#do you feel any guilt at all? any remorse whatsoever?

[ciraeus]

Sighs

[thediaryofaurora]

General HCs

=Tim Wright/Masky=

- Twenty seven, only a little older than Brian.

- 6’0, buff dad bod.

- White with a small percentage of Native American.

- His childhood was ROUGH. His mom just dumped him off at a psyche ward whenever he started having hallucinations and rarely ever went to visit. He grew up completely isolated other than the other patients, never had any parental care or real friends. At around fifteen he burnt down the hospital and lived on the streets for a few years.

- After he was able to get into college he met Brian, and they immediately got along. Tim can’t communicate his feelings or even know what he’s feeling, but Brian can easily read people, is easy to talk to, and open minded, which is exactly what Tim needed. In all honesty, Brian’s the closest thing he’s ever had to a family.

- He is so desperate to feel any sliver of normality. Living at a strange, paranormal mansion, not remembering anything he does on missions, and not being able to have any normal social life makes him physically ill. Occasionally the proxies get a month or two off and that really the closest he ever gets to feeling normal, or even happy. Being able to watch TV in a normal house, go grocery shopping, get a part time job, do anything without worry or guilt, it’s the only good part about his life.

- Genuinely has a smoking issue, if you couldn’t tell. Goes through like two packs a DAY and has to buy them in bulk like a middle aged woman getting almonds at Costco.

- Has a little apartment a few miles away from the mansion with Brian. They were originally going to get separate ones close by, but Brian was too worried Tim would sieze out or have an episode to leave him alone.

- He gets sick SO easily. Not just from The Operator, he catches a cold at least every other month.

- Has an old, rusty pick up truck him and Brian drive around.

- Gets along surprisingly well with Natalie, sometimes they smoke together. It’s hard for him to understand her accent, but he doesn’t mind her company nonetheless. He finds her super interesting, and extremely intimidating — but he’d never mention that.

- Doesn’t necessarily mind Toby, but he does think he’s kind of an asshole. They get along on occasion, however he can be a jerk. To Tim he’s a snarky, reckless teenager, and to Toby Tim’s a nagging older brother who won’t ease up. When they have to work together Brian is usually alongside them, and his demeanor somewhat evens them out.

- Shockingly enough, he’s a morning person. Especially in the spring. Right before the sunrise when theres a light blue haze, dew on the leaves and buildings, and a cool breeze, it’s one of the rare times he feels peaceful.

- Almost exclusively eats microwaved meals. He can’t cook for shit and he doesn’t care enough to try.

- When him, Brian, and Toby are stationed away from the mansion they stop at hole in the wall diners. He always gets a black coffee and scrambled eggs, he likes to see if the places make them any different than the others.

- He listens to country music.

- Can’t really figure out any new technology. He’s not old or anything, he just has no means to. Still has an iPod and listens to CDs.

- More onto Masky now!!

- Unlike Hoodie, this guy does have malicious intent. Can and will attack anyone who possesses him off or gets in his way.

- EXTREMELY short temper. Won’t put up with Toby whatsoever and has beaten the shit out of him, no remorse.

- He is aware of what happens in Tim’s life, rather than how Tim doesn’t know what happens when Masky fronts. If something or someone slightly upset Tim, Masky is FUMING. Any slight emotion Tim feels, he feels ten times stronger — and more aggressively.

- Hoodie gets on his nerves, but they work well together. Masky is ruthless and doesn’t care what happens to who, while Hoodie is only aggressive by order.

- Masky prefers Kate over any proxy, even though him and Hoodie work together the most. She knows hot to shut up and get shit done, and he almost admires her for it. She’s fast, efficient, and not empathetic when it comes to victims. The only reason they’re not always paired together is because their killing styles don’t line up. She’s a hunter, while Masky is a brute that focuses on how he kills.

- He can front for extremely long, sometimes up to a few months, and when he fronts he does not sleep at all, which bites Tim in the ass.

- Extremely high pain tolerance. He can get stabbed and still be focused on getting the job done, he’ll deal with the pain after the fact.

================

[clusterlgbt]

Honestly, I don't think there's anything wrong whatsoever with not feeling "negative" emotions such as grief, guilt, etc. What matters is how you DEAL with the situation, not how you FEEL about it.

For people with ASPD, SZPD, autism, certain psychotic disorders, NPD -- pretty much any disorder that may cause low empathy or flat affect -- it's just a fact of life we don't always (or ever) feel those emotions. (And of course there's way more disorders and symptoms than the ones I just listed, and of course some people who DO have those disorders CAN feel said emotions!)

If you hurt someone and don't regret it, that by itself does not make you a bad person. In fact, if you hurt someone, and want to amend the situation and not hurt that person again IN SPITE OF not feeling guilt? That's amazing. That's amazing and, in my opinion, very selfless.

If you don't feel grief after a loved one dies it doesn't mean you're an awful person who never valued them. As long as you stand by the people who DO feel grief, and offer them comfort or space or whatever, then it's fine that you don't feel it, because you're still being compassionate to those who do.

Honestly even if you feel annoyed or irritated or what have you at the people who are hurting, even that isn't anything shameful, because again it's about what you do, not about how you feel.

Maybe I'm just making defenses for my own ASPD self, but it really doesn't seem like a problem to me. Feelings are private, after all, actions and reactions are what's public, so it matters how you treat others, not how you feel about said others.

Statements like this might make empaths uncomfortable but I stand by it. No one is a bad person just for the way that they "feel", not to mention that a lack of remorse/guilt/sadness/etc is itself a symptom of many disorders and a common trauma response.

[zuko-always-lies]

Hey, as a long viewer of your anti iroh posts, which, as a person who just recently watched ATLA, I have a very controversial theory/headcanon based on my knowledge of general psychology (not a psychologist so disregard if incorrect) and perspective of Iroh's character and by the attitude of his fans that can possibly get me hate messages and even death threats. So I came to the conclusion that Iroh expresses an uncomfortable character of NPD or particularly a certain "sub" that you will, being Benevolent/Vulnerable Narcissim.

Iroh loves to present himself as "wise, kind and fatherly," but his actions showcase the total opposite, and his supposed identity appears far more shallow and self-centred. He never properly mentors or shows to really know Zuko. Instead, he simply uses Zuko to serve as his act of penance, which is why he never meaningfully teaches Zuko to become a better person or to realise that his father is at fault and that his sister is not his real enemy. But no, instead, he lays off to do the bare minimum. He shows less to no remorse for Zuko's predicament that was caused by him for not standing up to his brother when he was banished. Nor does Iroh show any for Zuko's victims. Instead, Iroh operates under the mindset that supporting Zuko and making him Firelord will accomplish his penance. His lack of care for Azula is precisely because she is an obstacle not just for Zuko but for his "penance" as well.

It's also interesting the lack of self-awareness that Iroh has. He calls Azula crazy for doing what he did for decades. The only difference is that Azula genuinely cares for her nation while Iroh doesn't really care except his glory. He sent his son to the front lines to fight his own battles for him, which isn't that different from Ozai's treatment of Azula and Zuko. Oh, and at the finale, what does he do? Send Zuko and Katara into danger while abandoning them to satisfy his selfish desire. Of course, as you mentioned, he also doesn't live up to his own "wisdom" instead using that wisdom to appear smart and confuse others. Because in all honesty, Zuko NEVER applies any of Iroh's suppose wisdom because Iroh doesn't ever think to teach BLUNTLY to Zuko, like any basic teacher can look at Iroh and already have their hands in their face, but of course the further issue is that instead of applying basic healthy logic, Iroh instead utilises the toxic sibling rivalry to manipulate Zuko into becoming his "perfect" son. Zuko becomes a better person despite Iroh not because of him, Zuko's "metamorphosis" (aka breakdown) is the best example of how unhealthy Iroh's parenting is.

Iroh is also shameless when it comes to his mistakes. He never feels guilt or apologises to June for his blatant sexual harassment. He has no shame for being friends with the Rough Rhinos or assisting Zhao in the further conquest and bloodshed of the Northen Water Tribe. He never thinks or comes clean with his crimes against the Earth Kingdom, instead choosing to profit off the very same people he victimised. He never apologises to Zuko for being a shitty mentor/Uncle.

Iroh reminds me of ALOT of narcissistic so called "benevolent" or "vulnerable" people who will appear kind and even express self hatred but only for further validation and without taking risks or responsibility whatsoever for their mistakes, instead blaming others or doing "good" little things to create a narrative that they are "saints" and that people who disagree or despise them are "crazy or evil".

This might be far-fetched, but when you consider that to this day, the majority of ATLA fans have been juiced in this narrative that Iroh = 50 year old warmonger is a Saint who should be worshipped and that Zuko should be "thankful and grateful" of said Iroh, and that Azula = 14 year old abused child soldier who did the least messed up things and is the youngest member is demonised for being "crazy" and even Aang gets treated inferior to Iroh, well it already feels right at home with typical narcissistic narratives

I've had similar thoughts myself, but I really don't like applying medical diagnoses to fictional characters living in a very different society, so I never quite articulated them. Certainly Iroh seems to be an extraordinarily self-centered person who puts major effort into pretending not be so self-centered.

[ellewod]

Aemond has always felt inferior in general but feels he has been cheated out of the crown. He considers himself the superior candidate and openly tells Criston so, saying he has Vhagar, studied swordsmanship, the histories and philosophies. He's been preparing for the crown since childhood even as he knows he is probably never going to get it. It's a dream he's probably held onto. But now he's starting to put it into a reality. He was going to let Aegon go when he ran away but for some reason didn't. He's probably regretting it now. If Aegon had disappeared and was known to run away then Aemond would have willingly taken his place. Where that left Aegon's children I don't know, would Aemond kill them? Maybe. The show is deviating from the books and not well executed either. Aegon should have punished Aemond for Lucerys's death whether it was an accident or not, he actively pursued and threatened Luke with his dragon. I know Luke cut his eye out but they are at war now and Aemond was told to just be an envoy, not to kill anyone. Its all fucked up. Now Jaehaerys was murdered through Aemond again and Aemond expressed no grief or guilt, only regret over Luke and misplaced pride that Daemon came after him. Therefore Aegon is entitled to do as he pleases to Aemond because Aemond shows no feelings whatsoever in his part in Jaehaerys's death

true!! aemond is sooo intriguing that way imo.

he’s insecure af, yet at the same time he’s like ”i’m sooo much better than everyone else. listen to my perfect high valyrian. look at my BIG dragon. my loooong targaryen hair. the way i swiftly wield a sword. my war plotting skills, earned by reading and studying meticulously. the way i don’t even need armor — since i’m invincible anyways. look at ME. the man who is superior to everyone — especially my foolish, drunken, older brother who does not deserve my crown.“

if aegon ran away, like you said, show!aemond would DEFINITELY kill aegon’s children.

yah, show!aegon should have whooped his little brother’s ass for killing their nephew! it was a dumb af move, even if it was an accident. everyone knew that rhaenyra would answer one way or another. and since aegon is her true opponent and not aemond, there was a high risk of rhaenyra’s side punishing aegon for his impulsive brother’s actions.

haha the way aemond felt sorry for the murder of luke, but was never shown to feel any remorse for his brother’s little boy being butchered in his stead, was a fooooooolish writing choice imo.

they should have never shown aemond admitting to feeling any remorse in general! especially not for the murder of the nephew who stole his eye and cruelly laughed at his face. he should have owned his irrational decision to hunt luke while being fully aware that vhagar is a hungry old war dragon……..

to wrap it up; i agree with everything you said.

aegon should have been the one to burn his brother’s ass. or better yet; they should have ignored each other’s mistakes, fight side by side to ensure their SHARED triumph, and stay a fucking team, like the one we witnessed at the dinner scene in season one.

[ctheathy]

Yandere The Angel headcanons

Yandere The Angel x Reader

Yandere Headcanons [SFW]

It may come off as slightly out of character to those who have dove deeper into his persona, but I wish to tell you; that was exactly what I was going for. I could easily just write him down as some barbarian who does nothing more than take the lives of those around you, but where’s the fun in that? That might as well be his neutral form without any of the romance included. I enjoy writing for unique aspects in yandere aus, and this just so happens to be my own.

Potential ⚠️TWs⚠️ :

General toxicity • Yanderes • Depression • Descriptions of Insanity • Su!c!de mention • Slight death+murder detail • Sadistic behaviour [Only from the Angel ,, Not directed torwards darling] • Possessiveness • Superiority complex • Narcissism • Fascination with death • Guilt tripping • Worship

At first glance, the Angel seems like a very ... Complex character. He’s sadistic, cruel, barbaric and very much disrespectful to those who have passed on to the next life; showing no sorrow in their deaths and feeling the need to mock those who are on the verge of it. Much of the characteristics that would be considered a whole lot more reasonable for quite the opposite than the angelic form they take on. All of that and proportionally for little to no reason behind it either. He simply enjoys the things that he does for the thrill of it, having zero remorse in the matter whatsoever ... But there’s an aspect I haven’t seen anybody remorselessly think nor talk about just yet. One that not only has the capability of breaking some of those inhumane personality traits down, but in causing his yandere tendencies to show up. It’s time we take a look far into the future, one much further than any given screentime could ever be.

Over the years he starts to grow bored of his targets. As there's heavily implied that the Angel is very much self aware and has the capability of interacting with future victims of either suicidal reasonings, near death experiences, due to them being on the verge of the afterlife to begin with or himself simply shooting the brains out of them out of satisfaction; any potential survivors after having met the Angel would have likely lost their lives by him not all too long after or have fallen into complete insanity by the relentless and nonstopping disturbing presence alone.

Most assumptions on meeting this considered holy being would likely either move torwards fearing it for their lives, the realisation setting in that it holds the power to literally end anyone’s life they desire to take; or instead going as far to worship the divine appearance, viewing it as a sign of hope and good luck, doing anything it requests in order to keep this mere delusion of themselves living and holding no limits in order to do so, to the point where in the end the only considered thing blessing for them would be the mental institution taking them in. And although these occurrences used to be delightful for him, The Angel has rarely ever experienced anything else. All it takes is one little difference in behaviour what would be more than enough to set him off. Foreignness filling his veins and a feeling of curiosity and desire starting to bloom inside of him.

I cannot help but enjoy the thought of the Angel craving nothing but normality for once in a while. Messing with people on the boundary of life and death is fun. Heck, even toying with the mortal’s emotions shall remain enjoyable and very much so entertaining for the Angel, but it’s important to remember that it’s all he’s ever used to. The Angel holding younger//childish characteristics and curious desires makes it only obvious their ways shall become atleast somewhat boring to them over time. He gets tired of everything being in constant repeat. He wants--no he needs something else to keep his own cravings intact eventually.

Am I implying that the Angel has been a ticking time bomb all along?

Yes, that’s exactly what I’m going after.

When treating him as some equal, neutral entity; almost like he didn’t just take somebody’s life right in front of you, he’s close to feeling offended in a way. He understands he speaks and looks like any other human being would minus the common angelic features, but surely you should have gotten the hint by now that he’s on a much higher level than any of you mortals could ever be. But instead you ... Don’t. Or either just do not care about the Angel’s position as the assistant of literal Death himself in the slightest, which both wouldn’t be all too far out of reach for your case, but this instead makes him feel absolutely outraged and severely taken aback; rather close to just making the presumption that your sanity levels had already been long gone to begin with. No other human has ever treated him the same way you have, so what was the deal with you here? You’re definitely on the border of weird in his opinion, but also intrusively compelling, which is exactly where this unwanted obsession of his would make a start.

No matter how the two of you would have met, the Angel wouldn’t want you dead like he might have had in plan beforehand. Due to how dull his life had been, it’s only obvious he would have easily noticed how much more alive he’s gotten after your sudden arrival in his life, it’s likely been hundreds of years since he’s felt this way--no- Even generally speaking, he felt better than he’s ever had. If anything, all those damned years can go to waste for all he cares. You’ve become his main and likely only source of happiness at this point, and although he would never show nor admit to this in any case, he’s been just as miserable as those occasional mortals suffering from depression in all those years.

Yet would the one struggling with similar issues be his darling, he’d be a whole lot less reasonable among his entire circle of life perspective, casting it aside in hopes of them listening to his childlike, yet genuine pleads for their beating heart. Quite literally guilt tripping you in the process, having zero problem nor shame in forcing out a few crocodile tears in order to keep you on your feet properly. He’s had a mindset that could usually only be considered as insensitive and apathetic; finding any kinds of suffering viewed as pleasant, and although he still truly is torwards any other human being out there, he could never wish the same upon his darling, no matter how natural it may feel for him.

Despite how the normal Angel would be fairly careless with his victims, just trying to get the job done with and not feeling any particular way when doing so, yandere Angel gains a habit of becoming a whole lot more ... Aggressive torwards any rivals of his that might pop up. Despite having a seemingly small image and usually just going for the gun to do the job for him, the Angel would have no problem literally ripping apart whoever with bare hands, tearing off the chunks of flesh of anybody unlucky enough to grab your attention. And may they have the convenience to survive? Well- A few or thirty stabs and knife wounds on the body would surely do the trick instead. Although he’d usually be one to show these through childish acts and mannerisms, his possessive nature has become him to be a whole lot more emotionally expressive with his true emotions among the circumstances of the situation.

For something more on the romantic side, I can see him being a severely overprotective, teasing, cunning and sarcastic, yet perhaps somewhat needy being torwards his darling. On a more immature note, he’d likely also be one to throw childish fits when not getting what he desires, even lack of attention for the day causing his mood to sour greatly. He’s an entity that’s lacked any kinds of normal connections, as some would say it, so having gained one through you would make him quite the clingy saint; always hovering around you throughout your usual routines and holding your side close at the seemingly worst moments along the day. He’s also one to wrap you around in his wings, who unsurprisingly, are fairly soft, feeling much like those of doves would, yet also fluffy in a way. He’d also use this technique when feeling particularly jealous in any of your daily moments together. Any potential threats and unwanted observation being given shall learn what it’s like to have a bullet be shot through their foreheads.

The Angel has chosen you as the muse of his life and he’ll go to severe extends to show the entire world that if he has to, feeling the need to wrap you up and keep you away from any of their horrendous behaviours and thinking that could potentially rub their ways off on you. You’re the true angel in his eyes. You’ve saved him of a lifelong fate that no other could have considerably freed him from. He finds himself being an unstable wreck before all that and it’s only then when just the wrong darling shows up

who knows how long he has the capability of following them around before he’ll snap?

[jodilin65]

SATURDAY, JANUARY 31, 1998 Well, no wonder they’ve been behaving next door with the exception of a little music on occasion. They were hoping to go to court with me and yes, they do suspect I threw the bottle, cuz they are trying to “have me served.” The first thing that went through my mind was that someone had to have seen me (but God only knows how), or that they were just so desperate to pin it on me anyway. Tom says you can tell in which direction a bottle was thrown by the way it scatters. Yeah, I thought about that, but I didn’t think the sick fucks would have brains enough to figure that one out. I think it was the cops who did, in which case I should’ve known better and shouldn’t have thrown the bottle. And of course, God just won’t let me get away with shit. I have no pity, guilt, remorse, or feelings of concern for these sick fucks whatsoever, but I am ashamed of myself for letting my husband down. This is one hell of a husband I’ve got who still loves me, and who says we’ll deal with whatever happens together when he could’ve turned his back on me. It is for him that I feel the shame, the guilt, and the remorse. As for the freeloaders, they fucked with me. I fucked back. Tom says “getting even” should mean that we do our best to better our lives, etc. Well, that goes without saying, but I meant it when I said that I give what I get. Tom says I just have to accept the fact that the world isn’t fair and that some people are gonna get away with things while others can’t. We agreed not to open the door to anyone, but we’re not gonna change our lives by hiding or making up stories. Like he said, if we get served, we get served. If we must go to court, we will. Meanwhile, we agreed I’d deny knowing a thing about it, but again, no stories. If they ask if there have been any problems with these people, I’ll tell them about the music. As Tom pointed out, due to the fact that I’m not alone with nothing, I couldn’t get a free lawyer, but if it came to court, I’m not gonna pay a lawyer to defend me over a thrown bottle. I’d just represent myself if it came to court.

I don’t know if they know yet that I haven’t been served, but there’s been a lot of door-slamming. Again, I don’t care if these people dropped dead and they can be happy, sad, rich or poor, but I guess I realized too late that the bottle was a bad idea. There were other things I could’ve done. Now I have to worry all the more, especially if I dodge court, that there’ll be more music problems and that they may even fuck with this house. Tom says that we’ll just have to live with whatever they do, but no way. I may have to pay for every little thing I do, but that doesn’t mean that they’re gonna get away with fucking with me. They can’t prove I threw that bottle. All they can do is suspect, but I disagree about us not being able to do anything if the letter we sent has a part in the music toning down. Even if it doesn’t, they still live in a house owned by the city and that’s a great advantage to us. Tom says maybe it’ll blow over, but that seems to be one stubborn bitch over there, so we’ll see. I asked God to please take it out on me. Meaning that Tom’s the one who works and whose name the house is in, so he could be the one to have to pay for this. In my little chat with God last night, I told him that if I must pay for what I’ve done, OK, but please let it be me to pay for it. I was the one who threw the bottle. Not Tom. I told him I didn’t want to go to court and have to have Tom pay for my actions, so please punish me. You know, 20 more pounds, continuing sterility, etc. Andy never had to go to court about the calls he made a few years ago to this customer and a detective said he’d have to, but he’s Andy. And God does favor Andy a bit more over me, even if there are others he loves even more than Andy. I’ve seen Andy get away with things I could only dream of getting away with. Scott never had to pay for his stealing his VCRs and I’d think that theft would be more serious than vandalism. Scott knew Andy was gonna have him served, so he didn’t answer his door, and they never went to court and Andy never saw his VCRs again. Again, though, that’s Scott and Andy. Not me. God’s standards for me are different.

Anyway, the court server left a card that said, “Jody, give me a call.”

Couldn’t even spell my name right. This card was face down on the ground, too, not taped to the door or in the mailbox slot. He came knocking again yesterday too, so who knows how many times he’ll keep trying?

FRIDAY, JANUARY 30, 1998 Yuck, the weekend’s almost here. I haven’t heard any dog or music yet. My guess is that the dog won’t come till around the same time the last dog did. Probably between May and July, they’ll get a dog. I thought about it and realized that the reason they may not want to get a dog now, is cuz that’d show they were afraid of their tormentor, and they wouldn’t want that! My guess is that there’s a 50/50 chance they’ll act up this weekend. If they suspect me, they might, cuz they’d want to see if yet a third outburst from them brought another letter/bottle a few days afterward. If they don’t suspect me, they may be quiet, seeing that they just had a get-together.

I wasn’t here yesterday at lunchtime to know if he was a problem coming and going. All I’ve heard so far are car doors. The day they pulled in and up to the bottle, from what I saw, it was his car, so I think that he, she, the little one, and the teenage boy found the bottle together. Yesterday, though, I think she came in by some ride, like usual, then he came in later.

Later…

Today was like old times singing, in a way. I was congested and had to clear my throat a lot. God and his fucking compensations, boy I’ll tell you! Isn’t the fact that my nose is no better enough? Or the fact that I’m sterile? Or fat? Speaking of that, I haven’t been as hungry the last couple of days, and could that, and the fact that I’ve lost a few pounds, and have a slight good feeling about it, mean I’m gonna lose weight? Probably not. At least, it’s something I couldn’t believe unless I did lose weight.

In case I forgot to say - Tom says we don’t have to put off moving till after his mother dies. We can get to a place suitable for us that’d only take 15-25 minutes to drive into the city.

Tom was telling me he had a death dream where we were discussing dying, and what we’d do during our time left. He also said I was a rhinoceros through all of it. Yeah, I’m sure that dream was triggered by the loss of Spunky. I had some strange dreams, too, where Ma bought the Harley Hotel I worked at the Enfield, Connecticut/Longmeadow, Mass. line. She had it moved out here too (his ma). His father was in the dream, too, playing the harmonica on a screen in a theater that was apparently added on, then he jumped out in person to say hello to Tom and I. There were other bits and pieces of dreams I remember too, and in one of them, I saw Spunky and an all-black GP.

Tammy called just to say hi. Just to say hi. I couldn’t believe it. She usually never would call unless something was wrong or if she needed something. She says all’s going great. I’m so happy for her. She deserves to be happy for once.

Haven’t heard from my folks yet on AOL, but I’m sure I will soon enough.

We may not do any recording till Monday, which I’d prefer. This would suit his schedule better and I’d be less stressed out and worried that the freeloader may bang in. So, all that could really be noisy then would be dogs and car doors.

I took Tweety outside (in his cage, of course) and put him on the patio for some fresh polluted air (all those snowbirds are here). He didn’t really like this arrangement, though, cuz he was cornered on all 4 corners and very nervous. He had me in front of him, a cat to his left, a pigeon behind him, and a rabbit to his right. Tweety’s still very shy. Even my pigeons, especially Measles, are braver and less afraid of me.

The teeth cleaning went swiftly enough, and she said my teeth were less stained. I have another cavity that has to be filled in two weeks. Meanwhile, they’re gonna take care of this nuisance of an impaction, too. They’re gonna pull the baby tooth, but how they’ll walk the adult tooth up front, we’re not sure yet. We have two choices. We can get this retainer type thing for about $800 or go with braces and that’d be just over a G. Our insurance, of course, we’ll pay at least half of it. Tom’s gonna look at the price charts, but I was thinking I’d probably go with the retainer. As he says, if it costs $400 it’s still worth it cuz it’ll be a one-time deal and then I’d never have to worry about this shit again. I can go days without it irritating me, but then it gets irritated and bugs the hell out of me. It’s hard to clean in between it, too, and it’s coming down more. So, if I did nothing, the baby tooth would more than likely get pushed out and then the teeth that’d be next to the gap it left, would shift and want to fill in that gap.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 29, 1998 Got up at 7:30, fed the animals, had my coffee, took my shower, had my daily sneezing fit, tied my hair in a knot at the nape of my neck (a knot on top of my head’s too heavy when it’s wet), and now I’m ready to update.

This is going to come as a sudden shock, but Spunky’s dead. I’ve never seen anything like it. He just practically up and died. I don’t know if God’s compensating me by taking his life so soon cuz of how long Piggy lived, or what, but we think he may have had a tumor. It could’ve burst and poisoned him, and one side of his tummy seemed pretty distended, but we just don’t know for sure. His duties never looked right and he did get awfully big real fast, so given this, and the way he was so unusually timid and starving when we got him, tells us that maybe something was wrong with him from the get-go. Tom buried him out back.

In other animal news, Patch had her babies, but it’s hard to tell how many with 3-4 litters all piled together. The oldest are just starting to sprout their fur and are becoming more mobile. A couple of Patch’s babies were stillborn and she was bleeding from her crotch. I had been worried about her, but she’s fine and much smaller now. She had been fat! Spot’s next to deliver and now it looks like Bandit may have kids, too. The only one that may not be pregnant, for reasons I just don’t know, is Tanner. It’s too bad that if one escaped pregnancy it was Tanner, cuz she’s the only tan-colored one. If she had had a litter, there may have been a wider variety of colors.

And now I’m 127. I knew I’d gain weight when I quit smoking but does this no longer have anything to do with that? How is it that I’m gaining 2 pounds a week now? What’s going on? Well, all I can do is wonder, but I have to just accept it. There’s nothing I can do about it. Even the bra my ma brought out that was slightly big on me fits perfectly now. Where are these tits coming from? It’s like they’re not even mine.

Tom brought some really neat hand cleaner back from Ma’s yesterday. Bobby had brought it over from the mall. He’s the one who works at a bookstore and brings Mom boxes of books that don’t sell. This gel kills germs in 30 seconds without water and smells really nice.

Tom said the only thing that really bugs him about Ma staying at Mary’s is cuz they’re slobs. Filthy slobs, not just cluttered, unorganized slobs. Their bathrooms and kitchen are caked with dirt.

Today I go get my teeth cleaned at 1 PM

Later…

Tom just got in from work and we were checking out the babies. There must be 20 of them! He’s got a point when he says that it may be a good thing Tanner isn’t having babies, or else I could end up with those ugly white mice. As each litter gets old enough to be separated from its mom, we’ll take the males out and put them in their own cage till the youngest males are old enough to go, too, then we’ll take them to the pet store.

Tom says he didn’t hear anything, but I could’ve sworn I heard freeloader music at around 1 PM, then we both thought we heard car doors a couple of hours earlier, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he were coming in for lunch again, but I don’t know. This was yesterday that I thought that it was a freeloader I heard, but today I won’t be here at lunchtime to know if he acts up.

Tom said that the reason he was gung-ho about doing some songs with me, is cuz this is something that’s fun and that we can control. We can’t just go to the doctor for a magic pregnancy pill, though, that’ll give us an instant child.

I went off on Tom a few days ago and I feel bad about it. He says he understands, but whether or not I’ve had him figured all wrong, I’m sorry for yelling at him and calling him names.

I was utterly shocked at his suggestion, too. He thinks we should see a doctor within the next 6 months and get the ball rolling. That way we can figure it into our moving plans.

OK, what’s new in Freeloader Land… I was sitting in the living room reading, so I heard them come in at 4:45 (no music). I heard several car doors over a period of an hour. Maybe a little more. I also heard voices. The voices I mainly heard were those of kids and of the boy who lives there. At least I think that’s who it was. These things not only look the same. They sound the same. All I know is that the voice sounded black, close, and not under 15 years old. I didn’t hear the bitch yelling like I thought I would. There were people out talking from the time they came in; till the time I went to bed at 6:00. I didn’t hear how long they stayed out gabbing, naturally, cuz of the fan/noise machine. I don’t know if they called the cops, but I sure did hear something weird and that was this strange ticking sound. It sounded like a car motor as well and if it was, it wasn’t their car. Their car doesn’t tick. I also wondered if it was the cops with something to see if they could test for evidence, but wouldn’t they take the glass, bag it up, and then bring it to a lab? Besides, what with the way cops tend to brush things off, I wouldn’t think they’d bother over a smashed bottle. They’ve got too many murders to solve and killers to catch.

So, so far, it doesn’t look like anything will come out of this, but I’m going to definitely lay off as far as the vandalism goes. If there’s anything I and these bent fucks have in common, it’s that stubbornness and that resistance to intimidation. We don’t run away from trouble. We face it. So, this is gonna piss these people off and maybe they’ll wonder about it and have to live with being paranoid when they’re away from the house, but this would never be enough to drive them out of there. Also, these people are very sick individuals and they could do something to this house on just pure speculation that I had anything to do with it. It would take violence or some ongoing thing, like me depriving them of their sleep, to drive them out of here. The sleep thing’s debatable, though. If they were that stubborn, they may try to legally do something about it if that place is worth their staying in to them.

So that should sum it up. No more vandalism, although I may be very noisy at night, depending on what they do. This could cause them to act up to see if it’s me. Meaning if they have the brains to realize that the last two outbursts of theirs brought mail and bottles, they may want to try to bait me. They may also have a camcorder trained on the side/front of their house right now.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 28, 1998 It seems I can’t get caught up with the writing these days! Anyway, I’m making spag, but I thought I’d update while it was cooking and while I had a plateful.

They haven’t come to the door as of yet about the bottle, but God’s begun his payback for me. I actually woke up at 11:30 last night wheezing. No, it wasn’t anything like old times and how I’d wheeze when I smoked, and one shot cleared it instantly, then I went back to bed.

Tom says it was cuz the weather’s been warmer and that traps in the pollution and that’s another reason we have to move. Speaking of that, he says things are looking even better for that, although it won’t be this year, cuz interest rates have dropped even lower.

Then two hours after falling back asleep, I awoke with those oh-so-familiar hunger pains, so I got up, grabbed a piece of bread and a few swallows of water, then crashed till I got up at 5:30. I got up and was so hungry that I had a small TV dinner right away. I never used to do that. For as far as I can remember, I didn’t eat the first few hours I’d be up. Now I wake up so hungry that I’ve got to have something. And even then, I may still be hungry. But like I said, I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that there’s nothing I can do about it. My weight’s gonna keep climbing a few pounds a week till it decides to stop, and God only knows when it’ll decide that. I may have gotten my way as far as being able to not pick up a cigarette, light it, and smoke it, but God owns my body for the most part. Always has, always will, so it’s his to do as he sees fit.

Andy finally called and asked to come over this Saturday to take a half-hour out to tell me what’s been going on with him. I told him that’d be OK, but is he gonna pester me in person now that he can’t get me by phone as much? A part of it is Laura. He wouldn’t be coming over in the first place if it wasn’t to get her money, but can’t he ever associate with someone he can trust? Even he says he has to “hide” things from her. How can he live like that? If I felt I had to hide my stuff from whoever I was living with, I’d have a real problem. And he’s talking about lowering himself to going out with Quinn again, too. He also says God’s answered all his prayers for this year so far. Well, I’m glad God answers all of some people’s prayers.

Later…

I can’t believe that Patch still hasn’t had her babies yet. Patch and Spot may be the only two left with babies, then we’ll have to segregate in a few weeks. I find it really unfair, though, that while we’ve been trying unsuccessfully for years to have a child of our own, these mice are having babies left and right. I sit here and just dream of a child and meanwhile, we’ve got to scurry like hell to keep more and more litters from coming. God, that’s insulting! That is just so incredibly insulting to know that God can find mice more deserving and more capable of having kids than I am.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 27, 1998 Ah, so we freeloaders are leaving for work now, instead of 7:00, huh? After they slammed me twice, I ran up front and saw it leave. It still isn’t coming in for lunch these days that I know of, but it just may have some glass to clean up when it comes in at the end of the day. I assume that the house is empty from now till around 4:00, but it’s OK if there’s someone in there. I can still go to the side of the house and hurl a bottle over the block wall and into their carport. So whether or not someone’s there, it’ll look like a drunk and or drunken potential burglar was stalking around. Whereas if something was thrown over in the middle of the night, it’d look more obvious that it’s me behind it and they can suspect me, but I don’t want them to know it’s me till after we’re gone, so they can’t fuck with our house. I don’t stand by all our windows 24/7, so if someone were to approach the house with bad intentions, I wouldn’t necessarily know it in time to stop them. Anyway, I’m not gonna hurl the bottle till around 10:00. No, I haven’t heard his music yet, but I know I will, so I may as well get this over with. I’ve been wanting to start carrying out some of my harassment/terror plans anyway, and I’m just so angry. I hate these motherfuckers, and it’s either this or my beating them up and Tom doesn’t want me to. A part of me is hoping that the bitch comes over to ask if I did it and maybe even threaten me too, so I can beat her ass and his too. Meaning that maybe they’ll give me a reason, and someone screaming in my face at my door seems reason enough. But this bottle and other things are well overdue. These people have thumbed their noses at me long enough. I mean, who the fuck do they think they are to come into this neighborhood like they own it and to harass me with their noise like they have? His music’s gonna come back and so is a dog. It may not be the same dog, but they’ll get one. Trust me.

I am absolutely blown away by the fact that Andy hasn’t called since I left him that message yesterday. This has to mean that something’s going on, but I’m sure he’ll call today. If he doesn’t, then something’s really wrong over there.

Tom brought the guys to the store yesterday and they lucked out. The store had no room for them cuz someone had just brought in tons of mice, but this employee who’s a mouse breeder took them. She says she’ll take them at any age. She breeds and trades mice with other breeders. It’s nice to know my mice will go with this woman to her home, rather than to wonder what became of them. In a few weeks, we’ll bring in the babies. She’s using my cage to transport the mice home, which she says we can pick up on Friday. I guess that’s when she’ll be working again, but I hope she doesn’t intend to keep the cage. You know me - can’t trust anyone. Tom says he doubts she’d want to get fired over a $12 cage. People are weird. You never know.

I changed the mice’s cages earlier since cedar is supposed to be bad for them. There are 16 babies currently.

A few days ago I had asked Tom if he’d want to do a simple arrangement to me singing a few songs, so I could maybe send tapes (if I wasn’t that disgusted with what I heard) to my folks, Tammy and Larry. He said he’d love to and was really gung-ho about it and to please pick out sheet music for a couple of songs (he reads better than I do and I play better by ear). I had forgotten all about it for a few days, but he reminded me in the message he left me before work, to pick out some songs for him to work on so we could do some stuff this weekend. He said he’s anxious about it and boy does he sound it! He’s way more anxious about that than the idea of seeing if a doctor could fix me. I mean, he could never be as anxious about the idea of us being able to have a child, as he could be about anything, meanwhile, he continues to put off, make excuses, and swear he does want a child, he isn’t afraid to go to a doctor, etc. He said the same old shit about getting a physical soon and hoping I will, too. I think that if he does get a physical, it’ll only be to encourage me to get one too, since it’s been a while for me. He says it’s best that we deal with my situation, though, cuz if we don’t, it’ll follow us wherever we go. True, but still, his actions and words don’t match, and we’ve got a double whammy on us here. We both have a problem. I’m sterile, and he won’t cum but once every 2-4 months. The first thing they’re gonna do is try to find out why he won’t cum much and get him to cum more. Then, I’ll have to go through all the shit of what’s wrong with me and what can/can’t be done, etc., and it’s a no-win situation here for sure. Nothing anyone can do can fix things so I can have a child. God’s just blocked every single avenue on me and has made it thoroughly impossible. I’d have a better chance at becoming president or an Olympic gymnast than I’d have of ever getting pregnant. God must really hate me and think I’m a hell of a wimp who can’t handle shit.

Later…

I threw the bottle at about 9:30 and my assumption was correct - there’s no one home, cuz I didn’t hear anyone come out to check around and there was no cruiser called over there. If he doesn’t come in for lunch, my guess is that it’ll be the bitch to discover the broken glass first (in the middle of the carport). I heard voices out back a little while ago, but that could’ve come from two yards down where they do daycare where the guard dogs are. Now all I have to do is hope that this doesn’t scare them into getting a dog, but like I said, they’ll get another one sooner or later. I also have to hope that they don’t automatically assume it’s me and fuck with this house or “have me served” as the bitch said she’d do if I shot her dog. I think it’s much more likely that she’ll come over here asking questions about it, but I won’t answer the door, so please God, don’t have Tom be awake if and when she comes to the door. Just like with the letter, I’d rather he not know about this now, cuz you know how paranoid he is and how anti-trouble he is. I also hope they weren’t on the brink of a breakup cuz this could end up keeping them together for a while longer, although they’ve been together an unusually long time, so they may not break up for 10 years.

Later…

Now this is a beautiful day we’re having. Larry and Tammy would be jealous for sure. It’s to be in the mid-70s today. In general, though, this is the coldest winter I’ve been here for. Even Tom agrees that it’s been a very cold winter. So, so far, that makes the winter of ‘97-‘98 the coldest for me and the summer of ‘92 the hottest.

We planted 6 cactuses that Ma gave us. Tom put chicken wire around them to keep Bunny from destroying them. I just don’t know how the hell that rabbit can chew up cactuses without the needles stabbing the hell out of him. I never would’ve dreamed that this rabbit could chew up cactuses.

I still haven’t heard from Andy! I can’t believe it. This is just totally amazing. If I don’t hear from him by tomorrow afternoon, I just may start to worry.

OK, gonna sign off for now and hopefully there’ll be no knocks at the door within the next few hours. They asked for trouble from me a long time ago. They got it now, though they should’ve had it much sooner than this.

MONDAY, JANUARY 26, 1998 I’m really in a shitty mood right now. It figures, huh? First, something’s going on even more fucked up and abnormal with my plumbing, I want to get the fuck out of this animalistic city, and my husband’s still too busy doing for others first, putting off our lives, and not seemingly interested in me one bit. I may have had an all-time low appetite, but just the thought of knowing that my husband doesn’t seem to want me in bed kind of stings a little.

Since the 21st I had a few measly little spots. Then last evening at 8:00, I had such cramps that I thought I finally had a full flow when all I had were a few good-sized spots (enough to prove my point about being sterile yet again, though). I still haven’t had a full flow, either, but maybe I will by the next time I get up. These are more than just little spots now and are bright red but are mostly stuff I’m wiping off and that’s not big enough in volume to hit my panty-liner.

Anyway, Tom was supposed to bring the males to the pet store and change the big guy’s cage, but what did he get tied up doing instead? Working on Mary’s car again. Can’t she see that he’s got to have a life too, and can’t she take care of her own damn car? Is this gonna be a regular thing here? Is she gonna have him work on her car every few weeks? What’s she gonna do when we move? I’m sure she’ll still call him for help and that’d be worse, cuz then he’d have longer to drive to get there, so that’d be more time doing stuff that we’d lose. If Dave and other family members were as smart as Tom, that’d be different, but instead, they have to come first. First off, I don’t think I’ll ever have the guts to go to a doctor just to be told they can’t help me have a child, but if I wanted to, I know I’m gonna have to wait till after Ma’s gone. It’s like she comes first, then I can maybe get on with my life. And I don’t care if this sounds selfish, cuz I have things I want and need to do, too. I’ve had it with this parent-care trip. In a sense, we had a boy and a girl. First we take care of daddy and now it’s mommy. Like I said, I’m sick of living for his parents and for his sister’s car. I have to put off what matters to me and let them be the #1 priority, like it or not.

I’m gonna go do some picture scanning for Bob. I got 9 of just me and one with Kim and I from when I moved into the Habitat building in S. Deerfield.

Later…

I called Andy and let him know that my schedule won’t be on nights when he comes to get the rent money, so it’s OK for him to go ahead and tell me about the convention/Quinn on the phone, which I’m sure will take 2-3 hours. I’ll just keep my hands tied up and maybe bang away at the computer. Anyway, I’m sure he’ll be very happy to leave me 4 messages about it.

I just got slammed and ran up front so I could hear better as to how he left but didn’t see him. So the freeloader either just came out for a slam or he flew out of that driveway.

Speaking of freeloaders, I hear he was a very bad boy yesterday. Well, 3 of his low-life, rude, selfish pals were. Yeah, he and his fellow freeloading buddies are one and the same. I’m sure that if he asked them not to come banging in, they wouldn’t any more than he wouldn’t if he were asked not to. Very fortunately for them, I slept fine, or else we’d have a pack of dead freeloaders here for sure. You start fucking with my sleep, you die. Anyway, I got up at 8:30 for an hour, then went back to sleep till 10:00. Meanwhile, Tom left a message just before 4:00 saying he should’ve known better but it’s Super Bowl Sunday, so there are cars parked in the driveway and hopefully no one will play ball. 3 cars came in next door, all playing music. He said it wasn’t too loud, but annoying enough. Then he left another message at 7:30 before heading out for work, saying the game was over and he expected some shouting. Oh yeah, I’m sure they really carried on like assholes. Not like they would’ve if it was hot out, though. And of course, everyone had to go to the freeloader’s house. The freeloaders couldn’t go to their houses. I can’t believe they don’t do Thanksgiving, Christmas, and New Year’s Eve at their house. They do everything else there.

So, I only got up to take an Ibuprofen and listen to his message, but then I went back into bed. However, I was instantly aware of a slight, but sure bass beat, which wouldn’t have woken me up, but that I knew would keep me from going back to sleep. That did it. That’s when I told myself, “Look. You can’t kill the people who made these stereos and that has prevented this from being the otherwise quiet residential neighborhood that it should be, but you can set these freeloaders straight for once and for all and let them know how it’s gonna be from now on. Let them know you will not tolerate being a part of their lives, parties, or music anymore and that they cannot and will not trespass and invade this house with their music. Even if you do have to beat them into submission to get the peace that’s your right, you were here first and if they don’t like it, then they’re just gonna have to leave. Somebody’s gotta teach these freeloaders that you can’t expect to not know someone exists, while they know you do. You just can’t do that.”

So, I get dressed and go out there and all that’s there is one maroon car in the driveway that I’ve seen before, then I see Daddy’s car parked out on the road. It wasn’t even them. It was some asshole visiting the other assholes across the street. So now they’re no longer the respectful people they seemed to have been and now I got two houses full of shit to deal with. And all the while this guy’s sitting in the car with it blaring, Dan, I think his name is, is just standing there with someone else gabbing away. I don’t know how the hell they could carry on a conversation, but nonetheless, I asked them to turn it down and they did, but here’s my question - how often is this boy gonna come around? It’s obvious now that this Dan boy does still live there and I don’t know if he’s a high school or college kid, but am I gonna be back to old times with these assholes again, too? What if they decide to form a band again? They may respect me enough to keep their practice volume down, cuz they’re not 100% rude and selfish like the freeloaders are, but then I’d have to listen to several cars bang in and out once a week or so.

Fuck this shit and this fucking animalistic city! But like Tom said, though, just one or two more Super Bowls and yeah, maybe he’s right about there being just two more years that we have to stay here. I just wish Mom and Mary’s car didn’t have to come first, but they do. And if God really wants us to continue being #2 and to continue having things set us back from getting things done and from living our lives, he will. I have a feeling that we could suddenly be the only two people left in this world, but still, somehow and some way, he’d find shit for Tom to do to take our time away from us so things could keep on being delayed, etc.

So, what’s the bad boy’s punishment gonna be for his bad little visitors letting their arrival be known? Well, since it wasn’t Mr. Fuck himself that banged in (I saw him leave without music yesterday before his boy pals came), I’ll spare them a bottle, but that’s only for now. As soon as he bangs in and I hear it or am told about it, that’s when they’ll get the bottle and so much more. Meanwhile, I went out at about 3:30 AM and banged right back by dropping the steel rod on the concrete patio that was supposed to be for the security door to latch into. I just hope to hell that God let them hear it and that he didn’t interfere, and one of the wonderful things about this is that they’d never in a million years give me the satisfaction of complaining about noise from me and letting me know that I did something that disturbs them. Shooting a dog is one thing, but they’d never call the cops on me for bothering them with noise. Not even if they were sure it was me making noise and that it was in the middle of the night. Someone else could, but I’d just deny knowing anything about it. Like I said, though, hopefully they’ll hear it and put two and two together and realize that music means noise late at night from over here, but I still doubt they heard it. And if they did, they wouldn’t have the mentality to make the connection even if they could physically see me making noise. I’m not worried about my making noise becoming too obvious, but if I throw a bottle, I’ll have to do whatever I can to make it look like some passing bum staggered over there drunk and dropped the bottle, cuz that’s physical evidence and more of a crime than disturbing the peace is.

Later…

Well, my period can’t seem to make up its mind. It seems like it’s struggling with either going into a full flow or stopping. If it stops, then that’d be the strangest period I’ve had in years what with the 3-day spotting trip I went on before it became a cross between heavy spotting and a light period. If I have a flow where I need a few big pads which is usually the case, then that’d make it more normal, except for the 3-day spot deal. Still, it’s enough to prove my point. I am sterile unless pre-cum really does impregnate a woman very rarely. So if a woman’s chances of getting pregnant by pre-cum are lower but still OK enough, then I’m as sterile as a doorknob.

Later…

Apparently, we did a good job of sexing the mice, cuz I haven’t seen any screwing going on. They don’t know it, but the guys will be on their journey to the pet store later today. Again, I wonder what their fate will be. It kind of reminds me of when I was off to Brattleboro, or Valleyhead, or wherever. Will they ever have a wheel again and have all this space? Will they ever climb tubes again? Will they be happy? Or will they wish they could return here? Animals adapt better than humans in cases like this, I’d think, so hopefully they’ll be OK if they stay out of some snake’s gut.

Tom says Mary’s car is all fixed but trust me - she’ll need something done again within a month. And of course, Tom’s gotta be the one to move Mom into Mary’s, while the rest of the family just sits on their asses. See this is one of God’s many ways that makes absolutely no fucking sense to me whatsoever. Why not take Ma, who’s done her time here, who’s lived her destiny and life, has nothing more to offer this world, and reunite her with Dad? As much as we’ll miss her, I’m sure she’d be much happier with dad. Then, as God would know, we’d be in the position to move, and God also knows that we want to move, then why won’t he let us have a kid? Why can’t I live for a child of my own? Why must I always live for someone outside of Tom and I as a couple? We’ve got the wrong life here that’s going. He should take her life and give us a life. That life, being the child that we’ve wanted for so long now. We haven’t lived our lives for us much at all (I hope to hell there’s more to my calling in life than what’s been destined for me so far), but Ma has. Her life is over, so why not let us have lives of our own with our own family? We’re in our 30s and 40s and not 70s. Well, I know I can never have a child, but two years do go by faster when you’re an adult and she’ll be gone and then we’ll move. People will still need Tom, I’ll still be sterile, but we’ll leave this congested city and there’ll be no Mormons or freeloaders a few feet away.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 25, 1998 I sure do have a lot of mouse updating to do but let me first get other things out of the way.

Still playing phone tag with Paula, who left a message saying she got my letter and knew we keep missing each other, but to try to get a hold of her. I’ll try in the morning, but if I call and get her on a Sunday, that means the kid’s gonna be there, unless this one’s been taken, too.

Got a letter from Bob, who really likes the different stationery that the new program we got can do. He wants more pictures of Kim and I.

No wonder Tom’s saying we can move in two years. He told me this before too, and it has to do with the fact that in two years is when we think his mother will die. With our share of the money she leaves, I guess we could move, but we’d rather she live. We’d rather she live and be healthy, but as sad as it is, that can never be again.

Tom told me about a wild dream Mary had. In the dream, Ma was told she had 4 months left to live and Mary asked her what she wanted to do with the time that was left. Ma said she wanted to go to Michigan to be with her sister. Then she also said, “Dad said he wants to go too, but I told him he can’t since he’s dead.” And Mary agreed he couldn’t go cuz he was dead. Then Ma said, “But he really wants to go bad. He says he’ll stay on the floor. But I told him no, he can’t, cuz he’s dead.” Then Mary said there were these “dead” mannequins that kept falling down all around her cuz they were trying to dance.

Pretty weird, huh? Tom says not to read anything into it. Oh, I won’t. I still strongly predict she’ll live to be 77.

Now for the mice news. First off, I may have miscounted. There may be 15 mice and not 16, but anyway, after all the calculations I’ve done, we should have about 30 lady mice if things go as we plan them. It’s a good thing we sexed/segregated them yesterday when we did, cuz right after we did, Ziggy and Cocoa had their babies. Between the both of them, there are about a dozen pinkies, as they’re also called, which is very appropriate since they’re just these little pink blobs. Males are also called bucks and females are also called does. So my mom, whose nickname is Doe, is nicknamed after mice. She’d be thrilled to know that. The soft, high-pitched squeaking sounds of the babies are so cute. We learned so much and I’ve really become quite the mouse expert, as well as the GP expert, etc. With what we now know, we can say that the original Gizzy that I trapped was definitely a male by how he acted.

More good news for me, and that’s that Tanner and Patch, my favorites of all the first sets of babies, are both females. Anyway, we’ve got 7 ready to go to Petco tomorrow and 8 ladies all by themselves, who can tend to the babies, and enjoy being free from being jumped all the time. It goes to show just how dishonest this store really is too, when their signs tried to claim they live for 5 years. Mice don’t live longer than GPs. More like 18 months, is the case with mice.

Boy, the guys are really depressed, I guess, what with not being able to screw like hell, cuz all they’ve been doing is sleeping. A part of me feels bad for these guys. They can resume their sex lives at the pet store if there are ladies in stock, but they’re not gonna have all this stuff. They’re not gonna have all these cages and tubes and wheels. Not unless someone like me or Mary gets them that’s really into all that stuff. They’re just gonna be thrown into a plain old little 5-10-gallon tank with nothing but water and food. There’ll be no tubes or wheels, which is unfortunate. They should at least be given a wheel. Then, they’ll have to deal with all the people and all the noise, and who knows if they’ll become snake food? Typically, that��s what they breed those ugly little white mice for, but you never can know what their fate will be. All they’ve known is where they are now, so hopefully they’ll go to someone who’ll love them and give them a good home.

Wow! Almost 24 hours have gone by without a call from Andy.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 24, 1998 According to Tom’s research, that guy really was way out of whack when he said mice don’t fuck for 5 months. More like 5 weeks, is the case, and they breed continuously like GPs do. So, every female is pregnant, unless God struck any of these ladies as sterile as he struck me. So I separated the sexes and I’ll have Tom double-check with me and make sure that I didn’t make any gender guessing mistakes. I’ll want to get rid of these males ASAP. Then, as soon as the litters are 2-3 weeks and done nursing and we can tell their sexes well enough, we’ll segregate them and off the males to the pet store when they’re old enough.

The good news is that this is more mice for me, now that I don’t have to worry about having a lot of mice that’ll smell, since the males will be out of the picture. According to what Tom read, only the males stink. This makes sense. Male BO is a hell of a lot more severe than female BO. A female would have to go several days without showering before she’d really stink unless she ran a marathon. A male could shower up, then sit down to read for a few hours, and then be stinking.

Later…

Well, it looks like I’m either gonna have to set Andy straight in a threatening kind of way, or just deal with his constant calls. He didn’t leave a message, but he tried calling twice yesterday and once just now. He said he met Randy who’s gross and he’ll tell me about it in person and he’s sorry he’s calling. Well, if he’s sorry he’s calling, then why’d he call? Why’s he such a selfish, pushy, opposite-doer? Why won’t he just give me a break? He has other friends.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 23, 1998 Heard a car door at 10:00 last night, but there have been no problems that I know of yet. By this summer, I wouldn’t be surprised if they had another dog.

I knew, upon going into this marriage, that our lives would revolve around his parents until they were both gone. It’ll be a while yet before we can decide what we want to do, if we want to do anything at all, about my little problem here, cuz we have to wait and see what’s gonna be going on with his ma. In the next few weeks, she’ll have a lot of appointments and testing. I don’t know if something wants us to wait till after she’s gone to deal with this, or what. I have mixed emotions about the whole thing. Like I said, I can understand taking care of such a sweet and generous lady (she offered to buy us a new heat/AC unit), but I feel like we’ve never been able to fully live our lives for ourselves and do what we want to do. I suppose I’ll always feel that way, though, no matter what. Nonetheless, she’s only got a few years left, but I’ve got 15-20 reasonable childbearing years left, not that that’s ever to be meant to be, as I said, but do I want to at least get tested? I just don’t know. It’s just so unfair. Haven’t I had enough problems without having to deal with this, too? People aren’t supposed to pay for nature. How can God do that to a woman? He’s made me such a defective, abnormal freak and I’m not gonna give in to any of it. If I let this work me to death, play on my emotions, etc., That’ll be giving him the reaction he wants. People are dead wrong when they say God doesn’t inflict pain. First I was hauled to Boston 100 times to work for a so-called normal ear, and in the midst of all this shit, I had to work for a so-called normal life, then I went through the shit with the asthma, getting the so-called ear canal that God was supposed to have given me for nothing, and now I’m supposed to go work for a normal reproductive system? I don’t know. I’ve had enough medically that I don’t know whether or not to undergo testing, do what Tom thinks is best, or just forget about it. If I begin this process, you’re talking about a 1-2-year ordeal with 20-40 appointments. I just don’t know if I want to put myself through a series of hell again for the 4th time. I consider the first time my trips to Boston, the second the asthma, the third the ear shit here, and it’d be series #4 if I went through fertility testing, etc. No one can make it so that I can have a child. So, knowing that that’s the bottom line, I don’t know if I should even exhaust and humiliate myself for no reason, while God gets a good laugh out of it. And what really happened with the two-week spotting I did in the summer of ‘96? Was that really a miscarriage? Questions and more questions! But never any answers and certainly never any solutions!

I guess God loves some of my mice more than me, cuz at least 5 of them are being allowed to be pregnant. Ziggy’s definitely pregnant and it looks like a few of the babies are, too. Patch, Bandit, and Cocoa look pregnant. I’m psyched to see more litters arrive, but what are we gonna do here? Get the males segregated as soon as they’re born? Or ditch some of the duller-looking ones and keep the population where it’s at? We just don’t know yet. I knew that dumb male that told me mice don’t become sexually active for 6 months had to be full of shit and I should’ve gone by what my gut told me, but it’s a little too late for that. Tom will do some research on AOL since he seems to be better at that than I am, and then we’ll decide. It’s my fault for not trusting my gut instinct and the vibe that said “liar” when the guy tried to BS me with the 6-month thing. Also, I should’ve realized the logical side of that at the time. Of course, pet store people are gonna tell you animals have babies later than they really do. That way they can hope that you’ll bring in the offspring so they can get free animals to sell and profit even more.

Ziggy’s gonna have her babies any time now (I wonder if she’ll have more than two this time?), so I tossed in computer tracking paper strips to use as nesting material. They love this stuff and it’s such a fun toy for them. They not only use it to nestle in, but they chew it and they love to run through and dive into piles of it. It was so cute watching Patch haul some strips up out of the aquarium and into the cage next to that one.

And again my vibes prove to be correct - no losing weight for me for sure, like I had said. It is not meant to be, and something up there really does want me heavy and I will keep gaining. I email Tom every so often for the hell of it and I told him I know he cares how I look (he said only sex is a mental thing for him) and that if he ever decides he doesn’t like how I look, I’ll see what I can do, but there are no guarantees that I could lose weight. That’s something some of us can’t fight/change. Anyway, it’s just a body. I can love him just the same, and I’m sure he will, too.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 22, 1998 I have quite a bit to write about. Most of it’s not too bad, but first, let me get Andy’s same old shit bitched about and over with.

I don’t know who’s worse of a rebellious opposite-doer. Him or Tom. Everything I tell him goes in one ear and out the other. He still knocks, rather than uses the doorbell when he comes over. I’ve told him a million times to ring the doorbell, but Andy’s gotta do what he wants to do. Same thing with the calls, of course.

He leaves me a message which could’ve waited a few days since we just left messages, and he says, “OK, I got something to say. I told Laura, I told Michelle and now I’m telling you, so please don’t be mad at me, but I got a date with Quinn tonight. He’s been really respectful to me lately, I still have feelings for him, and if I get hurt, I’ll get exactly what I deserve.”

So, then I leave him a message telling him that although I disagree with it, it’s his life, so why should I be mad at him? What I didn’t tell him, though, was that he was acting like a naïve teenager. It’s just a matter of time before the true Quinn returns and he will get hurt again by this sick fuck. I also implied that he’s selfish and can’t compromise by saying that he couldn’t have gotten the letter I sent, or else he wouldn’t call me again so soon. And yet again, I went through the 3 or so reasons why I only want messages every few days and a live chat once a week or so, etc.

Then he calls right back saying he’s sorry he’s so forgetful (which I doubt in this case) and tells me that he loved the letter, it was very dear to him and well written, it was the first real letter I’d written him in 15 years. Then he teased me about a spelling error I made since my spelling had gotten so good (I must not have used the computer’s spell checker). Anyway, I’m glad he loved the letter, but then what does he say in his next breath? He says, “Talk to you later!” and I’m like, no you won’t! You’ll talk to me in a few days. So, unless he sounds like he really needs to chat, I’m not gonna respond regularly to his messages. Maybe that’s the only way I’ll be able to get my point to sink in. I hope he doesn’t take it personally, it’s not that I don’t care, but he’s always there. He and his calls just won’t go away. He just doesn’t ease up on me. Maybe I should also not let him know how much it bugs me, cuz of how he is. He may not be as selfish as he used to be, but generally speaking, the more you tell him he’s doing something that bugs you, the more he’ll do it.

Now, onto a very nice talk Tom and I had. I tried to tell myself it didn’t matter what he thought or did, cuz I’m sterile and unfixable. I reminded myself that back when his parents were having kids, there was no birth control, they screwed as normally and as regularly as any couple could, yet it took Mom two years to conceive David after Ray was born, then 5 years to conceive Mary, then two to conceive Tom, then 5 to conceive Steven. And it took my folks 12 years to catch me after having Larry and Tammy. Then I tried to remind myself that I swore I’d never get married and how I just couldn’t “see” that as ever happening, etc. However, the bottom line’s the same no matter what anyone else’s experiences have been, and that’s that I’m sterile, and I am bothered by Tom’s not believing/accepting this.

Earlier, he could tell something was up and I finally came out and told him my period’s beginning and that he could go right on with his denial, though. But then to my shock, he said that it was very sad I got my period, he just wanted to give me that one-in-a-million chance to be wrong, but he does believe me. He says he doesn’t believe I’m sterile to the degree that I believe I am, but that he understands that it’s more than likely the case. I was glad to hear him say this as it makes me feel like he’s more on my side and like I’m less alone with this shit. I just hope he means it and isn’t just saying so to please me. He seems sincere enough. I told him I understood the natural urge to deny and not accept something. I used to be a very stubborn and arrogant person in that respect, and he admitted he was stubborn about it.

Then he told me we couldn’t do anything for a few weeks cuz of his mom, but maybe we can do something before his mother dies and before we move, and I’ll now explain all this.

His mother’s doing awful. Blood consists of 3 things: white blood cells, red blood cells, and platelets. Well, platelets are what keep you from bleeding to death if you cut yourself and her platelets are virtually non-existent. We don’t know for sure if they can stabilize her condition, or if she’ll deteriorate, but we both feel she’ll live to around the turn of the century. Nonetheless, the next month or so is gonna be busy with her appointments and her moving into Mary’s.

As I told Tom, I think it’ll be better for everyone when mom’s with Mary, but I feel so helpless. I think we all do. This isn’t something that can be fixed. I also told him that if he felt it best to put off the testing till after she’s gone and after we’ve moved, that’s OK, cuz even though I wanted a kid yesterday, I’d still be young enough to have a child, but I still can’t ever “see” us with a child. Not in one year, or 5 years, or 10 years. I may have had very few dreams of this magnitude, but if God’s never let me have other dreams that were of this magnitude in the past, why should he start now? They may be able to answer my question of what’s wrong with me, but what’s really frustrating is that I may never know why. Did God do it punish me? Did he do it to protect me? Was it both? How could God do this to a woman? If God’s as loving as people claim, then is this the devil’s work? Anyway, I think the problem lies within my uterus and it’s cuz of the DES, but maybe we’ll find out it’s cuz of bad eggs, compliments of all the years people doped me up so they could control me into being what they wanted me to be.

I have so many theories and things I wonder, like, is this a test? If so, this is a hell of a test! Could God maybe intend to let us have a child after all, but not without a fight? Could he really want me to work for it and pay for it? His standards for me are higher than most others, after all. I wasn’t kidding when I said that the more normal and common something is, the harder I have to work for it. But love is supposed to be a normal thing and I didn’t have to work for that. I didn’t have to work for or pay to meet Tom. We just met. Although, most people aren’t loved. Not as loved as I am. Despite the things I’ve been suspicious of him for, whether I was right or not, no man’s as good and as loving as he is. I’m very blessed. Tom’s one in a million. So maybe I didn’t have to work or pay for him so much, in a sense, cuz he is so uncommon. I had thanked him for loving me even though I’m an abnormal, different, defective freak, and he said the same thing back, but believe me, he’s not even close. The only things that I’d say were different about him are his infrequent cumming and those screwy sandwiches he used to make with bologna, margarine, peanut butter and jelly.

I’m just so torn between wanting to fight for my dream and knowing I can’t fight God and win. I mean, I never have been able to in the past with something that meant this much to me. I guess it would, however, be best to seek as much closure to this issue as I can, and just let them test us and tell us to our faces just what the scoop is and if it’s hopeless or not, no matter what I think, feel or believe. I just don’t know if we’ll begin the process in a month or so, or in a few years. If it must be a few years, so be it then. I’d rather it not be, but if I’ve gone this long, it won’t kill me to go longer, even if this issue does play on my emotions on and off. I think our love is strong enough to go through with this together. I think we can both talk to these people and tell them the whole scoop, even if it’s something we’d rather not do. We’d rather have the normal sex and make the kid the natural way, but God’s just not gonna budge or make it easy for us if he makes it even possible at all.

At least I’ll always have Tom and will always love him no matter if we see a doctor or not or have a kid or not. It’s not that my life is bad but just incomplete, and it still breaks my heart to see the kids go to so many women who’ll just abort them or beat them to death.

Later…

God, that pest just does not give up!!! Andy said he had a great time with Quinn and now he can move on to the next relationship, he’s so different off drugs, he’ll tell me all about it in person, but by then he’ll have a million other things to tell me. Oh, I’m sure he will. And like this couldn’t wait? Geez! How can he have so much to tell me? All he does is work and gab on phones.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 21, 1998 Here we are already halfway through the week. This week’s going fast, thanks to the long damn weekend.

I just went out and made a dump in the recycle bin, which was empty, and boy was that loud! Especially with the glass bottles I dumped. Hope the shitheads enjoyed that, but I doubt it. I’m sure that as God would have it, no one heard it and if someone did, it wasn’t the freeloader. Still only hearing door slams from them.

I can’t wait till we move!!!

Tweety sure is chirping up a storm right now. It seems that noise makes him sing more. When I wash the dishes, or when the washer’s going, or when the fryer’s going, he really sings away.

I got some really nice cards from the HS today. Cats, dogs and ducks. I think I’ll use them for the next 5 things I don’t have cards for and that’d be Becky’s, Mom’s and Dad’s birthdays, and Mother’s and Father’s Day.

I guess Andy’s gonna do whatever he can do to get my attention and to get a conversation with me, although it’s not every day he runs off to Xena conventions. He left a message saying that he had a great time and would talk to me about it in person when he picks up Laura’s rent money, so I don’t have to deal with the phone and missing my smokes. So now he’s gonna come over more often and show up 2-4 hours later than we agreed on? Oh, brother!

I did not discuss what I wrote in last night’s entry with Tom. First off, there’s no point and it won’t change anything. Secondly, I’d rather let January come and go before I say he’s broken his promise and discuss it with him then. We got together before he left for work, but he just couldn’t get into it. I couldn’t really, either, but I did enjoy our time together just talking and cuddling, and that’s most important.

We’re both still having allergy problems and suspect it’s the mice, but soon, half of them will be gone. Then, we’ll decide what to do if they’re still a bother, but as we both agree, they’re so cute! Gotta pay for everything, though, but in the meantime, I’ll do a good dust and vacuum job in here.

Later…

I sure had the shit scared out of me earlier. Maybe I did wake the freeloader up and maybe God used the huge moth that was in here as a way to get me back for it. It just wouldn’t die, either. I kept spraying it with Raid, but the damn thing kept swirling around the room, and I lost sight of it. I haven’t seen it for hours, so hopefully it finally kicked the bucket.

Ziggy’s looking awfully chubby lately and I hope she’s not pregnant.

When I called Lisa to wish her a happy birthday, she said she did quit smoking. Tom says give her the benefit of the doubt, but I don’t know. I hope she’d never lie to me about that or anything. If it’s true that she did quit, I’m really happy for her and proud of her. I know how hard it is. Especially when you’re this young, stubborn, naïve kid who doesn’t think it’ll affect her.

Andy’s right back to his same old shit. He agrees he’ll cut his calling down, but what do I get? I get two messages on the same day.

Tom says that due to his being given such unpredictable hours at work, he’s gonna look for a new job within the bank. He said that now that his ma’s moving into Mary’s, he won’t have to worry about what hours he works. I’ve always wondered if his ma was a factor in our sex lives. If he can choose to get his job based on his mother, he can choose a sex life based on her, too. I wonder, though, if another reason he’s been afraid of a child is cuz of the time it’d take away from taking care of her, although he says he could take care of both. He feels obligated to take care of her cuz of all the years she’s taken care of him. I would feel the same way if I had had a mother like that, but sometimes I think he lives his life a little bit too much for her. I doubt, though, that her moving into Mary’s would change the sex. The sex is the sex, Tom is Tom, and Tom doesn’t want a child. If only he knew I was sterile, but he just doesn’t believe it. If he could know it, though, and not be afraid to accept it, he could relax more. He could at least have sex without worrying about his fears coming true.

That very subtle, yet obvious feeling has come on saying that my period is just a few days away. About 2-4 days away. So, whether or not pre-cum really can impregnate a woman well enough, I’m still sterile. I just know it. Every core of my woman’s intuition, my vibes, my feelings, my gut instinct, my 6th sense, my logic, belief, etc., tells me that. There is no doubt about it. I just don’t know if it’s cuz of bad eggs or cuz of the uterus, but I know it’s nothing as simple as clogged fallopian tubes.

This is a serious long shot, but I wonder if it’s at all possible that the dog not being there has any connection to the letter to the city? But then why’s he still in the picture? Maybe they came out in person to see her at a time when he wasn’t there and she claimed that he just visits. Meanwhile, they saw the dog and told her to get rid of it. Like I said, I doubt this, though, cuz then I’d surely hear about it. She’d be over here screaming or seeking revenge on me by dragging me into court. I still say that they didn’t like my yelling at them so early in the morning any more than I appreciated the music at any hour, but more so in the early morning, and so they got or borrowed the dog for my sake, then ditched it.

Later…

No naughty freeloader yet. I got up at 7 PM and saw the car out front and knew he wasn’t in for the night. I then went out to feed Bunny and the kittens and to chase off Mama Bitch and could smell food from over there and hear a voice, too. It was I female voice I’d heard before, but again, although a black voice is a loud voice, I couldn’t make out what was said. It wasn’t the bitch, though, and the person talking wasn’t so mad as she always is. But why would they open their windows on a chilly evening of 50-something degrees?

Then at 8 PM, he left quietly. Very quietly. In fact, the only way I knew he left was cuz of the motor starting, which I wouldn’t have heard if I weren’t in the living room with no fans or TV on. I didn’t even hear a car door. I guess they go to bed early cuz the lights were out at 9 PM. Well, they do leave early. At just after 9:00 I heard one car door parallel to the back room where I am now that wasn’t very loud at all, so I knew he pulled into the carport for the night, then wondered - maybe the door slamming is the bitch’s doing. Whenever the slamming goes on, it’s when there’s more than one asshole coming/going.

Anyway, as much as I can’t stand them and wish they’d get the fuck out of here, they’ve been behaving well enough not to deserve a bottle toss unless I gave them one for all the times they didn’t behave (but that’d take 1000 bottles and more). Another thing I wonder, though, is if a bottle would prompt them to get another dog for protective reasons.

Yesterday was the first day I went without any wine since I began having wine coolers every day.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 20, 1998 The fact that I can’t handle a kid and don’t deserve one is beside the point right now. The point is that this husband of mine has jerked me around about this kid shit from day one and I’m sick of it. I’m more than sick of it!

If I stood the slightest chance of being fixed, I can’t be cuz of his denial and refusal to cum much. He’s totally stolen even a one-in-a-million chance if there ever was one, and I meant it when I said I give what I get. His number one dream is to work at home and I’m gonna make sure he never has that. Never! He can’t just tell the fucking truth. Instead, when there’s something Tom doesn’t want to do or deal with, Tom denies it and makes excuses. What? Did he think his denial and his not doing anything to create a kid or fix me would make this all go away? He lied to me again. He told me he’d take the first step and make an appointment for a physical this month, but he hasn’t. Instead, he makes excuses about not having time, but he has time for other calls. If he wanted to make the appointment that bad, he’d set his alarm, get up and make it, then go back to bed if he had to. But he doesn’t want to see a doctor. And he can’t admit that, either. I also feel really angered and insulted over all the so-called remedies I’ve used for his so-called lack of cumming problem. He suggested I wear certain clothes, that we sleep together, that I quit smoking, and so much more since I’ve known him. I did almost everything he suggested I do to “fix” him and where is our sex life now? Right where it’s been since the summer of 96. Nothing I do is good enough for him. He’d rather lie, deny, and make excuses.

Here’s a classic example of how he won’t say no to something he doesn’t want to do. For nearly a year now, he’s agreed that he’d send my nieces letters and I remind him periodically, but does he do it? No. Instead of saying no, he says he’ll do it, but actions speak louder than words and when actions don’t go with someone’s words, that usually means that they’re liars. It could be cuz of fear or for some other reason, but it all comes down to the same thing and that’s not doing what you say you’re gonna fucking do! I’m tired of his not doing the things he says he’ll do and I’m tired of him, God, and this whole damn issue playing on my emotions.

MONDAY, JANUARY 19, 1998 Now that the long weekend’s just about over, and now that it’s later in the evening, I can relax enough to write. Plus, I’m alone now, cuz he’s gone to work, so I can concentrate better. I don’t concentrate well with others around even if they’re quiet and not right near me. The weekend went surprisingly, but pleasantly quiet. There were weekend stereos cruising through, but all next door gave me were some door slams. I’m still blessed with there being no dog over there, and the music has yet to become a problem again. If the door slamming’s as deliberate as I think it is, they may assume, but they don’t know for a fact, that the door slamming gets on my nerves too, so maybe, like I said before, they suspect me and don’t want to do anything that they know may provoke me into harming them or the house. Or maybe the door slams were cuz they heard us talking out back when he was working on the old washer and they wanted to be heard back. One of the door slams they gave me was so fucking loud, the house shook. Then later, at 10:40 PM, the shithead went out and slammed me a few more times, so I went out and pelted back and beat an old waterproof radio on the side of the house by their house a few times.

Later…

I felt a bit warm and dizzy there, so I stepped out for some cool air and you know what? Unless they’re in bed early, they might not even be home next door, cuz there are no lights on.

Anyway, Tom fixed the old washer and we washed the new, big comforter that won’t fit in our stackables. It was pretty funny what with the washer being out on the patio!

The weekend may have been peaceful enough as far as any neighbors go, but some stereo, that you could tell was miles away, was a real annoyance for a good hour or more from out back. It could’ve been worse, though, since it could only be heard out back, but what a sick world we live in - knowing that someone’s stereo from miles away can be a problem. They’re that bassy, and bass travels that well. And like I said, people would cruise up and down our street with those fucking things that are so goddamn common now. Another way I can tell if it’s a freeloader that just bassed in or out is by the motion sensor security light in the carport. Cuz of the soundproofing material that’s in the bedroom windows, I can’t tell if it’s on or not, but from the window in the back room, I can as long as the back room is not too lit up. In the daytime, I’d have to go to the side of the house to see if it was on.

In answer to why dad’s not getting his legs taken care of now since he’s in pain, it’s cuz they’re busy at the store, and it’s not a life or death situation.

I’ve been appreciative of the cut-down in calls from Andy, but since it’s been several days, and since I’d like to hear all about his trip to L.A. with Michelle to see Xena, I left him a message.

As for my weight, once again, you really can’t fight fate and win. Yes, I must be compensated. My losing weight is 100% hopeless. I’m just not meant to be thin again and nothing I do can change that. These metabolism pills I’ve got are a bunch of bull. They’re probably just sugar or some substance like that that fills the capsules. And I’m just too much of a wimp to stop eating altogether. So I’ll be fat, but at least I’ll be a fat person who can breathe. I’ll use the money I save on cigarettes to buy new clothes as I keep getting bigger, and I will keep getting bigger. I just know it like I know I’m sterile and meant to be forever childless. You might say that’s got some good in it, too, after all the shit I go through trying to handle the not smoking, as well as for other reasons.

Tom’s still doing and is always gonna do what he does best - deny I have a plumbing problem, so he doesn’t have to deal with it. It gets more and more obvious each year that he doesn’t want a kid, or to go to a fertility doctor, so his way of dealing with it - there’s not a problem. I understand his ways, though, cuz I was once that way myself. If something was going on that I didn’t like or didn’t want to deal with, I too would deny it or I’d play it down.

Tom’s been passing a few tests I’ve set up and again, I know when he’ll do what I say he’ll do, and when he’ll do the direct opposite of what I said he’ll do. Due to my saying things that implied I didn’t want to screw when I was mid-cycle, he made sure we did. And due to my saying he preferred sex the most right before and after my period, he made sure he didn’t touch me all weekend, which is close enough. It’s due on the 25th. I don’t know if my getting so fat has a play in it, although he does tell me I’m beautiful all the time, but part of it is cuz he doesn’t balance things well. He either has to work or screw, but he can’t mix business with pleasure. I see it to my benefit as time goes on, though. If it were new, or if one of us was gonna die soon, or if we had a shot at a kid, then I’d still be bitching about the part-time sex we have, but I know that he likes it this way deep down, too. He could’ve asked for it any day, but he didn’t, so that tells me that he must think full-time is too much too, and I also understand it’s not in his nature to have a high appetite and that he’s in his 40s.

Anyway, after all the questioning I’ve done in the past about sex and Tom, now I question sex and myself. Just what has happened to my appetite? I know we’re not a new couple, we’re infertile, etc., but I thought women got hornier into their 30s. It seems that for the last month, month and a half, my appetite’s been much lower. This isn’t a complaint, though, but merely an observation. I kind of like it this way, cuz he couldn’t keep up with me when I’d want it nearly every day and it seems that the lower my sex drive is, the lower my desire for a kid is, too.

I scanned all my favorite drawings (about 40) into the computer. Tom created a new directory for me to put them in there. It’s similar to my directories for Gloria and Norah pictures and for my journals.

I love this thing called Media Manager, which lets me view my drawings, pictures, etc., on little icons.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 16, 1998 Today’s the day God killed my nephew a year ago. I just hope Larry and Sandy aren’t too depressed right now, but what can you expect?

Tom took the time to download this thing that lets me view and install/delete fonts, but it’s fucked up. It tried to tell me one wasn’t installed that really was installed. It wouldn’t let me delete any, either.

As hungry as I am, my diet’s working so far. I awoke at 118. Tom got an old-fashioned dial scale too, since digital ones fluctuate more. So, I know I can still begin the weight loss process by eating just a few bites, but the question is, will it keep going after I start eating again? Or will I just stay the same or gain the weight back? The trick is to manipulate the thyroid/metabolism enough to get it to learn to lose weight on its own and not worry about what I eat. Well, time will tell what’ll happen with it.

Later…

I realize now that Paula likes to play phone tag. I know she’s busy with that kid, but it’s become rather obvious, so I’ll just talk to her whenever I talk to her, but at least she doesn’t call me every day.

After listening to music, I looked out front and saw the car there. I said, damn! I didn’t get to hear how it came in. But I knew it wasn’t in for the night being parked up front, so I waited and heard him leave quietly a short while later. He hasn’t come in yet and I’m anxious to hear how that’ll be. I only heard one door shut softly, so he’s coming in by himself when he does come in.

Later…

I had some popcorn today and fried up some French fries. This is cuz I’ve been stuck, and I know the grease helps with that. Those fries put a couple of pounds back on me, though, so I really have to watch it. I cannot believe how hungry I am and the appetite to which I’ve become accustomed. Something up there really wants me to have my share of starving bouts as an adult. It nearly starved me off just for letting me come out here. I mean, I really had to pay for coming out here by not having food. And now I have to sit and suffer through hunger pangs or keep eating and keep gaining weight. The bitch of it is that I can’t see myself ever getting lucky enough to just happen to lose weight without even trying. I think I’m gonna have to really starve the shit out of myself in order to lose it. Then after I get done doing that, I better hope the weight doesn’t come right back on.

Like I said, something up there insists I pay for every little thing. I still have a bad feeling that there’s no beating it and that if I want to enjoy the ability to breathe, I have to get fat for it. The missing cigarettes should be enough compensation, though, but no, I have to pay dearly for every little thing.

We screwed yesterday and he didn’t cum like I thought he would cuz of the time of month, but then again, that’s something he rarely does anyway. He thinks that a woman ovulates a whole week, but it’s more like 1-2 days. No wonder he cums so little if that’s what he thinks! Well, at least it keeps the sheets clean.

The werewolf (Randy) did get in touch with Andy after all. He said all he got was a frame, but no picture. He thanked me for trying, though, and says he’s gonna mail him a picture. Why? Why not just meet the guy in person?

Later…

If he came in next door, I didn’t hear him.

Last night, I contemplated throwing a bottle over there. I mean, I really thought about it good and hard. I looked out front to make sure that RV wasn’t visible from the front (they still come to see the old man, but they haven’t brought that whiny, shrilly dog of theirs since my note, thank God!). It wasn’t visible, but it was from out back and I don’t need any witnesses. They sleep in this thing, and someone could come up front for something where there are no curtains drawn and see me hurling the bottle. Another problem that could come out of the bottle-throwing idea, if I threw it into the carport, is that I don’t want it to hit the car and look too obvious (like someone doesn’t like its stereo). If I were to walk out into the street to see how deep in the carport it was parked so I’d know where to aim, and was seen walking out there and looking, that’d seem awfully obvious, too, not that it could prove anything. I intend to wash that bottle and handle and throw it with plastic gloves on. So then there’ll be no saliva or prints. So, I thought about different things I could do, but then I realized that problems could come out of these things. I’m not gonna worry too much about them, cuz if I’ve got something I really want to do to them badly enough, I’ll do it. However, the first thing they’re gonna do if I throw a bottle is come over here either with or without the cops and ask if I did it. If they didn’t do that, then they’ll go around to the neighbors and ask if they saw anything. So, there are some potential problems if I do something and if I don’t do anything. I don’t want to not do anything and have them end up thinking that letter was a joke. I want them to take that letter very seriously and let them know someone means business. Maybe they have and that’s why they’ve been quiet up till now. Maybe they really don’t want to take the chance of provoking anyone around here, in case it’s me that sent it, and I know my name has crossed their sick, selfish little minds. Or maybe they don’t want to look bad themselves if they ever get in any legal battles. If I go with the late-night banging sprees, and if they hear them, that will look obvious too, and it could also drag others into it, too, and wake them up. This is between me and them only, so I may go a more destructive route, obvious or not.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 15, 1998 I called Larry, who has another cold, to wish him a happy birthday. The poor guy’s going through what I went through back there. Jen’s sick, too, but Sandy’s OK. He says they’re expecting 14” of snow and that it was a whole 23º! Wow! That’s actually pretty generous for January. But they just had their January thaw spell (a lot of people get sick now due to the temperature changes) and now it’ll refreeze itself again till spring. It’ll be close to 70º here today.

I can’t believe how much my sister and parents share with me these days. They used to tell me absolutely nothing that was going on with them and I know I said so in my first journals. My folks would talk to Tammy, but not to me. Tammy even told me how wonderful the sex is with this guy she’s seeing. She mentioned something about him measuring her Jewish nose and her measuring his Italian dick. Nobody’s dick is as big as my husband’s, and I told her so (I’m sure it’s true, too).

Mom also filled me in on her and Dad’s medical conditions, as I said earlier. I just asked her and am waiting for a reply as to why they’re waiting till the spring or summer to do something about my dad’s leg pain.

Ma said she’s been taking something called Synthroid for 8-10 years cuz of her thyroid. She said when it’s too low it can tire you down a lot and cause your hair to fall out. When it’s high, you’re overactive. And thyroids do control the metabolism which controls weight. However, some of what she said makes no sense. I’m still kind of hyper, yet my thyroid’s low and my metabolism is slow right now. I sure as hell aren’t tired a lot and my hair is not falling out either. Oh no, this hair’s still thick enough to fill in a few bald heads while leaving enough for me.

Yeah well, speaking of metabolism and weight, I’m now furious! Furious enough to do what I need to do now to finally get this fucking weight off of me. When I stepped on the scale and saw I was 125, I knew I was right when I said it’d just keep going and going and going if I don’t find a way to ward off fate. I’m tired of God and his compensations and his different standards, etc. I’m not gonna “pay” for my lungs back. Just cuz I can breathe now doesn’t mean I should have to get fat for it. So, I’m on a liquid diet. If I did it once, I can do it again. When I was 19, I didn’t eat for about 3 days. I just had liquids. It obviously did something to my thyroid/metabolism cuz I started losing weight the second day of not eating, then continued eating as I usually did, only to keep losing weight for the next year while I could resume eating as I usually did. I went from 140 something down to 100. Well, I may be 32 now and the hunger pains may be vicious, but I really think I can do this now and I’ve got to try my best. I really want to be thin again and able to wear most of my clothes again.

So I’ve basically made two personal decisions. I’m gonna lose weight and get back down around 100 lbs. And when I’m 35, I am gonna go to a doctor about my sterility. Not cuz I think something can be done to fix me or to make Tom cum more or to change God’s mind, but just cuz I want to know, out of curiosity, if I really do have a deformed uterus. I just want to know what it is that makes my plumbing not work.

I know another reason God stuck so many of other people’s kids on me and harassed me with their noise in the NHA and other places. What goes around comes around. My mom had to listen to plenty of my noise (till she’d slap me to silence), but he knew, though, that I’d never have my own kid to pay me back, so he went and used other people’s kids. That’s another sure sign of what’s meant to be and what isn’t.

Later…

God, I not only get the same stuffy nose I had when I smoked but my feet and hands still get so cold. That’s supposed to happen to smokers cuz their blood doesn’t circulate as well. Guess some of my body doesn’t realize I no longer smoke.

I had another hilarious idea as far as next door goes, but this one I’m not gonna do. Assuming they’re like most people, they wouldn’t be happy at all to see any mice in their place. I thought of dropping the male mice through their mailbox slot and into their house, but that’d be cruel to the mice. It’s still a funny thought and I bet she’d freak! He, on the other hand, is such a ditz that he probably wouldn’t even know what the fuck was happening.

I forgot to say that I don’t know how it came in yesterday. It may have come in while I was listening to music, so I can’t say for sure what went on.

I broke down and fried up two pork chops. Barely 40 minutes later, I was starving again. I’m just gonna have to tough it out, though.

Later…

I got my listening to music done and out of the way, so we’ll see how the freeloader comes in. I’d assume that if the dog isn’t back yet, it won’t be coming back at all (I hope!). That goes to prove my belief - that the dog was for me and that they never gave a shit about it. If I had a dog that I cared about that someone threatened to shoot, I’d either kill the person or get the dog in the house. They didn’t, so I think they made a deal with someone shortly after I yelled at them that July morning, to borrow the dog for a few months to harass me with it. Or they could’ve gotten it for free from some animal shelter, knowing they’d return it or dump it somewhere in the long run.

Got a letter from Bob. I dug how he said he was having trouble with a racist bitch of a guard and would like to shove his fists down her “throught.”

I got some animal cards with matching address labels from the Wildlife Federation and I also dug how they put “Phoenix Arizona, AZ” on the address.

God, how I dread this long MLK holiday weekend coming up! These assholes next door are literally MAKING me not like blacks. God, spare me, please! I’m sure his answer to that would be, yeah right! Like hell I’ll spare you their shit/noise! Let’s just say that once MLK’s Day gets here, I may not have the patience to slowly torture and toy with them. I may just want to kick their asses and get it over with.

I wish I could know for sure if they are gonna move in September. I think that if they don’t move by then, then we are stuck with them till we move unless I step up the action to drive them out of here sooner, but there’s also a huge advantage to being the first one out of here too, and I think it’s rather obvious what that is. Tom thinks we’ll be out of here in two years, but I think it’ll be 4.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 14, 1998 Jesus fucking Christ! You can’t even go out in this city without being screamed at! Just what I need when I’m still so tensed out from not smoking. I go to the library. That went OK. We get to Ross’s to pick me up slippers and hair ties, and there’s this fucking kid screaming at the top of his lungs a few feet away from me while we’re waiting in line. I came home so stressed out that I drank too much too fast and felt woozy and a bit nauseous. Fortunately, though, the effect didn’t last very long. Like I said, maybe a part of me is glad Tom’s in denial so that he doesn’t have to deal with what a doctor might be able to do, etc. The struggle with not smoking is hard enough right now that I’m just too overwhelmed to even think of kids. The missing cigarettes outweigh anything else and make everything else just not matter as much. I know Tom sure as hell won’t admit I’m sterile and decide he wants a kid and get down on his knees and beg me to see a doctor with him, so I’ll think about seeing a doctor myself after we move. I think that’d be a good time, cuz then I’ll be so used to missing my cigarettes and trust me, if I still miss them as much as I do, I always will. Also, it’s easier to move two people instead of 3 and if we had a kid in the picture, we wouldn’t be of any help to each other, cuz one of us would have to watch the damn thing. So, I’ll rethink the situation after we’ve moved, but that won’t mean that anything’s changed. I’ll still know a doctor can’t help me and that God said no to a kid. I cannot handle it and God knows it. But I would like to maybe know someday what makes me sterile. Is it a problem with the eggs? Or with the uterus as I think?

Speaking of the things this wimp can’t handle, I begged God to please make the ball player go away that came to play next door. He did, thankfully. Another rude, brazen kid just waltzed right up to the hoop as it was passing by and played for a few minutes. I got a good look at the hoop as we pulled out today and it is untangled, so someone did get the lock out of it as I suspected.

Sunday night is my tentative night for smashing a wine cooler bottle next door. I can’t say for sure that he’s back to his usual shit, but I’m sure he is and that it’ll be more than obvious that he is by the time the day’s out. Yesterday he had pulled in with no music and parked where I could see him up front. I knew he wasn’t in for the day yet since he was up front, and I heard 3 car doors (he doesn’t seem to blast off as much when he’s got the bitch and kid with him). I had to play fucking phone and favors with Andy again a little while later when I heard some music, but then when I looked out, the car was still there. Just a few minutes later, though, I heard voices and the car left, so that tells me that it could’ve been a passing car, but probably wasn’t. Then later, as I was waiting to fall asleep, I heard music 3 different times. Again - a passerby? Or the freeloader? One of those times was the freeloader, I’m sure. So now that we’re gonna be on one of his music harassment campaigns again, he’s gonna have to deal with my harassment campaign, too, and be made to wish he never moved in here. The reason I’ve decided on late Sunday night is cuz Tom will be at work, it’ll suit my schedule better, and it won’t look too obvious (this way I won’t be doing anything till the music’s been a problem again for nearly a week). Yes, I eventually want them to know it was me who terrorized them, but slowly. I want there to be some mystery and confusion for them while I toy with them before I jump out at them in whatever way I’m gonna do so. You see, nothing major’s gonna change over there till September. Meanwhile, that “major change” could be 3 more freeloaders moving in over there. So I have to start now with getting them to see that they’re not welcome here and that their living here is gonna create problems for them.

I just realized, though, that MLK Day’s Monday and that we’re in for a 3-day weekend. So Sunday night’s bottle tossing may have to wait. I know there’s gonna be some kind of shit from over there on Monday. Especially with him living here. Yeah well, they’ve got my shit to listen to, too. The bottle tossing isn’t my only idea of harassment, either. There are others, but I’ll get into it another time.

I thought I just heard some door slamming next door with no music, but I’ll be honest and say that due to these houses being so damn close, you just can’t always be sure who’s doing what.

Tom and I figured out how to sex the mice. It’s really pretty simple, but we’ll have the store people verify that we’ve brought them all males when we go to bring them in.

According to the email I received, both my folks are having physical problems. Ma’s dreading having to use needles for her diabetes, but it’s looking like she’ll have to. She’s got back, thyroid, cholesterol, and arthritis trouble too, and Dad has got to have a triple bypass done on his legs in the spring. It’s similar to open-heart surgery. He’s been having a lot of pain when he walks, and I guess this has to do with the arteries and blood vessels.

I hopefully set Andy straight once and for all about his calls and all that and I think he’s sensitive and understanding enough to my situation, and will back off and cut me some slack. He won’t be around from Saturday to Sunday, cuz he and Michelle are going to a Xena convention in Los Angeles. I was trying to write last night when the phone rang, and I saw it was Andy with yet another fucking call. I said to myself how I was so sick of his calls and favors, and the first thing I heard when I played back his message was, “Jodi, I need a favor.” He said he was afraid Laura would go into his phonebook and get my number and call me, wanting her rent money now for drugs. He said not to give her the money and that she won’t kick my ass or anything. I left him a message that I don’t want these druggies he’s associated with to have my number and that if she came to the door, I’d kick her ass. If he wants friends he can’t trust, fine, but I don’t want to get involved. Besides, we made an agreement a long time ago that we wouldn’t share friends. I also told him that I just cannot handle the daily calls and that I still associate smoking with phones.

So, he left a reply saying he was sorry to put me through Laura’s shit and that he won’t want the money till the end of the month as planned. He also said it “finally hit him” why I don’t like phones now that I “finally” said it. The cigarettes are just a part of it. Meanwhile, I’ve told him time and time again that I’ve outgrown my phoneaholic ways and that I can’t stand to sit still for very long like he does, on phones, while watching TV, etc. I told him not to take it personally and that it doesn’t mean I love him any less. It’s just the way I am, and I’d prefer messages every 3-4 days and a live chat once a week. Not messages and chats every day. And I also reminded him that this excludes emergencies. The only thing that could prevent us from talking if he really needed to talk bad would be if I were asleep or out. So, I thanked him for being supportive and understanding and I also filled him in on what’s up with my parents, Tammy and Lisa.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 13, 1998 Oh, that never-ending pain in the ass! Andy, who just can’t accept things that aren’t meant to be, leaves a message about how this Randy’s blown him off and the only thing he can think of is that he finally managed to download his picture and didn’t like what he saw. Well, I’m sorry for him, but what can I do? I told him yesterday that I really didn’t want to keep playing phone back and forth with him. I had things to do, and phones remind me more of smoking. But what does he do? Leaves me a long message to wake up to and says he’ll call me later as if nothing I said sunk in. Andy really does still have some of that old selfishness in him from back east.

Speaking of back east, poor Laura’s going through what I went through back there with him. I mean, I believe the things Andy’s told me about her and I know she’s no angel and neither was I, but he’s doing it again. They fight for a few days at a time and meanwhile, he’s on the phone bitching to me about his problems with her. He says he does go to her, but I still wouldn’t be surprised if he hasn’t discussed more of their problems with me, than with her.

What doesn’t remain the same, though, is that both of us couldn’t imagine living alone again, when for years, we swore we could never live with anyone. So, when he’s mad at her, he wants her out and to live alone again, but when he’s not mad, he likes the company of a roommate.

Later…

I have bad news pertaining to Tammy and that household, but for once, I actually have some very good news, too!

First, though, Tom and I discussed getting the materials to make my own journals, so I can really use and enjoy this graphics program.

Also, I guess the cock quit coming in for lunch lately, but here we go with God’s balancing act. There’s some dog across the street, about 3 houses diagonally from us, that just won’t shut up. Backyards come around to the fronts of houses out here, too, if you know what I mean. It can come from the back and up to the side of a house and be heard in front, too. That’s why any dog next door that’s obnoxious out back, is all the more obnoxious when it’s on the side, wedged in between the few feet that are between our house and theirs.

Now for the bad news. To begin with, well, I had thought a child would really help ensure I didn’t give in to the many urges to smoke that I still have, but since that can never be, I had hoped for another reason to keep going with it. Better health is enough of a reason, but the more, the merrier. Then I found out that Lisa started smoking 5 months ago. She said she was afraid I’d be ashamed of her for this and that I’d tell her mother. No, I’m not ashamed and won’t tell, I told her, but I am disappointed. I hate to see her have to go through what I went through, which I told her all about. I reminded her how we promised not to commit suicide if our lives got that tough, and I asked her to please not smoke with me and give me more reason to not go back to it myself. She said she would, as hard as it is and as much as she’ll miss them, but I agree with Tom. Initially, she won’t quit, but hopefully she will in time if she sees I’m still not smoking. She said she kind of likes them. Yeah, I kind of liked them too, and I was hooked after just the first cigarette too, but she just doesn’t get it. Just like I thought cigarettes wouldn’t hurt me and that if they did, I’d have to be really old, she doesn’t realize how much they can and will hurt an asthmatic. I started smoking at her age, too, and by the time I hit my early 20s, is when the trouble began. If she keeps smoking, she’s not gonna be able to sit down and enjoy singing without having to clear her throat a lot, either.

At Tom’s suggestion, I called Dad yesterday to see if he could give me any tips since I still have urges a lot. As a child, I hated being lectured by him, but now, I could use all the reminders as to why I shouldn’t smoke. He said everyone’s different as far as how long and frequent urges are, but that the bottom line is willpower and that no one should smoke.

Now here’s the good news in Tammy’s life. Good news for once! And I’m so happy for her. I haven’t heard her sound this happy in years. Maybe never at all. She is divorcing that self-absorbed, negative husband of hers and is seeing someone new and wonderful, she says. I don’t know if she fell in love with this guy Mark enough to know she wanted to be with him and that’s what prompted her to finally move on and ditch Bill, or if she ditched Bill, then realized her love for Mark. Tammy’s never lived alone, and she could never live without a man, so I’d bet it was her falling for Mark that made her dump Bill, but more power to her.

I think that the mistake she made marrying Dick was cuz she was young, naïve, and desperate to get out of the house and the mistake she made marrying Bill was cuz Ma pressured her so she could get her and Lisa out of the house. Ma’s favorite pastime was to get rid of her kids any way she could.

Anyway, she says this 47-year-old Italian guy that owns his own business, really treats her well both in and out of bed. She told me that with Bill, there was no foreplay and the sex was over in no time, but with Mark, she’s got the foreplay, etc. She says she can really talk to him and that he really listens and is into what she’s into, but Bill never cared about her interests. This is so true, too, cuz on my visits to them when I lived back there, Bill never asked me about my life (not that I had much of one to discuss) and he never seemed to give a damn about the things that mattered to me.

Mark and his wife Mary, who died a few months ago of cancer, knew both Tammy and Bill. I forget if they all met through Tammy’s job working with terminally ill cancer people, or if they knew each other before she started that work. Anyway, Bill doesn’t know they’re lovers. She’s staying at the house and she’s changed the locks, too. Hopefully, Bill won’t be allowed visitation rights, but with people being so into biology, versus what’s best for kids, I’d doubt that he’d be ordered to stay away from them.

Another wonderful thing about this guy is that Tammy says he’s good with the kids and really cares about them, too, whereas Bill and most guys could care less. He and Mary had two kids who are 18 and 21 and Mary had a few kids with her first husband. The neat thing about this is that Tammy’s described him a lot like I’d describe Tom, and you know how wonderful Tom is to me, with the exception of his not coming clean about wanting a kid, and his sloppy, disorganized manner. I’d constantly wish that Tammy could have a husband like mine and I always believed that she’d envy me had she known Tom like I do. Not anymore! I hope that this really is the right guy after all this time, and I get the feeling it is. I’m really happy for her, cuz she deserves happiness for once! If I remember anything else she told me about Mark, I’ll write it in.

MONDAY, JANUARY 12, 1998 Andy, Andy, Andy! Him and his calls and his favors! Well, his favors aren’t nearly as frequent as his calls, but he really bugs me. He really bugs me! He’s on my nerves constantly, but he just doesn’t get it!

I scanned and sent a picture of him to this guy he could just meet in person if he really wanted to know what he looks like. Then he left a message asking me to rescan it for him cuz the dude couldn’t open the damn picture. So I scanned and sent it again and left the guy step-by-step instructions for viewing the picture. Then I had to play phone with him some more. You know, from now on, I’m not gonna check my messages when I first wake up. It’s too overwhelming to have to sit there and listen to 5-10 minutes of his babbling when I first get up. These are the things that should make me grateful that I don’t have a child smothering me right when I first get up, then all day long, too.

That’s a debatable subject as far as pre-cum impregnating a fertile woman. We screwed 3 days in a row. The days that are the most likely for a woman to conceive if she can. So, if I was OK, some would say I should be pregnant, some would say I shouldn’t be. It depends on who you believe. Some say that all it takes is one and pre-cum is enough to do the trick. Especially if there’s a few days’ worth of it. Others say it’s not enough and there wouldn’t be millions of sperm if just a few could make it. Well, whatever. The bottom line’s still the same - it isn’t meant to be whether I was fertile or not, whether he came or not, whether he came a lot or not.

It’s been the quietest it’s ever been next door with him there. There’s been no dog, no music, not even as much door slamming. Maybe the letter really did scare them into laying low-key and quiet so as not to provoke anyone. I love the peace they’ve been giving me, but now that I’ve got so much anger worked up due to the two years’ worth of shit they’ve given me in intervals (although sending the letter’s eliminated some of the anger), I kind of wish they’d give me an excuse to act up on my end cuz I’ve got so many things planned for them. In time, though. They’ll go back to their usual shit, at least music-wise, soon enough. Then I’ll be there to make them wish they’d never moved in there. They’re gonna really think they’ve got a crazed, hate stalker on their ass once I put my ideas into action! The first thing I thought I’d start with once the music cues me in, is to throw one of my wine cooler bottles over the block wall into their carport, or at the house itself, in the middle of the night. With my luck, they’ll sleep through it and not even come to investigate, but we’ll see. I’m gonna be provoked into action soon enough, so I’ll let you know what I do first, although I still wouldn’t be surprised if I kicked someone’s ass over there when Tom wasn’t around.

Still learning and having fun with the different cards, stationery, banner, envelope, programs and so much more. Andy really loved the Gloria border I made. Yup, I can print a bunch of tiny pictures of her for a border. I may do up these to cut out and glue into my written journals.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 11, 1998 Boy, is it foggy out there. I can barely make out the nearest houses. It rained on and off all day yesterday.

I attached that scan of my hair I had made to my folk’s email as a joke. I got a reply back saying that was a cute picture, they know how those things work and are busy with business and doctors. I asked about the doctors, but who knows if I’ll get a response to that one? We’ll see.

Andy also wanted me to scan and send a picture of him to this guy he met on the meeting line. Of course, I know it’s another loser, but I’m amazed someone who’d call this thing would have a computer. So, I scanned and sent it and Andy said I could let him know if he was his type if he sends a picture back of himself.

I had a block on my email, blocking out mail from anyone who wasn’t an AOL member, but that’d mean I couldn’t get a reply from someone Andy wanted me to send mail to who wasn’t an AOL user. So, I typed in only those I selected to get an email from. A part of me wishes I never told Andy about AOL and the scanner, cuz now he’s gonna bug me to send this and that.

Yesterday turned out to be a very pleasant day. I only hope God doesn’t compensate me for it by having today be an uncool day cuz that’s how it usually works.

I did some more experimenting/learning with the graphics thing and made Tom up a calendar for this month. Every month I’ll make one up with a different border. I gave him basketballs this time.

I also made a really pretty ballerina banner that’s almost as long as I am.

The mice are so cute when they get all playful. They jump up and down and run around just like the pig and rabbit.

According to Tom, he’s seen some wild orgies and threesomes going on. He says that he doubts they’re actually screwing unless some of them are gay since one would screw one and then the one doing the screwing in the first place would get screwed. I suppose that if some humans can be attracted to the same sex, that rule could apply to animals, too, but I just hope that guy’s right and that in February all the boys will be gone and I won’t have any pregnant females. If I do, though, I’ll just bring them those batches, too.

White Feet is in the window now. The cats sit on the pool pump to keep warm. Tom forgot to turn off the pilot light after draining the pool so its flat surface is warm.

I was nervous as all hell about this, and wouldn’t have initiated sex if he didn’t, but I did get brave enough to screw with him twice yesterday. I got what I expected, and I didn’t get what I expected. I expected him to take advantage of his fears and tease me by not getting in there. He got in there, but as I did expect, he didn’t cum. He tried to tell me he did “a little” and that there was more in the way of feeling than juice. Of course, though, I know a guy can’t cum without letting out some juice, but still, it was fun and I hope his games and God’s interferences (although God did try!) can be a thing of the past. I just want to move on now. I accept I can’t have a child, am OK with it now, and am prepared to deal with it, but I don’t want Tom or God to insult me with a freaky sex life, either. Even though yesterday didn’t turn out to be Tom’s fun and games in bed, I’m still reluctant to screw today too, cuz like I said, things have a way of making up for themselves and I don’t want today to be the day that he decides not to go in there. I was shocked that I could get up, run to the bathroom to throw some KY down there for some dryness, return to bed, then resume screwing. In the past, he’d be so distracted by that, that he’d have to “clear his mind” and start all over again. He said things change and people progress, but I still see the fears/excuses. So that’s why I can go out of my way to not smoke, get a new bed, do this, do that, and it doesn’t really change things all that much, cuz the bottom line is his fear and wanting to tease. Nothing I can do can help with that. If our sex lives had started off with us using birth control, that’d be different. Then we wouldn’t have had the freaky sex nearly as much.

He says that not smoking has made a difference for the better right away, but it’s mostly a gradual thing that occurs over time. Yeah. Whatever. I don’t want no more shit. That’s all. He’s obviously never gonna come clean, so if I don’t mention a child and all that, he gladly won’t, and then this is the only way we can move on. I know the truth and that’s what counts. And also, his wants are more important to me than my wants, so even if I still really wanted a kid as bad, his not wanting one and his not wanting to go to a doctor is more important. So, I’ll try to keep the subject a closed chapter as best I can cuz I want him to be happy and as we all know, people won’t always say what’ll make them happy, cuz when someone loves you, they’re more self-conscious about what they tell you.

Later…

Except for the barking dogs that prevented me from even eating a bagel in peace in my own damn kitchen, it’s a damp, cold, dead-quiet day out there. Personally, I wish it could be like this every day till we move. Especially as long as we have the sickos for neighbors. However, I’m also sick of being cold and if they really wanted to irk me with noise, they’d find a way. So far, though, it’s been a quiet weekend. Is this cuz they assume the letter was from me and are just biding their time? Or are they assuming it’s from me and hoping to catch me doing something else? I hope that they are hoping to catch me doing something else (which they won’t do), cuz this would mean they’d have to behave. It wouldn’t look good for them to drag me into court complaining that I did whatever, all the while they’ve been harassing and bugging me with music, etc.

Well, the toys may be gone, the dog may gone, the music may be quiet at this time, and the cops may have been there, but they’re not breaking up or moving. I just know it. My gut tells me that if there’s to be a significant change of any kind over there again while we’re here, it’s not happening till around September.

Another thing we did yesterday that I forgot to mention, is that we played around more with those push molds. We used clay and plastic to mold roses, bunnies, and teddy bears.

We screwed earlier and today was a repeat of yesterday - got inside/didn’t cum. At least he’s a lot braver than he was last month. Last month he wouldn’t even stick it in there.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 9, 1998 It’s time for me to be all stressed out. The weekend’s here. According to Tom, the car’s been moving again. In other words, the asshole’s still there, as I figured, and will be up to his usual shit in just a matter of time.

I’ve been so busy that I haven’t written much lately, so I hope I can remember to cover all that’s been going on.

Andy got led on and blown off by yet another guy. It’s just not meant to be for him. He enjoyed Stevie cruising on the web and visiting with me.

Tom got a bottle of Metabolics and like I said, if this doesn’t work, nothing will. He said he talked to someone there and since it’s from a health store, it shouldn’t have any side effects. We didn’t see anything written about that, anyway. The person there said this is their most popular brand that I’ve got and should see results in two weeks.

Tom also got his new glasses. They’re a lot nicer. He wears contacts more often, though.

Now for my frustrating, yet wonderful new toy. Tom got a print studio program that lets you do so much in the way of graphic art. The things you can do with it amazes me. The possibilities are endless. I can make my own stationery by adding some kind of border design (including pictures of Gloria and Norah to border with), or by making a background page that I type over. And the thing I love about this printer is that the ink doesn’t get lighter and lighter till it dies like a dot matrix with ribbons does. It stays the same sharp colors till the ink runs out of its cartridges.

I’ll be getting a wire-bound unruled journal for sure, so I can insert clipart and graphics into my text and type over pages with designs on them.

The clipart and pictures this thing contains are amazing. There are so many. Everything from artwork to live images. There’s every subject imaginable, too - animals, food, textiles, floral, icons, woods, metals, fun designs, plants, etc.

It even has a card-making program and I made some really cool cards of a few different sizes that fold differently from one another. In a way they look just like something you’d buy in a store, only the paper’s not as heavy or as glossy. They have glossy paper you can get for inkjets that print pictures out of say, Gloria, Norah, anyone, in an even more realistic and higher photographic quality.

I made tons of samples up for Tom that I did to practice with and learn with. I also made up a card for his ma. It’s got pretty scenery on the front, ducks on the back, with a brief message saying that I made it special for her.

Tom was right when he said I’d like it for letters, but not for journals. The word processor it has is really one fucked up program. It’d be very hard for me to describe why that is. You’d have to know a little about computers and know the different programs I’m talking about, but it’s bad. It does have a spell checker, but you can’t tell what line you’re on, selecting is a bitch, you can’t change fonts, sizes or colors easily, and the page doesn’t move as you type.

Later…

I saw that they’re up next door, cuz I saw a light on 15 minutes ago. I guess the freeloaders mainly leave at 7 AM. I’m waiting to hear how he leaves. It’s when he comes in for lunch that’d give me an idea of what he’s up to at the moment, but I’ll be asleep through it. I don’t think this weekend will be a problem as far as any parties cuz they’re out of season. The company, outside chats that last more than a minute or two, and bopping around the carport, won’t escalate till it warms up. And you can only have so many birthdays. There wouldn’t have even been a party all winter if it hadn’t been for him being around (the kid’s party).

I still can’t believe the dog’s gone! I just can’t believe it! She must’ve got caught with it. I can’t imagine she’d give it up voluntarily. I don’t miss that thing barking for 2-3 hours a day and sometimes more, but how’s this gonna affect the music situation if this dog stays away and isn’t replaced by another dog?

I wish these fucking freeloaders would just move on. I may not get anyone any better over there, but still, they’ve been 3 feet away from me for too long. They’ve got to go. I just don’t want them there anymore. I was here first and I’m saying it’s time for them to move on. So, as soon as they act up and I know about it, I’ll make them wish they never moved in there. As I said before, there’s something I could do about the music quickly, but it may just be worth my time and effort to slowly terrorize them. If I began harassing them on February 1st, for example, I’ll have them out of here by June 1st. I drove those Mormons out of here. I mean, I know a part of their moving probably had to do with the city, with a house that was too small for them, and other things, but I think I was a part of their moving. I didn’t mean to drive them away; I just didn’t want their kids screaming 3 feet away from me. I would take that and a dog over the music, but I’d rather not have to deal with anything as far as other people’s noise. I’ve had enough of it. Someday, though. Someday we’ll be out of here and won’t live where we and the neighbors could reach out from our windows and practically be holding hands. When you live where your bedroom is closer to the neighbor’s driveway than your own, that really sucks.

Later…

El cocko left just after 7:30. It didn’t play any music. It didn’t even slam its door that hard. Just someone saying, “Whoa, whoa, whoa.”

I decided that since Tom’s so against me doing anything violent or scaring someone to their face, I’d compromise with him. I won’t deck them, but I will be heard, too. God may see to it that they don’t hear me, but I will do everything in my power to not only be heard when I hear them (when I hear a lot more of them than what I just heard, obviously), I’ll make them want to move. Haven’t heard those sounds coming from their yard, so I’d guess that those scraping sounds I heard were the dog nosing and pawing its bowl around. It did sound like it could’ve been plastic scraping concrete after all. I’m surprised he’s still parking in the carport at this time of year with the dog gone, but then again, I’m not. It’s easier to see someone that may mess with your beloved car stereo when they’re in the carport, versus just outside of it. After that letter, I doubt he’ll park outside the carport much.

I realized something that this letter could’ve ensured, unfortunately, and that’s their staying together. She may use this as an excuse to keep him under her wing and he may want to play big, tough man and stay with her cuz of this. Anyway, enough freeloader talk for now.

What the fuck was that? I just heard this really loud bang that was even louder than their damn car doors, but I can’t blame this one on them when they’ve already left. Maybe it was a big truck, but all I hear right now is the guard dogs. Thank you, God, for not having me be asleep for this big bang!

Speaking of God and noise, though, he sure does have a way of balancing things out. It makes me wonder - if we move to where it’s remote, will he give me other problems, like having me be bothered by some unknown source of noise that Tom and I won’t be able to identify? Or will I just start waking up a lot for no reason? Not that I’ve had a problem sleeping around here cuz 97% of the time I’ve been here I slept just fine. It’s the disturbances I get when I’m up that are the issue, but that’s better than having my sleep be an issue like it was in the NHA. If these freeloaders ever stole my sleep, I would kick their asses in a heartbeat.

This winter, so far, has produced less of other stereos blaring by. I’m sure God figured he’d spare me the drive-by stereos this winter, knowing that the stress of Mr. Fuck next door would compensate for it and any shit I may get from him.

Tom’s passing his test with flying colors. What I mean by “passing” is that he’s doing just what I knew he’d do. Not that this was a lie on my part, but I made it clear to him enough that I wanted to just accept fate and move on, so to speak, and I figured he’d take that to his advantage. I had told him that if having a kid meant that much to him, he could let me know and ask me to make a doctor’s appointment. I know he thinks I’m fertile, but he had said he was gonna take the beginning steps and get a physical “just in case” once we got our new medical cards (our insurance is now Intergroup), but he hasn’t made a move yet to make an appointment. He’s had the time, too, but he hasn’t read their brochures or anything. That’s some motivated guy! He really wants that kid!

Anyway, since you either have kids or life, I really appreciate my sterility/freedom when we get new programs like this graphics thing that provide hours of fun that I couldn’t have had with a child. I also have nothing to worry about as far as our getting together this weekend (prime time) so he can have an attack of amnesia and forget how to fuck me. I’ve dropped enough hints about how many things need to be done this weekend, so I don’t think the scaredy-cat will bother. He knows I’m uncomfortable about it, too. He hasn’t said so, but I just know, and I know where his true feelings lie, so I’m sure he’ll be happy to forget about sex till next week. Unless he really wants to play games and tease me. Also, my schedule’s gonna be on nights, and he’ll probably be working on Mary’s car. Mary always needs work done on her car.

Paula left a message last night, but once again, we’re playing phone tag.

Andy left 3 goddamn messages Wednesday, tried calling twice yesterday, so I’m sure I’ll get 2-3 messages today of the same old.

I called to see what was going on with Tammy and she was on her way to her second home - the doctor’s office.

God, these freeloaders have really scarred me, so to speak, with their fucking bass. Just like the NHA scarred me with other sounds. If I hear anything, like a big truck that resembles a bassy sound, I totally tense up. Thanks, freeloaders. Thanks a fucking lot! Well, hopefully the nasty, hateful things I said in my letter to them will make the lasting impression on them that they’ve made on me. Speaking of lasting impressions, though, as much as they’ve stressed me out and made my life miserable on and off, when we move, I won’t remain so scarred as I did after leaving the NHA. After leaving the NHA, there were still similar sounds and the same sounds that triggered that old familiar tension in me and that brought me right back there in my mind. But when we leave here, there’ll be no kids, bass, dogs, slamming, banging, screaming, and all that shit that I had to live with, to remind me and to stress me out.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 7, 1998 I am waiting for Andy to arrive. He’ll be late, as usual, but he has to leave by 10:30 when I get Tom up, cuz we have to go to the store. We’re looking into something they’ve got that’s supposed to speed up your metabolism. I’m now 122 pounds and it’s getting hard to just accept my weight as it is. Unfortunately, though, I have a distinct feeling that something up there does not want me to lose weight. Therefore, if this doesn’t work, nothing will, and I’ll really be forced to just deal with being fat.

Later…

Andy miraculously showed up when I completed my last sentence. He’s on the Internet now.

Anyway, I hope I can find a way to speed up my metabolism, cuz that’s the key to weight loss/gain. People think it’s all diet and exercise. A good diet will keep you healthier and exercise will keep you more fit, but that’s not where it’s at for me right now.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 6, 1998 Tom scanned a picture of me which he cut to fit in one of his little picture frames that my folks sent. He put it on his monitor.

David and Evie sent me an email that I didn’t get cuz I have a block on mail from those who aren’t AOL members. They’re gonna resend it to Tom, who’ll forward it to me. I think it’s Evie who sent me an email. She’s home alone all day with two kids and probably feels she has no life. We have nothing in common, though, so I don’t know what I’d write about when replying to her, but I’ll think of something.

Something insists I deal with junk mail for sure. There’s no escaping it. First it was just mail from other AOL members and now AOL itself is sending it. Are they ever gonna set up junk mail controls for themselves? Of course not! They’re so fucking annoying, though, cuz every time I go into something, I have to wait for this form to come up for some bullshit item they’re selling, be it encyclopedias on CD-ROM, etc.

It is freezing out there! I just went to empty the recyclables and it’s cold. It had only been getting down to around 55º but I’m sure it’ll get close to 40º out there tonight.

My TV dinner’s just about ready, so I’ll return after.

Later…

It’s a good thing I have an eye for detail. When we went to the hardware store a while ago, I saw a light identical to the one that Tom put up in the back room. Now those two old, ugly ceiling lights/fans are gone and now there are two nice-looking fluorescent lights. These ones, though, aren’t too bright.

The new king-size comforter we got is nice and I love how it’s colorful, but I could never get it into this small washer to wash. Tom says that the old one’s easy to fix and that it’s the same problem we’ve had before, so he knows how to fix it. So, we’ll just run a hose to it when we want to use it in the garage where it’s at now, drain it in a tub, then dump it out back. This way I can do big things like that. He doesn’t have to worry about a hookup to where there’s hot water either cuz we can wash things like a comforter and curtains in cold water.

The mice’s cage is in 5 sections, so to speak. There are the 3 Play City cages, the maze, and the aquarium. I created a new setup that both of us really like. I cleared some of my stuff off my little worktable and ran a tube down from the house that sits on top of the aquarium, to the maze that now sits on my worktable. So as I write by hand, the mice are just a few inches away. Some of them are, anyway.

Everyone’s making babies around here (except for us, of course) and we’re gonna have to get rid of that bitch of a mother cat somehow someday soon. She’s gonna have more kittens for sure, cuz Daddy Cat’s been hanging around like crazy. Tom says he hopes that Mama Cat will leave when she gets pregnant. Not a chance. Naturally, she’ll stay where the food is and where she already knows she’s safe. I still wonder about these mice, too.

Tom and I have been getting along better lately. I tell you, it’s cuz we haven’t had much sex and cuz we haven’t discussed this child we can never have that he doesn’t want. As soon as that’s the topic of discussion and as soon as there’s more sex than once a week or so, there goes the fights. Sex and relationships really don’t mix too much better than oil and water.

MONDAY, JANUARY 5, 1998 I just did some singing and now I’m back to write some more.

I hope to hell the guy at the pet store knew what he was talking about when he said that mice don’t become sexually active till 6 months, cuz I’ve been seeing a lot of screwing. I hope it’s just a case of instinct taking them through the motions like with a puppy dog and nothing that’s reproducing. If it is, though, we’ll just do what Tom said and take in boxes of mice. Lots of mice.

Later…

I ended up scanning some pictures for Kim and Bob, too.

I’ve decided that if I don’t hear from Anne and Harry in the next few months, I’ll do what I did with Shelly and write no more. Remember, I don’t want any 1-sided relationships of any kind.

I asked Tom if Ma was getting cold feet about moving cuz I thought by now she’d be in with Mary and have the house up for sale. Tom told me that she’s decided on March 1st to be moved and I guess that’s when she’ll place the house up for sale, too. I hope to hell it doesn’t take a year to sell. Then poor Tom will have to mow it and have the responsibility of that house for even longer.

As soon as that house sells, though, God will fill Tom’s time with other stuff. I really believe that he’s always wanted us to screw part-time and not have much time together for another reason, along with the ones I’ve already mentioned. He (God) that is. Well, due to us not being able to see each other much or screw much - it makes it more special when we do. However, things have changed as far as the sex goes. We seem to be the opposite of what we were towards the beginning of our relationship. Now he seems to want sex more than me. Thankfully, it’s not that his appetite’s that much higher than it was, but the sex has really “died” for me, so to speak. The only reasons for it that I can think of are that it isn’t new anymore (we’re not newlyweds), and all the shit/teasing he’s pulled.

If I could have my way, I’d never screw again during prime time, as sterile as I am! I don’t ever want to be the source of his teasing, lying games ever again! I’m going to make an excuse to get out of sex from the 9th to the 11th or so, and he knows it. I can tell he knows that I’m gonna want to bail out of bed then and I’m afraid he’s gonna try to lure me to him at that time so he can play with me yet again. And suddenly “forget” how to get inside me. And act as if he’s never fucked a woman before in his life. But I see right through Tom S. I see the real fun in it for him. And the fear, too. I asked myself time and time again - why’d he cum the 5-7 or so times he came during prime time? That’s the one and only thing that contradicts my belief of his being too scared/not wanting a child. The only thing that comes to mind is that he took the chance to see if he could create a cover for the truth.

Later…

Tom and I went to the store earlier so I could pick up the next few months’ worth of birthday cards, although there are no March birthdays. For January, I got cards for Larry and Lisa. For February, I got cards for Jen, Sandy, and Andy.

While I was at the store, I also got a couple of refrigerator magnets with cactus/desert scenes. They also had scorpions embedded in round plastic domes, not that I’d ever get one. David and Evie had plenty, though. Some construction work that was going on near where they live stirred them up and they were finding them in their drawers in their clothes and everywhere. Evie wanted to move. Instead, though, they got a scorpion expert to come out and exterminate them.

God and his fucking compensations, I swear! Now that I can breathe, there isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t fucking sneeze! Tom and I both think we’re allergic to the stinky mice, but they’re worth it.

Anyway, some days may be easier than others, but I still miss my cigarettes every day. It’s still a lot like trading in one misery for another. You either smoke and suffer from lung trouble and pay the cost of it, or you quit and suffer the cravings and the weight gain.

Remember how I said that now that the holidays are over, and as we get closer to Ma’s house being sold, God would give Tom other jobs? Well, he’s trying. A crazy woman that Evelyn knows called looking for Tom to tutor her on some project she’s working on. She said she had surgery and wondered if the anesthesia killed her brain. She reminds me so much of Ellie and Ma’s crazy sister Margaret. Ma has a lot of half and whole sisters. There’s Opal, Geneva (Neva), Evelyn, Margaret, and Betty, who’s passed away, as well as a few others I’m sure I’m forgetting. Nonetheless, Tom told the liar who said she called only once when she really called twice according to the caller ID box, that he was too busy.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 4, 1998 I hear noises every now and then outside and am like, is it the cats or the freeloaders? You never know with the freeloaders, who are mostly night people. Tom says, though, that the car hasn’t been moved. Then I either saw wrong when I thought I saw it out front, or he parked it in the same exact spot. If that car’s still there either way, then they obviously aren’t broken up. If he isn’t there and isn’t driving something else, then where are he and the dog? It shocks the shit out of me that I haven’t heard the dog or the music, but I know it’s just a matter of time. Especially when it comes to the music. I wonder if the beast could’ve turned on and attacked him and laid his ass in the hospital, or if he could be in jail? We heard a car door or two in the early evening, then a short while later, we heard a kid cry and car doors again.

Well, the cats are definitely making noise now. I can hear them banging on the back door. I open the door and offer to let them in for a while, but they either just stand there and stare at me, or come in and walk around for a few minutes, then they’re all anxious to split.

Tweety chirps on and off, but there’s something about running water. He really loves to chirp to the sound of that. Also, I was playing a CD by Linda earlier and singing along and there was just one song, out of the 5 or so I played, that Tweety must’ve really liked, cuz it’s the only one he sang to.

The kittens love to sit outside the back room window and swat at bugs that are drawn to the light that’s just inside it.

Anyway, Tom says my singing was excellent as usual but better in the way that it’s clearer. Yeah, I definitely don’t have to clear my throat every other line anymore, but it’s still rather nasally.

Later…

Boy, have I been having fun with the new scanner! Tom showed me a few little tricks to make scanning, enhancing photos, and printing them, much easier. I showed him a thing or two myself. Things I stumbled upon while exploring/experimenting with the program.

We scanned and printed out a larger version of a couple of small pictures I had of Gloria, and even a journal cover of mine, too! I want to have a picture of the cover of each of my written journals at the head of each of their typed versions but I’ve got to wait till I update my old word processor first. Tom thinks Mary can get us a copy from where she works.

I also scanned several photos of Tom and me for Paula, Larry, and Anne & Harry. I even sent a couple to Tammy. I am amazed at the quality of what they printed! They’re almost as good as the original photograph.

I was dead wrong about Andy’s new roommate Gary. He is not a druggie. According to him, all he does is smoke cigarettes. I was shocked.

It figures - we pump more water out of the pool and what does it do? It rains.

I was right on what I saw after all. Tom said he saw the car in the same spot, only it was parked facing the street. Yeah, I knew the fuck was there. He was gone all day and asked if I slept OK since he knows how they can be with slamming car doors. I slept fine fortunately for them and won’t do anything more to them till they make their next move with their noise. They haven’t been heard yet, but one of us will hear the music any day now. But I don’t know what I feel more of - shocked or thrilled, that the dog’s still not back yet!!

FRIDAY, JANUARY 2, 1998 Phoenix, AZ Age 32

I better get writing before I get any more backed up.

The last few days have brought us pleasant daytime weather. Even warm weather. Before that, it was chilly in the day and freezing at night, but that will return for another month and a half or so.

So far, I’m doing well with my New Year’s resolution. As I said, there is knowing you can’t change something, and then there’s learning to live with that fact. So, I’m bound and determined to have this be the year that I learn to live with and accept the things that just cannot be changed. If I try not to let things get me down and eat at me, maybe I can have a happier and even more productive life.

Now let me get the neighborhood animals out of the way first. I had worried that the freeloaders would be a part of our New Year’s Day, but guess who decided to be a part of it instead? Someone I haven’t heard from in years - the lonely, wanna-be-heard-and-noticed college boys across the street. It wasn’t by them playing music in their little band they used to form but by their car stereo. Leave it to them to have a car with this kind of stereo. However, God was on my side with this one as he was when I told them to shut their band up. I asked once to turn it down and they did so. They didn’t have selective memory loss and not give a shit and blast it again a few hours later.

So far I haven’t heard the freeloaders, but Martin Luther King Day is later this month, so I know I’ll hear them on MLK Day. That brings me to another part of my new year’s resolution and that is that 1998 will not include their shit and their noise. As soon as he steps out of line with the music, I’m either gonna put him in his place and beat him into utter fear of fucking with me, or I’ll terrorize the shit out of them and drive them out of here. I was here first, and I don’t want these freeloaders to be an on-and-off part of my life anymore.

Every time I think I’ve got a handle on just what they’re up to next door, they throw me a curveball. I don’t know if the pigs had anything to do with me, with him, or what, but they can’t be broken up. Not with the way his car sat there for days and how they were talking earlier. I’d say that yes, there was no one there on New Year’s Eve and the night before, but they’ve been back since yesterday. I know the car has finally moved, cuz it was out front when I heard the mad bitch. Amazingly, the dog hasn’t returned yet, but anytime now I’m sure it will. His music hasn’t been a problem yet, but like I said, when it is, I’ll either put a final end to it, or I’ll dish back some shit of my own and really play with them like they were toys. It might be fun to make their lives a living hell and be their worst nightmare. However, kicking his ass would be a quicker solution.

I haven’t been a member of Gloria’s fan club in years now, but they’re still sending stuff. There was a holiday postcard with her photocopied handwriting that said she designed the front of it on her computer. A boring design it was, and her handwriting’s sloppier than mine.

Tom set up the VCR/computer so I could capture more Norah pictures than just the one I’ve been using all along, for my random screensaver/wallpaper collection. This was a lot of fun to do.

We got a new color inkjet printer and a color flatbed scanner, and I love them! I re-printed my old Norah pictures and some of Gloria’s and they’re so much better! They’re almost of photographic quality for sure. The scanner’s pretty sophisticated and now I can just scan any drawings for my folks or for Tammy and attach copies with my email to them, or print out copies for Larry, but there’s a catch. So far, I’ve been teaching myself how to use the stuff. The printer’s pretty easy, but there’s so much entailed within the scanner and each procedure seemed to take forever. I scanned in an old, small picture of Gloria. Then I tried to enhance the quality, but it took forever. I’ll have to ask Tom some questions about this, but boy did I shock the shit out of myself last night! I did things I can’t believe I did on my own without being taught.

I had taken a break from my video captions project, then went back to it later, and forgot to put them into my wallpaper file. So, it took me a while to find them, which I amazingly did. Then I had to figure out how to cut/paste them into my wallpaper file, then dither all the colors. I couldn’t believe I figured all this out myself! I’m sure if I kept poking at the scanner’s program I could learn more, but I’d rather wait for Tom for now.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 1, 1998 Tom just got back in from working on Eileen’s daughter’s computer and what did he get for it? Cupcakes. Just cupcakes. He says Eileen will make it up to him, but I just knew it. I knew that as soon as that house sold the users would come crawling out of the woodwork again. Not that I’m not glad the house sold, but if I had business pals, I’d expect to be paid up front.

Tom said my doll could come on Tuesday since mailmen typically don’t deliver packages on Monday, unless they’re first class, cuz they have a higher volume of regular mail those days. It seems I spend more time waiting for dolls than I do enjoying them.

Tom read in an ad in a magazine, that John Saul’s Blackstone Chronicles was a TV miniseries. It was? Since when?

Last night’s movie was great, and no one was pregnant or gave birth! I couldn’t believe it.

I heard not one stereo blast by all weekend. I was shocked. I really thought Halloween would bring out those bangers.

OK, here’s our freeloader’s behavior report - first off, no one was dumb enough to knock on our door last night, and there were a lot of people out this year. I saw more adults out there than kids, too.

There was no music all weekend. At 6:30 yesterday evening, I came out of the bedroom where the fan had been blaring and where we were lying together reading and talking, and I saw the white car out front. I figured they were out making their rounds, although Tom said he doubted they trick or treated in this neighborhood. Yeah, that’d make sense. I’m sure they have enough enemies around here. It looks like they did, though, unless they came out of their house and not from the streets at 8:00. All I know is that I suddenly heard a car door that I knew was next door and was thinking, the car’s leaving. That was easy enough. Then the reality of how they operate came through again and I told myself, they’re not gonna just leave. You know them. They want to be heard. Especially by you. They’ve got to slam some doors, honk some horns, and do some yelling before they leave. You know that. So, there weren’t any honks, but there was a good 5-10 minutes of door slamming and yelling. That bitch was furious about something and was yelling at what sounded like some other woman.

Today, Tom reported a small white car that he’d never seen before came to get the bitch at 7:30 and then brought her back later. She must’ve snuck out unnoticed at some point, cuz at 3:00 I saw the white car, the bitch, and a black boy that looked too young to be the one I spoke to when I threatened to shoot the dog. It jumped up and swung off the basketball hoop, which I hopelessly prayed would break while it was doing so, then they both disappeared from view, and the car left. It didn’t look like the bitch or boy left in this car, but I couldn’t tell for sure.

I think I figured out why that bitch goes to church. Well, it obviously isn’t because she’s so kind and believes in being all nice and loving and wonderful and non-selfish and all that good stuff. The church may preach hate against gays and against those who are different than them, but they do give to and pity the poor. That small white car could’ve been from the church she goes to and I’ll bet you the only reason she goes to church is to see what she can get.

I asked Tom if he felt that there’d have been nothing we could do about the music if they were owners and not renters at risk of losing the house, short of beating the shit out of them, and he said no. People can still complain and people still get citations for breaking the law. Yeah, but I think going about it the legal way would’ve been much harder, and taking illegal action would’ve been much more necessary.

When I see Bill, I see a bit more sense and maturity there, so I’d think, I’d hope that he’d try talking some sense into his daughter and her cronies, and say, “If all they want is for your noise to be kept out of their home, give it to them. That’s no big deal, and it’s a reasonable request, so just shut up and leave these people alone. They didn’t do anything to you to start all this and to deserve it. It was only after you so selfishly and rudely ignored their reasonable request that they fought back. They gave you enough chances to quiet down before going to the city and I’m sure they didn’t want to and I’m sure they didn’t want trouble any more than most people, but when you shit, you get shit on. You get treated how you treat folks.”

She’s just lucky I didn’t severely maim her that day she took her tantrum on my doorstep, and Mikey’s lucky, too. If it weren’t for Tom, I’d have beaten the shit out of them a long time ago. No doubt about it. So they have him to thank.

Speaking of good ole Mikey, I haven’t seen him. When he moved out late ‘96 - early ‘97 he’d still come around on weekends, but I haven’t seen his car in weeks. Does he pick her up in the mornings? Bring her back at night?

Tom still believes that they’ll stay as good as they have been till we move and that we’ll go first. If they’ve got to say hello with the music every 3 months, fine, but they don’t have a choice but to be as they have been. He still feels June’s a likely time for us to move, but admits that anything could come up to stall us. If something can come up to delay it, it will. My June vibe’s weakened and now I’m wondering about August. I do strongly vibe that that was our last Halloween here, so that’s good.

Damn, bitch! You really get out and about on Sundays, don’t you? I just heard a car door, looked out and saw Bill’s car, then someone was reaching into the backseat, then they shut the back door, then Bill left. I assume this someone was the bitch, even though it’s dark now. I could tell by the aggressive manner in which her shadow moved and by how hard she slammed doors. Anyway, I’m sure she’s tucked in for the night now. And in just 12 hours she’ll have to leave for quite a while again. Yuck! I can tell she’s not the homebody type.

If there are two things I could ask this bitch, one thing would be, are you ever in a good mood? Secondly, do you always have your hair in a ponytail tucked under at the nape of your neck? I only saw it down once.

Now for my best news. I’m so proud of myself, too! I didn’t eat a damn thing yesterday. Just a good 500 calories worth of drinks. I felt OK, too. Just a little weak and shaky in the heart, but my fast-beating heart was probably due to having to be woken up too soon. I had Tom wake me up with caffeine coffee since I’d have slept all day otherwise. After I’d had a TV dinner and had been up a few hours, I felt fine.

I still don’t know what I’m gonna do about the eating, though. Do I want to go hungry and stay around the same weight? (I woke up 4 pounds lighter today at 113) or do I want to satisfy my hunger and get God only knows how big?

Tom and I didn’t end up screwing yesterday, but we spent time together, so that was nice. We made an attempt today, but he was too tired, so he’s napping now and I’ll be getting him up in 20 minutes. He has to go into work at 8:00.

Tom’s decided he’s gonna do the roof.

Later…

Jesus fucking Christ! Is that bitch’s day gonna end yet? Doesn’t she have to go to bed early and get up early? I guess she snuck out unnoticed again, cuz I was just distracted from proofreading when I heard yelling. A boy of about 8 years of age was yelling, and I could hear an adult voice, too. Only the freeloaders could be out screaming at the top of their lungs at 8:00 on a chilly night. So I went and spied out of the music room window and sure enough, the voices were coming from there. Somebody was bringing that bitch back, but I couldn’t see any vehicle. Just its headlights as it pulled out. Joebitch, Joebitch, Joebitch! If you can’t get my attention with music, you do it with screaming, huh? Yes bitch, I know you’re there. I know you’re there, OK?

Later…

Nighty night, bitch. Yeah, it’s lights out over there now.

[the-lonelyshepherd]

okay i almost didn’t respond to this and just wanted to ignore it but it’s been on my dash so much it’s actually pissing me off. writing this all on the spot idgaf

-“its worst crime was not letting shauna dislike her child or regret motherhood”

“not letting” is crazy. i’m gonna elaborate more but this starting sentence is just HUH

- “that stupid retcon about her being a great mother who really loves her daughter but simply can't express it due to trauma”

-never ever did the show say she was a great mother. this is the season that she said it would be better if her daughter (a child) had fucked a cop (an adult) so that SHE could get away with murder. it’s the season she only spends time with her daughter when A) she’s using her to help cover up a murder or B) she’s giving her insane guilt (even if unwillingly) by just traumadumping all over her (again a literal child)

and if you’re talking wilderness timeline? i don’t see what’s “being a great mother” about that except the fact that she actually cared for the baby (post birth that is. can i remind you that she didn’t want it freaked out and tried to do a makeshift abortion in the middle of the woods. or do we just forget that). the baby is the last thing she has left of jackie and its also been the only source of hope for all her teammates for months. there is so much sitting on this baby (and by extension shauna’s) shoulders. when he’s born (or at least in the dream but that’s what we’re talking about anyways so!) shauna is overjoyed because (honestly it hurts to spell this out bc this is like basic but) she DIDNT DIE, for one. birth in this case is a symbol of hope. hope that, when we get back to reality, is false. and anyone would be traumatized by this let alone a teenage girl in the middle of the wilderness??????? stranded?? who ate her best friend who’s been through all this and you expect her to be stone cold and unmoving? that alone is such a reductive and bad take on shauna. anyone would be fucking destroyed by that.

-“a trauma that wasn't part of her character whatsoever during s1 and was clearly added in retroactively”

the trauma of… giving birth? the very traumatic birth that was set up in season one? or was the baby supposed to wait 19 months to get delivered in a cushy hospital post rescue. huh. also wait this trauma was already being developed in s1 with the abortion scene. hello.

-“obviously it was uncomfortable and made you feel for callie but allowing her to have that uncomfortable trait both made her a more interesting person”

it was uncomfortable!! now we have an explanation (that doesn’t excuse her actions). she still is a bad mom. she still has a lingering resentment for her daughter and her family and her life. its all still there!! it’s just sometimes characters are multifaceted. there’s explanations for actions that don’t mean excuses. shauna is allowed to have traits other than “mean selfish and obsessive” and still be a complex female character. in fact that makes her more complex. she’s a traumatized woman stuck in the mindset of a jealous traumatized teenage girl and it hurts people. she went through so much and it explains her actions but it doesn’t make how she behaved towards callie any better, and us seeing her feel even the smallest bit of remorse towards how she treated her daughter (like it or not, callie is still her daughter) doesn’t reduce her character but adds to it. she can recognize she has an issue but she can’t stop resenting everything she has now because it isn’t what she wanted. she’s stuck in 1996 forever.

-“further illustrated her dissatisfaction w the heteronormative life she'd committed herself to in a unique and complicated way... and then they just got rid of all that to say "no she actually loves the role of wife and mother she was just scared of emotional commitment to callie for unrelated external reasons"”

this is such a massive “taking things at face value” that it actually makes me want to slam my head into a wall. NEVER did the show say she loves the role of wife and mother. she spends time with them when she’s using them to get away with murder or when she’s fucking jeff to get back at that rush from 1996 that she’ll never feel again. she regrets this she’s recognizes maybe it’s hurting people but she doesn’t stop. and that’s just SO fascinating i think calling it a reduction is awful.

she’s still dissatisfied. the show never changed that. it never said she likes where she is and i don’t know where you’re getting that from.

also “unrelated external reasons” i wouldn’t call a traumatizing stillbirth unrelated to having children in the future.

-“it definitely feels like the writers were just unwilling to write a female character that was actually complicated or unlikable in a way that felt real/challenged traditional gender roles in a way that actually challenged the audience”

you say “complicated” and then get mad whenever anything actually complex is added. you should put your thesaurus away and spend the time you use looking up every synonym for “unique” and “complex” and “reductive” and instead use that time to rewatch the show for what it actually is.

challenging gender roles can go both ways a woman doesn’t need to be devoid of all emotion to be interesting or progressive that’s so counterproductive i’m going to lose it. women don’t need to be emotionless to be good feminist rep (in fact calling feeling emotions womanly or feminine feels misogynistic in of itself but i don’t think you’re ready for that conversation yet)

also melanie lynskey had her own trauma around a loss of her pregnancy which informs shauna’s character and always has. the birth was planned since the beginning because the writers made sure not to overstep melanie’s boundaries surrounding the topic. respecting an actress’ boundaries is 10x more important than whatever you think “good feminist rep” is.

yellowjackets s2 was so bad in so many ways but its worst crime was not letting shauna dislike her child or regret motherhood and instead having that stupid retcon about her being a great mother who really loves her daughter but simply can't express it due to trauma (a trauma that wasn't part of her character whatsoever during s1 and was clearly added in retroactively 😐)... like it was one of the most compelling and unique aspects of her character imo, obviously it was uncomfortable and made you feel for callie but allowing her to have that uncomfortable trait both made her a more interesting person and further illustrated her dissatisfaction w the heteronormative life she'd committed herself to in a unique and complicated way... and then they just got rid of all that to say "no she actually loves the role of wife and mother she was just scared of emotional commitment to callie for unrelated external reasons"... it's both a weirdly regressive move and a huge disservice to the character, it definitely feels like the writers were just unwilling to write a female character that was actually complicated or unlikable in a way that felt real/challenged traditional gender roles in a way that actually challenged the audience

[daaydreamy]

anything for love

summary: joe would do anything for love.

warnings: coarse language, depictions of murder, blood, oral (f receiving)

pairing: joe goldberg x fem!reader

•••

Blood.

Blood was what was washing off of Joe’s hands as he held them under the sink that was barely even working, watching it stain the water red as it went down the drain. He looked down at his shirt and pants to make sure there weren’t any drops of blood on it, which thankfully there weren’t, before continuing to wash all of the evidence left on his hands. The water coming out of the sink was absolute shit, switching from drops of water falling from the faucet, to the pressure getting really strong a few seconds after, before going back to a few drops of water falling out.

He looked up and into the mirror in front of him. He thought he looked fairly alright aside from the fact that his hair was a bit messy and disheveled and he was a bit sweaty and flushed, nothing a few splashes of water could fix. So then he did just that, bending over to wet his face and wash off the sweat that had gathered on his skin. He grabbed a few paper towels to dry himself off after, throwing them into the trash can, before looking back into the mirror.

“Hey, you again.” Y/N’s friend, Kyle, said when he turned around to see Joe in front of him once again. Kyle was an asshole, to put it simply. He had lied to Y/N many, many times and treated her like shit most of the time, and yet somehow she was still friends with him. He questioned her taste in people when he met Kyle, wondering how the fuck a woman like her got with someone as terrible as Kyle.

Joe would never treat her like that.

“Did- did you follow me here? Seriously? What the fuck, man?” Kyle furrowed his brows.

“You’re Y/N’s friend, right?” Joe asked him and Kyle nodded slowly.

What a fucking loser.

Joe made sure to fix his hair a bit, flattened down his shirt a bit, making sure he looked presentable before coming back home to Y/N. The light that was above him flickered and he looked up at it for a second, watching it glow before it flickered once more.

He jumped a bit when someone entered the bathroom and looked at him, so he flashed them a quick smile through the mirror before turning around to leave. He made a mental reminder in his head to never go here again because this gas station was truly shit, he was glad he didn’t go into the toilets. But anyway, he looked at the cashier that was still looking down at their phone with their feet kicked up on the counter, barely paying attention to anyone entering the store (thankfully), before swiftly making his way out the door.

He made his way to his car and got into the driver’s seat, a soft sigh leaving his lips as he leaned his head back against the headrest and closed his eyes. He was glad that was over because god was it tiring, hoping he wouldn’t have to do that again. All he wanted to do now was drive home, where Y/N was.

He didn’t feel any remorse whatsoever after killing whatever his name was. His bones didn’t feel itchy, he could see clearly, his mind was clear and relaxed, there was no tension in his body, his insides weren’t all twisted, his stomach wasn’t swirling with guilt, he was fine. Why would he have to feel remorseful? He clearly disliked him, so he didn’t have a reason to feel guilty. He did it for her, for love.

He opened his eyes when he heard a notification come from his phone.

Y/N: you coming home soon?

Joe: just about to.

He put his phone into the cupholder, put his keys in the ignition, turned the radio on, and started to drive home.

•••

Y/N turned her head to look at the door when heard it open, grabbing the TV remote to pause what she had been watching, before getting up from the couch with a soft smile on her face. She went over to Joe and opened her arms to hug him tightly, pressing a tender kiss to his cheek before nuzzling into his neck. Her smile grew when she felt his arms slide around her waist, keeping her body pressed up against his.

“Missed you.” She murmured softly. She had to wait for him to come home a little bit longer than usual and she wasn’t really sure why, but she didn’t mind much, she was just glad he was back home.

“Missed you too.” He replied, pressing a kiss to his temple.

She pulled away from the hug after a little while, running her hands down his arms, making him smile a little.

“Why’d you come home so late?”

“Had to do a few more things. I was trying to get it done quickly but I just lost track of time, I’m sorry.” He said genuinely before leaning in to press his lips to hers as another apology, all her worries slipping away from her pretty little head and the concern that showed in the furrow in her brows disappearing. He smiled a little against her lips and pulled away a bit to kiss the corner of her mouth, making her chuckle softly.

“How the fuck do you even know where I live? Are you some creepy stalker or some shit like that?” Kyle said as he started to back away while Joe only stayed still, looking at him with such a calm expression on his face as opposed to Kyle’s that was so full of concern and a bit of panic as well. He didn’t want to act all murderer-y or some bullshit like that, so he was trying to act as calm as he could. Everything was falling smoothly into place.

“I guess, I don’t know, I like to do my research.”

“Dude if you’re gonna fucking kill me, I’ll call the cops right now.”

“I forgive you.” She said and leaned in to peck his lips quickly, wrapping her arms around his neck. He laughed a little. She kissed him once more, only this time with the intention of making it longer, making it last. He hummed against her as they both closed their eyes, leaning into the rhythm of the kiss, letting it deepen as the time passed.

“No, I’ll make it up to you. I’m sorry.” He mumbled against her lips.

•••

Joe was addicted to her.

He couldn’t take his hands off of her, desperate to feel it against his fingertips. He couldn’t pull his lips away from her skin, wanting to keep sinking his teeth into her soft skin and to leave marks and to kiss and to lick and to suck. His head was in between her thighs, kissing her inner thighs and leaving marks for him to admire for now and for her to see the next morning. His eyes were closed, arms hooked around her thighs to keep her close to his face, sometimes even moaning softly against her as he mouthed at her thighs.

“C’mon.” Y/N huffed out, starting to get impatient and hot.

He hummed against her and trailed soft and quick kisses up her thigh, getting closer and closer to where she needed him most. He spread her legs a little wider by spreading them further with his hands, taking a good look at her. She was so wet now and he simply couldn’t help himself, leaning in whilst darting his tongue out to taste her.

He immediately moaned softly against her and let his eyes fall shut, pulling her a bit closer to him, licking up everything she was giving him. He felt her hand run through his hair, gripping softly as pleasured sounds started to tumble from her lips, which only spurred him on further.

“Fuck.” She groaned softly, tilting her head back against the pillows beneath her. Her grip on his hair tightened a little bit, a soft moan bubbling from her chest when he groaned against her from the sharp feeling of her tugging at his hair. He was now licking into her, sucking her clit, working her up with his tongue. He was practically getting addicted to how she tasted, eager to get more of her on his tongue. Her moans, too, were just so fucking pretty and he got off on them too.

“Just like that.” She said breathlessly, thighs tightening around his head a bit, only for him to keep her legs spread wide for himself.

He opened his eyes for a second, looking up at her as he pleasured her. The sight was sinful and she was so… dreamy at the same time. He dug his nails into her thighs just a little bit as he listened to her sweet moans and whines, desperate to make her come on his tongue now.

“Gonna make me come, shit.” She said eventually, groaning softly as her back arched up off of the bed a bit. Her thighs were squeezing around his head and he didn’t even bother to spread them anymore, only focused on pleasuring her at this point. He wanted to make her feel good, to please her.

“Come for me,” He said breathily, “Please.” He said, a hint of desperation heard in his tone.

Then he got his mouth back on her, running his tongue along her sweet, sweet cunt.

Her grip on his hair still wasn’t loosening, and it even tightened even further when she finally reached her peak, orgasmic pleasure washing over her body in waves. Such sinful sounds tumbled from her lips so carelessly and she was so loud too. Her stomach was swirling with arousal and her head felt like it was spinning so deliciously.

“I’m all yours.” He murmured softly.

She chuckled.

“You’re all mine.”

a/n: no actually why are you reading this. joe is a bad person 🚫 (i wanna rail him btw)

[writteninkat]

Lust | Toji x reader

summary: sex is the consolation you have when you can't have love -GGM

f!reader

word count: 1.1k

genre: angst

warning: cheating

a/n: listened to olivia rodrigo's "deja vu" on repeat while writing this ;-; | master list for 100 follower event

Your husband is a busy man, he has many sorcerers to assassinate and many curses to collect. Despite his past wives, you believed you could change him.

It all began two years ago, you watched as he slayed your brother who abused you mentally and physically throught the years. You felt no remorse for him, whatsoever.

You saw him with the full moon behind him, he glowed brightly in the dark. You could see his perfectly sculpted figure outline in frint of the moon, the way the moonlight glazed over his features so beautifully.

He was your savior, your hero, your first love.

"Well," He smirks at you, sitting in the floor with the thinnest white night gown in the planet. "Aren't you a beauty." He walks over to you, caressing his thumb over your soft cheek.

You feel your heart pound against your chest, you've never once felt this way towards somebody, given that you were never allowed to leave the house nor your room. You read in the old brittle pages of your dead mother's book how loving someone felt like gliding over the wind or feeling warm all over everytime you see them.

The letters spelled over the pages just how good it feels to love and be loved by someone, how time spent being with them is never wasted.

Toji Fushiguro became the light of your life that night, he became your entire world, your universe. Everything you do, did, and will do, is all for him. Everything that you are is for him. Everything that you make is for him.

This man is the first who's ever been so gentle with you, the first to share your bed, the first to press his lips on yours, the first to get you to smile so widely, your cheeks began to hurt.

That night he brought you to his house, offered you a shower to bathr in, a room to sleep in, clothes to change into and even food to eat. He'd cook you your meals everyday and whenever you asked to learn how make them so you could make them for him as well, he taught you patiently, chuckling whenever you made a mistake. He'd press a kiss on your hand whenever bits of oil would splash over it, he'd make sure your water was warm enough before you took a bath and he'd always make sure to tuck you in before you felt asleep.

After the first month of living together with him, you felt like you needed him even more this time, so he helped you. Through the night, his hands were gentle, his words were comforting and the overall experience had your toes curling and tears pooling in the corners of your eyes.

You fell for him. Hard.

You hugged your mother's book tightly, smiling widely. Everything the book had mentioned, everything it said about love was real.

You love Toji Fushiguro and he... he loves you.

Bullshit.

Hot tears begin to stream down your face as you feel your heart clench in your chest. The dinner you ate hours ago feels like they're climbing their way up your esophagus and everything around you just becomes hazy.

"This is supposed to be our bed." Your voice trembles in anger as you watch him hold a woman in his arms, pounding into her like how he did to you. The minute you opened the door and saw them, Toji looked at you dead in the eye, not an ounce of guilt evident in his face.

"My bed, sweetheart." He smirks, hand traveling down to the woman's sex, teasing her clit. "Wanna join in?"

You clench your fists, nails digging into the palm of your hand. "You disgust me, Fushiguro." You seeth in anger, feeling your blood boil inside you.

"If you feel so awful about it, you can leave. There's the door." He motions at the front door, just in front of the bedroom door. Your anger disseminate into sadness. Pure, gray, sadness.

"Was everything in those two years nothing to you?" Your lower lip quivers as your eyebrows bunch up together. Toji looks at you, his expression bored as he raises a brow. "Those two years were...a couple million yen, but you paid them back fully well with your body."

You feel like throwing up now.

The man in front of you, you couldn't even begin to comprehend just why and how you fell in love with him. He's a monster. Good for nothing, asshole who deserves to rot alone.

With the smallest bit of pride you have left inside you, you leave the house, placing a hand on your five month old belly with your heart on your sleeve.

More tears come rushing out of your eyes as you wipe them dry messily on your sleeve. You make your way to your best friend's house, Mai, just a couple of blocks down. You met her when you were picking out fruits to slice up for Toji, the two of you hit it off cery quickly.

After much cursing (all of them directed towards Toji), she buys you a one way ticket out of the country, telling you'll be living with her.

•••

Toji pushes the woman off of him, yelling at her to leave the room, in which she obliged to. He sighs, stress evident in his features as he pulls his bedside drawer open, taking out a picture of the both of you.

His phone rings making him sigh once again.

"She escaped, I couldn't get any information out of her in those two years of locking her up in the basement." He lies through his teeth, eyes scanning over a picture of you smiling as he's kissing your cheek.

"Darn. Alright, let's drop her, she won't be able to survive for long on her own. Thanks for your work, Mr. Fushiguro." Toji ends the call without another word, tapoing on his messages app.

Mai 9:38PM

we're off to nyc, currently boarding the plane

Toji 9:38PM

please take care of her for me

Mai 9:40PM

that was a real dick move but it was for the best, huh?

Toji 9:41PM

raise my son well. make sure he doesn't become someone like me

Mai 9:42PM

you're a good guy, toji. take care of yourself.

Toji sets his phone down, sighing to himself as he lays on his bed. He misses the noise of the house, your giggles, ramblings, whining whenever you couldn't open the pickle jar...

Toji takes one last look at your photo, smiling to himself as he presses his lips against it.

"I hope to see you again soon, Y/n. I love you."

You believed you could change him, and you did.

[makeste]

“...and I bullied him.”

hello, hello, good afternoon or evening or whatever time it is. so by now we’ve all had some time to bask in those “Kacchan admitted he cares about Deku” feels (well, technically they were “All Might pointed out that Kacchan was worried about Deku and Kacchan didn’t deny it” feels, BUT THOSE MIGHT AS WELL BE THE SAME FEELS, YOU KNOW). and it’s been lovely. I’ve been having a time. it’s been nice.

but now I would like to talk a bit more about a part of this chapter which I think was even more important.

for me, this was the line of the chapter. this one panel may honestly be the biggest piece of Kacchan character development since all the way back in chapter 120. “I ended up bullying him.” okay but guys?? can we just talk?? about how absolutely extraordinary this one sentence is.

it’s self-aware.

introspection? from a kid who’s had to be dragged kicking and screaming to every character development milestone he’s ever experienced in his life? and on an emotional level that actually goes deeper, and doesn’t just stop at the surface-level anger that’s so often his instinctive reaction to everything? who are you and what have you done with Bakugou Katsuki lol.

but seriously, the level of self-analysis here almost stunned me, guys. not only does he demonstrate a very impressive level of insight into Deku (something I especially love because it mirrors the many analyses Deku has made of him, and shows that the understanding between them is actually mutual), but he also shows an unprecedented degree of insight into himself. like, historically speaking, Bakugou and Feelings have not always exactly been on the same page, you know? so for him to suddenly get so thoughtful now, and sincerely try to analyze these feelings which up until now he’s always ignored and avoided dealing with... that is such a huge step. also, bonus points: he recognizes it as a problem within himself, and doesn’t try to pin the blame on Deku in any way. he recognizes that he’s the one who reacted badly to Deku’s behavior. to be able to examine your own feelings like that and arrive at a conclusion that acknowledges that you’re not the good guy in this, that you’re the one who made the mistake -- that takes a level of accountability that not everyone possesses.

it’s self-prompted.

okay this one is a big deal honestly. no one put a gun to Katsuki’s head here and forced him to confess this. all All Might said was “you’re worried about him too” and that somehow prompted a level of emotional honesty that Katsuki has never before shown. now, based on the fact that the successors’ notebook is still fresh in Katsuki’s mind, and that All Might mentioned earlier that Aizawa couldn’t help because he was “busy at the moment”, this conversation likely took place shortly after the kids returned from their New Year’s break. meaning that this was basically right after the Endeavor internship arc, when thoughts about seeking atonement were still fresh on Katsuki’s mind. so this isn’t entirely out of the blue; it shows that Katsuki did, in fact, learn exactly what All Might was hoping he would learn from Endeavor.

but it’s one thing for this to be on his mind, and another thing entirely for him to actually confess it out loud. and I absolutely will give him full credit for that. he admits, without anyone forcing him to, that he bullied Deku. there’s no incentive for him to do this whatsoever. Deku isn’t there to hear it. he’s not admitting it for the purposes of seeking forgiveness. he’s simply just being honest, and owning up to what he did because he realizes it was wrong. and that takes a lot of inner strength, to do that. to not shy away from it and keep pretending like it never happened. this is a huge first step for him.

it’s a confession that leaves him emotionally vulnerable.

this is another big one. it’s not always evident because he makes a big effort to downplay it, but Katsuki looks up to All Might every bit as much as Deku does. he seeks his approval, he wants All Might to be proud of him, even though he very often puts on a big show of not caring about it at all. it means a lot to him. a lot.

and Katsuki knows how much All Might cares about Deku. and sure, All Might is already perfectly aware that Katsuki and Deku aren’t exactly on the best of terms, and he’s always been understanding about it; always gently compassionate and attempting to smooth things out between them without being judgmental.

but All Might also doesn’t know everything about the two of them. and even with Kacchan and Deku’s relationship never exactly being on the most rock solid of terms at U.A., there’s still a vast difference between the way they interact there, and the way that they interacted back in middle school. when Katsuki was not only hostile, but occasionally downright cruel. and when Deku was still quirkless, and very much not on equal footing with Kacchan in terms of power, and yet Kacchan bullied him anyway.

what Katsuki is confessing here puts him at risk of rejection from one of the people whose opinion of him matters the most. he’s opening himself up to the possibility that All Might might not, for once, react with his trademark understanding. he’s admitting to All Might, I did something unherolike, and I hurt someone you care about, and I didn’t have a good reason for doing it. All Might, in the moment immediately following this statement, has an incredible amount of power over Katsuki. he has the ability to withdraw his support, to condemn him, to pull away and decide that Katsuki is not someone worthy of becoming a hero after all. he has all the power in the world over Katsuki in this one moment; a rejection from him would be a blow he’d never recover from.

and Katsuki, knowing this, tells him anyway. willingly opens himself up to that possibility of being hurt, of being rejected and shunned by the person who inspired his dream. because the alternative is being dishonest with him. this is, in short, a decision made because he believes All Might deserves to know this, and deserves to hear the truth from him. he wants his approval so badly, but he can’t live with the knowledge that he’s “tricked” him into giving it. so he tells him the truth, ready to face whatever consequences might arise from that. and I think that might be one of the bravest things he’s ever done.

it’s not attempting to shirk responsibility.

this, right here, is why Katsuki is my favorite character. because even though he’s flawed, even though he’s made a lot of mistakes, when he realizes that and is confronted by it, he never tries to hide from them. I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: to me, the essence of Katsuki is that he is someone who is always trying to be better. he wants to be a good hero; he wants to be a good person. when people point out to him that he’s done something wrong, he listens. it doesn’t always sink in right away, sure, and sometimes he gets stubborn and it can be hard to hammer that truth in. but once he gets it, he always makes the change. he never tries to make excuses. he owns up to his shit and does his best to course correct.

with this acknowledgement here, that he bullied Deku, there’s no attempt on his part to say that it was Deku’s fault, that Deku shouldn’t have done this or that. he doesn’t blame his parents or his teachers or try to act like he didn’t know any better. he makes no attempt whatsoever to justify it. it’s just simple, honest truth. back then, I ignored my own weakness, so I ended up bullying him. it’s a plea of guilt. no attempt to mitigate it or downplay it. the verb he uses, “ijimeta”, doesn’t water it down.

“to ill-treat; to torment; to be cruel to.” there’s no attempt here to paint this in a flattering light at all. which is good. because in order for him to really atone for it, to really go the distance in his redemption arc which we’re all rooting for him to do, the most important step is for him to take responsibility. he can’t learn from it if he’s trying to hide from it or make excuses for what he did wrong. he has to fully acknowledge his mistakes. and that’s exactly what this is.

it shows remorse.

that’s right y’all. they sent my boy out to do an internship with Endeavor over the holidays, and he came back having learned the true meaning of Christmas. his heart really did grow three sizes. honey badger does care.

there is genuine, sincere remorse for his actions here. he’s sorry for what he did. he regrets what he did. there’s real contrition there. it’s not forced or insincere. again, nobody made him say this! nobody pressured him, nobody led him on. these are his own feelings. I bullied Deku. I shouldn’t have done that to him. I want to atone for it.

I know some people in fandom don’t think this is enough. the same thing happened with Endeavor as well. people aren’t always satisfied with restorative justice; they want retribution. they want punishment for his actions. and that’s a natural feeling; it stems back to that instinct of wanting everything to be fair, which I mentioned in another meta not too long ago.

but the thing is, retributive, punitive justice doesn’t actually help anyone. it doesn’t restore what was lost. Katsuki being punished doesn’t do anything to undo what was done to Deku. it doesn’t do anything to heal the harm that was dealt. it doesn’t do anything to make things better for either of them moving forward.

but do you know what does? restorative justice. making amends. which is exactly what this is building up to now.

it shows an understanding that remorse is not enough, and that in order to move forward he has to take action to be a better person.

Katsuki understands that simply being sorry for what he did is not enough. I suspect that’s one reason why he hasn’t attempted to apologize to Deku yet; because he recognizes that after years of tormenting him for stupid and self-centered reasons, a simple apology might seem meaningless at best and self-serving at worst. it puts pressure on Deku to make a decision to either accept or not accept it. Katsuki saw the Todoroki siblings struggling with a similar conflict not too long ago. and he knows better than anyone else how selfless Deku can be. “deep down, he doesn’t take himself into account, y’know?” and so if Katsuki simply apologizes, Deku might end up offering forgiveness that he doesn’t actually deserve, just because Deku is that kind of person who puts others above himself.

and so rather, what Katsuki has opted to do for now is to put all his efforts into helping Deku. he knows Deku is in a considerable amount of danger. he knows how much Deku has on his plate with the SIXQUIRKS and trying to handle all of that. and he knows there are other potential dangers looming which they don’t even know about yet. he’s been alert and anxious about this -- you saw how quickly his mind leaped to worst-case scenarios about the past OFA users; how he was sure that All Might was hiding something from them, and how agitated and apprehensive he got thinking about what that might be.

“I’m worried for him. you are, too,” All Might said. and Katsuki didn’t deny it. didn’t even try. he is worried about Deku. he’s worried about what he has to face. he’s worried about him getting in over his head and something happening to him. and so the way that he has chosen to try and atone is to help him. with his training, with his quirks; whatever he can do. if he needs to push him he’ll push him. whatever he can do to help make him stronger. and if he needs to protect him, he’ll do that too.

atonement is not the same thing as forgiveness. atonement is about trying to make up for what you did, to try and correct your mistakes however you can. it doesn’t mean you’re pardoned from them. all it means is that you’ve acknowledged them, and are doing your best -- doing whatever you can -- to repair the harm done, and to be a better person going forward. and sometimes there is no way to ever completely make up for it. sometimes you can’t undo the harm, because you can’t go back and change the past. the only thing you can change is the now, and the future.

and so Katsuki is trying to atone. he’s trying to be the friend Deku deserves now, since he wasn’t before. he’s trying his best to make things right, and it all starts with this one sentence. that acknowledgement of what he did, of what can’t be changed. acknowledgement of the mistake, so that he can learn from it, so that it never happens again.

so yeah. BnHA Redemption Arcs strike again. Horikoshi you smooth son of a bitch.

[azaharinflames]

This is what we’ve been saying though. In their minds, Buddie dating is the solution to any and all problems either of them can have.

And it’s just not a) realistic and b) all that true.

‘They will talk about their issues’ -> just because Buck asked Eddie about Kim does it mean Eddie willingly talks about his issues. Matter of fact, he only talked about them because Buck pressed on it. And before that? Before that he’d been lying to Buck. Something he has not shown any guilt or remorse about whatsoever. Him dating Buck would not magically fix the way he closes off - most likely, Buck would want to talk and Eddie would close off. Buck would press on the issue. Outcomes may vary.

‘Put on the work’ -> i’m just going to use 805 because it is the most recent example. putting on the work… sure. love to see all the work that takes rolling your eyes at your partner spiraling. or, not even caring when it’s clear they’re spiraling (this when the blade incident happened), and instead choosing to dance. I am sure Eddie, who didn’t even put on the work with his own wife, would do a 180 with Buck. Because it’s Buck, obviously.

Let’s make things clear: Buck and Eddie as friends work. Again, I have my issues when it comes to their friendship, but in canon their friendship works. Romantically? If you look at it realistically, not being an obsessive shipper - they are not compatible. Buck needs someone who can be on top of him, attentive (the way Tommy showed to be), someone who doesn’t necessarily enable him, but is happy to indulge (something we saw Tommy doing and Eddie NOT doing). He needs someone calm, and patient, and communicative. All things Tommy is. All things Eddie isn’t.

And just to be clear - Buck is also not what Eddie needs. Admittedly, we don’t exactly know what Eddie could want in a partner at this point, but Buck’s personality would overwhelm him more than soothe him. Why do I say this? Because we have evidence in canon. And not only just once.

So. This confidence in Buddie being the solution to each other’s issues is ridiculous. Mostly because of this closing argument:

Two people being together and suddenly fixing each other’s issues is not true. At all. They can help you, and you can be good together, work through stuff, and they can be what helps you feel more settled and confident. But issues always exist. In different scales, and of course not always big, but they are a natural part of life. The beauty of a partnership is seeing those issues, and accepting them. No one is perfect, and no one becomes perfect once they start dating somebody.

Like what?

Did I miss something that says something about a breakup between BuckTommy?

https://twitter.com/diazscloset/status/1852178887008022880?t=8XwAawtq26_9IVvj1JntCw&s=19

How is Buck overcompensating in his relationship with Tommy?? Either these people don't know what that word means or they have read a fanfiction and replaced fanon for Canon.

Even if you don't like Tommy, there is nothing to suggest that the relationship isn't working... in fact, the writers have deliberately made it completely different than all past relationships. If you don't see that, then you are choosing to ignore that, and that's no one's fault but your own.

[wingletblackbird]

Hi. I've been a long time fan of your meta posts. I've been wondering from a purely legally perspective if, as a senator, Padme had the authority to pardon Anakin following his confession in AotC?

Thanks for the compliment!

I'm pretty sure Padme does not have the authority to forgive Anakin's actions on Tatooine from a legal perspective. This isn't just because she is a senator though, and I don't think senators unilaterally have that authority. Even if she did have that kind of authority, and had it on a planet not in the Chommell Sector, she would lack jurisdiction on two counts.

The first is that Tatooine is really only nominally a part of the Republic. It is ruled by the Hutts. Padme has no authority here whatsoever. On top of that, there is no local law enforcement on Tatooine. There are Jabba's enforcers, and your blaster. There is no real law at all. This is the Wild West at it's worst. That is why when Shmi is kidnapped, Cliegg gathers up his farming buddies, and they go after the Tuskens. They can't call in the police, or the military, or any one else to do it. It's a harsh world, and it is just them to do what is necessary. That is why, from a Tatooinian legal perspective, Anakin has not violated the law. On Tatooine justice=vengeance. It is hard to break the law when there isn't one. Sure people will think what he did was excessive, but everyone hates the Tuskens, (you could even call it speciesism), so no one will do anything about it.

The second reason Padme has no say is because Anakin is a Jedi. The Jedi, as seen in Ahsoka's trial, handle all legal matters concerning violations by the Jedi, if not all Force-Sensitives. Now, this system does have room for abuse. However, there is good reason for this system to exist. Force-sensitive beings can choke you from afar, mind trick you etc. The Jedi are the only ones who can ensure a sound judgement, and/or minimal chance of an escaped convict.

Not only do the Jedi need to be in charge in this case for security, they are also the only one's who can truly appreciate how difficult the Force is to handle. What I mean by this is that there is a difference between falling to the Dark Side, and brushing against the Dark. The former is a choice you can be condemned for, the latter is more like manslaughter. Think in ANH when Obi-Wan tells Luke, essentially, that the Force can also control you. You need to be careful how you draw upon the Force. What might be murder for a non-Forceful, could be manslaughter for Forceful if they are overwhelmed by a Force they cannot control, but controls them.

Taking all of this into context then. When Anakin finds his mother, he is grief-stricken, guilt-stricken, furious, horrified, terrified etc. He decides someone needs to die for this, and fair enough. His mother has been tortured to death over several weeks. He gets out his lightsaber and kills the guards. After that, Tuskens come running up to him, he swings his lightsaber. Fade to black. The fade to black symbolizes his brush with the Dark Side. Anakin intended to kill the guards. This is not against the law. This is justice on Tatooine. However, Anakin is also Force-sensitive, and extremely off-balance. He draws on the Force wrong, gets overwhelmed by the Force, and more and more Tuskens, and next thing you know, he's gone and killed the whole village. This was not intentional at all. (As an aside, I think drawing on the Light Side the wrong way can be just as bad, even if not as obviously destructive, but that is a meta for another day.)

Anakin is shocked, horrified, sickened. We can see him struggle to come to terms with it when Padme comes to find him. When he was using the Dark Side he was on a high of power, all the justifications whispered in his head he remembers, now he's awake and trying to cope with what he has done, and why, and how it felt. He has no clue how to handle this. He is a trainwreck. Now, if he'd been bragging about it, I think Padme would have noped out and reported him. He wasn't though. He felt bad. He should be better than this. She forgives him. This is not on a legal level, just a personal one. Padme's gift and flaw is that she always looks for the best in people. Anakin has committed no wrong on Tatooine, and the other wrongs are a Jedi matter she has nothing to do with. In the same way she likely assumed the Jedi would handle Shmi, she thought Anakin would go to the Jedi. Then the war broke out, and there were other things to worry about.

As for Anakin, he was horrified about what he did, and knew he would have to tell someone. He was scared to tell Obi-Wan/the Jedi though. He had never quite fit in. He didn't want to let them down. He didn't expect them to understand how losing his mother affected them. How could they? What should he do? So, he goes to Palpatine first for advice. Palpatine will tell him what he should do. Had Palpatine been a decent man, he would have been sympathetic, but still would have told Anakin that this was beyond his area, and Anakin clearly needs the Jedi's help. Anakin would have gone to the Jedi. Palpatine is not a good man though, and wants Anakin to feel miserable and dark and dependent only on him, so he isolates Anakin further. Of course, the Jedi would never understand, my dear boy. And, besides, it's not like what you did was really all that bad, right? After all, they killed your mother. All water under the bridge! Anakin may not believe this, but it is permission for him to not face his fears, so he doesn't. He vows to do better, and leaves it at that. If Padme brings it up, he tells her he got help. He legitimately thinks he did. Even if he mentioned it was Palpatine he went to, at this point in time, Palpatine is an old friend/mentor of Padme's. She trusts him too. Problem solved.

Now, had Anakin (or Padme) actually told the Jedi what happened. I do not think they would have risked expelling Anakin outright. First of all, they could not have condemned the murder of the Tusken guards, as that could be considered justice under Tatoonian law. However, the rest is manslaughter, arguably even involuntary manslaughter. (Anakin definitely would not have killed kids at this point in time intentionally. He could barely do it even when he chose to fall.) Given Anakin's remorse, he is not beyond hope, and they do not want to expel a man who still could be a danger to himself and others, (and they want to keep track of “The Chosen One”), so he is punished and offered extra meditative training.

I think generally 1-5 years is the typical penalty for involuntary manslaughter? Up to a maximum of 8-10? I don't know. I'm no expert, but I reckon it is pretty similar for Jedi. I imagine the council would suspend him from all further duties, place him in confinement for a year for meditation, counselling, therapy is that too much to ask for?, after that, they would let him out for remedial training under a watchful eye. If improvement was seen, he would eventually be allowed to return to active duty. His knighthood would be put off for quite some time. Alas, this does not happen.

Even if it had though, I don't picture Anakin ever being knighted. Honestly, the increased supervision would have also meant he couldn't see Palpatine or Padme. I think the latter would be the breaking point. Anakin would insist on seeing her and he would get expelled. He would still be expected to do his time, of course, but after that he would leave and never look back.

[obi-wkenobi]

Whumptober 2021

Day 5: Comfort (alternative prompt)

Read below or on A03.

“I need to leave for work now,” Bail said, picking up his datapad from the table and smiling at Obi-Wan. “Once I’m back we’ll have some more time to talk about how you could help the Rebellion. You’ve been away from any action for a long time,” he teased gently.

Obi-Wan huffed and nodded, resisting the urge to remind Bail that he would only be on Alderaan for a short while. Luke still needed him on Tatooine, after all.

In the silence of Bail’s home he decided to use the computer to check the HoloNet. 

Ten years ago he never would have had to do such a thing, as a Jedi he was always kept up to date on the latest Galactic news and hadn’t realised just how much he took it for granted until he was forced to live on Tatooine. His homestead in the Dune Sea didn’t offer him close-by access to prominent Senators or the Republic’s capital, instead he barely even saw one individual in a standard week and so the latest news was the furthest thing from his mind.

At first it had been difficult, but as he glanced through the news he found that he didn’t care for any of it. This knowledge wouldn’t affect his life whatsoever, he had adapted himself to a myopic worldview whereby his only considerations were how much water he had, what he should eat next, how he would get that piece of food and if Luke was safe. Why should his focus be on anything else? He was still a Jedi and so he knew that he should still somewhat care for the state of the Galaxy, but he could also acknowledge that he was a bit bitter. The Galaxy had not helped the Jedi and so why should he care? Perhaps if he had the ability to do something about it then he would. He huffed to himself, such thoughts were pointless. 

Soon afterward he went to explore the house, where he quickly found a patio door that led to an expansive garden blooming with exotic flowers. In the distance a winding gravel path could be seen leading to a large, bountiful lake. He stood there in awe, amazed by all the colours, flourishing in an infinity of shades. The lake mesmerized him the most, it’s complete stillness, yet also its constant motion. The ripples that could be seen from a harsh breeze and the small splashes made when wildlife came up for air. They showed that it was a living thing, not just an inanimate object. 

There weren’t such colours or displays of life on Tatooine, all he had to see there was an endless expanse of sand, capable of movement but always the same; coarse, rough, and beige, with no indication that it relied on its surroundings to survive. 

Obi-Wan stood there for a long time, staring at the lake in contemplation. A consequence of Tatooine was that time had become unimportant to him, why shouldn’t he spend a minute or an hour on one task? Other than the darkening of the sky there was no need for him to monitor time. What was the point when there wasn’t even the changing of a season to keep him company? He was unable to say what year he had broken a finger whilst climbing a canyon wall, or what month a sandstorm had blown down the enclosure that contained his Bantha. If asked he could comment on which had come first, but not the exact date that they happened or the amount of time that had passed in between. 

The tedious desert had taught him the one thing that he had always needed to learn, how to live in the present moment. Although, he suspected Qui-Gon had not had such drastic teaching methods in mind when training him all those years ago. 

Therefore, he wasn’t too surprised when Leia turned up at his side sometime later. She stood there with him as he continued observing the boundless swaying of the trees and ripples of the lake, so like his time spent watching the ebb and flow of the Dunes outside his home. He wasn’t disturbed, nor did he mind when she slipped her hand inside his own, patiently waiting for him to start a conversation. 

Eventually though, it appeared that she was unable to contain herself and so she asked, “Do you like the water? I think I prefer space, that way I can fly wherever I want.”

Obi-Wan pulled a face instinctively. “I much prefer the water, flying isn’t something that I really enjoy.” He wondered if he had been exiled to an ocean world if he would have come to hate water, just as he had come to hate sand. 

“You don’t like flying?” she said, aghast. “But you must have flown to loads of planets.”

“I have,” he conceded. 

Still curious, she inquired, “Did you just have people flying you to places then? Like your Padawan?”

He stiffened immediately, his hand tensing within Leia’s. 

“You don’t like talking about him do you?”

Obi-Wan didn’t know what to say, so he said nothing.

“Father told me that he died, is that why? You must miss him, especially after you spent years and years together.”

He battled with his grief before deciding on the truth. “It’s hard to talk about someone who you miss.”

She gazed up at him, innocent and oblivious. “Maybe one day when the Jedi Order is restored you can have another Padawan?”

His eyes closed in anguish. One day the Jedi Order may be restored, but it wouldn’t be in his lifetime. And even if it was, he wouldn’t take on another Padawan lest he failed them as well. 

A tug on his hand drew his attention down and he stared at Anakin’s child, whose earnest eyes only made him think of the young slave boy he had met on Tatooine. 

An unpleasant wave of helplessness crashed over him then. He was the one unifying thread intertwining the fate of the Galaxy together, he was bound to these children—and Anakin, and it was his destiny to bring them together and to ensure that their purposes be fulfilled. It had never been his decision to do so though, that had been taken from him when Qui-Gon had made him promise to train a troubled, young boy. And so he may have been the key to everything, but his life had never been his own and he must bear the brunt of it—of the responsibility and the guilt, for they had always been his alone. 

Leia frowned at him in concern, her underlying Force sensitivity undeniably able to sense his distress. “Ben?”

The soft name roused him from his despair and he scolded himself for being unable to find balance, for letting his fear still hold him hostage even after all this time. Surely he could find some cause for joy here? Leia was safe and happy and that more than anything should have stirred his optimism. But even that didn’t comfort him, who knew what might happen to Leia should he fail in the end.

“Are you okay? Why are you so sad?”

He smiled at her gently, though he was sure it wasn’t convincing. “I’m okay.”

Her lip wobbled threateningly, so he fell down on one knee and grabbed both of her hands in his. “I promise I’m okay,” he reassured.

Irritation appeared on her face even as her eyes pulled down in worry. “You’re lying,” Leia mumbled. “You’re so sad, I can feel it, you’ve been sad since you got here.”

What could he say to that? Obi-Wan knew his shields were strong and so he could only assume that she had a certain talent for detecting people’s emotions, but how does one explain to a child the extent of his grief? The sadness of his Force signature was always present now and he very much doubted that would ever change.

It wasn’t that Obi-Wan hadn’t accepted his loss, he had. He had accepted the destruction of the Jedi and had accepted that it was his pupil that had helped with the genocide of his fellow, but he was a forever changed man because of it and as a result, his presence had changed too.

As with before he decided to be honest, or at least as honest as he could be. “I am sad, but that doesn’t mean that I’m also not happy. Seeing you and your father has made me the happiest I’ve been in a long time.”

In a display of perception that no normal child would have, she narrowed her eyes at him and observed him with quiet interest, “Really?”

“Yes,” he said truthfully. 

Having decided that he wasn’t lying, Leia gave him a nod of acceptance and then launched herself at him and drew him into an enveloping hug. It took his breath away. He had not been touched with such kind intent in nearly a decade and the knowledge that it was Padmé’s and Anakin’s daughter doing so made him want to cry from both happiness and remorse. 

“Thank you,” he mumbled, further sitting on the floor and pulling Leia onto his lap, smiling when she rested her head on his shoulder.

[bigskydreaming]

No but for real, this is legit a serious question, and I am genuinely curious to hear a response from someone who has this POV, because its the heart of my objection on this particular point, and like I don’t get it at all. 

We constantly see or hear the narrative that Dick failed Jason somehow by putting his own selfish feelings and insecurities first when Jason was a kid, and using those as a reason not to reach out to Jason, try and be a presence in his life, or just like connect to him and get to know him, be a brother to him. Agreed? That that’s a narrative we see a lot? That whether its Dick saying it himself, or Jason saying it to Dick, stories constantly back this sentiment up and seem to say they agree with whomever is voicing this sentiment?

And its also unilaterally said in these kinds of narratives that Dick’s grievances are one hundred percent because of his issues with Bruce, and he has virtually no contact with Bruce at that time either.

Okay, so here’s the thing.

Isn’t it EQUALLY true though, that even IF one takes that narrative at face value and accepts it as true....that at the exact same time Bruce would be failing Dick by putting HIS own selfish feelings and insecurities first when Jason was a kid and Dick was still only nineteen, and using those as a reason not to reach out to Dick, try and be a presence in his life still, or just reconnect to him, be a father to him?

Y’know?

So why is it always about how Dick failed Jason - keeping in mind that this is at a time when Dick is definitively (unless altered by a story’s personal canon, which it almost never is).....that Dick is definitively not adopted by Bruce yet, but no longer legally or officially his ward since he’s over eighteen, and no matter whether you personally go with the idea that Dick was fired as Robin or Dick quit, either way, he’s no longer in Bruce’s life as his partner and by extension Bruce isn’t in his as his partner either - like, keeping in mind that Dick is literally not connected to Jason yet at this time by ANY kind of tie whatsoever, that his ONLY connection to Jason is THROUGH BRUCE, and Bruce is at LEAST as complicit in not being part of Dick’s life as Dick is in not being part of Jason’s....

And with the added factor that Dick literally never had any obligations to Jason whatsoever, never owed him anything unlike Bruce who literally made the choice to take in both Jason and Dick and be a presence in their lives, but who did not at the same time have the ability to volunteer each of THEM to be presences in each OTHER’S lives, especially if he - the bridge between them - was actively not being a presence in one of their lives at all.....

Like, you see what I’m saying? Why this is so weird to me? Why is the focus so unilaterally on how Dick somehow ‘failed’ Jason or messed up or didn’t do right by him or let him down or was selfish or all of the above, even while acknowledging that Dick was ONLY all of these things because he was hurting because of Bruce’s actions and Dick’s own insecurities.....

When Bruce, their father or at the very least father figure and former guardian....

Is literally ‘guilty’ of all the EXACT SAME THINGS PEOPLE HOLD AGAINST DICK ON JASON’S BEHALF.....

With the only difference being that Bruce is actually the adult who ACTUALLY made commitments and expressed obligations and made promises to both these boys?

When at most like there’s awkward communication of Bruce’s remorse to Dick....in the PROCESS of Dick being actively proactive in reaching out to Jason or making up for failing earlier or working hard to build a relationship out of guilt for not doing so sooner.....

But almost never an actual FOCUS on Bruce being shown putting forth the kind of effort towards Dick that people seem to literally take for granted that Dick OWES Jason?

I’m genuinely interested in someone explaining that point of view to me, because I one hundred percent don’t get how that makes sense. Even with the POV that Dick did wrong by Jason in these ways, doesn’t by extension Bruce appear guilty of the exact same things towards Dick, and shouldn’t he be as invested in doing better by Dick as Dick is by Jason - especially if the narrative is treating Bruce as a flawed but good father while Dick is actively remorseful and attempting to CHANGE the entire nature of his relationship with Jason?

You get what I’m saying?

Its not even that Dick and Bruce are BOTH held to the same standards as each other for their ‘failures’ in ‘being there’ for Jason and Dick respectively.....

Its that Dick is literally the only one ACTIVELY and VISIBLY held to a standard of needing to actionably make changes in order to address grievances he caused by not stepping up and being there for Jason despite his own personal hurts or insecurities....

While Bruce gets off relatively scott free because oh that’s just Bruce and he’s just like that.

*Shrugs* I literally just don’t get how that makes any sense whatsoever even according to the internal logic expressed by this specific kind of narrative.

Even at age nineteen, when Dick’s neither legally nor by way of crime fighting partnership like, actively connected or tied to the Wayne family whatsoever and receiving any kind of emotional benefits from them being in HIS life....

Fans of other characters still see it as perfectly reasonable to hold him more accountable and owing more obligations towards a character he had no personal hand in adding to his family - lol a family he’s not even technically PART of at the moment - than they hold the actual patriarch of the family.

That’s.....I mean.....

[necrosin]

❝ i'm particular about how i prefer talkative people, ❞ particular is such a pretty way to put it, preference is such a neat way to box it and wrap it neatly : with a pretty little bow, a gift just for himself to unwrap. a half admission they both must know / yes he likes satoru's talkativeness, his means of filling spaces, voice steady and sprawling and endless as the boundaries of his cursed energy, always seeking to fill silences if only because he could. seeking and searching, teeth sinking and tearing, as if ripping muscle tissue away sheet by sheet, leaving behind only a bloody mess —— a vulgar massacre / the violence of it / the get lost within the spill of blood of it / NOT ALWAYS, of course, not eternally, once he thinks that satoru speaking at length about whatever topic suited him well enough was far more like a gentle melody as opposed to a savage sonata. suguru likes both well enough / covets both, tucks both deep in the recesses of his heart, like the ravenous void he is.

❝ impulsivity is one word for it —— you can call it whatever you want, ❞ satoru won't brand him any which way, suguru knows this. whether out of a means of self-protection or a means of protecting how he covets suguru within his own mind —— IF HE KNOWS SATORU AT ALL it will go no further than the bare facts of it all : that he is a murderer, guilty of mass murder of a whole village of useless simpering heartless vermin / that he is guilty of patricide / of matricide / that he carries on with objective insanity for the sake of his own ideals and that's all, that's it !! shouldn't that carry weight? surely it does, surely it lays heavy on him, surely it's caused satoru sleepless nights and long, pained days, languishing and in anguish, things suguru feels half guilty for but not quite —— half because his intention was never and is never to cause satoru any pain at all, none whatsoever, could it have been avoided HE WOULD HAVE, easily / satoru is a casualty caught in the crossfire, a soul caught between, never having a chance to get out of the way, caught by proximity, by necessity.

half guilty and not quite sorry because, at the end of times, in the end of days, AT THE END OF IT ALL : he regrets nothing. should he be given the choice to go back, to undo all of his choices, to unsee everything that he had seen, to continue living a cossetted and bloodied life demanding the sacrifices of himself and nearly everyone he cared for, a blood payment as recompense for abilities he had been born with and had not asked for, TO BRING HIS PARENTS BACK TO LIFE —— he would not do it. he wouldn't even consider it.

and, really : what's guilt and remorse in the absence of recompense or the means for atonement? what has he to atone for? suguru is only not quite sorry that those he loves ( shoko and satoru, namely ) were wounded by his actions, in return.

❝ they were highly intelligent people, ❞ should it be quite so easy, to speak of the dead whom he had loved so? that is something not considered, easily set aside : compartmentalized less out of necessity and far more because what use is there in dwelling on it? should there be an afterlife where he and they will be present, perhaps he'll think on it then. parents and parental figures and the like / HE'S BECOME A PARENT HIMSELF through some serendipitous means of the universe / meant to protect and love and he offers that in spades, was given that in spades, he knows and appreciates as much, knows and appreciates the attempted teachings of PRACTICALITY to harden the edges of his persistent idealism his parents passed onto him did as they were meant to do.

I CAN'T ALLOW MY PARENTS TO BE A SPECIAL EXCEPTION ; suguru is a hypocrite but not one of that caliber / he remembers how satoru's eyes had widened, furious and lovely, how his hands had curled tighter and tighter, threatening to break bone.

as if he's dug his fingers into a gaping wound, blood pouring in rivulets, skin stretching in spite of its protests / a slaughter absent of tenderness / not reaching for satoru's heart but instead as if he hopes to HURT —— what use is this and anything else, this springtime day, this closeness and these words and satoru, satoru, satoru, holding onto him, clinging onto him, separated by years and nothing at all, if satoru doesn't SEE HIM AS HE IS? brutal cruelty, delivered with a light tone and a gentle, almost amused smile : should satoru rather pretend then that is all fine and well, but suguru will not play into the delusion / refuses to / he demands the whole of satoru, all of him, unwilling to accept scraps or shreds or half-hearted offerings to the altar. ❝ haven't we gone over this before? there was meaning, and continues to be; that doesn't require your understanding. ❞

I'M NOT A CHILD, I DON'T NEED TO BE UNDERSTOOD / sounds pretty childish to me —— the joke of it all, the true humor lying buried beneath the carnage, is that satoru understood him best. he had from the moment he had looked at suguru and claimed him, taken him, plucked his heart from his chest and cheerily said it was his, their inherent and intrinsic understanding of each other carrying on further and further still from that very moment until this one. suguru had even understood from the moment he had learned that satoru had chosen to become a teacher why / or presumed he understood why / though he could hardly imagine such a thing.

faceless, nameless students, smudges of things, looking and deferring to gojo satoru —— perhaps they felt honored to be taught by the lauded strongest, or perhaps they felt some great, nameless pressure at the moment of exposure. perhaps they learned quickly or slowly that satoru followed his own whims and wishes and whiles, regardless of curricula or schedules or anything of the sort. perhaps they enjoyed his lackadaisical styling or preferred a more rigid sort of teaching style. ( suguru could laugh at the idea of satoru being a strict teacher, let alone a disciplinarian —— satoru is there to cultivate talent and teach the next generation and undermine the decomposing corpse of the higher up council, not to follow lesson plans or any sort of guidelines. ) he could keep a closer eye on the students, on those being brought up in that school / it's occurred to him before, a line in the sand he hasn't yet crossed, but will, inevitably, one day, to put names and faces to smudges of actors existing in his mind, to know and see precisely what satoru is working with, who is is bringing up, WHO HIS FAVORITES ARE —— always guilty of favoritism, satoru.

suguru would know, being his favorite.

❝ as if i weren't already aware of your arrogance, ❞ i do like your arrogance, clearly, i wouldn't be here if i didn't, i've been obsessed with it since we were teenagers —— as if he weren't practically synonymous with the word. suguru had always appreciated satoru's tendency towards confidence, his arrogance rolling off of him with ease / an annoying and eye roll inducing tendency, but nearly always WARRANTED, the universe creating a monster that threatens at near perfection, or other ridiculous things. power warrants as much, after all / arrogance is only trying being worn by those who do not deserve it.

THOUGH HONESTLY, the arrogance threatens at being overbearing ( or would, if suguru's own brand of hubris weren't nearly so glaring in return, as ever reflections of the other ) if only because of the exaggerated difference in their height —— suguru had always been shorter than satoru, only moderately so in the past, and now extremely so. ❝ ugh, i haven't gotten shorter, you've just gotten taller —— ridiculous, by the way, you're nearly 200 centimeters tall. ❞ an estimation delivered with bold faced amusement : the mirth pouring from satoru filling him up like drink, like the sun peering after a long night. his moods have always threatened to be infectious, presence overwhelming at the best of times to anyone unaccustomed / suguru is accustomed, surely, albeit somewhat out of practice / satoru happy and preening and cajoling has always —— it's always ——

arresting. the fluttering of butterfly wings. had caught him unawares in his youth, nearly every time in that first year, heart stuttering and mind pausing. here and now, however, it simply seems to amplify his amusement, satoru's ever shifting moods tumultuous and lingering, UTTERLY RIDICULOUS, laughing and giggling and teasing like a child.

he rolls his eyes, makes something of a show of it, ❝ podiums are outdated, ❞ they are, actually, suguru hates them on principle, restrictive and ridiculous when instead he could simply sit before his imbecilic followers and have their attention by his mere presence alone / he also doesn't want to give satoru the space to even imagine a ludicrous little step stool for him to stand on, as if he weren't taller than average, simply not even anywhere near satoru's height. still he offers, AMUSED AND ACERBIC, a raised brow and a mean mouth, always / he may not take offense to the joking, but all the same, ❝ did they have to refit the doors at the school? the building is ancient, i can imagine you hitting your head on everything. ❞ it harkens strangely to their youth, to the constant back and forth they had once had absent of bloodshed or brutality or inherently violence / it fits strangely, as though trying to wearing a shirt several sizes too small from childhood, faded and terribly soft but worn in places, fraying, full of holes. like peering through a cracked, warped mirror, not quite able to make out the other side.

❝ —— and i was being facetious, ❞ granted if you were to consider verbal warfare a game, they had been playing one of sorts, satoru the defending force and suguru the attacking, pressing and prodding and assertive, refusing to let up, constantly questioning : why are you here, what do you want, wouldn't it be simpler to just state your intentions? as if suguru weren't capable of as much —— granted, to him, nothing is a game with satoru / games imply lack of brevity, imply a sort of irreverent carelessness / suguru has never been prone to irreverence, and satoru is anything but insignificant to him : satoru is satoru / i've told my daughters about you ( that he'll never say, not quite, not truly / the meaning and connotation lost in the lack of knowing / satoru will never meet mimiko and nananko truly so what's the point / what meaning will satoru glean from knowing that TO SUGURU'S DAUGHTERS, HE IS NOT THE STRONGEST, HE SIMPLY IS? none at all, surely, in the absence of context, in the simple fact that is all his girls know of him. ) ❝ yours isn't much better, ❞ they were both terrible at hiding their emotions when it counts / suguru has gotten far better at masking intentions and emotions, a necessity when he loathes the vast majority of his following on principle, but that is something satoru doesn't need to know ( ... ) for now, that is.

a kiss like flaying open. a kiss like demanding. a kill like requesting to be eaten alive. seeking, urgent, clamorous, a silent war cry, knives pressed to throats, poised to kill —— always inevitably circling back to violence, even in the absence of, even with laughter and mirth and joy surrounding them, MUTED BY THEIR HAPPENSTANCE, their way of being, vehement destruction second nature to them, natural as breathing, caught in each other's turbulence. love leading to obsession leaning to desertion fueling obsession leading to a springtime kiss, in the ultimate act of irony gifted to them by the universe.

satoru's fingers in his hair, their palms pressing together, close as they could be, clothing and something like social propriety aside / in the absence of flaying each other and settling within, burying themselves among sinew and wanting. ❝ strange ( ... ) he seemed palpably absent, ❞ as if he hadn't been the one to leave satoru, never offering for him to come along, never looking back, never wishing to look back, always seeking the future and the path towards it, with or without him. suguru squeezes his hand tight / turns his head / nose to temple to nose to ear to the infinite expanse of them, satoru's familiar unchanged scent setting something alight in him, a burning and raging thing, loud and insistent. the curve of his mouth, his smirk, cruel against his skin. ❝ forever? do you intend to hold my hand on my deathbed, satoru? ❞

❛ and here i thought you liked that. ❜ the act of devouring, eating. it's always this, his stomach churning at prospects, as if the worst he can do to himself is indulge. he would sweat with it, that sickly sweet flavor on his tongue always too much like summer, berries and sugar expelled as soon as they're ingested, an exhaust in him filling instead. an inadequate meal, he's too used to abstaining and he wants to bite into suguru's flesh and tear it off bit by bit, knows nauseated that it would be that same taste he can't keep down. a waste / always wasting / always hunched over and spitting back out what he was so sure he'd wanted.

a delighted laugh, half interrupted with it's unusualness. out of place, out of a different mouth: satoru finds himself well adjusted already and doesn't care for differences, he just wants to hear it, wants to listen as it tips into hysterical. ❛ only because you know you'd lose, suguru. ❜ just above a whisper, something like a threat in and of itself, but he's ever the same: means it as he's always meant it, without meaning anything at all. he speaks to fill the space ( so little of it now, barely anything! ) between them / the tides chasing the moon, he responds in all the right places as if learning again to speak freely, as he had in an instant all those years ago.

a confessional wildly pressing onward, everything laced in fine affection. for all his hurt ( which is plenty, heavy, and present ) it doesn't show in his voice / the words that pour dripping in honey. maybe — always !!! — it'd been foolish to stick like he had to the first boy he'd stumbled upon but still, he'd never found anyone like suguru and was convinced in the same way he was of his love that he never would. suguru was suguru; made for him, silly and mean together against the harsh light of the world that left them how they are ( ruined ).

❛ n—o way! ❜ eyes pop wide, he would lean over suguru if they weren't already so impossibly close, would tap at his head with the side of his hand teasing the stupidity of his … admission? excuse? whatever. ❛ is that what they're calling it these days? ❜

whether suguru means for it to soothe ( he assumes he doesn't ) matters so insignificantly, it flairs up those old aches once again, pressing heavy on shoulders that already carry the world: suguru was always impulsive, teased out a part of that in satoru that lingered still but never really stuck. it makes perfect sense ( even with the important omissions ) that given everything, it had just happened so fast! an endless string of mistakes carrying the next onward. not that suguru would categorize them like that but ah, this isn't his train of thought, so who cares.

( but how unreasonable, how stupid / how long had he tried to concoct a rational reason for all the bloodshed. more pointless, late night exercises strewn at his feet; more acts of wasted self-slaughter over impulse that'd never really existed in the first place. i know you / he knows suguru isn't stupid. )

❛ they sound like smart people. ❜ like they were. he frowns, narrows himself, desperately tries to square away the uncomfortable feeling of sun on his left side, the button in his hand, heart beating hard enough to break his brain. to have that — jealously isn't the word, longing sits familiar, but it's probably more unfulfilled hopes — and strip it from yourself bloody and dreamy … satoru can't / won't accept it, not yet. more things to bury, suguru remains pristine and glowing in his mind, never tarnished by the bodies of his parents that sit distantly in another part of him. satoru always thought he'd see them as his own eventually, foolish and young, and doesn't mourn strangers. when suguru speaks again, he can feel his face contort, uncomfortable and ridged, the crease of his eyebrows, the curve of his lips. ❛ as if that would justify it. ❜

i can't allow my parents to be a special exception / how change had scared him, how he'd trembled. ❛ you'd proven your point already. ❜ over and over again, his point, this insistence at insanity that they ( who was left ) stood in awe under. sin binds him to his path, regardless of whatever satoru could do against it, however many claw marks he could leave would never truly wash that clean. if he woke and realized and changed the way satoru could never, there would be no reason to it. worse: things he wouldn't explain, nothing he could fix. it's better he stays assured, in the end.

he pictures them, his new little family, allows himself that pain: two neat little girls, their ink-black hair scraped back into buns, in audience with god. they're dull, in that way all children seem to him, too young / still innocent or all baby fat and love, pink cheeks, pressed uniforms. despite his reference being boyish and crass, he pictures him with them too, playing only not really: he would never debase himself to something as childish as being nine, would indulge and stand over, nose raised, tipping back his head like a proper grown up. they exist in that strange world he can't reach but tries anyway, find his hands stained pomegranate-red, flecked with rubble and fine gold. it's divinity he sees them in, golden light by proxy of proximity to getou. do they call him father? or — whatever. what a terrible insight he's stuck with.

then he wonders, does suguru know about megumi? does he know about that strange fostering, the first moment of sympathy that shook him to his core, had taken him from the awkward hovering between ideals and plunged him into ice water. a strange mirror-image of himself ( he sees suguru there too ) that reflects back only the best parts behind a positively stellar attitude that defiantly doesn't sour when they're in the same room, thanks. it's not parental, satoru's refusal to see flaws, but something else he's never been able to name. favoritism maybe, though he's never been shy about that: if he's going to bother someone these days, no matter how pathetic it is to say or think or do, it's megumi he finds himself stumbling to, it's megumi who rolls his eyes and pushes past / away from whatever deeply embarrassing thing satoru's inflicting on him. still, that indiscernible boy wasn't his son and brother never seemed right either … he was just megumi, and satoru was there and paid for things and kept him company whenever he wandered, shy and frowning, into his peripheral vision because that's what he's supposed to do. maybe.

it just makes it all the stranger, all the harder to focus on that blurry frame of a family: the uneasy beat of his heart thrums, aches, knowing ( if he knows nothing else ) that sixteen year old boys aren't supposed to be thrust into such dynamics. he, lucky / suguru, probably loved enough to make up for any unluckiness that satoru doesn't dare speak.

so why then can't he shake them? their pretend faces stick to him, black smoke on his clothes, tar lining his throat. their existence, fire enveloping his thoughts / two sisters like poison, shifting the earth.

( they will be those children to him always, their not-faces cast nine years old forever. even when he knows them, sees them with the rest of his found family years from now, he won't be able to place them; teenage girl voices and the want for something sweet, he'll know only when getou cheery and warm tries to leave. despite … whatever he may want, he knows it already, another undeniable truth. he will never really meet them. )

❛ you can't suddenly start complaining about stuff, that's not how this works. ❜ or: you like my arrogance, you like me. more truths for him to root himself with, the ground suddenly not solid enough to keep him steady. he leans, forearms pressing against shoulders; he so much taller than suguru now, peering down at him, his neck will ache and he won't care. surely it wasn't always like this? he can't remember such a difference in their heights before … it makes him sputter a laugh, it makes his face untwist from it's uncomfortable position, easy again and better suited. ❛ you've gotten so short suguru. when you give your special speeches, can you see over the podium? ❜ and it's not that bad but he carries on anyway, giggling, leaning, stretching his legs a little longer because he can. it's formulaic, it's soothing, it's the closest thing to romance he's ever going to be able to give. ❛ or do you need someone to give you a boost? w—what about a little, a step ladder .. ! ❜ privately, he finds it endearing, aloud he's gasping for tiny breaths, alight with sudden joy.

he doesn't calm, stays in the limbo he's used to: that's just gojo, his students say, when eccentricity overloads them and they refuse to stay silent against pearling laughter / sudden insistence that they just have to go somewhere / any number of strange things that had once delighted shoko and suguru. they would laugh with him, they would follow him on whatever tirade he thought would fulfill them: sometimes people still indulge, he has that way about him ( hard to shake, nanami had once said, but he preferred to think he was just charismatic. incorrectly! ). at least now he could pinpoint the cause, knew where the weightlessness suddenly sprung from.

how long he'd waited, how many years ( three ) he'd pushed desire aside in the name of fruitless victory, how many years ( he didn't keep count ) he'd seeped in regret, a champion. he'd lost against himself, couldn't prove to suguru whatever point he'd been trying to make about weakness / love / longing because in the end it was so simple to win him over it was almost shameful. prodding, a bait, line hooked around satoru and reeling him in like it was the easiest thing he'd ever done. in the end, suguru didn't even have to ask. awful awful awful.

❛ no we — ❜ his eyes shift, still smiling, an attempt at being cool as if he'd not just openly given over what they'd withheld from each other under better circumstances. ❛ — weren't. it was a figure of speech. ❜ suguru's raising his eyebrows and smiling all bite like he's goading still, asking for more of whatever boyish nervousness had overtaken him and then so suddenly drained. he's so mean now, all the time it pours from him, cool water across burning skin. ❛ you wouldn't have to, your poker face is absolutely abysmal. ❜

he's kissed again, tries harder this time to not tremble timid and shy because it's suguru, it's suguru he's kissing. his hand snakes from his neck, into his hair, holding and pushing closer because now he's broken that seal inside him, a tiny snap echoing though him: he will never stop, he'll take and gouge out as much as he can, find the still sick parts of suguru and love them until he overwhelms them. he'll never make him well, but he can prove something in that, for better or worse.

sa—toru mumbled against his lips, he shivers, holding fine hair between his fingers, running them through. they will persist, against better judgement, against everything. ❛ he never left. he's been here the whole time. ❜ he leans to suguru's ear, remembers something silly while lacing their hands together; palm to palm, a gravitation pull, head swimming. ❛ you're stuck with me forever. ❜