forced to do so. Yes, we wanted out of the Phoenix house, but we were also running at the same time. Anyway, if the evil that we just can’t seem to shake free of doesn’t drive us out of here, then it sure is obvious that it likes to at least tease us with this place and make us think we’re going to lose it.

Nothing compares to the stress I was going through at this time last year. This is nothing compared to knowing I would soon have to face the utter humiliation and degradation of pissing in front of someone.

At 127 pounds, it’s too soon to get my hopes up, but the answer to why I wasn’t losing weight may have been right under my nose all this time. It’s starting to seem like I wasn’t working my heart hard enough or long enough, along with the fact that I wasn’t getting enough fiber. Now begins the real test. If I can get down to 125, then I should be able to get pretty much anywhere. Maybe not the 100 pounds I’d like to be, but perhaps to 110-115. I don’t know, though. I’m still 38 years old, not 20-something, and it’s not in my nature to be thin. If I don’t lose weight, then I guess something up there just doesn’t want me to. On the other hand, I know that losing weight only means asking for a new problem, and so I ask myself, do I really want to trade in my weight problem for a new problem that could be worse?

I’m still pissed that Marge ignored my birthday and at a time we’re so desperate for money. That was cold, really fucking cold.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2003 Tom’s got an ear infection right now. Like we need to be dealing with this shit on top of everything else, and when we’re uninsured? Is there no end to the evil and the hatred from above? We’re doing the alcohol and peroxide treatments and hoping for the best. I’m also putting spells on it. We have to cure it ourselves one way or another because it’d cost many hundreds of dollars we don’t have to see a doctor.

I don’t like Piggy much so far. He’s becoming more and more against being handled and I hate pets that won’t let me handle them.

Brownie’s cool, though. He likes attention as much as Little Fella who’s humongous!

They’re flying again. Amazingly they waited till after I got up to do so, but I’m sure they’ll wake me up in the next week. I’m about due for my next wake-up call anyway.

My hair’s now long enough to put back in a regular braid.

Because we’re sick of struggling so much and need a break, even though it can’t be much of one, we’re going to get each other some treats. He’s going to get lottery tickets and I’m going to make a small incense order as the Walmart kind really is boring! It’ll be just a $20 order, though. I’m getting 100 mini sticks of brown sugar, chocolate and fruit, and 20-packs of angel, raspberry, honey and butter rum, and 5-packs of grape and watermelon. That’s 240 hours of burn time.

I read an interview online that Kate did with this guy hosting it that has a website dedicated to her. I could probably get her to contact me if I had a site of my own, but I’m a little too greedy for that. Meaning, I wouldn’t want to put so much effort into something I couldn’t make money from. Guess I’m just not that obsessed with her. If I was 10 years old all over again and we had computers, you bet I would then!

Anyway, I got a kick out of how she said that if she, Farrah and Jaclyn did a CA movie, it’d be the only real CA movie. How right she’d be, too! The CA movies they made a couple of years ago are a joke. They’re not even real women if you ask me. They look more like girls and I hate that girlie look. Well, I don’t hate it, but it doesn’t turn me on either. I like a woman who’s all woman, even if she’s a bit dyky looking. Either way, I agree with Tom who says it’ll never happen because of their too-big egos. Farrah would want more and more money as if she doesn’t have enough already, and they’d all want to control this and want to control that.

Kate sounds so much like me. Maybe too much to be able to get along and have a relationship had we met and been the same age. She strikes me as the type to complain about my wacky schedule too, and things like that.

I just wish to hell we could have our own home-based business! I know I’m wishing for the impossible, though. I swear God must’ve said the day I was born, “Just hand me your list of dreams that you’ll have throughout life and make sure they never come true.” For the most part, he’s done just that too, but fortunately, the only real dream I have right now is for us to survive and be happy and healthy while we have a little extra spending money for fun. You just can’t get very far working odd jobs all your life where the risk of getting laid off or fired is so high. Odd jobs are what cause you to do okay at times, then struggle at times. It just doesn’t have the security a home business could have if we could come up with a clever enough idea that will keep a steady income coming in. There’s no sense in wasting our time dreaming, though. Tom’s going to have to go work for someone else, spend years working his way back up to the big bucks, then try to keep it going as long as he can till God makes sure his hard work is rewarded with a layoff or a firing.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2003 Now my house vibes are totally weirding out on me. First I was sure we’d be going, then I was sure we’d be staying, and now I don’t know what I sense. Logically speaking, unless someone gives Tom a job that pays $30 an hour in 5 minutes, we gotta be going for sure. I just wish I knew where to! That stuck-in-bad-places obsession God’s got for me has me worried, and the more I try to get away from people, the more he sics them on me, so I’m afraid he’s going to stick us on a tiny shit lot with lots and lots of rowdy people, and of course, in Arizona, there’s the never-ending slew of dogs outside barking 24/7.

It appears my vibes are going to be right about Marge not sending me a birthday card or money, and I fear she’ll stiff us out of our Christmas money, too. Tom assures me it has nothing to do with me and that they’re just selfish in general. This is so true, too. I don’t know what’ll be colder of them in the end; them not giving us birthday/holiday money, or them not even caring enough to take the time to call or email to see how we are, especially when they know we’ve been having a rough time.

I’ll mail their Christmas card that I got from the HS, then I’m so done with them mail-wise. I have really come to have absolutely no respect or admiration of any kind for these people, and I don’t give a damn anymore what they may be sending Doe and Art. These are all people who can’t use anything they may tell each other against me and that I’ll never see again or be forced to deal with anyway so they can exchange all the gossip and pictures they want. I mean, what can they do to me with it? They’re nothing more than just a very bad memory for me.

In much better news, I finally got a letter from Mary today, the day I was to call Carolyn to find out if she knew anything if I didn’t get anything today. It turns out that her cousin died of a seizure. I take it she was young too, but either way, Mary says she’s been in a lot of anguish.

She liked my last book and said it was scary. My current story is unlike anything I’ve ever written so far. It’s a medical romance, and to tell you the truth, I have no idea where it’s going. I mean, I can’t really think of any exciting and adventurous twists and turns to throw in so I may end it where it’s at some time soon. We’ll see. So far, Tom’s favorite is Sacrifices and I think I’d have to agree. He just started Nocturnal Obsession.

She asked about Little Buddy’s picture, and like I told her, I won’t know anything till the end of the year. There’s no way it could win the annual $10,000 prize because pictures of kids always win those. The $1,000 prize is by category. I don’t expect to win that because we never get money when we need it, but maybe I’ll get a medal. After all, what could I do with a medal? All it does is tell me how cute the picture is, but I already know this.

She said she decided against writing Paula as you can’t help those who don’t want to be helped. As I told her, she is so, so right about that! At 36 years of age, I’d say Paula’s definitely beyond help. I think that those who don’t want to help themselves are either too wimpy to do so, too blind to see they’ve got a problem in the first place, or they’re okay with the problem for some bizarre reason. I think Paula, as loyal as she’s been, qualifies for all of the above!

Anyway, it’s the first letter from her in quite a while where she didn’t ask for anything.

Got a Bob letter, too. He was in the hospital I guess for his heart.

Lastly, I got a lipstick sample in the mail which was too dark for a whitey like me. I sent it to Paula along with a letter. With her coloring, it should look nice.

I lost another pound and so now I’m 128. That’s 4 pounds in 2 days! Haven’t done that in ages. As soon as I get stuck again, though, for a day or two, I’ll be back around 130. I still seriously doubt I can get to 125, much less below. Still, I’ll continue sticking to the 4 essential elements – limited cals, exercise, fiber, suppressants when needed.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2003 Tom didn’t go out today to save on gas so I won’t know if there’s any Mary mail till tomorrow. I hope Tom’s mom sent birthday money! I went and checked and found that she did mail it to me last year. I don’t know. I just get the feeling that she’s going to forget about giving me birthday money and us Christmas money this year. That’d be so, so cold of them if they did and even Tom agrees. I’d like to think they wouldn’t be that mean and selfish, but you never know. Due to the fact that they don’t like me and just gave us money, they may not want to give us anything other than the usual junk we can’t use or don’t want like t-shirts and pictures of my fat face.

It’s been a rather dry and warm winter so far this year. I even wear shorts at times during the day.

I wish somebody would give Tom a job! I had vibes about the library calling today, but they never did. Now I really can’t trust the job and stay vibes. I wish he’d get something, though, not just because we need the money, but because I’m sick of him always being here. Not that we’re fighting or anything. In fact, we’ve been getting along quite well and he hasn’t been snapping at me or getting impatient with me when I don’t comprehend something right away, but still, a person needs their privacy every now and then. I do get some when he’s asleep when I’m up, but it’s not the same thing.

Tom and I both agree that my not losing weight is more likely caused by me having too many calories and not enough exercise rather than by something being wrong. I’ve also come to agree that bread isn’t so bad after all as long as it’s within moderation because it helps me keep regular. I had thought that the reason I’d get stuck when trying to diet was because of the calorie cut, but now I think it was due to a lack of fiber in the diet. I still doubt I’ll ever get down to 125 or lower, but the 4 key elements in staying out of the 130s are definitely a well-balanced diet, exercising at least a half-hour a day, limiting my calories, and using suppressants to help me through the hungrier times. I really hope to hell the store-brand suppressants work just as well because without them it’d be so much harder. It’s like the difference between trying to quit smoking cold turkey versus using the gum to quit like I did.

Anyway, I made a total pig of myself the day before yesterday and awoke at 132 yesterday. Yesterday I cut it to around 1000 and awoke at 129 today. This is the first time in a long time that I lost more than 2 pounds in a day, and of course, I’m more regular now. I’m going to make it a point to have at least one sandwich or one potato a day to help keep it that way.

I decided not to bother getting any more incense from Walmart since it’s not all that great. I’ll wait till I can get the good stuff from Incense Galore again.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2003 Tomorrow marks one month without hearing from Mary if I don’t get anything in the mail at which point I’ll be calling her aunt to see if she knows anything. Or at least knows anything she’s willing to share with me. Meaning, if Mary’s dumped me for whatever reason and has discussed it with Carolyn, Carolyn may not want to be the one to tell me about it. As crazy as it may sound, I think I’ll be more disappointed if it turns out she hasn’t dumped me than I will be if she has, just like I think I’ll end up feeling more disappointed if we stay rather than if we lose the house. On the other hand, that’d all depend on why we lost the house. If we lost it to a smaller piece of land, then no, I wouldn’t be disappointed.

Other than that, there isn’t much new to report. Tom’s been working on setting up our website and has vibes about the library calling Tom tomorrow for an interview, but I don’t trust them. I’m not experienced with vibes like that as I am with tickets, vehicle trouble, sick spells and healing.

Back to Mary – I’m going to continue to send letters on each of the 3 Mondays left of December. Then, if I still don’t hear from her, I’m going to assume she has dumped me and just never had the guts to tell me so and neither did her aunt. Then she’ll be a closed chapter in my life like Andy and so many others. That’s just life, though; people come and go throughout our lives and as long as I always have Tom, that’s okay.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2003 Today was a sad day for me. This was the day Little Buddy died one year ago. He came to visit me in my dreams, though. At least I think it was him. How miserable it was to lose him, then, to add insult to injury, to have to go sit and hear about the poor, poor victim a few hours later.

The “stay vibes” are still holding. Right or wrong, I just hope we know what’s going on come New Year’s. This waiting and wondering certainly is getting old. I also hope I find out why I haven’t heard from Mary.

My ticket vibes are down so I haven’t been getting tickets. Tom has, though, against my better judgment, and sure enough, he’s been losing.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2003 Yesterday I put together the 550-piece glow-in-the-dark puzzle I got at Walmart. It’s pretty cool. I flipped it over, taped the back, and will put it up on either these walls or the walls wherever we’re going to live if we move. For a while, I had sure-set vibes that we were going to lose the house, but today I’m starting to have vibes about staying. They started right after Tom told me he applied online for a job at Casa Grand’s library. He applied for part-time in the evenings and on weekends, and because it’s a government job, it pays better. Like $10 an hour. If he can find an additional job that also pays well, then maybe we can stay here. We’ll see. There are pros and cons to both staying and leaving, like I said before. I’d like more land, to not have a house payment, and to get further away from people, but I do love this house!

I already packed most of the decorative items and non-necessities, so I’ll have to put those back if we stay, but I won’t mind. It’ll give me a chance to redecorate and I do like to go through things periodically to weed out old junk or shit I never use anymore anyway. We’re still going to have a tag sale even if we stay, but we may hold it in the center of town where it’ll get more attention. The only thing that will be a bitch to put back is the lacy valances. I’ll probably have Tom do it. He’s tall enough to hang the rods on the hooks anyway.

It’s been over a week since I’ve worked on my story. It also seems like they’ve stopped flying every other day, so maybe I’ll work more on it soon. I like to do it when Tom’s not home or is asleep, but we’ve both been on days lately. I don’t like anything around that could distract me.

Here come the renters. Even though it’s dark I can tell it’s them by the sound of the old dumpy truck they’ve been driving lately. They had gone out a couple of hours ago. It’s early yet, so they may go out at least once more.

Memolink gave me 50 birthday points which was cool. I’m up to 2426 now. I’m also signed up for daily freebie/discount emails and I play these scratch ticket games they have at one particular site. I don’t know if any of them are ever allowed to win, but I do it anyway.

I’ve been walking while I watch Kate, though only through the scenes she’s in. I know I should be walking more than 20 minutes a day and eating less than 2000 calories a day, but it’s better than walking 0 minutes a day and eating more than I do in a day.

I’ve officially named the gray and white rat Piggy since he’s quite an eater, and I’m just calling the brown one Brownie.

I’m going to have letters going out to Mary and Paula on Monday. I won’t stop writing Mary weekly till I hear from her. If I don’t hear anything by the new year and can’t get an answer from the aunt, then I’m going to assume she doesn’t want anything to do with me anymore for whatever reason and simply doesn’t have the guts to tell me so herself. I don’t know, maybe she’d be afraid of me putting a spell on her. I agree with Tom’s number one assumption, though: she’s probably just broke.

I called Paula today from Tom’s phone and I swear I’ll hang up from now on if that sick cock she’s with is there! I call on precious time and money and she’s yelling, “Mind your own fucking business! She didn’t call here for you.”

The little paranoid shit thinks we’re lovers. It’s like, yeah right! What does he think we do, get it on over the phone?

Anyway, because of the lack of money and her screaming at him and Justin, I only stood on long enough to ask if she got the incense and about the spell. She got the incense, but as Tom said would be the case, it was all broken up. I told her to send me $10 if she wants me to ship more to her in a box. I’m sick of carting the bill here. She ought to pay some of her own shipping expenses for once. She needs to learn that I can’t just give, give and give. She’s got to give a little herself every now and then and do her fair share.

She never even asked about my birthday or said a simple little “thanks” when she confirmed that the spell I put on her did dissolve her cold. So now I know I can do long-distance curses and healing. I’m not surprised. I figured as much, after all. Mary’s silence pertaining to when I’d ask her about it kind of told me the answer, and besides, I figure that if you’re psychic, you’re psychic and so distance shouldn’t matter because psychicness is in the realms of the paranormal. Tom explained to me that because Mary believes in angels, curses would probably spook her, though she did ask me to make sick Todd’s little slut, so I don’t know.

Anyway, I did go ahead and enclose a small envelope made out from Paula to Incense Galore so she can get a free sample since that was no biggie, but like I said, if she wants more incense and CDs, she’ll just have to learn to give a little to get a little. I can’t be expected to do it all.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2003 The renters just returned for the second time since we’ve been home in their obnoxiously loud vehicle, and now it’s their dog I’m listening to, but it’s better than having bass-thumping freeloaders just a few feet away, and besides, we won’t be hearing them much longer anyway.

Haven’t seen lights on at night in front for over a week and they still haven’t set the other house down, much less put it together which is perfectly fine with me. Maybe we’ll be out of here before they’re occupied.

Instead of reporting today, I had a wonderful birthday, even though my birthday’s still 5 hours away. Yesterday was a rather shitty day. For the millionth time, God saw to it that we got ripped off. The unemployment check didn’t come yesterday like it was supposed to so we had to take our chances at the bookstore. We were forced to settle for the measly $18 they gave us because we needed gas. Meanwhile, we had well over $50 worth of stuff. They practically took all the books for free and they didn’t take all the CDs, claiming some were too scratched.

I know that since we’ve got a money-making curse on us that the bulk of the stuff we don’t want to take with us won’t sell, but I’d rather they stay here as freebies than come hog up the precious room we won’t have for a while if it’s just going to be shit we never use anyway.

I only got a couple of books and will order a couple more online soon.

Since we already know for sure that we are going to lose the house, we’re only making sure to pay for the things we need like the electric bill (thank God it’s not summer! At least he gave us that much) and the computer since that’s so much of a lifeline for us. We’ll also keep one of the phones going as well.

I still haven’t heard from Mary and I still don’t know why. I’d still think Carolyn would’ve called if something was wrong, but maybe she lost my new number. I plan to call her next week if I still haven’t heard from her. I know there have been gaps in her letters before, so I’m sure there’s a reasonable explanation as to why she hasn’t written.

Again, I know it may sound strange, but a part of me hopes she’s dumped me for whatever reason, so I don’t have to deal with her when she gets out, although that may not be much of an issue if we end up in some other state or in the Kingman area. If we were in Phoenix, she could just run right over in no time at all cuz that’s where she’s going as soon as she gets out.

Did my last story spook her out that much or what? I’d hate to think she could be that much of a wimp, but she does spook rather easily. Despite the fact that it wouldn’t hurt me, since I’m so used to people coming and going from my life, it’d still be way cold and insensitive of her to dump me, if she has, at a time when my birthday’s coming up and we’re going through such a shit time when we need support and encouragement. Then to not have the guts to tell me so; that’d really be being a gutless wimp on top of having no empathy or compassion.

I don’t know, maybe someone’s been stealing her mail to me or she’s been having hernia surgery or is just super broke or super depressed. I hope to hell no inmate has harmed her in any way. Maybe she has a problem with my views and opinions on God which differ drastically between us, but that’d mean that she’d suddenly be radically different than the Mary I always knew. The Mary I always knew has been very tolerant and accepting of those who differ from her, so I don’t know why she’d suddenly have a problem with anything I’ve been saying in letters or journals, but people can change and turn on you. If that is the case, then hell, she could become a bigot towards gays next for all I know and I don’t want anything to do with someone like that.

Anyway, if it does turn out to be over something I’ve said, we are done. After all the years I was forced to associate with domineering control freaks who couldn’t accept others as they were, I really need all the more to be with people who let me be me and if that means only associating with Tom, then so be it.

Mary has gone back on her word once, though. Actually, she’s gone back on it several times. So many times she promised not to keep asking for things I’d keep telling her I either couldn’t or didn’t want to do before she finally got the hint. Then there was that time in jail, of course, when she told me she’d have no problem moving to the big cell if one of us had to go, and then she got all bent out of shape and acted like a spoiled little brat about it when it came time to put her actions where her mouth was.

I decided not to worry about my schedule even though they’re flying again because I’m going to have to worry about it during the move, so I think I’ll take it easy for now. Besides, I get woken up at least once a week in this house anyway, day or night.

Okay, now that I’ve covered the bad and trivial subjects, I shall move on to today’s fun shopping adventure. Like I said, we lost the house anyway, so we’re not worrying too much about money anymore as long as we pay for the necessities. November will probably be our last house payment, but they won’t start getting on us about it till mid-Jan.

We went to Walmart at around noon. It was packed, but because Tom knew where everything was and because we didn’t have to wait in line to use the self-check-out thing that everyone hates, we weren’t in there long.

I had to pick up a few things like popcorn and female stuff. He got himself some soda, and then, we got the Charlie’s Angels DVD! It is so cool to have the whole first season. I also got Hawaiian Ginger perfumed body lotion from Calgon. I tried a sample I got in the mail and Tom and I both agreed it’s nice. I chose the lotion over the spray because it was cheaper and because my dry skin needs lotion anyway.

I also got 3 25-packs of incense, along with a little kit that has cones and mini sticks. The cones are cool as they barely give off smoke and they don’t make the mess sticks do, but they only burn for 15 minutes. Still, I wanted to try cones and now I have. It came with a little wooden burner to put it in. Next to it are two small holes for the mini sticks. I guess this way you can mix the scents, though I prefer to burn them one at a time. They last longer that way. The 25-packs consist of oriental flowers & spices, rainforest, and aromatherapy scents. All the sticks are colored, but not all of them are labeled. The oriental ones aren’t, so all I know is that whatever the bright green stick is, it’s the best one in that pack. It’s either oriental woods or opulent opium. I like the cinnamon, strawberry and jasmine, but the sandalwood is just so-so. Of the aromatherapy packs, I’ve only sampled the serenity so far, but there’s also romance, refresh and strength. Then there’s wildflowers, rainforest and spring bouquet. I haven’t sampled those yet, either, but I have a total of 13 scents.

Our last stop was at the Circle K in Stanfield for snacks, but before that, we got two new rats! They seem very mellow so far. One’s dark brown and the other’s white with really cool dark gray markings. I haven’t come up with names for them yet. Little Fella was ever so happy to meet them and to have roommates again. It’s cute and funny how he always comes and nudges my hand when I go to pat the others, to remind me that he’s my number one. Little Buddy did the same thing when Little Fella was just a baby.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2003 My body did what it usually does when I get down to 127 and got stuck. In fact, this is the third day of it. The lack of shitting is preventing me from losing weight just as much as my slow metabolism is, so for the millionth time, I ask myself why bother? If my body wants to keep its weight, then I shouldn’t try to force it to do otherwise and try to make it into something it’s not. I’m having a hard time bringing myself to walk too, because it’s discouraging, though I know I should to at least be fit and healthy.

Tom just applied for a work-at-home job where you process internet orders. That’d be too good to be true; us working at home doing that for a few hundred each a week. My only concern with home jobs would be what we’d do as far as insurance goes. I guess we’d have to buy some kind of policy. Anyway, I’m sure it’s not going to happen, so why worry about it? How I wish to hell he could work at home, though, because that’d give us more options as far as where we moved to. If he worked at home we could move to more remote areas.

Later…

I finally got unstuck, but it’s too late. I’ve already been set back up at 130. Oh well. Better to bounce between 127-130 than 197-200. The extra weight will help the next time I get into a fight.

Anyway, we’re not going to the store today because he found out this morning that the unemployment check will arrive in tomorrow’s mail, so we’ll go then. That way we’ll have money in case they don’t buy much from us which would be just our shit luck. We may even get Little Fella a roommate, though nothing else till we know what’s going on (the mice are all gone now).

[vixstarria]

Bloodbang Chronicles - Chapter 3 - Fuckface

Chapter summary: Throwing shit at the wall to see what sticks, as the wall throws shit back at you, a.k.a. negotiating deals with fey

Chapter word count: 2,300

Previous chapter | Series masterlist | AO3 | Overall masterlist

Series summary:

Five years have passed since the confrontation with the Netherbrain. Astarion and his warlock lover, Asmodea, are living it up in Baldur’s Gate, running a cabaret. Their life of decadence and debauchery seems idyllic, until Asmodea’s patron disrupts it with a proposal. One that seems too good to be true. One they cannot refuse.

Pairing: Astarion x Original Female Character

Genre: Humor / adventure / smut (not all in this chapter), with all the usual Astarion-related elements along the way, without getting too heavy

Rating: Explicit

Asmodea paced the length of her and Astarion’s bedroom. The sun was high and Astarion had retired down to the theatre for the time being, overseeing a rehearsal. She would be undisturbed.

Negotiating something serious with a fey was turning out to be only marginally more constructive than, say, playing chess with a pigeon, and twice as taxing on her sanity and patience. At least the pigeon wouldn’t have been deliberate in the chaos it produced.

What made matters worse was the fact she had no one to turn to for advice on what a warlock contract with their patron might even look like. Wyll would have been no help, despite his own past dealings - Mizora was a cambion. Infernal contracts were meticulous and precise, if riddled with intentional loopholes and fine print aimed to benefit the demonic party.

The fey (or at least minor fey, which she assumed her patron to be), on the other hand, were resistant to even setting anything out in writing, instead relying on ‘mutual understandings’, vague promises and blatant temper tantrums when they didn’t get what they wanted, or found themselves needing to uphold their end of a bargain.

Astarion could have helped. Hells, he should have been her first point of call for this, and she would still seek his counsel, later. But for now, she simply didn’t want to get his hopes up until she discerned whether what her patron offered was actually realistic, or whether they were simply pulling her leg.

“Let’s start again from the beginning, we’re completely off track,” she sighed, continuing to pace. “Yes, the entertainment clause can stay.”

Five years ago

Shit and fuck and bollocks and piss and-

She paced the length of her prison cell, on the verge of tearing her hair out in rage and frustration. Better anger than anguish, she told herself. She would not break down into panic and pathetic, useless sobs. She would not.

Think!

“You can’t keep me here, I’m innocent!” she cried out at the warden. “Whoever it is you were after, it’s not me!”

She couldn’t believe it. She’s changed her name, her hair, her style of dress, she’d covered her face and ears with a multitude of piercings, lost her original accent, adopted entirely new mannerisms. She had nothing in common with the woman she was ten years ago. And yet…

“Multiple eyewitness accounts. Matching distinguishing features. Incriminating evidence found on your person and in your bag of holding. Take this journal, for example,” the warden listed, lazily, flipping through her journal with indifference.

“Tchotchkes I’ve picked up on my journeys and made up stories, all of it!” She cursed at herself inwardly as she tried to argue. “No one benefits from me being here! I am a travelling bard. An entertainer! Why, I was just on my way to a child’s birthday party, in fact. Think of the kids’ poor disappointed little faces when I don’t show up.”

“Entertaining children’s parties dressed as a strumpet?” the warden remarked without looking up. “Please.”

“Hmm, trumpet?” she pretended not to hear. “No, I don’t play the trumpet. But I am most proficient in flutes of all varieties,” she said, gripping the bars of her cell and dropping her voice an octave. “Would you like me to show you?”

The warden did not deign to look at or respond to her.

Fuck, fuck, fuck!

“I can help you, for a price.”

The voice sounded directly within her mind, startling her. If the warden had heard anything, he made no indication of it. No, the words were for her, and her only.

It was so storybook she would have laughed at the cliche absurdity of the sudden appearance of this deus in cranium, if not for her growing panic at her situation. She tensed, her mind recalling tales of desperate unfortunates signing their souls away in deals with devils.

“Not a devil,” the voice protested. She couldn’t pinpoint its age or gender. It simply… was. 

“What do you want?” She directed her thoughts at the voice, hoping they would be heard.

“Let’s make a bargain.”

“…What kind of bargain?”

“I’m bored.” The intruder now sounded distinctly sulky.“Make me laugh, and I will help you in return.”

“…You want me to entertain you..?” At this point she was willing to try anything.

“Yes! But first let’s get you out of here.”

Something changed then, as she gained the distinct impression that if she should like to turn into mist and re-appear anywhere she could see, she would, if she only willed it.

“Use the spell and it will seal the deal. Up to you!”

It made no sense. Was the creature paying it forward for her to provide amusement later..? She wasn’t about to enter any kind of long term arrangement with a mysterious voice that happened to barge, uninvited, into her head.

“There are anti-magic wards here, it’s not that simple.”

“It won’t stop my magic. Try it!”

She had never done anything like this before. She could do a few tricks here and there, but nothing as complex as teleporting herself through bars. The knowledge of how to accomplish it had simply appeared in her mind. All she had to do was accept and embrace it.

Before she could talk herself out of it, she blinked and appeared directly behind the warden, where he sat at his desk. This wasn’t at all where she had intended to teleport to.

Perhaps sensing a shift in the air, or hearing her breathing, the warden lifted his head in confusion, and turned around. They stared at one another in wide-eyed shock for a few moments, before she grabbed her lute from the adjacent evidence shelf, and smashed the warden’s head with it, dazing him. Miraculously, the instrument survived.

She heard some distant crashing sounds, and everything around her shook with tremors. Was there an earthquake..? Well, all the more reason to get out of this building.

She grabbed her journal, stuffing it back into the bag of holding and bolted for the exit.

Her newfound patron laughed in delight.

"Perfect! You’re mine now. I’m going to call you ‘Asmodea’. You can’t use any other name anymore."

She didn’t feel like arguing that point. She had been continually changing names for the past decade anyway. Hells, she didn’t feel like arguing any points - none of it mattered, she would get out of this inane ‘deal’ as soon as she managed to flee Baldur’s Gate.

The first and only thing Asmodea saw on emerging from the watchhouse was a massive purple tentacle.

Some days later

The diminutive creature glared at Asmodea, hatred painted on its face, pure malice in its eyes.

“BAAAAAAA!” it snarled at her.

Was it… pretending to be a sheep..? Asmodea cocked an eyebrow at the redcap.

“Baaaa!” she responded, putting forth her best lamb impression.

The creature inside her head emitted a gleeful, childish giggle. Pleasing it truly carried benefits, Asmodea had discovered earlier this week. Immediately, she felt somewhat rejuvenated. She thought she could even attempt casting some spells again, if she needed, despite having just come out of a fight.

Her patron’s laughter was echoed by an equally giddy chortle from the fanged jackass standing behind her.

I’m surrounded by idiots, she thought, and exchanged another round of baa’s with the redcap.

Still, the fey had proved to be too useful to discard now. As had the vampire.

Her patron and the vampire were uncannily similar in their levels of morality and maturity. Earlier, they were equally disappointed to see her refuse to let an unfortunate gnome the party came across fly off the blade of a windmill. Likewise, they were both delighted to see Asmodea throwing dung at goblins, the following day.

Astarion appeared to be more reliable in critical situations, however.

The entire goblin camp was on their heels as they ran from the ruined temple the goblins had claimed as their base.

“Is this part of your plan?!” Wyll shouted from across the camp where he sought cover behind a pillar.

“I told you I was winging it!” Asmodea yelled back.

She deduced by the cleric’s swearing that Shadowheart had missed with yet another guiding bolt. At least it made the goblins temporarily scatter in panic.

She, Shadowheart and Wyll were holding on by the skin of their teeth, drained dry of their magic at this point. The damned druid had disappeared somewhere along the way. Astarion was the only one still capable of dealing any damage, as he continued to shoot at the goblins following them.

The elf was following her closely. He seemed to have been tailing her ever since the night his vampirism was revealed.

As for her patron, for once the creature was nowhere to be found, despite her needing its help.

It was not the best time for Asmodea to realise that she actually had no idea how to address her patron or what their name was.

“Hey, you!” She tried to direct her thoughts at it.“Faerie! Pixie!”

Silence.

“My invisible friend? Buddy..?”

Nothing.

“Patron?? Maestro?! Sensei???”

She could almost hear the crickets. Meanwhile, an array of goblin arrows grazed the top of the partially collapsed wall she and Astarion had ducked behind.

“OI, FUCKFACE!”

“What?”

“Oh, THAT’S what you’ll respond to?? A little help?!”

“I grow weary of you now”, the fey creature responded. “Fend for yourself.”

“Useless, all of you,” hissed Astarion, nocking another arrow. “Can’t you do anything?!”

Asmodea cursed and dug through her bag, looking for anything that might be of use - scroll, potion, explosive... Alas, nothing but rusty goblin scimitars, a few shields they may as well throw into their campfire later, and some herbs she didn’t actually know what to do with. Until, that is, her hand happened to stop on an item she had completely forgotten about.

“Oh!” she cried out in surprise. “Do you think that verbose ogre will really come to our aid?”

“Just blow the damned horn!” snapped Astarion.

“I don’t know why you insist on that stupid name you gave me, but fine. I get to keep using the one I have for you, too, though.” Asmodea continued to haggle with her patron. “I am NOT calling you ‘Master’.”

The patron’s unceremonious moniker stuck after the group finally made it out of the goblin camp. ‘Fuckface’ didn’t seem to mind being addressed as such. Perhaps because Asmodea had no idea what the fey actually looked like, so it hardly constituted a true insult. Or, perhaps they just thought it was funny.

“Fine, I will follow your instructions when they make sense or when I don’t have a valid reason not to, but you will also listen and leave me alone when I ask. …Is it possible to still have a word that you’ll hear in case of emergency..? …No, I’m still not calling you ‘Master’, pick something else.”

Asmodea felt her patron silently resurfacing in her mind as she observed the happenings taking place across the camp grounds.

She watched, with a tinge of jealousy, as Astarion went through the motions of downplaying and dismissing the advances of two drunk tieflings. His rakish smile slipped off his face the moment their backs were turned, and his eyes immediately flicked towards hers, making contact from across the camp. Ah, there was another smile again. An insufferably knowing one this time.

“I like the vampling,” Fuckface remarked, unbidden.

“You know, I think I kind of like him too,” Asmodea thought to herself and incidentally to her patron, picking up a bottle of wine and making her way towards the elf, trying to avoid being dragged into any further awkward conversations. Having survived a near brush with death seemed to have made her companions remarkably horny. “Now be a dear and piss off for the night, or I’ll spend all day tomorrow talking weave theory with Gale.”

“Of course I’m going to let Astarion know, that’s not even negotiable!”

“Let Astarion know what?”

Asmodea whipped around, startled, to discover Astarion at the bedroom’s entrance, leaning against the doorframe. Gods, did he have to move so silently?

“Oh just patron nonsense,” she said, trying not to look or sound guilty. “I’ll tell you later.” She tried to swiftly change the topic as Astarion frowned. “Sorry, I thought you’d be downstairs for a while and drew the curtains open. Let me-”

Astarion waved his hand dismissively.

“It’s fine, I don’t need to come in right now.” He stayed at the open door, gazing at her. “Just stay where you are, you’re so beautiful in the sunlight…” he murmured wistfully.

The sun’s rays didn’t reach the door, not directly, but the room was still brightly illuminated.

“You’re awfully close to the light,” she observed, tilting her head.

“Hmm?” Astarion snapped back to the present moment. “Oh, make no mistake, it feels like I’m standing next to a burning furnace, and it’s getting hotter by the second.” He reached out cautiously with his hand, slowly bringing it further into the room. “Aurelia’s told me we gradually gain some resistance as we age.” The tips of his fingernails began to singe and he jerked his hand back, with a hiss drawn through his teeth, and stepped back deeper into the hallway. “Perhaps in another 50 years I’ll be able to tolerate a few more seconds of that.”

Asmodea hurried to the windows to draw the curtains shut, mentally kicking herself.

“Anyway, we’re adding some final touches to a new act and wanted your thoughts,” said Astarion. “Come down when you’re ready,” he added, before leaving.

“I’ll get changed and will be right there,” she called out after him, wondering what else he had overheard.

She sighed. The entire morning wasted, they were still basically at square one.

Part 4

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