#for appointments I’ve had planned months in advance

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

New boot goofin’ ft. A displeased Skeetz

[astrayas]

Pressure Point

Pairing: Toji Fushiguro x fem reader 

Warnings: MDNI, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex

WC: 6k

Summary: When you run into Toji Fushiguro for the first time in years, you find him in the most unexpected position: as your new massage therapist.

18+!!!

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“…So she wasn’t able to make it in today. I’m so sorry for the short notice!”

You sling your bag back onto your shoulder and rub your neck, masking your disappointment with a polite smile. 

“Oh…that’s a shame,” you say. You were really looking forward to your appointment today. Your usual masseuse is nothing less than an artist, and you’ve got plenty of knots to work out right now. “Well, when’s the next time she’s free?”

“Since you’re one of her regulars, I think we could work you in tomorrow…” the manager chirps, clicking at her computer. She takes a few minutes, clearly unfamiliar with the software. They’re really understaffed today. “But…oh! Actually, there is someone available to take you right now.”

“Oh?” You perk back up again, which is all it takes to strain your muscles. You wince just a bit. You really need some relief.

“Yes! He’s actually our top massage therapist. His new clients normally have to book him months in advance, but it looks like he had a cancellation today. I can go grab him, if you’re interested!”

You deflate just a little. Him? You’ve never seen a male massage therapist, and you weren’t planning to start today. Then your shoulder whines at you again, as if to protest your hesitation, and you’re rubbing at it before you realize it.

Well, if he’s really that good…

“Um. Sure,” you force out. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Not at all!” She springs to her feet and graces you with a polished customer service smile. “Please, have a seat. I’ll go let him know.”

“Thanks,” you mutter, a rush of nerves guiding your short, stilted steps to the nearest chair. You flop into it and try to reason with yourself. If you get uncomfortable, you can just leave. But he’s their top massage therapist. He obviously knows what he’s doing, and you really need—

“Nuh-uh. I don’t do walk-ins.”

A loud, gruff voice booms from the hallway, clearly audible through the thick waiting room door. Whoever’s speaking doesn’t seem to care about indoor voices. You have to strain to hear the manager’s response.

“She’s not a walk-in!” she argues. “She had an appointment, but Rei called out at the last minute.”

“Sounds like that’s Rei’s problem, then.”

After a few seconds of silence, you stand up. This sounds like more trouble than it’s worth. You can wait another day; you’ll just tell them you’ll reschedule. 

“Come on! This client’s been coming to us for years. We can’t lose her!” the manager pleads. 

“You can’t lose her. I’ll be just fine.”

Your lip curls in disgust as you hoist your bag over your aching shoulder. People book this guy months in advance? Whatever. You can just leave and call them later. But as you turn to walk out the door, you hear one last exchange.

“Ugh…how about this? I’ll give you a few extra days off next month.”

You pause mid-step. 

“…I want a week.”

“A week?”

“I’ve been working my fingers to the bone for you for God knows how long. I want a week, or I walk.”

Another long, heavy silence, but you’re still listening.

“…Fine. Fine. I’ll make it happen. Just go out there and be pleasant, alright?”

“I’m never anything but,” the gruff voice hums, and you can just barely hear the manager groan as the door flies open. The strap on your bag slides down your shoulder at the same moment, and you look down as you pull it back up with a grimace.

“You must be the one Rei stranded today. Nice to meet you. I’m—“

He freezes mid-sentence. When you finally look back up, you freeze, too.

“Toji…” you murmur.

You’ve lost count of the years it’s been since you and Toji Fushiguro parted ways. But you could go a century without seeing that face and still recognize it. The scar on his mouth, his fierce green eyes, his strong, chiseled frame…none of it’s really easy to forget.

But it’s his most unforgettable feature—his big, wolfish grin—that traps you in place when it’s clear he recognizes you, too.

“Well, well,” he croons, an irritating melody ringing in his voice as he holds the door open and extends his hand. “Come on back, ma’am. Last door on the left.”

You shuffle past him without so much as a “Thank you” and grip the strap of your bag tight. God, why did it have to be him? Out of all the people who could have walked out of that door, why him?

You step into the room he pointed you to and take it in with wide eyes. This is certainly a step up from your usual setup with Rei. It’s bigger, but the atmosphere is so much more intimate. Soft, ambient music drifts through the room. Candles flicker on select small tables lining the perimeter of the space, playing on the velvety flower petals artfully arranged on the floor and the massage table. It’s downright romantic.

But it’s the table itself, lying in the center of the room, that draws most of your attention. It’s plush and oversized, draped in crisp, clean linens and adorned with a fluffy duvet and a lavish pillow. It almost looks like it was made for sleeping instead.

And it looks…sturdy.

“So. Been a while since you up and vanished,” Toji says with little ceremony, shutting the door behind him. “What have you been—”

“So is this a sex thing? Is that what you do here?” you blurt out. He blinks at you, mouth falling slightly open, and crosses his arms.

“Wow. That’s the first thing you say to me in six years?” he rasps.

Six years. It’s been six long years. 

You blink back at him a few more times before you register what you just said, and you slap a hand to your mouth several seconds too late. 

“Uh—shit—” you stutter, your hand rising to slap your forehead. “I didn’t mean—” 

After some lengthy floundering, which he lets you do in perfect silence, your hands finally drop to your sides, and you heave a deep sigh.

“I just—this is a big bed—”

“You mean a massage table.”

“And apparently you’re the most requested guy here—”

“Because I’m a good massage therapist.”

“And you were a criminal the last time we talked!” you finish. Your voice rises a little more than you intended, and that goddamned knot in your shoulder spasms. You rub at it desperately and take a calming breath. 

Something like a low growl rumbles in Toji’s chest as he strolls over to the sink and washes his hands. 

“If I’m remembering correctly—and I am—you weren’t an upstanding citizen back then, either,” he flings back. He dries his hands, turns back around, and leans against the counter, looking you up and down. “At least my crimes were impressive.”

You set your bag on a nearby chair and scoff at him. “Yeah. So impressive I just couldn’t bear to live in your shadow anymore.”

“Cute,” he sneers. “You want the damn massage or not? Because you clearly need it.”

“Oh, like you can really tell—”

“Your right shoulder. That one’s obvious.” He pushes himself away from the counter and closes the distance between you with just a couple steps. “You keep rubbing at it like a maniac. But the way you’re standing right now tells me you have pain in your lower back, too. Right about…” He circles behind you, a shadow of a grin growing on his face before he disappears from your sight. You shiver when he rests a large, strong hand exactly where the small of your back hurts the most. “...Here.”

You spin back around and scowl at him. He holds his hands up in an innocent gesture.

“Yeah, those are my biggest problem areas,” you mutter. 

“Then let’s take care of ‘em,” he proposes, sauntering over to the door. “Believe it or not, I am a professional now. I take my clients seriously.”

His eyes glint when he turns the knob.

“Even petty thieves like you.”

Your blood pressure instantly shoots through the sky. 

“Don’t think I won’t—” you start, unsure of what vague threat you’re about to make, but he’s already halfway out the door.

“I’ll give you a few minutes to get undressed,” he nearly sings. “Start out face-down.”

And with that, he’s gone. The door shuts with a click, leaving every stupid knot in your back to tense up and scream even louder. You don’t even bother hanging your clothes on any of the hooks nearby, opting to pelt them to the floor instead. Infuriating. He’s infuriating. He’s every bit as infuriating as he was all those years ago, when you were just two delinquents among many wreaking havoc in town.

Back when you thought he was the sexiest, funniest, dreamiest guy on earth.

You smack some petals off the table before you settle under the sheets, lying on your stomach. Whatever. It’s not like the feeling was mutual. What did you even see in him back then, anyway? Other than the eyes and the muscles and the voice and the face and the—

Toji knocks on the door.

“You decent?” he calls from the other side. 

“No,” you sniff. “But I’m under the sheet. You can come in.”

He chuckles as he lets himself back in and promptly closes the door. You can only see his feet as he walks past you and stops at the counter, and he shakes a bottle.

“Alright. So, I know your shoulder and your lower back are your biggest problems right now, but I’ll find your other pressure points as we work,” he announces, instantly professional. “But first, I need to ask if you’ve got any areas I should avoid.”

“Nope,” you inform the floor. “It’s all up for grabs.”

He laughs again, and you curse yourself under your breath. What an atrocious choice of words. 

“Good to know,” he hums. Ugh. He sounds too pleased. 

Your heart skips as soon as he pulls the sheet down from your shoulders all the way to just above your backside. He gets straight to work, starting by feeling for tight areas.

“Yeesh. You’ve got trigger points all the way down your back,” he marvels. “It’s almost impressive.”

“Yeah, that sounds about right,” you sigh.

You have to admit it: even now, even as he just searches and assesses, his touch is divine. It must be thanks to those dexterous fingers, those powerful hands, his shocking familiarity with every part of the human body…

You squeeze your eyes shut in a desperate bid to push the thoughts out. Stupid. Stupid. What a stupid crush you had on him. You start talking just to fill your head with something, anything else.

“How’d you even fall into this line of work? It’s not—“ Your breath hitches when you hear him squeeze some oil onto his hands and rub them together. “It’s, um…just not a career path I ever thought you’d take.”

You can hear the grin in his response. “Would you believe me if I said I wanted to help people?”

You answer with some snorting laughter, which tells him enough.

“Thought not,” he sighs. “No point in lying, then.” His hands work their way to the rough spot on your shoulder, and you brace yourself. “Honestly? It’s good money. That’s all there is to it.”

“That I believe,” you answer, screwing your eyes shut when he starts working that knot. This is going to be a rough session, you just know it.

“Jesus, you’re tight,” he mumbles, genuine shock lining his voice. “What do you do these days?”

“I’m just an office worker,” you grunt. You take a deep breath when he digs in again. 

“An office worker and…what? A cage fighter? A trapeze artist? These are insane knots for an office worker.”

“I’ve got—phew—I’ve got really bad posture,” you mutter. You squirm under his movements. 

“Clearly. You must be hunched over 24/7.”

This time, you don’t answer him. Deep tissue massages can hurt, sure, but this is on a whole new level. You bear with him for about another minute before you wave him away.

“God, Toji, are all your clients masochists?!” you cry, glaring at the floor. You keep lying flat on your stomach, waiting for the pain to ebb away.

“…Some are,” he croons.

Your hands tense at your sides. “So it is—”

“I’m joking, damn,” he huffs. He switches to your other shoulder and, mercifully, handles it with a lot less pressure. “I mean, I’m sure some are. I wouldn’t know. People just come to me when they’ve got injuries and chronic issues. When it comes to that slow, painful deep tissue massage, I’m the best around.”

“Solving pain with pain,” you remark. He slides down to the middle of your back and digs into a spot just to the left of your spine. “That does sound right up your alley.”

“...I see you’ve still got a mouth on you,” he grumbles, and whether consciously or not, he pushes down especially hard. You suck in a breath and screw your eyes shut. “How’d you land a cushy office job with your attitude?”

“I learned when to keep my mouth shut,” you fight to answer, focusing on your breathing. “I was wondering the same thing about you, based on that conversation I heard in the hallway. Do you always talk to your managers like that?”

“Ha!” He pulls his hands away and rubs some more oil between them. “Only the ones who can’t afford to lose me. Business has been booming since I started here. And, damn, you should see the tips I get.”

“Tips?” you squawk, pushing yourself onto your elbows and staring up at him. “What do you mean, you get tips? What do you do to earn tips?”

“Um.”

Toji clears his throat and looks to the side. It’s only when he physically covers his eyes with his hand do you realize you pushed yourself so far up you nearly exposed your chest. 

“Oh. Sorry…” you mumble, flopping back down. Heat erupts on your skin. You’re really excelling at making an ass of yourself today.

“What’s with you?” he grunts. He presses a palm against that sore spot at the small of your back. “We’re allowed to accept tips here. Why are you so sure I’m just doing weird sex stuff?”

Before you can answer, he starts applying pressure to the spot. Lots of it. To your surprise, it actually feels…good. So in lieu of a response, you simply let out a groan that lasts a little too long. And just beneath it, just for a moment, you swear you can hear a pleased sound humming in him, too.

“Don’t tell me…” His thumbs rub the small of your back in slow, deep circles. “...you were hoping for it?”

Your eyes shoot open. But he pushes in again, granting you deeper relief, and you lose the will to snap back at him. Not when he’s finally easing all that tension.

“Are you disappointed I don’t offer any special services?”

“Gimme a break,” you manage to say. But that’s all you say before his hands slide down to your glutes. Over the sheet, of course, like a professional, and he’s stroking them like any professional massage therapist would. But that doesn’t change the fact that, in a less professional sense…his hands are still on your ass.

“Well, I don’t blame you,” he boasts. He slides a little lower. He’s…really working those glutes. “I know why I really get so many requests. I know why my tips are so great. I mean, just look at me—”

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you spit, wriggling out of his hands and flipping onto your back. You’re careful to keep the sheet over your chest this time. “I heard enough of that for a lifetime back in the day.”

“Hey. I’m not done with your back,” he pouts, frowning at you.

“Can we come back to it later? You’re gonna break it at this rate.”

“Coulda just asked me to be gentler.” He lifts the sheet away from your left leg and takes your foot in his hand. “I can do that.” 

As if to prove his point, he uses a single thumb to gently stroke the inside of your arch. Exactly where it aches after a long day in heels. How did he know that was a sore spot, too?

“I listen to my clients,” he continues, stretching out your foot and sliding up your leg. He starts kneading the lowest part of your thigh, just above the knee. “Another reason why I end the day with so much extra cash.”

“I get it,” you mutter. “You have an awesome job and you make lots of money because you’re super hot. Congratulations.”

“Super hot, huh?” he whirs. “I mean, I know, but it’s nice to hear from that mouth you allegedly know how to keep shut.”

“Ugh.” You desperately try to focus your attention on the soothing motions of his fingers. “Can’t believe I used to have such a big crush on you.”

For a moment, for a fleeting, measly fraction of a second, his hands jerk. Then they pick back up as usual, gliding a little farther up your thigh. It takes him a few seconds to answer.

“Did you, now?”

Your brows furrow, but you keep your eyes closed.

“C’mon, Toji, it was so obvious,” you sigh. “There’s no way you didn’t know.”

“I really didn’t,” he says flatly. His fingers dig a little deeper into your skin. “We ran with a big group, remember? I…didn’t get to see you as much as I wanted to.”

You shift a bit under his touch. “As much as you wanted to?”

“...See? You didn’t know I had a thing for you, either.” 

His fingers linger on your thigh, rubbing the same spot over and over. Finally, you open your eyes. You sit up to rest on your elbows and look right at him. And in the dim, flickering candlelight, you take a moment to really study his face for the first time in six years. 

Six years that haven’t done much to age him, really. His jaw is still strong and sharp. The deep scar etched into his lip still hasn’t faded. His hands, which you’ve become very familiar with today, are still powerful, with veins and tendons that ripple just beneath the skin, with fingertips calloused but not rough. And his muscles are still toned and strong, if that tight black t-shirt has anything to say about it. 

“Well. What could have been, right?” you murmur. You glance to the side and let your head fall back onto the table; you can’t bear to hold eye contact any longer. 

After a long, tense moment, he pulls the sheet back over your left leg and moves to your other side.

“...Yeah. What could’ve been.”

He moves up your leg the same way he did the first, every knead and stroke therapeutic, but something feels different about his touch. It’s more…clinical. Truly professional now. Like you’re just any other client.

You fight the sinking feeling in your chest. The fact that he never showed he was interested in you stings a little, but that doesn’t matter anymore. There’s a reason you left the way you did. Toji wasn’t good for you, and you weren’t good for him. Nobody in that group you ran with was good for each other. You had to leave while you were still just a petty thief. Before you started racking up “impressive” crimes like him.

Toji’s still quiet as he pulls the sheet back over your legs and moves to the head of the table, settling on a rolling chair and scooting forward. You open your eyes again but look at nothing in particular. You don’t know what to look at. You don’t know what to say.

His hands slide under your shoulders, searching for that especially tight spot again. The moment he finds it, he digs in. You clench your teeth and bear it. Working out a knot can hurt. He’s doing his job. Just let him do his job. Just let him—

“Why’d you leave?”

Your eyes fly back open. His hands haven’t stopped working, but they have slowed.

“What?” you squeak.

“Why did you leave?” he repeats. You glance up and find him staring right back down at you, those deep green eyes glimmering even in the dim light. “Why did you just up and leave like that? No note, no nothin’?”

“Because…” You take a deep breath. It’s been a while since you’ve thought about those days. “Because I just couldn’t keep going like that. I couldn’t keep spending every day scoping out targets, planning which stores I’d hit next. I had to get out and make something of myself. I did it, and…look, you did it, too.”

“But why did you leave like that?” he carries on, his voice tinged with something close to desperation. “Why did you just disappear? Do you know how much that killed me? To just lose you like that, overnight, no explanation?”

You fight against a new sensation in your chest. It’s something rising, growing, gnawing. 

“Because if I’d said anything, you would’ve tried to make me stay,” you answer. 

“I couldn’t sleep at night wondering what happened to you.”

“You were the only one who could have made me stay.”

“When I could sleep, you were in my dreams.”

“You never needed me, Toji! You didn’t need me then, and you don’t need me now!”

“Fuck you for thinking that. And fuck you for just leaving.”

“Fuck you for making me think you wouldn’t care!”

He doesn’t respond to you before he flies to his feet, takes a breath, and walks back to the other end of the table.

“Lie back,” he says. “We’re not done with your massage.”

“Huh?”

“Lie back,” he repeats. “I’ve got some more pressure points to work out.”

“Uh…alright?” you mutter, and slowly, you settle back onto the table and stare at the ceiling. Goosebumps rise on your skin when he pulls the sheet back from one leg again, lifting it all the way to the top of your thigh this time. He squeezes some more oil onto his hands and rests his palm on your knee.

“Did you know you’ve got a lot of tension down here, too?” he asks, his voice low. 

“I mean, it wouldn’t surprise me. I’m tense everywhere.”

“You really are,” he confirms with a soft laugh. “Like…when I was massaging your legs, I kept feeling you tense up when I got around…” His fingers snake their way to your inner thigh. “Here.”

You suck in a breath. “Well, that’s a sensitive area, so…”

And you’re sure you’re tensing up now. But the heated exchange you just shared is still ringing in your ears. That would leave anyone tense, right? 

And it’s normal for your legs to part when they’re tense…right?

Your other leg has only moved a few inches away. But it’s a shift big enough for Toji to notice, and he glances down with a smirk.

“Is it, now?” he purrs. His fingers crawl a little higher up your leg. “Sensitive here, too?”

“Uh-huh…” you murmur, gripping the sheet below you. He’s reaching pretty far up. If he keeps going, it won’t be long before he finds out just how sensitive you’ve been from the moment he started touching you.

But you don’t stop him. You don’t want to.

“And how about—” he starts, but he stops himself when his thumb swipes across one part of your inner thigh a little too quickly. Like it slipped on something slick. 

Your eyes shoot over to him. Well, secret’s out now. But still…you were dripping that far down your leg? That’s almost embarrassing.

His expression, though, suggests he doesn’t think so.

“Oh…” he whispers with a heavy voice, a strained voice, a voice that tells you all professionalism just flew out the window. “I think I know where you’re holding a lot of tension.”

Your heart flutters when his fingers dance their way up to the source of all that tension, when his knuckles graze it with all the pressure of a feather. It starts to ache the same way it did for him years ago, when you thought he never had eyes for you.

“Think you can help me with it?” you invite, parting your legs a little wider.

That little smirk grows into the same wolfish grin he first greeted you with. One finger, one long, strong finger, circles your entrance and slides in. You’re melting and moaning in the same moment, relishing the new ferocity lighting up his eyes.

“I think I can,” he breathes, sliding his finger in and out, up and down. “A special service just for you, since you’re just so damn—” Another finger slips in to join the first. “—tight.”

He waits until he’s up to his palm before he curls both fingers upward, searching for that spot, the source of all that pressure inside you. It takes him all of a second to find it. He beckons back and forth, up and down. He spreads his fingers ever so slightly, settling on a pressure that commands all your attention to that area.

You whimper and close your eyes. There’s so much you want to say. You want to find out where he learned to do that. You want to tease him, ask him how much he’s practiced. But this moment would be better spent, you remind yourself, simply enjoying this instead. So you part your legs a little wider and let him demonstrate just how well he’s learned to use his hands.

He leans forward just far enough to let you glue your hands to his shoulders. As he does, his other hand comes down to push just above your pelvis, his palm grazing your clit, and that tension rises higher and higher.

Then he leans in a little more. Every flicker of the candles reveals a new detail you’d missed in his face before. Every night of sleep he lost. Every day he thought of you. Every test he faced to make something more of himself, just like you did. Your hands work their way up to cradle either side.

And that’s it.

His lips are on yours, and his fingers pump faster. You claim each other in a kiss six years overdue, a kiss so desperate and needy and vicious it nearly consumes you. His tongue finds its way into your mouth and explores it freely. His teeth dig into your lower lip, a gesture as rough as his massage, but it brings you nothing but pleasure.

Pleasure that grows and grows and grows with all that tension he’s working out of you, so close to releasing. Your eyes start to flutter; your nails sink into his shoulders; your walls clench tighter and tighter.

“There it is,” he murmurs, encouraging you to keep going. “Let it loose. Let it out. Let me feel you let it out.”

The palm he’d left on your stomach presses down a little harder, condensing all that pressure into a volatile ball. His fingers beckon your pleasure forward quickly, deftly, and you writhe when you feel your tension threaten to release all at once.

And it releases like an explosion, knocking your head back and pushing your back up from the table. You try to buck your hips, but his hold on your pelvis is so strong that you ride out your ecstasy between his hands instead. Your walls convulse around his fingers uncontrollably, which he holds in place until your tumultuous release fades to gentle ripples.

And when those, too, die down, he captures your lips in another greedy kiss.

“How’s that tension?” he asks with a sly grin.

“Hmm…” You hold a finger to your chin and pretend to think. “Better, but I think there’s still some left.”

Your eyes flick down to his pants, which do little to hide what kind of tension he might be feeling now, too.

“If you’re still up for helping me work it out, I mean,” you add, letting the rest of the sheet fall from your chest. He allows himself a brazen, longing glance at it before he stands back up and pulls his fingers out, making you jerk. 

“For such an important new client? Of course,” he hums. And like he just can’t help himself, he’s already slipping a thumb under the waistband of his pants. “If you could just get face-down again, ma’am.”

You giggle and flip back onto your stomach, tossing the rest of the sheet to the floor. Toji lets out a low whistle of appreciation when he finally sees you completely uncovered. 

“Goddamn,” he mutters. And that table proves just as sturdy as you imagined when it barely even jostles as he joins you on it, pushing your legs apart and settling between them on his knees. His hands roam across your body, drawing hard lines between your shoulders, down your back, up and across and around your ass. You turn your face to one side and rest it against the plush table, enjoying every movement of his skilled fingers.

“Goddamn, goddamn,” he repeats, just to really drive the point home. He keeps one hand on your ass while the other pulls itself away. A couple fingers slide up and down your slit, just long enough to make it tingle, and then…he’s lined up with your entrance. A wave of anticipation ripples through you, emerging only as a faint shiver.

“So. Here’s what we’re gonna do. I’m gonna push down and push in,” he says, palming the small of your back. “Still gotta work out those knots, after all.”

“Wow. Truly dedicated to your craft,” you snicker. 

“Like I said, I’m a professional. Now, breathe in…”

“Huh? Why?”

“Just do it. Breathe in…”

You look back at him with a raised brow, but you do as he says and take in a deep breath.

“And out…”

You breathe out a lot more quickly than you were planning to when you start feeling pressure everywhere. His thumbs are digging into your back, stroking it in even circles. But he’s pushing into you at the same time, filling you out slowly, completely. The arousal that’s practically pooled inside of you lets him slide in easily, but it still takes a second to adjust to his size. Your face falls back onto the crisp linen sheet beneath you, your eyes closing and your lips parting as you embrace that delectable fullness.

“Good?” he asks behind you once he’s fully buried in you, and one hand slides back down to grab your ass. 

“Very good,” you confirm.

You and Toji groan in tandem when he pulls his hips back, dragging himself slowly along your walls, and pushes back in. The moment you relax around him, he thrusts a little faster. And faster, and faster, and faster, until he has to secure a hold on your hips. 

What a pro, you think to yourself with a smirk. How did he know? How did he know this was just the pressure you needed?

“Just when I was starting to forget about you,” he growls, snapping back against your hips. He doesn’t spare a single inch every time he drives himself back into you. Your jostle forward and bunch what you can of the sheets between your trembling fingers. “I was just starting to forget you, and you had to go and waltz back into my life. That’s just like you.”

Your answer barely comes out as anything more than a few pathetic whimpers. “Then maybe this time—fuck—you shouldn’t—”

His fingers bury themselves in your hips.

“Let me—”

He leans forward until his chest meets your back, his hot breath tickling the nape of your neck. His rhythm starts to falter.

“Go.”

Your words must spark some new flame in him. Because he’s pounding into you mercilessly now, driving deep inside you and hitting that perfect spot again and again. You whimper, you mewl, you muffle your groans against the pillow, and your walls start to flutter around his cock.

“You think I’ll let you go now?” he snarls, a low, rumbling sound that reverberates through your skin. “No. Not now. Not when I’ve finally got you like I’ve always wanted you.”

He plants ravenous, messy kisses against your neck. His teeth graze your shoulder, threatening to clamp down and make good on his claim.

Shit. You’re getting close again. Your groans rise until he has to hold a hand against your mouth. 

And you know you should keep it down, lest you ruin this good job he’s landed for himself. But you can’t stop a wordless cry from trying to push its way through his palm when that tension shatters inside you again, releasing wave after wave of ecstasy. He shudders and hisses behind you, his hips snapping and jerking and stuttering until he pulls out of you. His release lands on your back a moment later.

For a few seconds, neither of you say anything or move a muscle. You simply soak in the afterglow six years in the making, your ragged breaths overpowering the soft, ambient music. Then Toji finally breaks the silence with a simple remark: 

“Fuck.”

“Fuck,” you agree.

You stay on your stomach, eyes closed, as he pushes himself off the massage table and pulls his pants back on. 

“Just a sec,” he mumbles. You simply nod, lying motionless where you are as he wipes his mess off your back. “And…hour’s almost up. I’d like to keep working out your knots all day, believe me, but I do have a client coming in.”

You blink your eyes back open. For a moment, you wonder if you should say what’s on your mind. If this one-time reunion should stay a one-time reunion. But with or against your better judgment, you decide to voice what you really want, instead.

“I’ll just have to come back for another session, then, right?”

You flip back over and sit up to find him already grinning at you.

“I was hoping you’d say that,” he chuckles as he finishes buckling his belt. He steps up to you and takes your face in his hands, rubbing a soothing thumb across your cheek. His eyes flick to your lips, and he steals one more long, hard, greedy kiss before he takes the dirty towel with him to the door. “...I’ll give you a minute to get dressed.”

When he shuts the door, you hop off the table onto shaky legs and fumble to put your clothes back on. You comb your fingers through your hair and adjust your skirt, ready to face the world after a truly satisfying…massage.

The manager’s still sitting at the front desk when you walk back into the waiting room. She looks up from her computer and greets you with a big smile.

“Wow, you look happy!” she pipes up. “I take it Toji took good care of you?”

“Yeah,” you say, hoisting your bag back onto your shoulder. Funny. He didn’t spend that much time on it, but it already feels so much lighter. “I feel great.”

Toji appears in the doorway, wiping his hands on a new towel, smirking at you and leaning against the frame.

“I’m so glad to hear that! So, did you want to—”

“Book her for next week,” Toji says so nonchalantly, like he’s just finished up an average session. The manager beams at you, clearly pleased that their center could make it up to you after their blunder today. Toji looks right at you, too, when he shares another note.

“She’s gonna be one of my regulars.”

[duhragonball]

Super Dragon Ball Heroes 41-43

Ma’am, you must be new.  That’s all they ever do around here.

We’ve finally reached the home stretch, which is the Supreme Kai of Time arc that begins in Episode 41.  As far as I can tell, the arc continues through Episode 49, and still isn’t finished.  I think episode 50 will go live in a few months, but it still hasn’t been scheduled, so my plan is to just cover up to 49 and maybe write an update later in the year.

Also, since I’ve only got one arc left, I’m going to treat myself and do this three episodes at a time, so we can go over this at a more leisurely pace. 

We open with Chronoa, the Supreme Kai of Time, meeting with her predecessor, Aeos.  I’m confused about how this works, since you would think Aeos would have died before Chronoa was appointed to take her place, but I guess we’ll learn more about this as we go. Anyway, Aeos disapproves of the way Chronoa has allowed so many alternate timelines to propogate, so she’s come out of retirement to confiscate the Scroll of Eternity. Chronoa vows to resist this, but Aeos has backup in the form of those guys in hooded uniforms, like Brown Goku from the last arc.

Soon after this, Goku is invited to a special competition called the Super Space-Time Tournament.  Goku’s in like Flynn.

Goku arrives to find the usual suspects: Jiren, Hit, Piccolo, Gohan, Vegeta, and... Yamcha?  He says the tournament promoter knows what’s up, and I agree.  Good luck, Yamcha.

I had heard SDBH was doing a tournament, but didn’t understand how they could hope to do a tournament arc justice in this kind of format. Well, this one’s pretty quick.  It’s 12 teams of 7, so that’s 84 fighters competing all at once, similar to the Tournament of Power, but the time limit for the first round is only 24 minutes.  To advance, your team can either defeat every other team on the board, or you can capture one of three fairies that are fluttering around the battlefield.

So only three teams can advance, and the other 63 fighters will be eliminated, so I don’t want to spend a lot of time talking about those guys.  Suffice to say, there’s a Ginyu Force team, an all-Androids team, and so on. 

There’s some decent matchups here, like Broly vs. Jiren, Goku vs. Xeno Goku, Trunks vs. Tapion, and Janemba vs. Kid Buu, but none of these get much time to shine, so it sort of doesn’t matter.

Oh, right, Hit vs. Hirudegarn.  That’s pretty cool.

Also, Turles vs. Super Saiyan 3 Raditz?  Neat.

It all looks really cool, except it gets cut short when Yamcha captures a fairy by luck, and his entire team gets teleported back to where they started from. 

There’s a Time Patroller team, and they also caught a fairy, so that’s two teams who advance.  The third is a team with Hearts, Cumber, Cooler, and Frieza, among others. 

What about the others?  Well their timelines were erased once they washed out of the tournament.  One of Aeos’ guys explains that rule, and Trunks angrily attacks, demanding to retrieve the Scroll of Eternity for Chronoa.  They fight for a while, until...

Aeos steps in and freezes time to halt their brawl.  They were in the middle of shooting energy balls at each other, so she opens up portals to make them disappear.  Aeos explains her position on how there’s too many timelines, and she intends to use the tournament to solve that problem.

So on to the second round.  The surviving 21 fighters are divvied up and sent to four different battlegrounds.  There, they must attempt to capture a fairy from one of Aeos’ hechmen, and deliver it to her in the center of the four areas.  I think that’s the idea, anyway.  Since there’s three teams and four fairies, I guess that means one team must score at least two fairies, which would make them the winner. 

At the Namekian battleground, Aeos’ man disrobes to reveal he’s another Piccolo.  Gohan and our Piccolo are the representatives for “our” team.

Curiously, three of their teammates are on this other battleground: Yamcha, Vegeta, and Hit.   Their opponent is Vidro, who seems to be of the same species as Lagss from Hearts’ gang about 25 episodes back.

On the third battleground, Trunks continues his fight with the guy from before, and it soon becomes clear that he’s...

Future Gohan, from a timeline where he survived the Androids, but Trunks and Bulma did not.  Somehow, Aeos recruited him and empowered him with the Dark Dragon Balls, and he’s resolved to never be weak or defeated again. 

They do battle, and Trunks is dismayed to find that Gohan is very different from the man who taught him all those years ago. 

So that leaves Goku and Jiren in the fourth battleground to face...

Well, whoever this guy is.  You figure it out.  I can’t be bothered.

[arachneoenomel]

Catching Up

I just uploaded the couple of things that I forgot to post here as well. My apologies. I wish I could say that I’ve just been too busy. 

But I’m breaking down atm because of how overwhelmingly busy I’m not. 

At the end of June we’re moving across the country, like many queer people afraid by the legislative changes and growing transphobic attacks on our being. We can’t stay in the south anymore. We’re not legally people anymore. While I had tentative plans at best for gender affirming surgeries (almost all minor physical and androgenizing, so not even the major surgeries) and do not use hormones, our friends that are and are reliant on more advanced medical care are being kicked out, canceled from appointments, no one can find their medications, etc. The trans youth I’ve become accustomed to helping through my volunteer work are talking about dying or running away, because that’s all their families and the government are leaving them to consider. Things are just so bad right now. The recent Allen shooting happened down the road from where we were to visit family. Everything just fucking sucks.

I got called a traitor by someone who believes it’s “my duty” to stay and “fight back because leaving is letting them win”. I can’t and won’t begin to explain that fucked up logic.

But we’re still a month out and I’m unemployed. Though I was able to secure a job at my new state and will start the week after I move. But until then, I’m in my apartment with nothing but my dogs to talk to until roomie and hubs get home from their work day. So I draw a little, when I can. 

So I’m basically sitting around waiting for a moving date that is moving antagonizingly slow amongst the scary and the terrifying things happening in my country right now. I don’t sleep much. Often running on 3-4 hours. Overeating from stress. My mind is a haze a lot of the time. 

I’m so overwhelmingly excited to move. Not just to escape some of the vitriol and legislative oppression. But because we’re moving to a place that will be so good for our family. Quite frankly I’m so blessed and happy we got this opportunity to move to this incredible place. I hate the word ‘blessed’ like y’all wouldn’t believe but I feel the need to use it here. 

So I’m just sitting here, scared, filled with anticipation to move but knowing 30 days have to pass before we can step foot in our new home. Mentally I’m kind of everywhere. 

[itsyourchoicedevotionals]

Into The Details

"How shall I be sure of this?" said Zechariah to the Angel. "For I am an old man and my wife is advanced in years.” “I am Gabriel," answered the angel, "who stand in the presence of God; and I have been sent to speak to you and to bring and to bring you this good news. And now you shall be silent and unable to speak until the day the day when this has taken place; because you did not believe my words--Words which will be fulfilled at their appointed time." Luke 1:18-20MNT

God is into the details. Malachi 4:5-6NIV “See, I will send the prophet Elijah to you before that great and dreadful day of the Lord comes. He will turn the hearts of the parents to their children, and the hearts of the children to their parents…” The spirit of Elijah was to come into the world again through a child which would be named John the Baptist. Meticulous details had to be arranged. At the time when Zechariah was chosen there were approximately 20,000 priests divided into 24 groups. Someone better in math than me can calculate the chances of Zechariah to be chosen ever to fulfill his priestly duty, I’ve heard it was 850 to one chance. To parent this child both Zechariah and Elizabeth his wife had to be from the tribe of Levi.

An older man, Zechariah, had lost the youthful expectation of fatherhood. Replacing the expectant heart of faith came the clouds of negativity. Obviously he believed in God, Luke1:6NIV, “…righteous in the sight of God, observing all the Lord’s commands and decrees blamelessly.” As he grew older, he’d tired of believing for his dreams. His mouth spoke only the here and now. Such negativity left him actually speechless, when Gabriel brought him the message of the Lord— ‘a son would be born to Elizabeth.’

Mary had a visitation a few short months later from the same angel, Gabriel. He announced to her— “You will conceive and give birth to a Son, and you are to call Him Jesus.” Luke 1:31NIV. Her response was vastly different from Zechariah— V34NIV “How will this be,” Mary asked the angel, “since I am a virgin?” The response of Mary had nothing to do with negativity, disbelief — only a question of how.

Enter stage left, Joseph had made the marriage arrangements for he and Mary. Then he heard the rumors— Mary was pregnant. He knew this wasn’t his Child. It would be much simpler to bow out and allow her to suffer the consequences. “But after he had considered this, an angel of the Lord appeared to him in a dream and said, “Joseph son of David, do not be afraid to take Mary home as your wife, because what is conceived in her is from the Holy Spirit” Matthew 1:20NIV. Joseph was a spiritual man. He neither disbelieved, or questioned the angel. Instead, he arose quickly and married Mary, but didn’t touch her sexually because of the pregnancy.

Meanwhile back in Rome, Holy Spirit put into the heart of Caesar Augustus to take a census of everyone he had control of in the entire world. His bright idea was to have every male to take their family, go to the town of family origins, and be counted.

This God detail brought a hesitant husband, his extremely pregnant wife both to the village of Bethlehem at 40 weeks. No woman would’ve voluntarily consented to a ninety mile trip at 39 weeks.

Often God asks us to do things which don’t make any sense to our minds. These acts and decisions are usually not understood, until we look back, putting together all of the pieces. Will we doubt His details, or step obediently and excitedly in His plans? It’s your choice. You choose.

LET’S PRAY: LORD help us, please to follow Your detailed plan first and foremost without reservation, in the name of Jesus Christ I pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2024 You have my permission to copy and paste this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional, as author. Thank you.

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 31, 1996 Well, I’ve got 27 journals to proofread, so that shouldn’t take more than a month or so.

Tom and I did our “job” earlier and I got off. He didn’t. I offered to try to get him off some other way and he said, “No, we’ll leave it build up another day. Besides, we’re getting close to when it matters.” Not for about a week and I still think it doesn’t matter when we do it and that there is no time for me that matters. Well, as long as there’s no catch to his doing this with me, which is trying about as best as we possibly can (if he does cum at the right time), this is good for me. I really need to do all that we can do to either have a miracle delivered to us or confirm my fears to the max, so I can adjust to whatever the outcome of this will be. It’s one thing to be sure in my mind for 30 years, but I need to see that I’m right or see that I’m wrong. If I’m as right as I always believed I was, I hope no trouble comes out of this. Not only can you not fight fate, but if you try to, trouble may come along and that’s all we need.

We got some animal cards today in the mail from some wildlife thing. So I cut some of them out and wallpapered the back wall of Piggy and Bunny’s cage.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 30, 1996 Well, I hope Tammy doesn’t think I’m crazy, but I just had to let her know that she and her family are under the same curse I was under back east. I know the signs. I know how it works from my own personal experience, and I told her it’s no coincidence that 90% of my life’s improved since being out here. Becky now has been diagnosed with advanced Lyme disease and Sarah’s got scarlet fever. They’ve got to get the hell out of New England any way they possibly can. The curse on them will never end. It’ll only get worse, just as it has been each year and God forbid any one of them gets killed. Yes, I’ve learned and have come to fully believe that lands can be like people. Some loving, caring and nurturing, and others evil, hateful and even violent.

I only hope Tammy’s not bullshitting me about the kids to get me to call her. Remember how I said I left her a message on AOL expressing my feelings to her? And I told her that I’d just keep in touch with her there for now, so I hope that this isn’t just an attempt to get me to call, even though I wish it could be just a joke as far as what she says the kids are going through. It’s just that for some strange reason, my parents and Tammy seem desperate to hang onto me. They don’t help me financially or in any other way that keeps me wrapped around their fingers, so I don’t know what it is. Perhaps it’s cuz of Tom. They really like Tom, which is great, and if they lose me, they lose him.

The office where I’m gonna get my teeth done called yesterday to tell me that they had to cancel my Halloween appointment and bump it up to November 14th.

Tom and I made cookies last night. Actually, he made the cookies. I just helped put frosting on some of them. They’re called Black-Eyed Susan’s, cuz the cookie itself is yellowish and then there’s the dark frosting on top of it. They’re really good.

I admire Tom’s effort in trying to achieve our dream. Neither of us came last night, but he says that he’ll get used to all this planned sex in a day or two. I still think that no matter how much effort we put into it, God will still see to it that we don’t succeed in getting what we want. He’s probably up there right now saying, “So you guys think that having sex every day will do the trick? Uh-uh!”

Of course, a small part of me worries that this is just all for show. There’s a chance he could do everything he can to make it look like he tried his hardest, but then not cum when the time is right. If I were fertile, we’d need for him to get off in a large dose a good 4 days in a row, right around mid-cycle and I don’t think he can do that. After all, the guy is close to 40, not close to 20. Once again, though, all we can do is do what we can and let fate play itself out.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 28, 1996 Andy mailed me more coupons for my coffee today with a brief note. This one I’ll copy in since it’s not so sloppy and hard to read with something spilled on it like the last one was.

Yo Ho,

Roctober 26, 1996

She finally found a way to ditch the old labels. Certain chimes went floating down the river. I swear I left it there under blindfolds. Sarah works on a crack farm selling no doubt. Don’t speak because it hurts. She held up the green apple.

Sony told me to cancel many sold out shows so I refused nearly two-thousand 200 tickets. After she hurt her back she trimmed the lamb’s wool. Trees need to be vacuumed every once in a while. The cotton came to Tolleson where it’s ready to be picked up when red lights turn green under toes.

Sixteen times she called out to me but I left her there to drown. I could bake a pumpkin pie but I don’t have any oranges. Bitches parked on the corner blasted muzak to the homeless ice dankers. Truly I believe that I am a femmy gray-haired loser so why don’t you kill me. And what do you want at 5:30 in the Goddamn morning!?! Why did JFK Jr. marry someone other than Bruce Boxlighter? Were you just dreaming of the snow up there in Fagstaff? Dream on you silly dreamer as you go so far and then you crack up baby doll.

Later…

When Tom came home a little while ago, he told me he had a plan. To screw every day this week. That’s quite a plan, though, for someone who doesn’t like to plan and who doesn’t exactly have a high sex drive. Still, I love it and it sounds great. I told him I have a plan too, to screw every day next week, too. If he gets off, maybe God will have a change of heart, but I know he won’t.

Tom just told me he’s gonna call his mom to work on her plumbing on Wednesday. I asked if he was gonna work on my plumbing. He said no cuz mine doesn’t need any work. Yeah, well, I couldn’t be more sure that if we stick to our plans and if he gets off at the right times, he’ll change his mind about that. Oh, how I hope to hell I’m proven wrong! I dare not hope, though, even if I may dream. Also, the odds of him being able to inject me with major doses at all the right times seem so very, very slim.

As slim as me getting my weight back down to the upper 90s. All I ate today was two granola bars and a small serving of spaghetti and I’ve gone from 102 pounds to 104 pounds. My body’s acting like it did before I was 21 and on all kinds of medications. What could be slowing my metabolism down so much? Age? For about 8 years, I had gotten myself to the point where I could eat and eat and stay the same and if I just cut back a little, I’d lose weight. Now all it takes, once again, is a few bites to make me gain? Shit! I’m gonna have to starve myself and only have liquids for a few days. Getting up the will to do so is so damn hard, though.

I wonder what the house behind us is doing now. I noticed a circular light out there by a window and saw a couple of guys working on something, but I couldn’t tell what. It must be something fairly urgent for them to be doing whatever they’re doing at this time.

Later…

Bunny’s running around the cage all playful and hyper like Piggy does. They do this once or twice a day. Sometimes one at a time, sometimes both together.

We screwed earlier. I didn’t think I was ever gonna get off, but I did. He didn’t but was close. Imagine us having sex every day for the next 20 days! I don’t think so! Even 5 days seems like a pretty amazing record for us. Well, we’ll just have to see what happens.

I’ve got about 45 pages left in Andy’s birthday journal which I’ve been slowly working on. I think he’ll really like it and will be impressed with all the work and thought I put into it. Of course, his birthday isn’t till February 15th. I only hope my birthday isn’t as shitty as it was last year!

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 27, 1996 Happy birthday to journal number 1. Journal 1 is 9 years old today. Tom says next year’s the big one. Yes, 10 years is pretty cool to be writing journals for that long. Bet most people couldn’t imagine that or writing as many journals as I’ve written, but that’s cuz most people hate to write. The difference between the writing of my first several journals and the ones I do now is like - wow! Reading the beginning of journal 1 alone sounds an awful lot like the wacky letters Andy and I have written.

Yesterday we slaved our asses off getting most of the back room done. That leaves the yard, the patio, and anything Tom may want to do with the little room off the end of the big back room and the garage. And other projects, too. Right now, I’m testing the cigarette machine again.

My stereo has been working well. Amazing, huh? I never thought it would, but I won’t count on it to stay that way. It’s bound to malfunction again sooner or later, but he says he can adjust its gears permanently if it does. He says that when the hair got wrapped around the motor, it threw the gears off and that’s why it’d have trouble playing certain disks or the higher tracks of them.

We rearranged the back room, now that we don’t have to worry about leaky spots. We put the two main computers back against the wall where the windows are, as well as the desk, the file cabinet, and a few other little things. Instead of using the tiny speakers for the computer, we’re using my old stereo speakers. He still has the table he uses as a desk for doing bills by the alcove. The brown, wavy, furry-like chair that Andy gave me is now where the computers were before, and Piggy and Bunny are there, too. We put the computer that operates the cigarette machine on the wall where their cage used to be right by the microwave. He took off one of the smaller shelves to be used to put the fan up over the bed to make it louder cuz it’d be closer. No, they haven’t woken me up, but I don’t want to take chances and it’d take the edge off me, anyway.

They’ve had their music at a reasonable volume when they come and go, although, I know that some of the times I’ve heard music, it might’ve been someone else. It won’t last long, though. They’re bound to come in so loud that it shakes the house down soon enough.

We played with those Jenga blocks that Carol and Steven gave us last Christmas. The blocks you stack up and try to keep restacking till they fall. I won again, of course. Right now, he’s doing his favorite thing to do - watching TV. Once again, there’s no sign of wanting to have more sex from him, just as I figured. The TV even turns him on more. I may have been dead wrong in calling him a liar about the cumming issue, but all these promises of more sex and a baby are bullshit. Not that I’m OK, but if I were, as long as he’s gonna squirt 2-3 times a month and at the wrong times, then no, there’ll never be a kid.

Later…

Tom asked me if something was on my mind. I told him I was worried about his amount of seriousness. I told him that if we’re gonna say we’re gonna have more sex, let’s do it. Otherwise, if we’re not, let’s not say we’re gonna. He said I had nothing to worry about.

I hope not.

I certainly never thought that 9 years to the date of my first journal and first journal entry, I’d be writing about sex with a husband and computers and stuff like that. It seems like journal 1 was written by a whole different person in a whole different life. It seems that way here and there throughout my journals. It seems like the first 5 were one person and one person’s life, then it seems like that for the Woodside journals, then the Deerfield ones, the Norwich ones, the Vista Ventana ones, the Crystal Creek ones, and the ones here. While several things have remained the same since I moved in here in September of 1993, so much really has changed, too.

Later…

Just made another change in the back room. I took my private little worktable that’s been in both of the bedrooms, but mainly the master bedroom, and stuck it in the back room. It looks a little different, but if I don’t like it, I can always move it back. Tom wouldn’t mind either way, I’m sure. I have the bulletin board right by my table and I’ve got some Norah pictures up there, as well as some address labels and stamps. I moved out here cuz I thought it’d be nice to be by the computer for a change since I go back and forth between the two constantly. I moved the bedroom fan to where the table had been, so now it’s at the foot of the bed. It’s not much louder there, but it may be a bit louder. Plus, the emptier the room is, the louder the fan will be. Once we get the bed we want in a million years (provided it works out), it should be even louder.

I haven’t found any concrete evidence telling me next door’s moving, but I still sense something’s up with them. I just don’t know what.

I’m still pretty sure we’ll be here for at least 3-5 more years. If we could have a kid, then it’d probably take 10 years to get out of here, but if I had to choose between the two, I’d take the kid.

I get strong vibes about long-term things, as you know. Not only does my vibe say there’ll never be a kid, but I can see more vividly about 1-4 months at a time. So, omitting the fact that I’ve got a strong vibe that we’ll never have a kid, I already know for sure that I’ll get a November period. There’s absolutely no doubt about it. It’s etched in stone and totally inevitable. The feelings that come are hard to explain. It’s just something I just know, no matter what.

Well, I’m gonna go and watch a movie that’s going on soon.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 25, 1996 Oh, I just want to beat the shit out of Quinn right now sooooooo bad! You don’t fuck with the mind of someone I love and care about and you sure as hell don’t threaten them! Quinn dumped Andy for at least 30 days cuz he’s so pissed cuz he’s a scared paranoid wimp. I told Andy to tell him that if he ever hurts him, I will kill him. Quinn probably lives under the discriminative myth that guys are stronger, but I know that it just looks that way at times, cuz it’s not in a woman’s nature to be violent like it is for a guy. Due to women being too soft and not willing to put their foot down and stand up for themselves, they look like chicken shits, but I know men and women are equal. I know that fighting isn’t in strength, height, and weight but that if a person is angry enough and determined enough, they can beat almost anyone. It may be much more in my nature to be aggressive and violent than Tom, for example, but I’m sure that if Tom was that angry at me and that determined, he’d have no problem making mincemeat out of me.

I told Andy that either Quinn’s gonna kill himself on drugs or get killed by someone else if he or any of his sick friends don’t go shoot him, so I’d never go back to him. I know, like Andy said, you can’t help who you love, but Andy should be as strong as I know he is, have self-respect, and not allow Quinn or anyone else to treat him the way he’s been treated. I told him he should stay away forever for his own safety and for the sake of his sanity and just live with the few good memories he has of the wacko. It’ll hurt for a while, but time heals all wounds. I told him that it’ll get easier with time and I reminded him that no relationship is always better than a bad one.

Got a card today from Kim. It’s a cute card and I’ll probably stick it in the inner covers of one of my journals. She sent a couple of Bob letters and in one of them he mentions reading in the journal pages about a joke Kim and I played on him, but wouldn’t get into it. What the fuck’s he talking about? 98% of the stuff I sent him was journals 1-15 and we hadn’t met yet. I only sent a few pages that were from about a year or so ago, but I scanned them thoroughly and I’m curious about it. So I asked Kim to see if she could get out of him what it was since I’m done with him.

I wonder if Kim’s still gonna send Bob a letter right before Christmas saying she’s moving to Florida, then never write to him again and have me send a letter a couple of months later saying she was murdered? I asked her to let me know.

The wind is really whipping out there right now. It even drizzled a bit earlier which is weird. Out here it usually pours quite hard, but not for as long or as often as back east, of course.

Yesterday was a terrible day for me, but I feel much better now. I hope it lasts longer and longer too, after having miserable spells. I even went outside yesterday and fantasized about hanging myself from the rafters for a minute there. I felt so defeated and so hopeless and sad. I can relate to Andy so much. I know what it feels like to want something so bad that you can never have and go through that time and time again.

Tom really cheered me up yesterday. He said it’s not that he’d ever want me not to tell him about what’s bothering me, it’s that he doesn’t want to get into long 4 hour conversations about the details of why he thinks my plumbing’s OK and so on, so we can have more time to screw. Yes, he said he wants to do that more often, as well as just be together more often. Not only do I want a child, but I am a nympho and I also love to just be with him, be it just cuddling, talking, or playing cards or whatever.

I just fear that old patterns will come into play. Meaning, we’ve said so many times that we’d screw more and be together more. We do for a while, then things come up where we can’t do so for a while and sometimes it seems hard to get back on track, but not as hard as in the past, so that’s good. We’re making progress.

Now he says, like he’s said numerous times, that I’ll be pregnant in a couple of months, as long as we make the time. Well, of course, I don’t believe this one bit, cuz God has a way of making things come up that neither of us could control. Still, he has a right to his beliefs, just as I do.

He says he doesn’t believe I’m sterile for these reasons. Cuz of the spotting incident and cuz my periods aren’t always every 28 days. They’re usually every 26-30 days and also, cuz some are lighter than others.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 24, 1996 I thought the little fuck next door just blasted in, but instead, it was that killer stereo that drives by every so often.

I typed up a list of commonly used phone numbers by us and put copies by the computer phone and the living room phone. I also made Tom a wallet-sized one and I typed up all the numbers and addresses that were in journal 54 and then taped them into the last few blank pages. I still have a few blank pages for if we update it, but eventually, I’ll carry numbers and addresses over into some other journal.

Anyway, my emotions and my period don’t seem quite normal, as usual. These days, I never know what to expect in the way of periods. Usually, as soon as I bleed my mental state perks right up, but for most of today, I was really bumming. After a good cry, then doing things that I enjoy, it helped a little, even if the problem’s still there and always will be. When I have a full flow, I usually have it for about 5 hours, but I barely full-flowed for an hour this time around.

Tom really confuses the hell out of me. I just don’t get the things he says. He says stuff like he’s completely sure that there’s nothing wrong with my plumbing. We’ll have a kid. He doesn’t know when anymore, due to his being wrong about October and he wouldn’t tell me if he did know cuz I’m resistant to change. Since when have I ever tried resisting to good changes that I wanted, even if they did seem a bit scary and overwhelming? And now, after all this time, he says he doesn’t have any guesses as to when I’ll be pregnant? Well, he sure as hell has made enough guesses about that in the last few years, always saying he’d be surprised if I weren’t pregnant by certain time frames. Yeah, I’m full of surprises all right. How long is it going to take him to see that I’m right? How in the hell can he think I’m fertile after 4 months of screwing? OK, so we don’t do it enough and we probably never will so who knows if we could ever hit it right, but look at all those people out there that screw as much as we do or even less and they have no problem within 1-3 months. I think it’s very rare for people to screw around here and there or often for several months before they make a baby. I suppose it’s possible for some people to screw around for years and not hit it right, but I don’t think that’s a common occurrence. I should’ve known better than to get that ounce of hope up when he began cumming last July. Now, I’m back to having all the old feelings back that I had before July. It’s almost worse in a way, now, cuz now the finality of my worst fears is setting in and boy is that a slap in the face. It’s one thing to fear, feel, and suspect you’re sterile, it’s another to actually see it. And now I’m seeing it.

I wish I could get Tom to screw me every day around when I’m mid-cycle, but there’s no way he’s ever gonna change that. If it’s not a question of our schedules, he’ll be tired, busy, sore, sick, etc. But if we could just do that as I expressed to him and as he agreed, (we know he doesn’t do everything he agrees to, though), then I could either get a damn good surprise and conceive, or logically speaking, I could advance my sterility belief to the max, (it’s close enough already, though) and begin working through it. I want nothing more, at this time, than to get on with my life somehow. The need to rid myself of all these bad emotions about never having a kid is quite immense, but how? I haven’t succeeded yet. I fear that I’ll always be like this year after year. The thought of it terrifies me.

Why can’t I just forget about the baby? Why can’t I look at all the cons of having a kid and let that help me through this depressing time? How many more years am I gonna be forced by God to feel as I do, no matter how hard I try to get out of it? Why can’t I be happy? I just want to be happy most of the time. I know I can’t be happy all the time, but why not most?

Tom and I are just not sexually compatible for the most part. I always knew it. It’ll never change. There’s always a problem with me or him. Another month of us having sex about 5 times and him getting off 3 of those times will enhance my fear that he might be losing his desire for a kid. I believe it when he says he still has the desire, but does he want it as much? I really, really do get the feeling that he wants to stall it.

The cigarette machine is just about done. In fact, I tested it last weekend. Could he be waiting till I get going with that? Could it be a tease? Is he angry with me and doing it cuz of something I did to make him angry? Is he trying to instill patience in me? Could he really have a time frame in his mind set for when he’s gonna all of a sudden start screwing me like crazy? Oh, how I wish, but I feel that that’s just a dream. If we do start screwing more, will God all the more go after my female parts as a punishment or compensation?

I know some of the things I say may sound paranoid or crazy and that I analyze things too much, but it’s all I can do. I guess it’s normal for a person to sit and analyze something when they can’t actually do something about it. I’m just tired of this whole ordeal. It’s just too damn old. Why is God doing this to me? Why? I guess I’ll never know. Only have theories. If I go crying to Tom about it, he says he cares and that he’ll listen to me as much as I need him to, but I feel like my being bummed gets him bummed and even frustrated and annoyed. It’s like he can’t deal with it as well as he says he can and then I feel like he’s punishing me for the way I feel and what I have to say about it. I’m trying my damnedest to put on a smile when he’s here and not let him see me cry if I need to, but it’s hard. It’s really hard.

Last night I tried to get him to tell me why he says I’d be an above-average mom, in his opinion and he couldn’t even do that. So yes, I feel he just made it up for the sake of cheering me up.

I asked him last night if he thought we should ever get me checked out and instead of answering a normal question in a normal way, he got all exaggerated and said he didn’t know how to answer something that was make-believe. Well, I know it’s not make-believe. I just wonder when he’ll know it’s not make-believe. And admit it. I still get the feeling that he’s awfully embarrassed about ever seeing a doctor about things like this or things related to this. I feel like I could just about bet my life on him never suggesting a doctor if I don’t when he sees that year after year goes by with no baby. If I’m all wrong here, just as wrong as I was about making it to Arizona and getting married and his cumming, then when am I gonna be proven wrong and he was proven right like he swears will be the case? How many more years? And why has it taken so long? Could it be that God really does love us and will bless us with a kid eventually? Oh, come on, Mystery! Don’t go dreaming up more silly dreams. He hates me and he’ll never change his mind. I can see why it wasn’t meant for me to be here the two or so years before I did get here when Andy and I first mentioned it to my folks, but I can’t see why it’s not the so-called right time for a kid if it were a case of that. I believe we’re both as ready as we can ever be. So, if there’s more “preparing” needed to be done, as Robin says, before we can have this kid, I don’t see what it is. Is it the cigarette machine? Another house? Another job for Tom? What? And then there’s that protection theory. What if God knew that I’d be way, way, way worse off with a kid and is just trying to look out for me? I doubt that. He didn’t look out for me when I was a kid or when I was in the NHA. Why should he start now? Sure, he’s blessed me, but he’s certainly cursed me, too, even though Tom thinks that’s nonsense.

Robin tried to pass this bullshit on to me that she had to lie to me cuz sometimes one has to be thrown down before they’re picked up and then all this shit about me being in front of her with a big belly someday, telling her she was right. Good, God!

I just want this to stop. With or without a baby, I just want to stop feeling so sad, so empty, so incomplete, so cheated, so angry and so frustrated. I want to be more carefree and not be hit so hard by not getting the things I want. There could be something else I could want as bad as a kid when I wake up tomorrow. Think I can ever have it? Almost certainly not. Therefore, since I know this pattern and since this pattern is nothing new, you’d think I’d be used to it by now and not feel like such a sorry loser when I can’t get what I want.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 23, 1996 Got my period, just like I knew I would. I’m gonna tell Tom that I’m not gonna dog him about it, like he said I could, cuz it’s not his fault. The only one at fault is God and the only way I’d dog Tom would be if I saw he wasn’t putting any effort into upping the amount of sex. I’ll also tell him I’m gonna have a November period, so get "even" with me and prove me wrong. I know he can’t, though, cuz he can’t fight God and win, any more than anyone else can. I’m sterile and that’s all there is to it.

I wonder, though, could Tom do anything to himself to make him sterile? If he has, he’s sure managed to keep it hidden from me and I should think and hope that he’d never do a thing like that to me. He always swore that if he didn’t want a kid, he’d tell me flat out. I just hope he isn’t and doesn’t go playing any kind of games with me. Call this extremely paranoid, but you can never know if someone truly gets off deep down seeing someone else be miserable. I already know, for example, he deliberately places stuff out of position and you know I’m rather eccentric about stuff like that. I can tell it’s deliberate most of the time cuz you can see that he took the time to study how I’d place certain objects so he could place them differently. No amount of bitching about this or telling him, hey, this really means a lot to me as the designer and caretaker of the interior of the house, has ever stopped him from doing this, either.

I don’t see how Tom could believe I’m not sterile. All that spotting episode was about was God’s way of teasing me by throwing 10% of hope into me, so he could snatch that away for a good laugh. And a damn good laugh I’m sure it was for him.

The night before last, I was woken up by what I was sure was next door, but Tom said he didn’t hear a thing and that even he was quiet. I had him go check to see if there was a vehicle next door and he said there wasn’t. Then I checked at 2 AM and at sunup and there wasn’t. I don’t think they’ve been around since last Friday, actually. I wonder if this has something to do with the vibe I felt about them leaving, even though that had gone away. Maybe they just went on a trip somewhere, cuz no one’s moved any stuff out of there that I’ve heard of. So that leaves 4 theories. It could’ve been that super loud stereo that drives by the house, although he’d have heard that. It could’ve been a non-musical sound. It could’ve been me dreaming or maybe he banged the wall to get me back for waking him up two nights before that when I was freaked out about the stereo breaking.

Yesterday I thought I was coming down with a cold cuz my throat was irritated, but luckily I woke up fine. Tom left me a message, cuz I was asleep when he got home, saying he thinks he may have gotten my cold. Why is it that he gets what I get? Toothaches, colds, etc.? Is this a guilt trip cuz of my complaining about it, an excuse to be sick to get out of doing things, or a weird coincidence?

It was freezing in here when I got up, so I worked out to warm up. Also, I’ve never been so flabby in my life. I don’t think I was even this flabby when I was big, so I told myself, look. You’re never gonna be hopelessly fat cuz of having a kid, so just take care of your body. Get thin and fit and stay that way. So even if I can’t always make myself stick to it, I’ll at least stick to it whenever I can and for as long as I can.

Tom also left a message saying that he tested the stereo out for hours and that it’s fine. I said to myself, oh yeah? Well, as soon as I go test it out and God sees that it’s me listening to it, it’ll fuck up.

But it didn’t. So far. Tammy said she thinks we shouldn’t bother touching it and that we should take the stereo, the receipt, and the warranty back and have them exchange it. She said she’d be pissed too, and that she was pissed cuz she went through the same thing and it took her 3 stereos to hit it right.

I’m getting more and more fed up with Tammy’s moods and tenseness and her ways. I mentioned that journal 1 will be 9 years old on the 27th and I got, “I’m not interested in your journals.”

I feel like I’m walking on eggshells when I talk to her. She’s never interested in anything, yet it’s perfectly OK for her to tell me the same things over and over again that she's into and that doesn’t interest me, yet I don’t tell her I don’t care or am not interested. Is she that jealous or that insecure with herself that she has to have such problems dealing with those who are different than her? She and Mom and Dad all should take a good look at themselves in the mirror and ask themselves why they’re like this.

It’s human nature for a person to discuss what’s going on in their lives and their interests, but when you can’t even talk about that, what can you talk about? So I told Tammy this and I told her I don’t expect anyone to be what I want and kiss my ass and the same goes for me, so I’m just gonna deal with her by AOL for a while and she can do what she wants.

I’m playing a wicked prank on my parents. I thought it was about time and perfect timing, too. I was laughing so hard at the idea and boy are they gonna be confused!

I’m on the phone now with Andy. He and Quinn are having it out on the phone right now. Quinn’s such a sicko. A rude, selfish little bastard. Quinn keeps saying he doesn’t need to explain himself, but he is. Then he finally got honest and admitted he’s only looking out for himself and he doesn’t care about others.

As far as the prank on my folks, I wrote a wacky, senseless letter to them. Nothing threatening or sexual, of course, just weird. I’m sending the letter to Kim to send it to them. That way it’ll be postmarked MA and they won’t recognize Kim’s handwriting when she addresses it to them and writes the bogus return address. I typed it in a basic and very standard font that any computer or typewriter can do. I’m sure I’ll be one of their top suspects, but they do have a lot of enemies they left behind in MA. If they ever ask me about it, I’ll either just laugh and let them know I just had to play with them or maybe I’ll deny it and let them think about it some more.

When I address their envelope, the return address will be from Springfield. I signed the letter from “C.J.” As for the mention of Gene? I know I’ve heard them mention a guy named Gene as a friend of theirs. Anyway, here’s the letter.

Dear Arthur,

Just got this daisy wheel to get used to and how are you and Doe? Please come see us the next time you’re in Massachusetts. It’s been a while and it’s not worth it here.

Sorry to hear about Gene, but if it’s not in his genes, he can’t wear jeans. It’s always good to eat before watching TV because then you can understand the dialogue better. Amy and Dan are always on time these days, but they have to count their ABCs better. When you last spoke to me, I didn’t want to throw a vase of flowers out the window, I just wanted to run and hide. That way you wouldn’t be able to see that I had my tie on backward.

How goes it with you and your family? Oh, I know. I think it means that a candle has to be spared for some kind of gypsy culture, right? I heard all about it. I’m so sorry, but the weather’s been quite damp and rainy here and I can’t even see the way to the ballgame. Did you drive up recently? I heard on my scanner that honey goes with tea quite well.

Don’t worry about a thing. I know how to reach you in case of an emergency. I’ll give you a buzz one of these days real soon so we can discuss how wood is related to metal.

I can relate to those who have a true value in what they see. If it’s not a case of a fluke, it doesn’t mean that we can’t walk to our cars in the mornings. I see your logo. I see it even when it’s dark. It means a lot to me and I’d really like to try to tie together some kind of connection. There is no king without a queen and if being a rock means being that, I’d rather be a piece of mud. Wouldn’t you? I guess so, anyway, and it’s a long way to go before we have any viceroys. Stop being as sad as you were when you were thrilled, or else I’ll have to water down the hose outside the place here. I hope for a red one, so I can see how tasty the countertops are. Qualms are ready to be taken advantage of and so is a weird dog bone.

Hey, I tried, OK? Don’t blame me for being a clock on the wall that has no Halloween candy. I can’t help it, but I can help falling down when I sit in a crème-colored chair. Don’t you see? See it? It’s here. It’s here now. Come follow me and I’ll show you the man who adopted that attitude.

C.J.

Later…

Just went to put out my final mail to Bob and I saw next door’s jeep there. Then a few minutes later they left quietly. I heard 3 doors shut, so this must either mean that one door was to put the kid in back in a car seat, the other was for her, and then one for him. I think they all leave together for the most part. Then she either comes in with him or with someone else. This could’ve also meant that he packed stuff to take wherever they’re moving to if they really are moving. They moved in little by little and I never really noticed or heard them move in as I did with the M's, so maybe they’re moving out little by little and are gonna spend more and more time at the new place. That’s how they moved in here. They did it gradually. They might’ve rented this house temporarily till they could get some other house they wanted more. Or maybe they’re going into an apartment, condo, or townhouse. It still seems too soon for a person renting a house to move and there’s no for-sale or for-rent sign up. I just hope that whenever the hell they move God doesn’t put another car stereo blaster there or increase the ones that go down the street. Let him give me back the dogs and kids, if he must do something, cuz I can sleep with them and a fan or a radio drowns them out when I’m up.

The feeling of them moving is up once again. Not too strong, but it’s there. I don’t know if it’s just wishful thinking or just cuz of another trip out of town or whatever. I just wish I could have mysterious neighbors that I never know if they’re home or not or what the hell they’re up to and all about.

So far, I’ve learned to cook 3 things. Barbecued ribs, spinach pie, and pot roast.

Later…

The kids two yards down are out there yelling now, but I figured they would throughout the winter when I saw they got those monkey bars. It’s not my favorite thing to hear, but it’s tolerable after dealing with that bass and they can’t be heard in the house like the M’s kids could be heard in here loud and clear. They still live out front a lot, too, and I never hear them, so that’s nice. Anything’s better than bass. The bass is like having every part of every wall, window, and ceiling pounded.

Does Tom know something I don’t know? Or is he just too hopeful in a naïve and unrealistic way or does he just not want to admit it to further my own disappointment and belief in the fact that I’m sterile? I hate to tell him this, but it’s gotten way too obvious that my worst vibe/feeling has come true, so why is he so sure I’m not sterile? He still tells me I’m gonna be wrong about the kid, wrong about when I say I can’t quit smoking, and wrong about when I say I could never maintain a schedule. Oh yeah? How? When?

I told him, “You said I wouldn’t get an October period and you were wrong. I say I’ll get a November period too, so prove me wrong and beat God.”

Whether he knows it or not, I’m gonna come out the sorry winner even though I’d give anything to be proven wrong on the kid, the smoking, and the schedule.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 21, 1996 Got myself a neat puzzle that I downloaded from AOL and Tom decompressed it. It’s a map of the US and each state is a piece of the puzzle you put together. You can also do state capitals.

Saturday morning he got off big time, which is great. I only hope I’m dead wrong when I suspect I’ll see a definite pattern where he deliberately makes sure we don’t hit it right. A part of me says we didn’t do it enough or hit it right. An even bigger part of me says it should’ve hooked this month if I was fertile. I still sense more than ever that I’ll be facing my sterility over the next few months like never before. Will I go to a doctor? I’d love to, but it’s not that easy. A doctor can’t fix me and no doctor, Tom, or myself can fight God and change God’s mind. Even if we did, would the baby live to be born? Would I have it the regular way? Would the baby be OK? Would it die of sudden infant death syndrome? I swear, though, if my periods could talk to me, they’d say, “You ain’t ever getting rid of us! Don’t bother, cuz we’re here to stay. We love you so very much and are so faithfully devoted to you.”

The big question is, what the fuck am I gonna do with my life? I can’t do anything I want, so what can I do?

Tom’s never been right on all those different months he said I’d be pregnant. I’ve never been wrong on all those times I’ve said I wouldn’t be pregnant.

In other news, it’s been a peacefully freeloaderless weekend.

Tom left a message for me saying the stereo was working and that sure sounded too good to be true. So I began disk 1 - no problem. I was psyched! Then it crashed again. How can I not feel teased and cursed by God?

Tom got the hair out so the rest of it is on God and I also have a hell of a feeling that he’s not gonna let me have any stereo work right or for long, anywhere, anymore, and probably ever again. I may as well go tape all my CDs.

Later…

It’s cold out there! It got so cold in the house last night, too. It’s only to hit 75º today, but it’ll be back up into the middle 80s in a couple of days.

I am so fucking bloated right now and the pre-cramps are stronger. I wouldn’t be surprised if I got my period earlier.

I had an idea that I told Tom when he got up. Part of what he had to say in response to what I had to say confused me, but anyway, I thought of an idea that I thought would suit us both.

As I’ve mentioned before, I don’t think we have sex enough to hit it right, regardless of my sterility belief. So, I told him that I wanted to either confirm my worst fears or be in for a surprise, so that can maybe make it easier to deal with whatever happens. He told me to do something about the things that make me unhappy the other day. So, I thought we could compromise. You see, as far as I thought I understood, he doesn’t like mixing business with pleasure. Meaning, he wants to have sex only for fun. Well, the same goes for me, but I think that during the times it’s supposed to be more likely for a woman to conceive, we should have fun but make more of an effort to screw. That way, neither of us has to be left feeling like the other ran the show and to hell with what the other wanted. We both share the same dream, so I thought this would be the quickest way to either be in for the shock of my life or see my worst fears come true so I can just deal with it and get on with my life for once and for all, somehow, someway.

So he told me that the timing, counting, or frequency of the sex wasn’t the issue for him and that the only problem was my always getting upset after sex. Well, I don’t think it’s fair to say I’m always upset, but if I make the dumb mistake I mentioned the last time, I would. And if he didn’t cum, but I’m not nearly upset about that as I was when he’d never cum. I told him I’d try to work on this, though.

The part that confused me was how he told me you can’t find out either way (if I’m sterile or not) and that it doesn’t work that way. You can’t find out either way? Well, wouldn’t it be obvious and go without saying that if a woman found out she was pregnant she’d know she wasn’t sterile?

I asked if two people could screw for 5 years, be both OK, but not make a baby. He said yes, that’s very possible. I don’t know. It’d seem to me that one would take that as a sure sign of a problem.

I still think something’s up here. I’m not saying he’s bullshitting me about his wanting a kid and that we could work out the cost of it, no matter how we were doing financially, but I have a hell of a feeling that he’s decided to stall on this for some reason. There’s been certain things he’s said and certain ways he’s said it that tells me that.

I still have the feeling hanging over me that something is wrong down there. Not as strong as the feeling I had about my ear for 6 years, but the scary thing about it is that I was right about my ear.

I talked to Andy last night cuz I was so depressed, scared, and angry while Tom was asleep. He’s become a good listener and he did cheer me up to a degree, even if no one can solve my problems. He told me the bible says that spirits in different forms, like with Robin, will lead you astray if you listen to them and that if you turn on them, they’ll do shit to you like fuck with your stereo. I don’t know. Maybe they’ve got a part in it, but I still think the main player in controlling my life is God himself. I don’t know what kind of God and it may not be him like I said before. Maybe it’s a devil of some sort.

Andy also said we should still see a doctor in April to see what’s wrong with me. I explained to him why I can’t do that. I’ll bet Tom would never mention that, too, if I never got pregnant. As I said, I know Tom does want a kid, but does he really want one that bad? As bad as I do? Sometimes I wonder.

Andy also says that maybe it’s not me and that maybe Tom’s shooting blanks. Given the fact that I’m a DES daughter with a strong vibe she’s had before and been right on, I highly doubt the problem could be him. If it were, I can’t see him ever doing anything about it.

I just wish I knew what my fucking purpose in life is! It’s got to be more than it already has been, but I don’t know about that one. Or else it’d be more by now.

Tom asked a rather funny question the other day. He said he likes change, but that change scares some people and he asked me if I thought things were changing too much lately. How weird. OK, so there have been some great changes in the last several months, like with our sex lives, but that and any other changes aren’t scary or overwhelming to me. His cumming, for example, which is the change that means the most to me and is a big deal to me isn’t overwhelming or scary to me in any kind of a way I can’t handle. I still fear a kid would be scary and overwhelming and that I couldn’t handle it, but I’m still willing to take that chance. I wonder if he said he likes change and asked that question to cover for stalling the kid. Since he told me he likes change, maybe he thinks I’ll be less suspicious of him stalling, should he do so. I wonder if he really has all the faith in me as a mother he claims to have. Perhaps he’s more afraid of how the pregnancy, having it and raising it would impact me than he’s willing to admit.

Twice in the last 4 months or so, I asked him to tell me why, in his opinion, does he think I’d be an above-average mother and he still hasn’t told me. This makes me wonder if he hasn’t told me cuz he doesn’t really believe that and cuz it’s just a way to butter me up, but I hope not.

I wish I could be so shockingly and pleasantly surprised by finding out I was pregnant just like I was about coming here and things that have happened since being here, but I know there’s no way I will. How many times in one’s life can one be that surprised? Especially with the way my life usually is as far as that’s concerned. The pattern is just too clear when it comes to stuff I want really, really bad.

Later…

Once again, when I first turned the CD player on, it worked, but then died again. I agree with Tom, though, when he says most technicians don’t know what they’re doing, so he’ll decide whether or not to bring it in to be fixed or fix it himself. I don’t think anyone can fix the CD player or how it doesn’t record right and even if I got another stereo in mint condition, God will just screw the damn thing up.

I’m so fucking bloated right now. I wish my period would just get itself over with. See, there’s no way in hell Tammy could feel like this after conceiving. She may have felt bloated, but there’s no way she could’ve felt the pre-cramps like I do. I don’t see how anyone could feel this way and end up just having gotten pregnant and not getting a period. I think that the only reason God had me spot those 13 days was to tease me. He just wanted to spark 5% - 10% of hope in me, so he could then take it away and laugh at me. Just like he did with Scott and other people and other things.

I think there are 3 reasons why the stereo’s fucked up. 1. Cuz of the dumb mistake I made by not making sure my hair didn’t get caught in it. 2. A punishment by God. 3. Cuz God doesn’t want me to ever go deaf so I can hear the neighbors.

I wonder, could something else really good be coming up? I ask this, cuz of the way life is full of ups and downs, good times and bad and I still believe in compensation. We’ve had bum luck lately. Especially me, so is it cuz of getting the rabbit? I don’t think so. I think it’d be cuz of something even bigger, but what? I’m not getting a kid out of all this shit, so what? I guess it’s not compensation for a good thing to come. I guess I’m still cursed. But why? What am I doing that’s so terribly wrong? I know I’m not perfect, and my attitude’s not always great, but is my strong desire to have a kid a sin or something? I guess it is. I just wish I could wake up tomorrow detesting the idea of a kid and have my own car that I could drive fearlessly. Then I wish I could keep a schedule and go to my typical office job or something like that 5 days a week like Tom does. On top of that, I wish I didn’t smoke.

It’s still so fucking chilly out! I wish it were like Florida here. I’ll wish that till March. I think the winters here aren’t much shorter than they are in MA, but they’re not as cold. I don’t think the summers here are much longer than they are in MA, but they’re hotter.

SUNDAY, OCTOBER 20, 1996 I’m in one of the worst moods possible right now. First of all, another negative baby dream last night. It was about how that’d be all I’d ever see or hear, no matter where I went like it is on TV. It seems like the worse of a mood I’m in and the more I yearn for the child I’ll never have, the more it’s on TV.

I’ve been having horrible feelings about God not only not giving me things that really matter to me but taking away the things I do have that matter to me. I made the incredibly stupid mistake of begging God to please stop torturing me and to please just let me be happy and at peace with myself and life and not put me in for female problems. I could’ve kicked myself for this and I told myself, you’re really in for it now! How dumb can you be?

Sure enough, my CDs won’t play. It’s just like the last time. Tom found a piece of my hair wrapped around the motor, which is the logical part of it, but I still find this all a hell of a coincidence. Right after praying. Two CD players right in a row. Something that means so much to me. Right after having the feeling about this.

Oh, so God’s gonna hurt Tom, too, cuz he means so much to me? Kill him? Kill my animals? Make my hair fall out? Burn my journals? Take my voice away? What the fuck is he gonna do to me next? I’m afraid to even walk around. For all I know, he could have me fall down and break my neck so I have to live my life in a wheelchair.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 19, 1996 All he has to do is say he signed it. They can’t prove otherwise. This is what Tom said to tell Andy if they questioned him about that form on which I signed his name as a witness. All Tom has to do is say he isn’t punishing me or teasing me or trying to instill patience in me as far as the kid goes, and I can’t prove differently. All I can do is suspect. God, I hope I’m wrong, though!

This is what I think of the whole situation from beginning to end at this time. I think some of his feelings have remained and some of his feelings have changed. It’s a similar situation between how he thought I’d be a lousy wife, then saw that I wasn’t.

I think that in the beginning, he didn’t want to be a father, but never hated kids and would’ve taken it if it had come. Then, he decided he liked the idea but had no intentions of taking chances with making a kid till last July, even though he’s told me differently over the last few years or so. Positioning still may have been a big factor in his problem as well as other things going on in life. So, as of July, he probably said to himself, OK, having a kid now would be fine, but if I can help it, I’m gonna stall it for around 6 months to a year to tease her and to instill patience in her. How much do you want to bet that if he gets off after my period which I’m due for next Friday, he’ll conveniently do it at the wrong times? Yes, I really think he does want a kid but isn't that serious about it. He said we have no reason to wait, money’s no problem, but who knows what’s truly going through his mind? Even he said I can’t ever know what’s on his mind. Maybe he doesn’t have all this faith in me as a mother that he claims to have. Maybe he worries deep down or subconsciously, whether he knows it or not, about the same things I worry about, like handling the pregnancy, the labor/delivery, dealing with it, etc.

Anyway, right now, this is what I fully believe. I believe that if he’s serious and really wants the kid as bad as he says, he’s not gonna step up the action towards making one till right after Evie has hers. That’ll be around March. On the other hand, maybe he’s more serious than I think what with the way he’s been working on the cigarette machine which is ready for testing tomorrow. And of how we’re suddenly getting into cooking to save money.

I asked Tom if the spots I had were a sure sign that I was not sterile, or if he thinks that a woman can still do that and be sterile. He said that he doubts I’m sterile, but we can never know for sure either way. I still feel so teased by God, regardless of what’s on Tom’s mind or what the case is with my plumbing. Enough is enough already, but I knew it. I knew that if he ever came, the next step would be to really deal with and face the fact of sterility. God just had to tease me those years, even though I figured on sure sterility, but here’s where it gets really real. It’s just like with the woman. I had the gut feeling for so many years that she wasn’t meant to be. I knew she wasn’t meant to be, but then I really knew she wasn’t meant to be. The question is am I ever gonna be OK with a kid being not meant to be as I’ve come to be OK with the woman being not meant to be?

I’m just so afraid that I’ll be in for a long life of GYN problems, sterility, and feelings of being cheated, cursed, angry, bitter, sad, frustrated, and incomplete. This must be what they mean when they talk about “restless spirits.” They feel incomplete and like they lived and then left the world with unfinished business. Well, maybe there is such a thing as heaven or reincarnation. I guess none of us can know till we’re dead, although I doubt God would send me to heaven if there were a heaven and a hell. Maybe I’ll be reincarnated as a woman, once again, and have no problems getting pregnant. Hey, I may even come back as one of these pregnant 14-year-olds. I don’t have to finish the music or the woman issue, as there’s a difference between something that’s ended and something that’s ended, but that isn’t finished. Maybe if I can’t finish unfinished business and dreams here, there will be a place elsewhere to do so.

If only I could know what I’m doing now to piss God off so much and make him hate me and if I’ve done anything in the past that struck bad chords within him, can’t he forgive me? The guy forgives murderers, so why not me? I’m not perfect, but why is it that I’ve had to be treated like I may as well have been a mass murderer for most of my life? If I had taken someone’s life, then I could see this as a perfectly justified punishment. But since he still blesses those who do kill with kids, what could I have done that’s worse than that?

I had another baby dream last night, but I don’t remember it.

Perhaps I made a mistake by writing in the note I left him, thanking him for cheering me up, that I was gonna get pregnant next month. He hates demands and he’s gonna take that as a demand and all the more he’ll veer the other way and make sure we don’t hit it right. As far as the kid is concerned, I feel like if I say I’m gonna get pregnant with certainty, he’s got to make sure I don’t to show me I can never know something for sure. If I say I can’t with certainty, he still has to make sure that I don’t to try to send a message saying - if I’m gonna say negative results will happen, they will. It’s just like that time, what was it, about a year ago? Anyway, there was a time, which I know I wrote about, where I said I was gonna do anything I could to get pregnant. Then he said, “So what are you going to do? Run out and cheat on me?” He knew he wasn’t ready to cum then. At least that’s what I believe. Well, if he just puts all the honest effort into trying to hit it right and make this kid he says he wants as bad as I do, then unless I’m sterile for sure, as I believe, the past is done and over with in my book.

Later…

I’m watching a movie now. It’s OK so far. No one’s having a baby in this movie, so that’s nice for a change.

After reading back in here and reviewing things Tom’s said lately, I could almost bet all these journals on the fact he’s not too happy with me lately and he’s gonna have me pay for it. The kid’s called off for now and I would bet my life and even his that he won’t come near me 14 days after this next period. It’s really a shame, though, that “teaching me a lesson” is more important than our dream. If I’m sterile, that’s not our fault, but I don’t think Tom’s been putting in a fraction of the effort I know he’s capable of.

He went down on me earlier which was great. At least there’s something we do in bed that’s virtually problem-free.

This movie’s getting worse by the minute and so is my handwriting.

Anyway, I’m almost sure we’ll be screwing in the morning (as long as we’re positioned right and as long as he’s not hurting in some way) but I doubt he’ll cum. Actually, he just might, though. You can’t get pregnant one week before your period.

Later…

I read an ironic familiarity in my John Saul book. A woman’s newborn was stolen and she had dreams of him, so she knew he wasn’t dead. Then she went on to say how she’d have dream premonitions and had a dream constantly where she was older, with lots of kids.

Maybe there’s some way that I’ve never realized that would change God’s mind. I just hope my hubby here doesn’t renege on our deal. Our agreement is to have more sex. I don’t know, though. His tone earlier when he said we were just gonna have sex for fun for a while and if I get pregnant, fine - tells me something. It’s as if he may have said, “You really annoy and frustrate me lately with the things you say. Therefore, I’m gonna make you wait longer to punish and tease you.”

Can I really be all wrong about him? Can I just be paranoid? I wish, but somehow, I strongly doubt it. You see, a lot of my vibes/premonitions are still quite accurate. I know I’ll never have a child. I wonder, though, will God tease me far worse than he already has? Will he allow me to conceive, then just as I find out I’m pregnant for sure, will he take it away?

Nah - I doubt God would ever even give me the honor of ever at least finding out I was pregnant in the first place, let alone have it. And have it vaginally.

Later…

Tom just got up. I’m getting tired, but if want any fun before bed, I have to wait a whole damn hour, maybe more, before we do.

I was playing Nintendo games. I’m still the same with the car racing, but my shooting ability has dwindled a bit as far as the duck hunt goes.

I remembered another thing in John Saul’s book. This teenage girl tried to kill herself. Then she moved and began to see a boy whose parents heard about her. So the parents fought over whether or not the boy should see her and they never even met her. Yeah, I can only imagine all the parents I never met back in Longmeadow who must’ve fought over me. Before, during, and after my first suicide attempt.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 18, 1996 There is one more thing I haven’t mentioned yet and that is that I’ve had this mysterious irritation at the opening of my crotch for a few days now. I have no discharges, fevers, or anything, so again, is this a little punishment cuz he’s cumming occasionally and cuz of my wanting a kid? See, this is why I’m afraid to go to a GYN. I’m afraid of God having me in for female problems to tease me even more. If I had to have a hysterectomy, he couldn’t tease me anymore, but the punishment would still be there. I just want him to stop. I just want him to either give us the kid or let me get on with life without feeling teased, cheated, and incomplete. Or angry and bitter.

We had Bunny running around the music room earlier and she was so cute! Cuz she’s bigger and will be much, much much bigger, she needs the extra exercise. She was more like a little puppy than even Piggy is. She was so happy, jumping all around and jumping up and down and running around the room. We have to watch her, though, to keep her from chewing wires.

At the start of my day, I put myself on a diet, but that’s not going so well. I guess I just can’t muster up the kind of motivation I’d have if I were in need of losing more than 10 pounds instead of just about 7 pounds.

Well, I guess I’ll choose between TV, reading, computer work and music for now. If I remember anything else about the new problem God’s replaced me with, I’ll make a note of it or just write it down. I just knew that if he came, God would go do something else, but personally, this is easier to deal with than the old bullshit.

Later…

I was just laughing to myself when I thought of something I could write to my parents if I did so again. When I’m about to tell them about Bunny, I could start off with, “We found out about a surprising and unexpected addition to our family,” and then go on about Bunny. This is true, too, about Bunny, but I know what they’re gonna think I’m gonna say and man, will their hearts be pounding and will they start getting rather unhappy! Maybe I just will give them a good scare.

Also, this didn’t bother me cuz I could only hear it out back, but someone was playing some kind of wind instrument at 7:14 this morning. 7:14 this morning! Now that is desperate. That is a truly classic example of how people want to be heard so damn bad. It was so obvious too, that that person wanted to be heard and was sitting right by an open window.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 17, 1996 God, do I keep making the most stupid mistakes, or what?! Tom and I were chatting earlier and there are some things he said that I don’t agree with and some that I do. This morning we went to screw around and I was so stupid as to let myself be too far up to the wall of the waterbed. Therefore, when he was on top of me, he had to stop as he was worried about me banging my head. Then his tooth hurt too, and he said we were running out of time.

I still can’t believe that these constant problems, whether they’re our fault or not, are just coincidences. They can’t all be. God’s having us have these problems is the tease and God’s sterilizing me is the punishment. How can Tom expect me to have an open mind about it, not be upset, and run around saying that I don’t know what the future holds? Well, I do know what the future holds and I can’t help but be sad, mad, and downright frustrated. When I say I know what the future holds, that doesn’t mean I’m saying I know it all. I didn’t know we were gonna have a rabbit, but I know we’re not gonna have a kid. I’ve also had some things I was sure of and I ended up being wrong and am aware of that. However, I’ve never been wrong yet about a baby and I don’t see how or why I could end up being wrong on that in this day and age. It’s just as obvious as the singing and woman situation was and other things, too.

I swear I’m gonna quit watching TV, too. I turned on the TV and the first thing I heard was, “Mothers who almost got away with murder.”

God just had to make sure I’d turn the TV on in time to hear that. And yes, I really do believe that. It’s part of the tease he just has to rub into me. TV’s nothing but babies this, babies that. Plus, bad moms and unwanted pregnancies. I’m already reminded enough on my own of what I can’t have.

I saw part of a documentary about the disabled, and this paralyzed woman was saying how shocked she was to find that she was pregnant. Do I have to be disabled too, in order to “earn” a child, since I won’t kill anyone or become a drug lord? Does something even more terrible than anything that’s ever happened to me already have to happen to possibly get God to change his mind and let us have a child? Perhaps the singing dream was far-fetched, even though others who sing no worse or better than me have made it. And perhaps the woman dream was far-fetched cuz they’re all too masculine for my taste and the few fems want non-fems, but how far-fetched can the dream of having a child be? Oh, so I’m asking for an uncommon, inhuman, unrealistic, out-of-this-world, ridiculous, and unheard-of thing? Well, obviously I am.

Tom said something that’s dead true, but that scared the shit out of me. After I said I was fed up and ready to walk away from my dreams, he said no one can walk away from their dreams, cuz their dreams are who they are and what they’re made of. Great. This is a real damn comforting fact. All the more I can expect to feel like my life will be incomplete and that I didn’t really accomplish much or get what I wanted. It’s really scary to think that I’ll be living life feeling like it’s incomplete and mostly second best. I just can’t settle. If I could settle, then I’d have taken any job I could get, I’d take the offers of any person that hit on me, I wouldn’t be here today and I could go on and on with all kinds of examples. I wish to hell I could settle, though!

I really feel like Tom’s blaming me and punishing me, but he swears that’s not true. He says that if I say something to turn him off sexually, that he’s the one who feels turned off and that’s not my fault. Aside from the fact that just about everything turns him off sexually, I feel like it is all my fault. He says I need to stop trying to control and dictate things, like life’s events, my feelings, my need to talk, and that I should do what I feel is right at that moment. I feel, though, that if I don’t watch what I say, he’s gonna be hurt, angry, or frustrated and punish me for it by saying he’s been put out of the mood for sex. I told him I’d try harder to not say something’s inevitable or etched in stone. Even if a doctor said I was sterile, I told him I’d still insist that the future is unknown. Wish I could make myself run around saying - I know we’re gonna have a kid. But what if I ended up believing that? Then eventually reality would once again sink in and I’d have to be hurt all over again.

This evening he said that he wasn’t saying that this was necessarily true, but that I seemed hostile and like I was trying to pick a fight with him, so then he found himself wondering what he could’ve done to set me off and that his wondering about it is was what put him out of the mood. And he says it’s not my fault? Why? Is it cuz he doesn’t want me to say anything’s his fault? Is he figuring that if he doesn’t blame me, I won’t blame him, so then he can go and do whatever he wants? The last thing I ever want to do is knowingly pick fights with him or make the person I love upset in any way shape or form.

He said he was also upset with me earlier for saying we couldn’t have a child. I didn’t say that. I said that because I was gonna get a period, I think there’s something wrong with me. He said he just thinks that the first time we did it, it was too soon and that the second time really didn’t count that much cuz it was a wimpy cum. Then, if he thought it was too soon or too wimpy and wanted this kid so bad, why didn’t he do it more often? Cuz he wants to tease me, punish me, or instill patience in me? Cuz of the dental work expenses? Cuz of the pig’s and rabbit’s new cage expenses? Would he get off seeing me teased or upset by not being pregnant till Evie had hers so I could feel all the more hopeless, cursed and that life isn’t fair? Does he think it’d be harder for his mom to handle two grandkids born around the same time? Does he think it’d be easier for her if they were spaced out? Does he want Evie’s kid to be about a year older, so she’d maybe give us the stuff her kid outgrows so we could save at least a little money?

I know I need to work on not saying something’s inevitable and etched in stone to his face, but to myself, it’s pretty impossible. It’s a scary and familiar pattern that I’ve been through before. Nothing is suggesting that it’s that more possible that God’s gonna change his mind, just cuz he’s cumming here and there. The more I thought about it, the more I realized that a woman who screwed 10 and 15 days after her period should be pregnant and if not, she can really believe something’s wrong. What about Ron? Thank God, but he never got me pregnant and he must’ve cum in me a good 10 times, give or take a few. And back then I did fit the so-called qualifications for being a mom. So if that did me no good then, how’s it gonna do me any good now?

There has been something going on, though, that is also familiar, but I don’t see how it can’t just be a weird coincidence. Before I became a dancer, I had money dreams. The night I was hired in the first club I worked at, Andy, Kara and I went to a Chinese place and my fortune cookie said I’d never have to worry about money again. Well, in a sense that was true.

Remember how I said I was having baby dreams? Well, I had one last night and the night before and I remember the one I had a couple of nights ago. It was a negative dream, not surprisingly, but it was weird. Before I get into it, I got Chinese the other night and my fortune cookie said to get ready for some big change in my personal life.

Anyway, in the dream, I was with some unknown woman who was in her late 20s or early 30s. She was going on and on about how happy she was that she really got to know me better that day. Then we were in a grocery store. Attached to it was a lab, right by a display of home pregnancy tests, with hundreds of cups that obviously contained pee to be tested for pregnancy. All I remember was gazing into the room at the cups and saying something about that there’d never be a cup from me to be tested. Then I began to get upset and the girl was assuring me that the lady was ringing up her purchases and that we’d split. But then the cashier began to brush this girl’s hair. The cashier seemed to be an older lady, but then I noticed the girl’s physique more clearly. She was fat, had lots of freckles, and had medium-length red hair. Then I noticed she had lots of bald spots, and that’s when I woke up. Weird, huh? But it seems like a typical baby dream for me. I can’t imagine ever having a happier one or one where I saw that I was pregnant.

Well, I don’t know if I’ve remembered to cover all the important things we said or all my thoughts, opinions, beliefs, emotions, or feelings, but I think I got the bulk of it all covered.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 16, 1996 I have mucho updating to do, so I’ll get on with that now.

I amazingly didn’t hear the fuck next door today, so that’s nice and fine with me.

We got a wonderful addition to our family yesterday. Apparently, the lowlife, scummy trash of a family who makes a racket 24/7 had a black baby rabbit that’s about 7-8 weeks old. They didn’t want it, so they let it outside and it’s been hanging around Mom’s backyard for a few days. Yesterday, though, she let Mary pick her up and Nickolena had first dibs on her, as she does with everything, but David said no cuz he’s still getting over the loss of his dog. I hope they’ll get her a rabbit someday and am sure they will. If I could, I would, but who knows how long David will need to get over the loss of his dog. Everyone’s different.

Anyway, Mary called yesterday, saying she had the rabbit in a basket, but Tom wasn’t home. He stopped by there after work and called me to tell me he’d be bringing it home. So now we have a rabbit, too! Once I saw it was a girl bunny, I knew that Piggy would be OK with her as his roommate till she outgrows the cage. What I didn’t know was that Piggy would be thrilled and absolutely adore her. They get along great and when they curl up and sleep together, they’re so cute. Piggy lays his head on Bunny’s neck and Bunny’s so mellow, quiet, and calm compared to Piggy who’s a noisy, hyper little rascal. No way would I move Bunny out of there as Piggy would be really bummed. So, we’re gonna save up to build a bigger cage, since Bunny could jump out of this cage easily in no time at all. I guess you could say I formally named them Piggles and Blackie, but I just call them Piggy and Bunny. Piggy’s really been off my case, so to speak. He used to scream for me all the time, but now that he’s got Bunny, he doesn’t need me as much. Just to bring the food to them. If I were an animal, I’d rather have another animal around all the time too, and not a person. They still both like to be petted and to come out of their cage, but Bunny’s still getting to know us. She ate right away, which is good. They usually have no appetite for a few days in a new environment.

I finally have all my journal’s paragraphs capped, thanks to Tom’s macro and now all I have to do is proofread about 40 journals.

We went to the library last night and I’m happy to report that I got two John Saul books that I’ve never even heard of, so I’m happily reading those.

I’m also happy and shocked to say that tonight I cooked barbecue pork ribs and they came out great! My mom and sister probably wouldn’t believe I made them. I don’t like cooking, but I’m glad I’m learning. It’ll be cheaper, give me more confidence and I love to cook for the man I love. Makes me feel more of a wife.

I got the coffee coupons Andy had for me today. He sent that along with a 1-page wacky letter.

Last night I was a bit upset, but Tom and I talked it out and we understand where each other stands and are both willing to do whatever we as individuals or as a team need to do to help each other. I mentioned us having sex only a few times this month and he said he went from 100% sure to not sure if I’d get pregnant this month. Well, I figured as much. What else is new? Yes, I’m 100% sure I’m gonna get a period this month. I can feel the pre-cramps setting in and when people say they felt like they were gonna get their period, even though they’d just conceived, they were talking about water retention. If you feel pre-cramps, you’re getting your period. So, if it wasn’t a question of God getting in the way or sterility, then I can say that the first time we hit it too early and the second time we were too late.

Anyway, Tom mentioned our lack of sex was due to my being upset or having time-consuming things to do, and his implying it was my fault, hurt my feelings. Guess what goes around comes around, though, if you know what I mean. So, I was telling myself, regardless of God’s destiny for me, it was all my fault I’d be getting a period around the 25th and that if I just didn’t get so upset about Lisa’s situation, maybe things would be different. Then, I said to myself, no. It’s not your fault. You’ve only been upset that one day this month and you had a right to be. Also, I never told Tom we couldn’t have sex if I were upset and I don’t see why people can’t have sex, just cuz one of them or even both of them got upset earlier. Also, any of my time-consuming projects can be interrupted.

I know our schedules don’t always match up and that Tom’s got to work or do things here and there that need to be done, but I still think he sets too many rules and limitations on sex. He’s gotten better, though, at mixing sex with other things that go on in life, but I still don’t know for sure if he wants that kid really bad now. He may want to tease me with having it take longer, wait till after Evie has hers, want to instill patience in me or who knows what. There were still enough nights and mornings when we were both awake and could’ve easily made the time for it. So we discussed certain things that’d help make it easier for us. He needs to get more sleep and take that Slim-Fast for its vitamins so he has more energy and I need to help make sure he gets enough sleep in any way I can. I let him know, too, that my work can wait. I can’t do it all at once, anyway, and I don’t need to. There’s no hurry. So maybe, just maybe, God will change his mind, we’ll have sex more often and I’ll get pregnant within the next few months. I don’t have to remind you how often I’ve had my false promises and false hopes, so I don’t want to be all that positive and hopeful about it, but I’m trying not to be as negative and sure it won’t happen. It’s not easy, though. Even though he swears nothing’s my fault, I still feel it is and that I haven’t done my part to give us a child and am not good enough to yet. We’ll see, though. Maybe I can and will conceive one of these days. Like I said before, though, I just want to get the show on the road after all this time and if I can’t, I just want to get on with life and think about working somewhere, somehow.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 15, 1996 Found a way to trick the paragraph-capping thing. I went and made the journals single file again and it’s going fine that way. The problem definitely has something to do with large documents.

Tom didn’t win anything at the racetrack, but at least he had fun.

Ma had her other hand operated on and is doing well and is at Mary’s. Think I’ll call her tomorrow to say hi.

We had fun earlier and this time it was my turn to get off, but he didn’t. He really did look truly bummed about it too, but I guess things will be OK. I’ve been learning that this doesn’t necessarily mean we’re going back in time sexually. It’s just harder for some people to get off more often than others.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 14, 1996 Tom made a paragraph capping system, but halfway through my files of grouped journals, it runs out of memory. Well, I’m really tired of playing this out-of-memory game, so I’ll just cap what it will and then do the rest manually.

Amazingly, I didn’t hear the freeloaders today. I had an extremely strong vibe today about them moving. I’m sure, though, that this is all just wishful thinking that’s gotten so strong, that it felt like a vibe. And even though I’m almost certain that there’ll be 4 or 5 turnovers with that house before we’re out of here, I doubt God would kindly escort them out so soon. They’ve only been here for about 8 months. They’d be ok if it weren’t for the car stereo and God knows that, but hey, God also knew he had to make sure they blasted their stereo. After all, there are no barking dogs, I almost never hear the kid, they aren’t company junkies, and they don’t play ball too often, so God had to do this. He had to make it something very loud and vibrating, too, to compensate for the lack of time. Meaning, before I’d get hours of the M’s kids and their fucking dog. But since God knew they wouldn’t create hours of noise regularly, he had to really amplify the 10-second bass shows.

The night before last we had great sex. The only bummer of it was, believe it or not, that I didn’t get off, which does happen here and there. However, he got off just fine. So, out of this month, that’s twice he injected me which was 10 days after my period and 15 days after my period. Could I be pregnant if God weren’t determined to get in the way of that? No. I highly doubt it. I’d think it’d be much more likely if I were injected 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, and 16 days after my period. Or even just 13, 14, and 15. I would think that any woman this age wouldn’t get pregnant easily. I think it’d take several shots a month, but who really knows for sure? I’m no doctor and I guess all women are different. The only reason why I’m sure I’m not is a rather obvious reason that I’ve gone through a million times in my journals.

I saw two movies earlier and one was pretty cool and the other was a classic example of just how sick God is.

The first one was about a plane whose whole crew in the cockpit got struck by lightning and killed and therefore, it was flying by an auto-pilot thing run by a computer. They managed to land safely as they do in all movies like this that are not based on a true story.

The other movie was based on a true story about a school bus that was hijacked in Florida. Now to be held hostage is a terrible thing for anyone, but who did God pick on to be the hostages? Mentally and physically challenged kids. And very, very expectedly and typically, the seemingly nice woman driver and her seemingly nice husband couldn’t have kids. But the hijacker? No problem. He had two. Has God ever sterilized an asshole? Or a druggie, or a rapist/molester, or a murderer? Has he ever sterilized someone who was, in some kind of way, no good at all?

Later…

Just finished eating dinner. Tomorrow Tom and I are gonna go through the food items we got and start cooking something.

We’re both amazed that I wasn’t woken up this morning by the vicious thunder and lightning storm that passed through for about an hour. We would’ve been drenched if it weren’t for the new roof.

I thought I woke up for a minute there and thought it was next door. Then after I got up, I thought maybe I had been dreaming, till Tom came home from the racetrack to tell me about it. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have known it stormed.

I’m amazed to report that next door hasn’t been a problem, but it’s still a bit early. I didn’t know that a lot of people had to work out here on Columbus Day. I think he came in at around 3:30, so I probably was right in assuming he didn’t work today.

SATURDAY, OCTOBER 12, 1996 The nerve of this shitfuck! He came blasting in at 1:15. At 1:15! This guy’s really got a lot of balls. All kinds of neighbors around here must’ve appreciated that. Doesn’t he even give a shit about waking his girlfriend and kid up? I know it was him cuz I ran to the front door and could hear his keys jangling through the mailbox slot, and then I heard him rummaging around the jeep. At first I said to myself, just live with it and get used to it cuz there’s nothing you can do about it and Tom doesn’t care and he’d certainly never do anything more than what you and he already did.

Uh-uh. I’m not gonna accept it as a losing battle till I try one more thing. Of course, I can’t tell Tom, unfortunately, cuz he’ll just get all paranoid. But I’m not gonna let the possibility of them doing anything to us intimidate me from seeking a little justice here. So, I’ve decided to talk to the cop across the street if I can. I’m gonna tell him the situation and tell him that we’ve asked them nicely to knock it off about 4 or 5 times and that didn’t work. Not for long, anyhow. Then I’m gonna ask him to please keep my identity a secret and to please have a word with them without saying that someone complained to him. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll get results as a cop. Especially a cop living across the street. I know God will do something else, given the slight chance that this works, but fine. I’ll take all the screaming kids and barking dogs over this any day. I’m tired of having this house feel like 100 people are banging, kicking, and slamming these walls at once as the vibration rocks the house. Of course, there’s no use asking God for help since I’ve already tried that. Besides, this is what he wants me in for. Why? I just wish I knew why the fuck God is so into this kind of shit for me. Well, I’m sick of it and I’m not gonna take it anymore. One way or the other I’m gonna fight back and he can do whatever the fuck else he pleases. He’s done enough already, so why not keep on doing more, huh? I mean, it’s only a matter of time before this little fuck wakes me up again and if I’d been asleep, I’m sure he’d have done just that.

Now I do want them to move, but nope, they ain’t going anywhere for quite some time, even if they are renters. I can just sense it and I know how God is. Plus, they bought themselves a washer or a dryer, so that’s not something people would usually invest in if they knew they were gonna move soon or go into an apartment.

Anyway, I talked to Tammy and all 3 kids. I told Lisa I was there for her and that she could always call or write.

Tom and I have decided to cook more since my TV dinners cost so much more. I like this idea and it’ll make my job as a homemaker more complete. So, I’ve gone through one of the cookbooks Ma sent and checked off some potential recipes.

Later…

The kids are out two yards down now. It’s amazing how much more tolerable I’ve come to the sound of kids, but I’m still glad they’re not right next door. Then again, I’d take that over the bass anytime.

I’m confused right now, yet everything’s going as expected. I’ll expand on that in a minute.

First though - freeloader update. Well, there’s not a damn thing I can do about them and the trouble they’re causing. God would never let me anyway, and if he did, he’d replace it with something else. There’s no use trying to fight God. If I could fight God, I’d have had a woman before meeting Tom, I’d have been a singer when I wanted that and I’d have a kid now.

Matter of fact, as I write, the freeloaders just came banging in. That could’ve easily woken me up. I mean, after all, it’s no different than if Tom got up on the roof and hammered right over the bedroom.

They’ve just got me so fucking nervous. The anxiety is just so much to deal with and even if I could get pregnant, this would really double the stress of my having a kid and dealing with it as a baby. I miss the days when blasting music was the least of my worries. I know they’re gonna wake me up soon. My fortune cookie said to get ready for a big change in my personal life. I wish that that was all about them moving, but fat chance. Besides, if they did, the new neighbors would do the same thing, or else some car would drive by more often that did. Yeah, well, these people are gonna be there a good 2-3 years or more and so are we.

Last night I told Tom that I had thought of going to the cop across the street and not telling him so he wouldn’t worry, but then I told him I don’t like the idea of doing something behind his back. Well, what he had to say about it is absolutely true. The cop would just tell me it’s not his job or problem. You’d think that a cop would care about helping others and especially those within his neighborhood, but he wouldn’t give a shit. So, strike that idea. And like I said before, God will be right there to say, “Oh no you don’t! You will have this as a daily part of your life and you can’t fight me and win.”

Now the after-9 PM peace is gone. Now that he blared his way in in the middle of the night, I know he’d do it at any time.

Tom says I need not worry and that the things that make me paranoid are nonsense and I hope he’s right. I know he wants a kid, but sometimes I’m not sure if he wants it that bad or wants to wait or wants to tease me once more (like with an October period) cuz we’ve only had sex once so far and it’s already the 12th. Even he said he wanted to have sex more, but I shouldn’t get so upset, I guess, cuz I figured the sex wouldn’t go up one bit. And that’s regardless of if we want a kid or can or can’t have one. He says there’s plenty of time, but I’ve been upset lately. The only day I remember being upset this month was with Lisa, so what is this? Do I get punished by being deprived of sex if I get upset?

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 11, 1996 Got a dentist appointment set up for the afternoon on Halloween. Yup, it’s finally time to take care of these damn teeth of mine. I’m surprised Tom doesn’t say he wants to wait on the kid till after my teeth have been dealt with, but he says it’s no problem.

I talked to Andy earlier. He’s still riding this roller coaster with Quinn. He has to play his game cuz he’s so in love with him. Andy said he continues to take his abuse cuz he’s so in love with him and has never let anyone else ever treat him that way. I can’t imagine letting myself be treated that way, no matter how much I loved someone. Guess everyone’s different, though.

Andy and I are just gonna mail each other the stuff we have for each other. He’s got coffee coupons for me and I’ve got logos for him of my coffee brand so he can mail in for a phone card.

Kim’s sending stamps that probably won’t be here till Saturday, so he won’t get it till Tuesday cuz there’s no mail on Monday. I’ll have mail on Tuesday for Kim, Bob, Lisa, Becky, Sarah, Andy, Larry and my parents.

THURSDAY, OCTOBER 10, 1996 As I figured, I have to really hang onto the memory of last Monday’s sex, cuz it’s not gonna be like that again for a while. Who knows how many weeks it’ll be before he gets off like that again?

Anyway, I just found out through AOL it’s gonna snow over the weekend in MA. Yes! That’s so cool. Especially since it doesn’t usually snow till around Christmas.

Next door hasn’t been heard of other than two times they left softly in the morning and that Saturday afternoon they came in loud. This 3-day weekend, though - good God! I am not looking forward to it at all. They are gonna party for sure. It’ll start around 2:00 in the afternoon, with my luck, and go till 10:00 at night.

Piggy’s been whining more and more and the funny thing about it is that it’s my fault. I didn’t stop to think about this, but Tom says he’s taking after me. I whine sometimes if I have a headache or just to make noise as a release and he’s been mocking me.

Kim read me a hilarious letter she’s gonna send Bob that’ll really upset him and believe me, we feel no guilt. Not with all the shit he’s caused with his big mouth. Kim got a letter from him saying he didn’t say anything, but he knew it was her that had that letter sent to him. The one I wrote a while back claiming to be an inmate that was gonna do him sexually. He also says he knows the frantic message that I supposedly left on Kim’s machine was a joke. So, she’s written back denying it and saying how pissed she was at him for accusing her of this bullshit and that if she hears anything more about his sexual fantasies for her, she’ll never write him again. We can’t wait to hear his response to this. I guess Kim’s still gonna dump him, but I’ll be gone for sure after the last of the journal sheets are sent. I’ve got 13 more envelopes to send. She did mention to him the fact that she’s thinking of moving to Florida, so she’s got that seed planted in him. She and John may really move to New York. Bob hates Florida like I hate New England cuz that’s where his first wife was murdered. So, as far as I know, Kim’s still gonna move there eventually and get murdered there. After she dumps him and has his mail returned to him, I’ll send him a letter a few months later telling him I found out she was killed. She also rubbed it into his face how she’s madly in love with Doug. All this will really give him more than enough to think about, but this guy will never change. You’d think that at his age, he’d be less childish and more mature, but nope.

Anyway, I knew the day would come when Lisa would reach out to me as far as the shit Tammy puts her through goes. She always took to me very well and seems to really respect me and look up to me.

I called there looking for Tammy, but Lisa answered and she asked if I could keep a secret. I told her, yes, and on the brink of tears, she told me bits and pieces of the shit she’s going through with Tammy. I couldn’t make out too much of what she had to say cuz she had to keep her voice down so Becky wouldn’t hear and cuz her mom was on her way back soon.

She says Tammy’s putting her through hard labor where she has to do all kinds of chores and doesn’t have enough time to sleep and do her homework, so she’s doing poorly in school and her mom’s gonna take away her chorus and band. She also went into how Tammy cuts her down and anything she tells her guidance counselor about the situation, he just goes and tells Tammy what she said. She says talking to Tammy does no good and I suggested she try talking to a teacher she trusts or to look in the phonebook for numbers of a teen hotline or something like that. That’s all I can really do, besides listen to her and boost her spirits up. I burst into tears myself after I hung up with her as I know exactly what she’s going through. I know how Tammy is and she’s a carbon copy of my mother. It breaks my heart to have to see her have to walk in the same shoes I once walked through. Tammy, being so much older than me, was left in charge of me a lot and was a lot like Mom. She was more like a mother than a sister bossing me around the way she did. I remember her extremely domineering ways and how she’d be so negative and cut me down.

So many times as a child I’d look into people’s eyes and want to cry out for their help. When I did, it did me no good. I wish to God I could help her, but there’s nothing I can do, other than what I said I can do. I can’t remove her from the house. I can’t change Tammy. My heart really goes out to her. And to Becky and Sarah, too. I worry for Lisa if she stays there and I worry for her if she doesn’t. If she stays, she’s a victim of Tammy, if she leaves, she could go through the same shit I did. Her being removed by the state could be simply swapping one form of misery and abuse for another. If only Lisa could know just how much I really, really do understand her. I’ll write to her more often and call her when I can. It’s just that I don’t know when I can get her when her parents aren’t there. I told her to call me anytime she needs to.

I also told Tammy by email that if she wants to send Lisa out to us next summer, we’d love to have her. We’d take them all, but Becky and Sarah are a bit too young for that. I doubt she’ll go for it, but I wish she would.

I figured this day would come. I had a feeling that when Lisa was around the age she is that she’d bring this matter up to me, seeing how much she trusts me. She swore me to secrecy and believe me, she can trust me. If I ever have to choose between Tammy or Lisa, it’s surely gonna be Lisa, but I hope this doesn’t have to happen. I hope, like Tom says, that my positivity toward her will help her deal with Tammy’s negativity. Growing up, I had no one to boost me up after my mother cut me down, so maybe this will help Lisa from losing all her self-esteem.

I wish she could live with us till she was of age, but that’s just a fantasy. I told Tammy that Tom and I would take the kids if God forbid something happened to her and Bill just to give her extra peace of mind.

I know Lisa’s not perfect and she’s done stuff just like all kids do. She’s told me. But I still think that kids act differently around different adults. I don’t know for sure, but I’ve got a hell of a feeling that she wouldn’t act up as much if she were with me. I wouldn’t be like Tammy is and I think that she’d respect me more.

Lisa and I have a lot of similarities. I was right about the feeling I had when she was a baby that she’d be into music and was right about feeling that she’d turn to me to confide in around her early to middle teens, so I doubt I’m wrong about my next feeling. She’s just like me in the way that she hates the northeast and wants to be in the southwest. I wouldn’t be surprised at all if in the next few years or so I found her on my doorstep. I believe she’ll come out here to live permanently.

If only Lisa could know just how much I understand her and am here for her. I’ll try to get a hold of her when she’s alone and let her know this and do my best to cheer her up and make her laugh. I’ll suggest she drop hints in a casual way about coming here next summer beginning in April.

I can’t start writing to her and calling her too much, cuz then Tammy will get suspicious and it wouldn’t be fair to the other girls, but I’ll try to write more and talk to her more. Also, I’ll let her know that if she calls and no one answers by the fourth ring to just hang up so it won’t appear on the bill.

The reason why I don’t think Tammy would send her here if she could afford to is cuz as far as Tammy’s concerned, I’m not kid material. I don’t think she trusts me. I also don’t really know anything about kids.

Maybe I’ve been wrong for being angry at God (I guess I’ll still use that name/term) and perhaps I shouldn’t be so angry at him for not allowing me a child. After all, I am one of the kinds of people that I wish God wouldn’t give kids to. This whole thing just reinforces my belief that if you were abused, you abuse your kids. Even Tammy herself has admitted she’s fucked up, isn’t the perfect mother, and needs to change things, but it’s easier said than done. It’s the difference between saying you need to quit smoking and doing it for a lot of people. I’m sure she swore she’d be a good mother and not put them through what our ma put us through, yet look at her. It’s scary. It really is. Well, I need not worry about being another statistic whether I want a child or not. God’s sealed my fate on that issue and it’s never gonna change. I wouldn’t be surprised, though, if I had another screwy period this month cuz he got off close enough to my being mid-cycle.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 9, 1996 Guess I haven’t been writing every day, but now I’ll do some catching up here.

When I got Kim’s letter a few days ago, I was laughing when she said that this new guy John, who she’s madly in love with, works at a private crisis center in Springfield. I asked her to ask him if he sees cactuses and palm trees outside his window, etc.

I was very shocked to get two letters from my mother in a month. As you can see, it was a nice and neutral letter, but boy does she seem pushy and desperate for some reason to be a part of our lives. I wonder why? Anyway, I asked for Tom’s advice on the matter and decided to take it. I’m sending a brief letter with no real details and then I probably won’t call them till Hanukkah. I also won’t write to them very often. Maybe I’ll send a letter every 3 months, so they’ll get 4 a year. I’ll just be damned if I’ll go through the same old shit with them as 30 years was more than enough. She says to let her know if we want some household items she’s accumulated.

Last Monday morning was great. Just when the feeling that he may never cum again hits its peak, he does. He got off big time.

The baby dreams are coming quite frequently. I don’t know if they mean anything and I really can’t remember them. Just a flash here and there. However, I have had dreams before, right before certain events happen. I had dreams of Arizona before finding out I was coming here. I had money dreams before I knew I was going to dance and now this. I still try not to get hopeful, though, just like I try not to be too negative. Yes, I’ve learned a big lesson as far as being so sure something can or can’t happen over the last 4 years, but it still seems like a baby would take a miracle. It’d take a major change of heart for God, the devil, or whatever, if anything’s really up there, to let us have a child.

I told Kim of my plan to send Bob those journal sheets, then disappear with no explanations. I told her why I was gonna disappear and why he wasn’t worth the explanation. Trust me, if I were to explain, he wouldn’t get it. Not for longer than a month anyway.

Kim says that she too, is getting really sick of this guy and his sexual talk about him and her. He’s really lost touch with what’s fantasy and what’s real. I also know she doesn’t want to have to deal with finding him on her doorstep should he get out of there, but I’m pretty sure he’ll die in there. My being gone from his life will hurt him and her being gone from his life will nearly kill him, but we feel no guilt. He’s never even tried to change his ways and therefore, he’s just not worth our bother.

Kim’s gonna wait till around Christmas, then send him a letter saying she’s moving to Florida but will contact him when she gets an apartment there. Really, though, she’ll never write to him again. This is what she says she’s gonna do, anyway, and to remind her. I’ll remind her to send her letter about a week before Christmas. It’ll be interesting to see what he writes to us about this, but Kim says she’s gonna mark his mail return to sender. That’s not even worth my bother. I’ll just check out what he has to say, which will be the same old shit, then laugh and dump the letter. Then, maybe once a year I’ll send him a wacky letter.

What else has been going on? Well, I see the kids on their monkey bars, but it doesn’t bother me. We wave to each other when we see each other, but after hearing the bass, it’s made the sound of kids much more tolerable. I’d like to think God’s done that to help prepare me for my own child, but that’s wishful thinking, till and if proven differently.

I’ve only heard their bass real loud once since I last bitched about them and that was last Saturday afternoon. I didn’t hear them last night or the night before. I’ve heard it a couple of times softly, but boy is there someone else around here with a killer car stereo! Even I couldn’t stand it if I played my music that loud. About two nights ago at 9:20, I heard it approaching, thought it was next door, but when I went to check, I could see a car going down the street and turning at the next crossroads. Next door has never played their music that loud and if they did, it’d be really damn hard to keep my promise to Tom. If they pulled in by the bedroom that loud when Tom was asleep, it’d probably wake him right up.

Later…

Just fed the pig and the birds and now I’m making myself some pizza. After I eat, I’ll go work on the journals on the computer and play some games. I should finish the vacuuming, too.

I’m almost done with a library book I’m reading about a mother possessed by her dead son. I’ve got one more library book here to check out. If I like it, I’ll renew it. If I don’t, I’ll pick up something else.

MONDAY, OCTOBER 7, 1996 I'm not really in the mood to write now, but I'll quickly say that I received a letter from my folks, saying they never heard of Laughlin, won $2,000 at bingo, are having eye exams and lens changes, and sprucing up their store. They give Tom’s mom their best too, and to let them know if I’m interested in the extra household items they’ve accumulated.

FRIDAY, OCTOBER 4, 1996 Tom’s up now with a bad stomach. Serves him right for waking me up with his snoring! Only kidding. If we always slept at the same time, though, I can just imagine how often he’d wake me up as he constantly snores and talks in his sleep.

I used to think 0-10% of him wants a kid. Now I believe 90-100% of him wants a kid. However, I still wonder if there’s a part of him that likes to tease me. What if he wants to have a little time to tease me before making a more serious move to try to get me pregnant? What if he knew all along this October thing was bull, just to tease me and get off by my reaction?

Yesterday we tried to screw in missionary position, but we got all misaligned. Then I told him I knew this would happen cuz I dreamt about it the previous night. Then he told me that if I have a preconceived notion that I won’t get pregnant or that there’d be problems with sex, I could subconsciously make this the case for sure. I wonder if he’ll use this as an excuse to stall October from producing anything.

I asked him if he could go down on me, as long as he didn’t think that was unfair. He said he thought it was a little unfair, but that he would. Then I was gonna stop him due to feeling guilty, but he was like, “Don’t worry, let me go down on you, it’s in your nature to feel guilty, anyway.”

I wonder if he’ll use the guilt thing, the dream, and his saying, “If we can’t get together, we can’t make the baby,” as an excuse for anything.

I can’t even remember, now, the last time he came, and even though he swears that now both our bodies are ready to make a baby, I can’t really know for sure what’s on his mind. All I can do is go by what God’s rules and plans are for me and that’s no kid, no matter what.

Later…

I’m sorry I haven’t been so consistent with writing down stuff that’s been going on, my thoughts, or my feelings. Anyway, not all that much has been going on, but here are the highlights. I’ve got all my journals prepped for the changeover and now I’m proofreading them. I’m up to 32, but of course, there are about 10-15 of them that aren’t there due to them being letters or whatever. It is a very time-consuming and tiresome project, but it gives me something more to do. Tom tried to write a macro for capping words that begin paragraphs, but he’s had no luck with that so far.

With the things that I’ve got to update on, let’s start with next door. Yup, they’re up to their old shit again, but I haven’t heard it cuz of how my schedule is at the moment. Tom reports that this week they’ve come blasting in between 8:30-9:00 PM while I was sleeping.

About two nights ago at 6:30, I thought I woke up to their music, but Tom says it wasn’t them and that they’ve been coming in consistently between 8:30-9:00. I hope he was telling the truth.

I have noticed, though, that they do seem to be coming in later, but that’s good and I hope it stays this way. If they were to come in at 3:00 or 4:00 in the afternoon, then there’d be plenty of time to party hearty.

Tom says he doesn’t believe my subconscious will stop me from getting pregnant, but that this will be a good test, now that I know that he’s up to the same old shit and not being a good freeloader, to see if my subconscious has me listening for them in my sleep or being woken up by them. If they wake me up, well, unfortunately, I made a promise to Tom that I wouldn’t go over there and hurt them. I must stick to this promise, but if they woke me up, oh how I’d love to go over there! If I went over there, they’d never ever play their music at a volume that anyone else could hear, cuz they’d be too scared to. As long as the little fuck doesn’t have a gun (but he might for all I know), I could scare the shit out of him so bad that not only would he turn his music down and keep it down, but he wouldn’t file charges against me, either. Tom says it’s only for 10 seconds, but I don’t give a fuck cuz it’d only take 1 second to wake me up if it was louder than the fan.

Does this guy like it or something when I ask him to turn the music down? Well, obviously so, cuz not only does he not give a shit after about a month, it does seem that he likes to be asked to turn the fucking thing down.

What with all the holidays coming up, it’s gonna be a fucking nightmare over there. I’m so fucking pissed! The anxiety’s right back again and I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I did get woken up. If someone can’t sleep in a house with a fan blaring, that spells out c-u-r-s-e to me. Why God? What did I do?

Anyway, when they go off when they’re coming home and on holidays, and when they wake me up, I’ve got to just grin and bear it and just say, “Oh well. That’s just city life for you.” Tom just cannot deal with me bitching about other people’s noise. This has been the way it’s always been and he’s admitted to me that my bitching and worrying about the neighbors stresses him out. He says I’m not to blame for what stresses him out, but this doesn’t make me feel like I can talk to my husband about “anything” that bothers me or pisses me off.

The shithead left quietly in the mornings. In fact, I just heard him leave as I was in the music room and he played no music at all, but I think that’s only cuz it was early in the morning. He’s been working 12-14 hours a day and while this boy may be just that - a young kiddy boy, how long can he keep up the heavy work schedule? The longer the better.

Well, most of me still hopes they don’t move since they are hardly ever home, have only woken me up twice in the approximately 8 months they’ve been there, they don’t have a dog, 99% of the time I never hear the kid and they’ve only had about 6 outbursts with company/parties. Like I said, though, this is all subject to change due to lots of holidays coming up over the next 4 months. I’d assume the parties will be more frequent and so will the bass. I guess it’s better than a bunch of loud Mormons who are always home, but maybe not cuz I’d take kids over that vibrating bass anytime, cuz I can sleep during the kid’s ruckus with the fan on. If the kids were inside of this house, that’d be different.

I hope Tom makes it through work today and that his stomach gets better.

He still swears upon my conceiving this month and I can honestly say that 90% of me believes he’s sincere and the other 10% believes he may just be saying it to cheer me up or as a teasing joke. If he were really teasing, though, I suppose he’d wait till after Evie had her kid, so that could be rubbed in my face. If there’s anything I don’t like about seeing Ma, it’s that I have to hear all about Nickolena but we all have a right to freedom of speech, even if my parents don’t think so.

Well, it is October and whether or not he stops cumming for a while or forever and whether or not he believes full-heartedly what he says he does, I’m sure there’ll be all kinds of things that’ll break down this month and all kinds of people needing him to fix that and fix this. Or we’ll get sick or tired. Maybe the devil’s intending to use next door to distract us and butt into our lives by having me woken up, so I’m tired and cranky and too out of it for sex. It takes a lot, though, for me to be too out of it for sex and sex tends to make me feel better when I’m not feeling too well for whatever reason.

Yesterday I threw some old journal sheets into NPN envelopes and all the while I kept telling myself, "You know you’re gonna get punished for this. You’re an exception to the rule."

Perhaps that’s why Tom’s snoring woke me.

My wisdom teeth which have been bothering me for about a week are much, much better. And yes, I do believe now that it’s been one or both of my wisdom teeth that’s been bugging me. Not my ear. It’ll be a problem again in about a month. It always is.

I called Tammy yesterday just to say hi and she started off with, “Well, obviously you haven’t talked to Mom and Dad,” then she told me Becky had to have both knees operated on due to the return of that rheumatoid arthritis she’s had since she was little.

Later…

I just talked to Tammy who says Becky’s stable, but they don’t know what the future holds for her. I hope all goes well, but if I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again - her family is cursed! For sure.

Before, she told me Lisa was premature due to stress, but now she says it’s cuz the guy she had Lisa with kicked her in the stomach. Yeah, that’s a common male practice. Tom says, though, that he’s never heard any report that said you can have a miscarriage or a premature baby due to stress.

It annoyed me the way Tammy said, “Obviously you haven’t talked to Mom and Dad.” We have our conflicting views about Mom and Dad and that’s that. I’m not gonna deal with her pushing me to do as she wishes, any more than I will for Mom and Dad. Why is it that Tammy and my parents think it’s OK for them to be repetitious and pushy, but not for anyone else? If I have to end up dumping Tammy for any reason, I will. My reasons for not talking to my parents go beyond the fact that they hurt me. It’s also a case of me just not feeling like talking to them. There’s nothing to say.

Speaking of dumping people, self-respect, and related subjects, as I’ve read back in some of my journals, I’m really embarrassed and very ashamed of myself for two things.

First of all, I feel more so than ever like a stupid and naïve fool for ever believing in God. The more I think about things, my life in general, and the world in general, I’ve come to believe that God is no less of a myth than Santa Claus. Just something that people have wanted to believe in to use as a survival mechanism. What I believe exists more and more, besides spirits, is a devil of some kind up there. There’s just way too much more bad and unfair in this world than good for me to believe in God and not the devil. I believe that good things in this world come from the people involved themselves and that the evil in this world is the devil’s influence, despite the fact that we’re all responsible for our own actions. I think the devil mainly targets women, Jews and minorities.

This other thing I realized that embarrasses me way the hell more is how nice I was to people who shit on me. How could I have ever been dumb enough in the first place to become friends with such people like Fran, Nervous, Bob, Ellie and others? Why did it take Fran shitting on me so many times till I dumped him? Along with lots of smaller incidents, there was the time Fran called my mother and bullshitted her about my calls to him when he was calling me. But did I dump him, even if couldn’t have cared less of my parent’s opinion? No. Then there was the time he tried dragging me into court when he was the one calling me, and even his social worker said he’d charge people with shit he was doing to them. Did I dump him then? No. Then there was the shit he pulled with having the PD call me over this bogus Sabrina character. That’s when I finally dumped him. It took me that long?!?! What the fuck was the matter with me? Guess I hated myself more than I thought and had less self-respect for myself than I thought.

Well, there’s another one that’s about to get dumped and you better believe it when I say this is it. I should’ve dumped him not too long after I left New England, too, and that’s Bob. He’s not a true friend at all. True friends don’t continually write sexual shit about people that ask them not to and true friends don’t bring up touchy subjects that they also asked them not to. I don’t care about his repetitious love for Kim. It’s boring, but there’s a difference between me asking him not to talk sexual shit about me or bringing up me making him a so-called “grandpa.” I ask the little fuck nicely, he agrees and backs off for a while, then I get excuses like he didn’t mean to hurt me, he’s only human, and so on, but this is bullshit. All he is is a selfish, rude, insensitive, self-absorbed piece of shit. You call that a friend?

So, this is what I’m gonna do. I’ve already gone through the work of stuffing all the journal sheets that go right up to when we met which takes up 22 envelopes. This way I don’t have to search for stuff about Kim and me exchanging his letters and the little games we’ve played with him. I’m mailing them out two at a time, then I’ll just be gone with no explanations whatsoever. He isn’t even worth that much.

Another reason I’m dumping him is cuz I really believe now that he’s guilty as charged. I always wondered why he didn’t have a kid. All child molesters and rapists have kids and you can’t possibly have one without the other. It’s just like how gas tanks go with cars, diapers go with babies, keyboards go with monitors. As soon as he told me he had a kid, I knew he was guilty. Along with the fact that 99% of the things he talks about is sex.

WEDNESDAY, OCTOBER 2, 1996 I typed up two more letters for Andy. One to his friend Adam and then to a couple he knows. Tonight he’ll be picking the 5 letters I typed for him, along with Gloria’s HBO concert. Also, he’ll be leaving me my journals (1-20).

Tom played hooky last Monday to use up some of the sick days he’s accumulated. I slept that day and he played on the computer.

Yesterday I gave this place a really good cleaning, so today I’ll probably just do the computer, reading, writing, TV and music.

Bob’s gonna be quite surprised to receive 4 envelopes from me in one day. For starters, I mailed him around 20-25 journal sheets to read, then I’ll just mail a few every week. It’ll take a few years to mail all I’ve got and are willing to send him. I’ve got to cut out certain personal stuff and stuff about Kim sending me his letters. I met him in journal 16, so I need not worry about 1-15. I just hope Andy brings them back tomorrow. I guess that’ll be no problem, as he is anxious to mail those letters.

Since my metabolism seems to have slowed down, I’m gonna do a little experiment. The granola bars I eat frequently have 120 calories per bar, so I’m gonna quit those and get some kind of snack (maybe crackers) that’s lower in calories. This way I can still have something to snack on when I’m not in the mood for real food or a meal of some sort.

Bob says his brother who recently died, designed some slot machines in Vegas/Laughlin. That’s nice if it’s true.

According to Andy, Linda was on the news concerning the school board here in Arizona. I guess the daughter she adopted is in elementary school and she didn’t like the idea of elementary school kids having to learn foreign languages. Andy, who said she looked pitiful and fat as a cow, said she said she took French and Spanish in high school and doesn’t remember a word of it.

TUESDAY, OCTOBER 1, 1996 I just typed up 3 letters for Andy. I typed while he dictated letters to his brother’s girlfriend Jenny, his pal Mary, and his folks.

Got a letter from Bob he got my letter from Nevada and says his brother who recently died, designed all their slot machines. Now here’s the funny part. In my letter to him from Nevada, I bullshitted him by telling him I was sorry to hear his cellmate beat/raped him (or tried to), expecting him to say he had no idea what I was talking about in his next letter to me. Well, I guess something really did happen. I don’t know what, as he wouldn’t get into it, but he said something about telling other inmates about it and that they nearly beat the guy to death. I thought he was getting along just fine with this newer cellmate, but I guess not.

I decided yes, I will send Bob pages here and there of typed-up journals. They really do serve no purpose and rather than ditch them, they’ll go to someone who’ll read them and who has nothing better to do, anyway.

I cut out some old pages to make new CD labels and wrote their titles/artists on them to make them more readable. I also cut out pieces that were typed on several different colored sheets of paper. Wish I had a journal with these color pages.

So, this is the month I’m supposed to conceive, huh? Well, we’ll see, but I doubt it.

Guess that’s pretty much it for now.

[keratoconusgroup]

I feel like I’ve been cursed with KC

(I apologize in advance if this post is too long) Hi everyone I’m 22 years old and I recently been diagnosed with Keratoconus as of a week ago. The news was hard to take because I thought I had regular old astigmatism, the same condition some of my friends have, and I thought it was going to be an easy solution such as “you need glasses and you’ll be fine” and the issue is fixed within weeks. I was even excited and happy to know I could get glasses but I was wrong and the doctor said I had a rare disease and I could end up with surgery and glasses aren’t something that can fix this. He booked an appointment for a corneal specialist to get a final opinion and that appointment won’t be for another 2 months. The first day was an emotional rollercoaster coming to terms with the diagnosis. My mom told me she likely passed it down to me but never had CXL nor a transplant done (granted she was diagnosed in her mid 30s) and even after reading “solutions” and discovering more about the CXL procedure and cost I know it is just an expensive thing my family nor myself can afford as the healthcare plan isn’t the best. She thinks I might be as lucky as her and my eyes will stabilize early since she’s never had noticeable if not any progression since her diagnosis but I can’t help but worry. My eyesight seems fine day to day as I have clear vision when I use both my eyes, I’m not sensitive to light and I don’t really get headaches but I’ve also been super aware of my sight and I often notice the very so slight double vision in my right eye more than I did a week ago before the diagnosis when I was full of ignorance about my eyesight. I think my case in my “bad” eye is pretty mild or early moderate stage (the topology was green and slightly below the middle point) but I worry about how different my life is going to be when my life is just starting as a college graduate and I feel like I’ve been cursed and dealt a bad card in the game of life. I just want to know how did y’all come to terms with living with KC? I’m super scared about my future and especially about the CXL procedure and the pain people talk about submitted by /u/Sudden-Ask-6124 [link] [comments] https://www.reddit.com/r/Keratoconus/comments/14kzli2/i_feel_like_ive_been_cursed_with_kc/?utm_source=dlvr.it&utm_medium=tumblr

[stylesloveclub]

KARMA (tattoorry sneak peek!)

+++

It’s a quiet night at the tattoo shop, which Harry is thankful for.

There’d been a few appointments earlier in the day, larger pieces that people had scheduled months in advance because they took a lot of consultations and took long chunks of time to tattoo – but there had barely been any walk-ins. It’s a Thursday night, so of course his business isn’t bustling the way it would be on a Saturday.

Harry decides to start cleaning up – if he’s lucky, nobody else would venture in before their closing time and he’d be able to get home a bit early. (His little cat is waiting for him at home!) He wipes down the tattoo chairs and puts away all the needles, sweeps the floors and turns off the lights in the staff room.

Someone stumbles in. It’s y/n.

Harry looks at her. She looks at him.

“Hello…” Harry says, his voice a little doubting, a little bit confused. Why was she back?

She stands in front of him nervously. “Um…” she’d stumbled into the tattoo shop with such confidence, but finds herself suddenly nervous and unable to speak under Harry’s intimidating gaze. “Hi.”

She won’t lie, she’s a little, teensy weensy bit drunk right now. She’d been at the bar across the street with a couple of her girlfriends, just hanging out and having fun, when she spilled to them about the hot tattoo artist who worked at the shop across the street.

She’s had plenty of fleeting crushes in her life, but none have been as quick and captivating as her crush on Harry. With his deep voice, green eyes, and tan skin, he’s cast some sort of spell on her. She’d been in his presence for what… a total of 45 minutes? And yet she can’t get him off her mind!

He was just… really hot! And he had that sexy, mysterious vibe to him… with all those tattoos and the rings and the black eyeliner… gosh he was straight out of some bad boy romance novel! If it weren’t for the fact that she’d been with her five-year old goddaughter when she met him for the first time, she’s sure she would’ve started acting up. He was just so attractive!

In her tipsy state, with her cheeks warm and a fuzzy feeling in her chest, she couldn’t help but rant to her friends about it. She’d met the hottest guy ever, and she’d never have the chance to see him again! It was tragic!

Well… it doesn’t have to be that way, her friends told her. What was stopping her from heading over to the tattoo shop right now?

No, she thought to herself. Going over to the tattoo shop, drunk, with absolutely nothing to say except Hi, I think you’re hot? She could never do that…

The strawberry vodka lemonade in her system said otherwise. That, along with all her friends who hyped her up to go visit her dreamy tattoo man, had somehow managed to convince her to venture across the street and make her move!

So now she’s in his tattoo shop, but she has absolutely no idea what to say or how to act.

“How can I help you?” he asks after a tense second of silence.

“Um…” she doesn’t really have a game plan, but she decides on the spot, “I want a piercing.”

“A piercing?” he clarifies. She nods. “Okay… where?”

She points to the shell of her ear. “You want a helix piercing?” he asks once more.

“Yeah,” she says confidently, accompanied by an eager nod of her head.

“Okay…” he mulls it over for a second. “Are you… y’know– like, in the right headspace to do this?” Something is telling him that she’s not completely sober, and he doesn’t want to do something that she’d regret.

“Yeah, yeah!” She brushes it off nonchalantly,  “I only had like, one drink! And I’ve been meaning to get a piercing, especially after I came in here with Lola.”

“If you say so…” He’s still a bit doubtful, but he supposes his slight suspicion isn’t enough of a reason to refuse service to her.

He brings her the paperwork on a clipboard and gets all his required equipment out as she fills it out. “Which do you want?” he asks her, pointing to the wide variety of helix piercing options displayed.

“Um…what do you recommend?” She’s normally much more prepared and would have done a bunch of research on what kind of jewelry would heal best or what type of metal was safest… but again, this decision was kind of made on a whim.

“I always tell clients to start off with a stud, and then if you want you can switch it out for a hoop once the piercing has healed.”

“Yeah, that sounds good.” A pretty, butterfly shaped stud catches her eye. “Can I do that one, please?”

He nods. Grabbing his equipment, he decides that y/n is gonna be the last customer of the night, so he flips the sign on the front of the door to read closed, and leads her into the backroom, the same room where he’d pierced Lola’s ears.

With a pair of black gloves on his hands, he rips open the sanitizing pad and stands in front of y/n. She’s looking up at him with wide eyes, watching his every movement. Usually it makes Harry really uncomfortable when people stare at him while he’s doing their tattoo or giving a piercing, but with her… he doesn’t fully mind it.

The cool alcohol wipe feels refreshing against her ear, a striking contrast to how warm her face feels. Harry’s eyes are dark and stern as he focuses on his job, eyebrows furrowed seriously. His knuckle nudges her chin, angling her head in a way so he could clean the backs of her ears too.

With how close he’s standing to her, she can feel his breath against her cheek. She can’t help herself from staring at his pretty pink lips, how they pout as he marks the spot he wants to pierce.

He holds up a mirror for her. “Look good?”

She nods. She barely looks into the mirror and doesn’t overthink the placement of it at all. She somehow trusts Harry wholeheartedly.

He takes the needle out of its sterile packaging, and y/n eyes it nervously. “Do helix piercings… hurt a lot?” she asks with a timid voice. The sight of a needle coming towards her face has sobered her up quite a bit.

“Not necessarily.” He notices her nervous eyes, “They obviously hurt more than a lobe piercing, since it’s cartilage, but s’only like a pinch.”

She still looks frightened. “Can you, um– count?”

His eyes narrow slightly, and she feels like he’s judging her. But he agrees nonetheless. “Sure. Ready?”

+++

SNEAKY OF MY TATTOORRY FIC! :) POSTED NOW ON PATREON! 

[whaleofatjme1920]

Hello! I was hoping for a comfort thing (i forget what the term is called sjdhshdb).

I recently had a small stroke on the 14th. A few days ago I started physical therapy and they told me that I might not have function in my right side for months- and to get back to the strength and ability I had before the stroke? They said it could take two whole years. I have to see them three times a week, and since I’m the only one who was able to work in my household, I’ve been stressed about how I’m going to afford all these appointments for the foreseeable future. Im have to use a walker to get around since I can’t put weight on my right leg, or it collapses. I don’t have full sensation in my right side, and right ear doesn’t hear as well. I feel like a burden when I ask my parents for help, since I can barely do anything on my own. I can’t even use the bathroom by myself and it’s literally right across from my bedroom.

So, I was wondering if you could write how Ticci Toby, Kate the Chaser, and who ever else you want would react and support their S/O who is going through something like I am? It can be headcanons, a one shot, a fic— It’s totally up to you! Thank you in advanced! It would mean so much to have this done.

Toby, Kate, Eyeless Jack and Hoodie Supporting an SO Who Had a Stroke

[GN Reader]

[AN: !! I hope you're well! I know we've been talking, but like genuinely you deserve so much love and support.]

Toby

Toby has a habit of making mountains out of molehills, so like honestly you're going to have to calm him down after telling him what's happened and coming to.

He cares about you so deeply and anything that even gives him the slightest inkling you could be lost forever makes him panic.

But once he's in a clear state of mind, he's really good for physical therapy!

He knows how frustrated you must be and he urges you to channel that frustration into something productive because that's what he's learned to do over the years.

Toby isn't always the most patient, but he gets it. He's there for you every step of the way. Don't apologize asking him for help it is his absolute pleasure to take care of you. Not a power thing, but pure love for you.

He'll take you to appointments, assist you with walking, hell he'll even back off if that's what you want because he does NOT want to baby you if you're not comfortable.

Once you're in a good place, he makes the whole thing easier to swallow. Toby copes with humor, and if you allow him, he'll help you do the same.

Toby is honestly such a sweetheart and is there for you every step of the way. Anything you want, anything you need, just name it and he's got it.

Kate

She's honestly handling it better than anyone else here if I'm being honest.

Once she's over the initial worry, she's mostly taking care of you with whatever you want.

Kate will make you food and give you things - it's just kinda what she does?? Like, I think one of her main love languages is gift giving so that's going to work into here.

Kate is really, really patient and will help ground you when you feel like floating off.

She's a darling through and through. Drives you places, handles things for you, and if you're worried about work or anything, appointments, her contacts stretch pretty far and wide. She's got you.

Kate helps you with physical therapy to the best of her abilities. I feel she broke a leg pretty bad as a kid and had to go through physical therapy as a result.

She likes to hold you and silently tell you how it's going to be alright. Wants you to feel safe.

With her at your side, 2 years feel like nothing.

Eyeless Jack

Medical professional wannabe, ofc he's got this in the bag.

You might honestly need to tell him to stop looking at this so clinically. He just wants to look at like, a treatment plan or something first.

Once he realizes you need a more nurturing, sweet kind of healing besides just the clinical stuff, Jack takes really good care of you.

He likes to hold you and purr. Also helps with physical therapy, and lets you vent to him pretty regularly because he knows how stifling it must be holding all this in!

I feel like recovering with Jack is honestly way better than anyone else because he's got medical knowledge and patience - paired with his nurturing nature towards his mate?? It's good.

If you have trouble hearing or anything of the like, Jack is very good with sign language! In fact, it's an unspoken law for all creeps and proxies to know sign, and it's a good skill to have regardless if you're hearing or not.

Jack does not want you apologizing for asking for his help!

He likes taking care of people, he'd just never openly admit it.

Hoodie

Brian actually has a knack for the medical field so like, he's got you just as good as Jack would! However, he's a lot more personal about it because well, he love you, how could he not be?

Brian is instantly at your bedside, answering your ever call because he knows how much you need him. Does not let you apologize or anything because he believes it's his job as your SO.

He's really, really good for the emotional aspect of all of this. Makes sure you're mentally healthy and that you have a safe way to vent.

He's good at physical therapy too. As a proxy, he's broken so many parts of himself it's unreal. Like, he gets it.

The two of you spend a lot of time taking it easy, speaking softly, just processing everything you're going through. He just wants you to feel okay again.

Brian does so many things for you because he doesn't want you to expend yourself AT ALL. He feels you're fragile, but ask him to back off and he will.

Brian has a habit of babying his SO just because he forgets how resilient humans can really be.

Brian adores you so, so much, he's just thankful you're still in his arms, and he'll be there with you every step of the way.

[deaddovemaybeeat]

Marauders’ Hogwarts Host Club Chapter 1

What On Earth Is A Host Club?

characters: the marauders and friends<3

word count: 1.8k+

warnings: ohshc au, all my work is 18+ so minors dni, coarse language, not canon compliant 

main masterlist     series masterlist

summary: The year is 1976. A potion was finally invented to help lycanthropes somewhat deal with the full moon but it costs a rather large price. A price that Remus Lupin will never ever be able to afford. Or will he? Maybe with the help of three crazy friends and a muggle magazine.

A/N: whoop whoop I finally finished the first chapter of this! lmk if I need to fix anything!! (p.s. check the series masterlist for a more detailed A/N)

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The students of Hogwarts were now four weeks into the 1976-1977 school year and it seemed like everyone had finally settled in. First years were no longer having trouble finding their new classes, older students had stopped requesting to switch classes, and the newly appointed prefects had gotten the hang of their new duties. Hogwarts was finally back to its regular schedule, and the students and teachers of the school were at peace.

Or at lease as much peace that you can have with a group called “the marauders” running around.

It was Monday morning breakfast and the owls had just delivered the post, James picked it up and started to read as Sirius and Peter bickered but stopped when he read something interesting on the third page.

“You’re gonna want to take a look at this, mate” James said as he passed his paper off to Remus

Damocles Belby Invents Potion To Help Werewolves Preserve Their Sanity During the Full Moon But It Comes at a Hefty Price read more bellow

Remus was silent for a moment,

“Finally, after centuries of thousands of werewolves suffering, a concoction is invented that at the very least will make sure I keep my mind and I can’t even bloody afford it” 

Remus angerly huffs as he slams James's copy of the Daily Profit on the table, almost knocking over Peter’s tea. 

“In fact, I don’t even think there’s a lycanthrope on this hole green earth that can afford to drop 70 galleons on a vile of potion as small as it is, I mean that’s practically a month’s rent on a flat that you SHARE with a roommate!” his voice was now raised.

“Alright Moony alright, I get that this absolutely sucks arse and I’m sorry, but please keep your voice down mate”

“Pads is right,” James said in a tone much softer than his usual “This sucks but we don’t want to draw too much attention to ourselves, especially you Moony”

“Especially when we are talking about what we are talking about” Peter over emphasized in a dramatic whisper.

“Yeah yeah I get it,” Remus sighed “Don’t want people finding out about my...what is it you lot call it again?”

“Furry little problem” the three other boys said proudly in unison. 

“Right, that” Remus’s head was now in his hands, all the anger he was once feeling had now melted down into exhaustion.

It was quiet for a moment.

Peter spoke

“We could try to round up some money between the four of us and see-”

“One,” Remus interjected “I could never let you lot do that for me”

James and Sirius were about to open their mouths to say something

“And two,” Remus continued “What money? None of us have jobs.”

“I mean...we could ask our parents-” James started

“Absolutely not.” Remus cut him off once again and started to pack his things “I’ve really got to get to advanced runes so that’s is the end of this conversation”

he paused

“I really do appreciate you lot but you do too much for me...besides I do actually have to go” he started to head for the doors of the great hall “see you at lunch!”

The three boys all responded with their own apathetic versions of “see you latter Moony”

“Yeah, catch ya then”

“See you at lunch mate”

James groaned 

“We’ve got to do something”

“But he’s so difficultttttt” Peter whined as he laid his head on the breakfast table in defeat

“Well then that settles it,” Sirius began “It’s time for the marauders to come up with another one of their master plans” he placed his hand in the middle the the table “For our Moony!”

The two other boys followed suit and cheered

 “For our Moony!

 _______________________________________________________________

 Potions 606, James Potter’s first class of the morning and dear lord was he shit at it. Thank god Lily was in his class or it would be absolutely unbearable. It wasn’t that he didn’t try, he did try, really hard actually. Sometimes it felt like his brain just wasn’t built to remember so many gaddamn details. He did catch one detail this morning though,

His beloved Lily Evans was avoiding Snevilis like the plague

She was looking for a different desk partner but almost all the other seats were taken except for one.

Klaus the Ravenclaw boy who usually sits beside James was recently hospitalized because he caught dragon pox 

Oh. My. God.

James Fleamont Potter this is your chance.

Don’t make a fool of yourself.

Holy shit she’s walking across the room

Walking towards you

Lily finally reached his desk and stopped about a meter in front of him “Potter,” she started

“Evans.” James tried to respond as nonchalantly as possible but it came out as more of a nervous squeak

“I’ve heard that your desk partner will be spending the next little while in the hospital wing so as much as this pains me to say, would you mind if I sit with you?”

James shot out of his seat faster than the speed of light and pulled out Lily’s chair for her “Of course Evans, anything for you” he said way too enthusiastically 

“um... thanks” Lily responded awkwardly as she sat down

A piece of warn chalk then started to levitate and magically write a note on the board at the front of the room

Professor Slughorn will be around 15 minuets late due to some unforeseen delays, please keep yourselves busy by reading through your text books or a book of your choice.

Class is NOT cancelled and anyone who decides to leave now will receive a month of detention and several points taken away from their house

Lily pulled a muggle magazine from her bag as James sat staring at her

He probably looked rather dumb-

“What exactly is your problem Potter” she snapped

“I- I’m sorry” James stuttered out quickly not meaning to offend her

God that was the last thing he wanted to do

“It’s just you’re usually such a star student, I didn’t expect you to pull out a magazine of all things”

Lily sighed

“Yeah well... I don’t really feel like potions right now... I’m tired”

Without even looking at her James could tell something was wrong, but when he looked at her eyes, he could see something very unfamiliar behind them

“But you love potions” he tried “Is something going on?? Do yo want to talk-”

“For christ sake James can’t you let me read my magazine in peace?!” she snapped

James barley whispered “Right, sorry” and drew his attention to the other side of the room trying to make himself invisible to Lily 

It had been about five minutes since Lily snapped at him when James decided to dare and look back at her, Lily was so immersed in her reading she was completely unaware  

James noticed something strange about the page she was on

He would admit that he was pretty unfamiliar with a lot muggle culture but this was something he had never even heard of

Are Japan’s Host Clubs the Entertainment of The Future? 

Learn More Bellow!

Now what on earth is a host club?

“You look like you want to say something” Lily finally spoke, catching James completely off guard. The poor boy nearly shot out of his chair.

“Oh- oh me? Ptht” James was trying desperately to recollect himself and be cool again, it was always so hard for him to be a functioning human being around Lily Evans

“Just…well I…” He was stalling, why was he stalling? It’s just a stupid question about a muggle magazine James, spit it out! “I was wondering if you could tell me what that club is in your magazine! I’m trying to get familiar with muggle culture and I’ve never heard of that sort of club before!” First, he could barley open his mouth and now he was completely rambling, why was it that Lily Evan’s presence always seemed to turn him into a complete crazy person?

No wonder she never agreed to go out with him-

“I personally don’t know much about them either, but apparently they’ve been becoming quite popular in Japan over the past couple of years” Lily flipped to the next page of the magazine to read the rest of the article

She continued, “It says here that the club is usually made up of a group of boys with their sole purpose being to host and entertain women who I guess have nothing better to do…” a wrinkle formed in Lily’s brow as she continued to read on quietly, more to herself this time.

“So, it’s guys who spend time with girls… and get paid for it? Is there like anything sexual involved??” James’s mind was absolutely blown, he had never heard anything like this before. James was fantastic at charming and spending time with girls (who’s names weren’t Lily Evans) and Sirius, oh my god Sirius was even better.  

“No nothing sexual, it’s basically just paid company” and with that the class room door opened and Professor Slughorn walked in muttering something about a meeting with some centaurs.

“Alright every put anything you’ve got out that’s unrelated to potions away, and open your text books to page 897” he said cheerfully as he reached the front of the classroom.

Suddenly without anyone’s help the chalkboard eraser that once sat still started to levitate and erase the note that was written only minuets ago.

 _______________________________________________________________

 “Hey Pads?”

“Yeah Prongs?”

“You like girls, right”

Sirius finally looked up from his charms parchment at James and gave him a confused look “Last time I checked, what’s with this strange question all of a sudden??”

James was slightly put off by Sirius’s obvious nervousness “Well I just mean you like taking them out and treating them right…”

Sirius paused for a minuet “…yeah I guess I do”

“What if I told you, it’s something we could make money from”

Now Sirius was just plain confused “What on earth are you going on about, Prongs?”

“That doesn’t sound like a charms related conversation boys” Professor Flitwick’s voiced as he looked up from his papers at his desk at the front of the classroom.

James waited for him to look back down so he could continue talking, more quietly this time “It’s called a host club and they’re super popular in Japan, it’s basically just guys entertaining girls and getting paid for it-”

Sirius cut him off “wait- what do you mean by entertain?”

“What do you think I mean by entertain?”

“I don’t know James; this is starting to sound like you want the marauders to start a male brothel”

“BLOODY HELL SIRIUS” James whisper yelled “I mean like having talking to them and serving food and drinks. We’d give them a break from their stressful school lives in exchange for a very small amount of money that will secretly be put towards wolfsbane for Remus”

Sirius thought for a minuet “So it’s like a club club except-”

James cut in “The main reason people are going is to be served and pampered by us, nothing sexual involved”

Sirius smirked “I think this is our get rich quick scheme, mate”

“We just need to talk about it with Peter so we can all approach Remus together”

“Yeah” Sirius smiled

>

>

>

To Be Continued...

[melanielocke]

The Stars Collide - chapter 17

I figured it was time to post the next chapter and actually managed to edit it in time before I collapse from exhaustion and go to bed. I explore the reaction Thomas has to the events of the previous chapter a bit more here and later Alastair and Thomas visit Christopher in his lab, and meet his new lab partner. CW: mentions of electro convulsion therapy @alastair-appreciation-month

Thomas was feeling restless. His response to any sort of crisis was to do something, to fix it. He wanted to confront somebody about the way Alastair was hurt, wanted to do something to make this better. He couldn’t. Charles was dead and would never be confronted with what he’d done. Alastair absolutely did not want anyone else to know, and so he couldn’t confront Charlotte about it either.

Christopher had time for them in the afternoon and Alastair had agreed to come see him. Alastair had left to spend the morning catching up with Kamala, leaving Thomas alone with his restlessness. He knew only one way to get himself to calm down a little, which was to go to the dojo and hit something.

Cordelia had gone to the dojo too, it seemed, and Thomas was unsure how much he should tell her of what had happened the other night. Cordelia suspected too, but that didn’t mean it was alright for Thomas to confirm her suspicions, he’d have to talk to Alastair about that first.

‘Thomas! How have you been?’ Cordelia asked.

‘Alright,’ Thomas said, not entirely sure how to answer that question. ‘How is your new job?’

‘It’s great. I’ve taken Lucie on several longer flights for rare ingredients already. I get a lot of days off, and Lucie lets me know where she needs to go long enough in advance that I can plan the routes as efficiently as possible as to not waste fuel. I’ve already seen so much of this planet, and it’s all so beautiful.’

‘There’s a reason it’s called the Fair Planet, I guess,’ Thomas said.

‘Definitely. Turan is beautiful too, but in a different way. A lot drier for sure. I’ve never seen so much water.’

‘I might visit Turan sometime in the future,’ Thomas said. ‘I think I should meet your mother and younger brother too someday.’

‘You should! But before going to Turan, you definitely should do a training regime for the gravity. Alastair too, he’s not as muscular anymore as when he lived on Turan, he’s been here long enough to get used to Fair gravity.’

‘Right,’ Thomas said. ‘I guess that’s why so many intergalactic visitations take place on the Fair Planet. Lowest gravity.’

‘For me it still feels like I can fly. Lucie probably thinks I’m crazy considering how much I’m enjoying jumping around here.’

‘Trust me, Lucie wouldn’t think you’re crazy. I imagine it’s nice to live somewhere else and then travel here,’ Thomas said. ‘For me it doesn’t feel like flying at all, I’m just used to it.’

‘Turan is going be a nightmare for you,’ Cordelia said. ‘But if you want, I can set up a training regime for visiting. Take Alastair too, he will need it if he wants to meet Rostam in real life.’

‘I’ll discuss it with him,’ Thomas said.

He practiced his moves against a boxing ball, which took a beating like no other today. It was a better way of dealing with anger than sparring with a person and he definitely didn’t want to risk accidently hurting someone again. Perhaps he should put a picture of Charles’ face on the boxing ball, but that would surely raise questions.

After an hour of hitting a boxing ball, Thomas did feel a little better, but he still wished there was something real he could have done. Something that would actually make things better for Alastair. Instead, he could only hope Christopher would be able to help.

He went to take a shower when he got home, and when he was finished Alastair had returned, he was sitting on the couch with his laptop, typing.

‘I made an appointment with the doctor, who referred me to mental healthcare,’ Alastair said. ‘They’ll call me sometime this week to make a first appointment, but the doctor assured me they don’t have long waiting times right now.’

‘That’s good,’ Thomas said. ‘I’m proud of you. What do you want for lunch? I figured we should heat up some leftovers before they expire, and then we can go to Christopher’s lab. Or, well, is it alright if I come too or would you rather go to the lab alone?’

‘It’s alright, you can come,’ Alastair said. ‘I don’t think Christopher knows what to do if I get mad. It’d be easier with you around.’

Alastair had a point there. Christopher wasn’t good with people and Alastair wasn’t an easy person to interact with. When they found a common interest, Alastair and Christopher communicated really well, but Thomas wasn’t sure how it would go with Christopher’s machines. He also secretly suspected Alastair wanted him there for support, but wasn’t willing to admit that.

They heated up some leftovers from the past days for lunch and then left for the lab. Christopher was quickly shoving sandwiches into his mouth alongside another scientist, a young woman Thomas had never seen before.

‘Eating lunch on your own accord, I’m proud of you Kit,’ Thomas said.

‘It’s been easier to remember ever since Grace started working here,’ Christopher said. ‘She is a lot stricter about her lunch breaks and reminds me I should stop to eat too.’

Grace had to be the young woman at the table beside Christopher. She was blonde and very pretty, dressed in a lab coat and wearing a pair of gloves.

‘Is she also working with your magic machine?’ Alastair asked.

‘No, she’s doing her own project, but she’s using some of the other equipment in this space. She’s trying to break down Lucie’s charms, but she’s studying the product, not the person, which makes it easier,’ Christopher said. ‘You could ask her about it, but I don’t think she likes being disturbed during work.’

‘Mr. Carstairs, isn’t it?’ Grace said. ‘I’m sorry, it’s Prince, isn’t it? Forgive me, I’m not used to being around royalty.’

‘I’m not actually a Prince of Fair anymore since I married Thomas, I gave up that title,’ Alastair said. ‘I am still a Prince of Turan by birth, though only fifteenth in line for the throne. My sister Cordelia is sixteenth.’

Alastair would have been King-Consort one day if Charles hadn’t died. Thomas wondered how he felt about that. He was set to inherit a duchy someday, but that was nothing compared to the entire planet.  

‘Didn’t realize there were so many potential successors.’

‘All royal families keep track of their lineage. It happens sometimes that a ruler dies without any children and then succession needs to be determined to avoid war and chaos. If the entire royal family of Turan somehow ends up dying, I might become Shah, but I think that’s unlikely. I don’t believe in monarchy myself anyway. The problem is, if we tried to end it we’d be invaded before we’d established an alternative.’

‘I don’t think the monarchy is so bad here,’ Grace said. ‘There’s still a lot of elected officials who speak for the public. Where I’m from, leaders are absolute and if you want things to be different you’ll have to scheme your way into a position of higher power. Everyone was very cut throat back there, but I just wanted to do research. That’s why I came here.’

‘Nobles are cut throat here too,’ Alastair said. ‘At least, they were in Prince Charles’ circles. Everyone wanted to get something from the Crown Prince. I don’t miss that now that I’m not in those circles anymore. I don’t envy Prince Matthew his role, even if I do not believe he’s well suited for it.’

Thomas couldn’t fault Alastair for saying that, Matthew was not suited for ruling. He’d never wanted it, had never prepared for it assuming the throne would go to Charles and he could focus on his own interests. Alastair was right, monarchy was stupid.

‘Where are you from? Outside the seven planets?’

‘I’m from the Edom Empire,’ Grace said. ‘You’re right to be scared of them here, they have people watching for planets to lose the protecting from the Raziel empire, ready to invade the moment they can. My home planet was such a planet, they invaded when I was very young because the treaty with the Raziel empire wasn’t renewed. There was an issue with a marriage alliance and Raziel just left us. I don’t remember life before the empire. I was very lucky to be able to get a research visa and I’m hoping to get Fair citizenship someday.’

‘I hope you get it,’ Alastair said. ‘I know the seven planets have their issues, but at least you don’t have to live under the empire that conquered your home here. And I hope your home can earn their freedom someday.’

Thomas knew that was unlikely. It was something he tried not to think about too often, the Edom Empire. It was a force all of them were scared of, something only treaties upheld by the Raziel Empire protected them from, the only army large enough to dent the Edom Empire. The Raziel nor Edom empires wanted a war with one another, which was why Edom respected the treaties Raziel held and Raziel turned a blind eye when unprotected planets were conquered. Even if sometimes treaties were sabotaged, or fell through due to inconsequential bureaucratic errors.

Small galaxies like the Seven Planets were defenseless against the second largest empire of the galaxy and they had no choice but to adhere to Raziel’s desires. Planets like Grace’ home world didn’t stand a chance.

‘Me too,’ Grace said. ‘But I don’t think it’ll happen in my lifetime. We’re all just doing the best we can, aren’t we? I hope if we get to the bottom of magic, we’ll find better ways to protect ourselves from the greed of Edom. But they’re trying to get their hands on technology like this too. They’re experimenting with magic.’

‘Grace has given us much knowledge from the Edom Empire,’ Christopher said. ‘It has been invaluable for our research as well as for Charlotte. Now, I’m sure Grace has much work to do, and so do we. The magic reader is in the other room, follow me.’

***

Seeing the magic reader didn’t spark any memories. Alastair wasn’t sure why he’d believed it would. He didn’t remember the machine from his dreams well enough, and couldn’t tell if this thing looked anything like it.

‘You have to sit here, on the chair.’

A little hesitant, Alastair sat down, trying to ignore the feeling that something awful was going to happen. He wasn’t so sure if he could do this, but he had to. He had to know what he’d lost, what Charles was working on and if anyone was still out to harm him.

‘I’m going to apply the electrodes,’ Christopher said and all Alastair could do was close his eyes when it happened.

The sensation of the electrodes on his head was awful and he tried his best to block it out, to calm his breathing, but he wasn’t sure if he could. Thomas took his hand, and Alastair squeezed it gently. Thomas’ hand was far bigger and firmer than his, warm and comforting. He could do this.

‘It’s finished,’ Christopher said after a while.

‘Already?’

‘It doesn’t take that long to take a base reading,’ Christopher said. ‘Especially with how much info we already got from you.’

Removing the electrodes was painful, like removing a band aid, but Alastair was glad to be free of the chair. He walked over to the screen, but all he could see where several lines going up and down.

‘You can read this?’

‘A little. The computer does it far faster,’ Christopher said. ‘It’s still analyzing the data alongside the data about you I already put in beforehand. Like what kind of power you have and the question if anything’s wrong with it. Otherwise the reading has too many potential interpretations.’

‘How long does that take?’

‘Long enough for you and Tom to drink some coffee or tea,’ Christopher said. ‘I’ll call you back in when it’s done.’

Alastair was glad to go back to the break room of the lab, where he poured himself a cup of tea. Christopher and Grace had quite the selection of tea bags, and Alastair picked a fruity flavor.

‘You did really well.’

‘You don’t need to praise me like I’m some kindergartener who needed to overcome his fear,’ Alastair grumbled.

This was precisely why he’d wanted anyone to find out what had happened with Charles. He hated being treated his way. He’d rather be hurt again than pitied.

‘I’m sorry,’ Thomas said.

‘Whatever. Just don’t treat me like I’m pathetic, or like you should pity me.’

‘I don’t think you’re pathetic. But it’s natural to feel sorry for what happened to you, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t know,’ Alastair said. ‘But it doesn’t feel good. That’s not how I want to be seen.’

‘You know human emotions are meant to elicit a response in those around them, right?’

Alastair stared at Thomas for a moment. ‘So?’

‘So the whole point of how you’re feeling, of crying or showing your emotions is to show other people they should help you.’

‘And if I’d rather be left alone?’ Alastair snapped. ‘Is there a way to do it?’

‘Generally, you seem to be doing a pretty good job at that,’ Thomas said. ‘But I can tell you only get angry and defensive to hide how vulnerable you really are, and what I mean to say is, you don’t have to. What happened to you wasn’t your fault and you don’t have to be ashamed of it. Nor is there any shame in how you’re feeling.’

‘I hate feeling like this,’ Alastair said. ‘I’d much rather just forget it all happened and move on with my life. Feeling so much about something that isn’t happening anymore seems useless. I’m out of that relationship, I’m safe and yet he’s still haunting me. It’s not fair.’

‘I know. It’s not, and I can’t imagine what it’s like for you. But that’s why you’re going to see a therapist. They’re going to help you and in time you don’t have to feel like this anymore. You could be happy.’

‘I’d much rather be able to do that on my own,’ Alastair said. ‘But I got the referral, so I guess therapy it is. I’m just really mad about it.’

‘Anger is also a very normal emotion, you know,’ Thomas said. ‘It’s purpose is to protect you from harm, and to stop injustice. I think it’s normal to get angry more often when you’ve been through a marriage like yours, it’s how you try to protect yourself.’

‘How do you know so much?’

‘This is something you’re supposed to learn in elementary school,’ Thomas said. ‘Which not everyone does, but it’s really important. My mom is an elementary school teacher and she puts a lot of work in teaching her class about different emotions. She also put a lot of work into teaching me and my sisters when we were young. And when we were older, so I’d stop neglecting my own emotions for the sake of other people’s. It’s really not so easy to deal with your own and other people’s emotions all the time in a healthy way, yet everyone has to do it.’

‘I think I’ve always been prone to anger,’ Alastair said. ‘Even when I was little. I think I got that from my mother. I wasn’t about to let mean people walk over me and I didn’t have the skills to make people like me, so anger kept me safe. I don’t think I had any primary school classes on emotions though.’

‘I could show you the props my mom uses for her classes,’ Thomas said. ‘All emotions have a doll to represent them and they play out conversations the emotions have with each other to explain how different emotions can cause conflict.’

‘That sounds cute,’ Alastair said. ‘Maybe Rostam would like it. I’ve been speaking with him and my mom more often lately. Rostam is so smart his teachers can barely keep up.’

‘I’d love to meet him and your mother too someday. Cordelia offered to make us a training regime so we can handle the gravity of Turan.’

Alastair nodded. He knew it would take time, that if he were to travel to Turan now the gravity would become suffocating. Still, he hated that he couldn’t just fly over to his mother when he wanted to. ‘That’s kind of her.’

‘The reading is finished,’ Christopher said.

Alastair and Thomas walked back into Christopher’s room in the lab. ‘What did you find?’ Alastair asked.

‘The machine accurately reads your power as related to memory,’ Christopher said. ‘I have to say this is the most powerful reading I’ve ever seen. Based on this, I’d say you have far more power than you choose to use. If your theory of being experimented on is true, it’s also possible something they did enhanced your power. But there is some damage too. The power reads as a lot more volatile than it’s supposed to be. I have no previous readings to compare it to, but based on your story I’d say something happened that damaged your power. Now, that’s not something that could easily be done. I’ve read research from Raziel Empire about blocking people’s magic and they haven’t actually been able to do it. But their participants’ magic could get more volatile and sometimes they lost memories too.’

‘Any way to get my power back to normal? And to get my memory back?’

‘Some studies mention electroconvulsion therapy,’ Christopher said. ‘However, they’re also from Raziel Empire and I can’t access them, only the abstracts. I’ve tried emailing the researchers, but apparently it’s illegal to share that research with people outside their empire. But I do believe electroconvulsion therapy is a good plan and I’m going to email a psychiatrist from the academic hospital who regularly works with electroconvulsion therapy if they agree it’s a good idea.’

‘Doesn’t electroconvulsion therapy cause memory loss?’ Alastair asked.

‘Usually, it does. However, in your case, if we were to reset your power you should be able to remember everything again. Besides, memory loss caused by ECT is not permanent, so even if it gets worse at first it should get better after several sessions.’

@alastaircarstairsdefenselawyer @life-through-the-eyes-of @styxdrawings @justanormaldemon @ipromiseiwillwrite @a-dream-dirty-and-bruised @amchara @all-for-the-fanfiction @imsoftforthomastair @ddepressedbookworm @queenlilith43 @wagner-fell @cant-think-of-anything @laylax13s @tessherongraystairs @boredfangirl16 @artist-in-soul @broodyhawthorne @ikissedsmithparker

[stephspurs]

A Family Affair | Euro 2020 Football Fanfiction

Life is beautiful and life is cruel. This is a window into the souls of the victorious and the vanquished. In a way, football did come home during the summer of 2021. Follow along Amelia’s journey, navigating the football world as a tactical analyst for the Italian football team, with a brother and father part of the three lions. Will Amelia leave Italy and come back to England? Will she leave the Serie A for the Prem? Will she set aside the bianconeri stripes for new colours, leaving behind friendship for love? Maybe she can have both...

Wow - the response i received in a little under 24 hours since i posted the first taste of part 1 has truly bowled me over! I wasn't expecting that reaction & tbh i would have been happy if 2 people wanted to read this story hahaha! So, i've been writing in the background & the first few parts have already been proofed and are ready to go. HOWEVER! I am open to your suggestions so please please let me know what you think and how you want to see Amelia's story play out. As far as i'm concerned, this fic is as much yours as it is mine! So please enjoy this first part, in its entirety, and let me know your thoughts! Love always,

Steph xx

UPDATE as of 31/07: I've made some additional editing changes due to some feedback about the confusion between ben white (her brother) and ben chilwell (not her brother LOL). Nothing has been added to the story, just the addition of either surname has been added where i think it could be more straightforward - for future readers!

Part 1 | prima parte

warnings; none - maybe a bit of angst? (what sibling rivalry doesn't have a bit of angst)

word count; 1978 words

writing tools; third person until dashed line, first person thereafter.

next update; Sunday 25/07 5pm AEST. Updates will be twice weekly at this stage. Probably Wednesday’s and Sundays from next week!!

link to fic masterlist here

The world of football, no matter how big it may seem, is as tight as a close-knit family. Whether its management staff, senior players, scouts, academy players, business developers, medical team, groundskeeper - everyone knows someone who knows someone else involved in the sport. For Amelia White, it was a family affair.

Having grown up with her father as a senior tactical analyst for many different clubs throughout his career, and an older brother currently playing for Brighton in the Premier League, there was no opportunity for her to escape the fanaticism of the sport. It was what her household lived and breathed, football. Most would think that, with her brother being as successful as he is now, her childhood was shadowed by her brother's success but that's not the case. She capitalised on her ability to think both logically and creatively, and absorbed all of the information her father could give her as if she was a sponge, to establish a name of her own in the sport and advance her career in the sport. At the age of 21 she upped and left the comforts of her home in West London, accepted a position at Juventus within their graduate program & worked her way up the ranks to be their youngest tactical analyst by the age of 24.

So far in her career, the support of her mother, father & brother were unmatched by any. They were all so proud of her for making her own name, proving herself and succeeding in one of the most competitive football leagues in the world. She was smart, tactful, both meticulous and ruthless in her approach to her career and the success of her players. Because after all, they were her players. She worked day in and day out, studying them and their opponents, drafting performance plans and set pieces for every possible outcome of the play, so that they could perform at their best. They had her trust and faith, and she had theirs. This is probably what her family was most proud of, and wished her every success, until she was appointed as a tactical analyst for the Italian National Team for the upcoming Euro 2020 tournament. Which happened to be the same tournament that her brother had received his call up to the Three Lions. Which was the current level at which her father was a senior tactical analyst for the English National Team. The Euro 2020 Tournament was about to be a real family affair...

10 July 2021

It had been 2 months since she last had any contact with her family. 3 months ago, Amelia signed a contract with the Federcalcio, the governing body of football in Italy, to become the Azzurri’s tactical analyst for the foreseeable European Football Championship. In turn, her silky signature at the bottom of the agreement, also constituted a digital and physical contact ban with members of her family that were also involved with the tournament...her father and her brother.

At the time of the contract, and against her better judgement, Amelia hadn’t told her family of her opportunity. She knew her father would be proud, but her brother would be bitter. Her mother was switzerland, completely neutral and rooting for both of her children - but that's not how football works. No matter your role you have a job to do, and you do everything you can to make sure it is your team that lifts the trophy at the end of the tournament. So, on May 23rd her family congratulated her for another successful season at Juventus, and unbeknownst to them, said goodbye for the next 2 months. Until the day before the final match of the tournament, Italy v. England.

Her heart dropped when England won their semi final match against Denmark. She wanted nothing more than for her brother to be happy and for her father to succeed, but she didn’t want to have to go up against them in the final. Ultimately, she knew they were good, but she also knew that she could hold her own and compete with the best. Having a close relationship with her brother, up until this period, meant that she often paid attention to the premier league. This was a major benefit to her as she had already started analysing the azzurri’s opponents. It was her job to know what foot Raheem Sterling preferred to pass with, what direction Declan Rice preferred to take the ball up the field, what direction of receiving the ball did Harry Maguire struggle the most with. So that's how she spent the three days between matches, solidifying her knowledge of her opponents & predicting the plays her dad would be instructing the English team to complete, to attempt to outperform the Italians. However nothing would prepare her for the knock on her suite door, or for what was on the other side…

_____________________________________________________________

“Ciao Amelia, vieni con me per favore. abbiamo organizzato una visita supervisionata con tuo fratello prima della finale di domani sera. sorpresa!” (hi amelia, come with me please. we have arranged a supervised visit with your brother prior to the final tomorrow night. surprise!). I stood there in shock staring at one of my players & closest friends, Federico Bernardeschi. I was a person who didn't enjoy spontaneity, who thrived off of preparation and organisation. I needed the opportunity to overthink every situation so that I could prepare for every possible outcome. This was not my idea of a good time. Of course I missed my brother, but I know just how volatile he can be. Nevertheless, I grabbed my jacket and shoved my sneakers on before following Fede down the hall and into a blacked out van that was waiting to take me to St. George’s Park for my family reunion.

Upon arriving, and after a stern pep talk from Fede (who was my appointed supervisor for the visit - not sure I would say he was the most responsible choice but he did talk some sense into me) I walked into the main entrance and saw my father leaning against the reception desk waiting for me.

“Papa!!” I called as I walked over to him, ready to smother him with my love and affection. My father, Dean White, and I had as good of a relationship as possible, being that he was always heavily involved with my brother Ben’s footballing career as well as his own. I think when I came along, my father didn't know how to be a girl dad, so he took my mothers advice and just involved me like he would Ben. I was glad that I would be seeing him first, and he would be taking me to see my no-doubt pissed off brother.

“Dad, this is Fede, one of my players”

“Ciao Dean, it’s very nice to meet you but i am also her bodyguard for this evening” Fede introduced himself to my father and they exchanged pleasantries. I had a look around the foyer of the facility until I heard my name brought up in conversation.

“Amelia, come on. The boys are just over here. I don’t think you have long before heading back to your camp” My dad called to me. Boys? As in...more than just my brother?

“Hahaha that's funny dad, just show me to his room and we can have our screaming match there. Should only be about 20 or so minutes”

“Ben’s not in his room, we have a recreation room for the players and staff to lounge about and relax in. Pretty sure he’ll be in there. Come on, you’ve never been scared of your brother before. Why start now?” Before I knew it, Dad was leading us through some doors and into a large common area with bean bags, pool tables and couches - all occupied by current first team members of the English National Football team.

“Dean mate, don’t normally see you down here after 7pm. Oh look at that, someone let the trash in.” A loud mouthed player, that I used to adore as if he was my own brother, calls out as he notices us enter the room. And just like that, I shake off my nerves, stand in front of my taller & more argumentative bodyguard, relax my shoulders and stare into the eyes of Kyle Walker - daring him to challenge me and push me further.

“Relax Kyle, Benjamin White - your sister is here to see you.” Dad cut Kyle off. I didn’t need him to defend me against Kyle’s harsh comments, I could defend myself.

“Wow, I thought hell would freeze over before I got the opportunity to speak to you. Of course, I didn't realise hell would look quite like seeing you in that shade of blue.” My brother, Ben, spoke bitterly at me as he approached me from the other side of the room. This, coupled with Walker’s exclamation earlier, got the attention of the majority of the players scattered about.

“Ben, if you let me explain in private I'm sure you will be able to understand why things had to be this way” I tried to reason with him. Letting go of my always-defensive guard and pleading with my big brother to open his mind to see my side of the story.

“As if I would even talk to you right now, the night before the final, you’re probably here to try and get some insider information. Boys make sure you don’t say anything to her, she’s as sly as they come” Ben’s words were as sharp as a knife - but I knew what I had to say would cut him deeper.

“Ok that's enough! You are ridiculous! What did you expect me to do? Not take the job because you’re my brother? This is my career we are talking about here” I challenged him. “If you think for one second i stopped supporting you then you must be even more stupid than i thought. Of course this isn't the ideal situation, I'm proud of you for reaching a final but I'm just as proud of myself for doing the same thing.” I got progressively closer to my brother, who stood there with his hands beside himself, unable to get a word in.

“I came tonight to wish you good luck, to tell you I loved you, to give you a hug and tell you to stay safe and play smart. Whilst I still wish all of this for you, I now want you to know that I want you to play your best so I can be better than you. I can show you exactly how good at my job I am. I want you to know that no matter what way you play the ball, I'll be right there waiting for you. I am prepared for this, I hope you are too - so that it will feel that much more sweet when we beat you” I sneered at my older brother, who at this point, is quite visibly feeling a mixture of shock and embarrassment.

I take a step back, let out a breath and shake the tension from my shoulders. Breaking eye contact with my brother, I look briefly - yet confidently - at the other players in the room and take a step back. I turned to my dad, who was looking at me solemnly, as though he wasn’t happy with my outburst but understood it came from a place of frustration with my sibling. Walking up, giving him a kiss on the cheek and wishing him luck, I turned to look at Fede and began to walk to the door. This interaction with my brother, although supposed to be a nice moment shared between siblings, has only gone and motivated me to be at my best tomorrow, to prepare my players to go to war and to come out the other side victorious.

Part 2 | seconda parte

[let-me-luve-you]

Almost a Goodbye

Tom Holland x Sister (with Sam and a little bit of Paddy)

Summary: Your brothers interrupt you before you make a life changing decision.

Warnings: attempted suicide, angst, comforting brothers, difficult talks, vulnerable reader

A/N: This is a very triggering story, so please do not read if you think you will be effected by it.

MASTERLIST

Three months. That’s how long it’s been since your family had been fully together. Tom and Harry were in the States filming for the new Spider-Man movie. They were set to return in a little over a month. Being the only Holland girl within the siblings, you were protected and worshiped by your brothers. Yes you had your fights with them, but at the end of the day, you were family and you all loved each other. Even though Tom took Harry with him all the time, Tom was actually closest with you.

Recently you had been quiet. You stayed in your room more. Only went to school and home. Everyone just thought it was school since finals were coming up. But what no one knew was all the hate you got online and in person. People kept saying how you were using your brother to try and make your life easier. Thought you were using his name to get good grades by bribing the professors. The list of things people thought about you were endless.

At first you ignored it. Especially when it was only online. Then it started to happen in person and it slowly started to get to you. You didn’t want to believe them, but the more they said it, the more you did.

After weeks of constantly looking at the hate on social media and hearing people whisper about you at school, you finally hit your breaking point. People who had been your friends stopped talking to you. You couldn’t do it anymore. You decided that morning that today would be your last day.

You skipped school. Found a quiet, isolated place in the park. You pulled out your spiral to write your final words. Writing a note to every single person in your family except Tom. That was going to be the hardest one. He would be so disappointed in you. Hate you for giving up. You couldn’t write one. At least not yet.

After walking in the house, you quietly declined the food your dad offered you. Saying you grabbed food on the way home. You went to your room and shut the door. You sat your backpack down and sat at your desk. Deciding now would be the time to write your letter to Tom.

What seemed so hard, flowed so easily. You expressed how hard it had been. How you tried to ignore it and fight. That nothing was getting better. It felt like your whole world was falling around you and trying to bury you. Tears fell on the paper. You didn’t even know you had started crying. You finished the letter with an “I’m sorry. I love you.”

You went to your bedside table and grabbed the over the counter pain pills. You sat on your bed staring at them. You didn’t realize you had been sitting there for so long until you heard Sam.

“Hey Y/N/N, I made a new dessert. Want to come try it?” Sam asked. You looked up startled. You quickly moved the pain pills to the side where Sam couldn’t see them. “You okay?”

You panicked slightly knowing you had tears still falling down your face. “Yeah. I’m fine. I’ll be down in a bit. I’m not very hungry.”

Sam moved to sit by you. “Y/N you know you can talk to me.” He said as he saw Paddy in the doorway. “What’s going on? Is it school? Friend problems?”

“You can talk to me too. I always listen.” Paddy added as he walked towards your desk to sit down. He looked at the note that still lied on your desk. “What… What is this Y/N?”

Your head snapped up to see Paddy holding the letter to Tom. You shot off the bed to grab it from him but he ducked your advance and showed it to Sam. Sam started reading it and then saw the pain pills on your bed. He teared up finally understanding what was going on.

“Y/N/N baby…” Sam said as he looked up at you. “Talk to me.”

“I.. I uh..” You stuttered. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Make me understand.” He almost pleaded.

“I just…” You sighed as you sat on the bed. You grabbed your pillow and hugged it close. “I just can’t do it anymore. I have no friends. Everyone just talks crap about me online. I’d be doing everyone a favor if I was just gone.”

“You’re wrong.” Paddy spoke up. “I wouldn’t be able to fully function without you. You help me so much. You’re always looking out for me. Making sure I do my homework, or helping me with it. You fix me dinner when Mum, Dad, and Sam are working.”

“Paddy anyone can do that for you.” You sighed. “I’m never going to be good enough. I just want to be good enough.”

“Y/N you are the best damn thing that has happened to this family. Between us siblings, you’re the glue that keeps us going. You are the one that helps all of us.” Sam said as a tear fell down his face. “You give and give and give but you never take. Let us take care of you for once. Let us take away some of the pain you are feeling. Talk. to. us.”

“I can’t.” You whispered.

Sam sat down on your bed next to you. He wrapped you in a hug and kissed your forehead. “You can. You know why. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“Ca-… Can I just wait for Tom to come home and talk to him? I promise I won’t do anything stupid.” Sam sighed. Sam knows Tom is coming home early to surprise you, but it was still a week away.

“Tom won’t be home for a month. You know this Y/N. We can’t let you sit on something like this for that long.” Paddy said.

“How about this? Tonight we don’t talk. We just hang out and watch a movie. We can sit here and when you are ready to talk to us. We can talk.” Sam said.

“Just please don’t tell anyone. If I have to talk to you, please don’t tell mum and dad. And please please please don’t tell Tom or Harry. I don’t want them to worry. They have enough on their plates.” You begged.

“Okay, for now this is between us.” Sam lied.

“I’ll go get the popcorn, dessert, and pick out a movie for us. Meet in Sam’s room.” Paddy dictated. “Also wear your onesies I got you for Christmas last year.” You and Sam laughed at his bossiness.

The next week flew by. It was Friday afternoon and you didn’t have any classes. Your parents decided to take a small vacation to Ireland for the weekend to have time for themselves. Sam was working. Paddy was at a friends house. You sat in the living room watching tv.

He had told Tom that night after you had gone to bed. He had to get Harry to stop Tom from missing his last week of work. He tried to tell him he was watching you like a hawk and getting small bits and pieces out of you. Finally, one night you blew up. You were so angry at everything that day, that you just exploded on Sam. He finally understood.

He talked to you about deleting the social media apps from your phone and not getting on any of the websites on your computer. You easily agreed after you calmed down. Sam had noticed the difference in your attitude. He knew you still had work to do, but it was getting better.

Tom and Harry had just landed. Sam had texted when he left for work that your plan was to watch tv and movies all day since you had the house to yourself. Tom hopped into the driver seat of his car with Harry in the passenger seat. Tom dropped Harry off at home, knowing this was a conversation that needed to be had between just him and his sister.

As Tom pulled into his parents driveway, he started to get anxious. He sat there for a minute trying to gather his thoughts. He sighed as he got out of the car. He went to the back seat to get the bag of things he had bought for you. He always brings back something from each movie he films, but this time he went a little overboard when he was at your favorite shop.

He quietly walked in the front door. He walked towards the living room where he could hear the movie playing. When he peaked in, he saw you cuddling up with your favorite blanket asleep. He gently put the bag down next to your head as he sat down next to you. He pushed some of your hair behind your ear. He looked at you for a moment just to try to remember every detail he can. He almost lost you and he isn’t willing to risk wasting anymore time not embracing the moment.

“If you keep staring, I won’t grow a second head like I’ve always wanted.” You said as you started to wake up.

Tom laughed, “Just wanted to see how long it took you to wake up.”

“Well I’m awake now.” You acted annoyed as you sat up. “I really missed you Tomothy. Why are you home so early? I thought you weren’t due home until next month?” You said hugging him as you said his nickname.

“I missed you too, Goofy Goober. We wrapped early. I told everyone else and asked them not to tell you so I could surprise you.” He gave you a kiss on your head. “How have you been? How’s school?”

“Everything’s great.” You lied.

“Please don’t lie to me.” Tom sighed.

“I’m not.” Another lie.

“Sam told me.” Tom said. The color left your face as you heard what Tom said. “I’m not mad. I just want to talk about it. He also told me what you guys talked about a few nights ago. Thought it would be easier to have this conversation.” You looked away from Tom.

“I’m sorry.” You whispered. “I swear I’m getting better now. I even scheduled an appointment with a therapist. Sam doesn’t know that though. I regret what I almost did. I’m going to get better. I promise you that.” You felt tears fall from your eyes. You tried to avoid looking at Tom.

Tom put his hand under you chin and turned your head towards his. “Look at me Y/N/N.” You refused to meet his eyes. “Come on. You can do it.” You slowly lifted your eyes to his. You noticed he was tearing up.

“I’m going to be with you in this fight. This isn’t something you have to fight alone.” He whispered. “No matter what, I will be here for you. I don’t care if it is 3 am and I’m on the other side of the world. I will answer a phone call or I’ll be on the next flight out. Nothing is more important than family. Not work, not Spider-Man, not anything. You are one of the most important people in my life.”

You started to cry harder as Tom continued. “When I got that phone call, it scared the living life out of me. I was on my way to ask for sometime off when Harry stopped me. He said Sam was helping you. That if I focused, the week would fly by and I could get home to you sooner.” You smiled at him.

“I’m really glad you’re home. I’m sorry for scaring you.”

“Don’t worry about that now. Now we focus on getting you healthy and winning this battle.” Tom said wiping your tears from your cheeks.

“But I’m healthy.” You said confused.

“Mental health is just as important as physical. It’s okay to not be okay. But together and with the help from Sam, Harry, Paddy, Mum, and Dad, we are going to get you back to your normal self. Help you learn how to cope with thoughts like that.” Tom said.

“I’m trying to learn to ignore people. They don’t know me.” You said. Tom smiled.

“Exactly. And for the hate you are getting from my fans, I’ll be saying something about that. I’m not going to stand by and watch them hurt someone I love.” Tom said.

“I love you Tom. Thank you for being the best big brother.” You said wrapping him up in a big hug. “Okay time for the important question, what present did you bring me?”

“I love you too Goofy Goober.” Tom said kissing your forehead. He laughed at your last question. “It’s all in the bag right there.” He pointed at the bag that now sits by your feet. You moved to start looking through it. “Now, what movie are we watching next?”

[my-emotional-self]

Toxic Love Chapter 16

Pairings: Steve Rogers x Reader, Bucky Barnes x Reader, Steve Rogers x Reader x Bucky Barnes

Summary: Finding out your soulmates were Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes was one thing. But when someone from your past comes back to haunt you, you have to figure out if a relationship with two super soldiers is something you really want to pursue or if you’d rather go back to your comfortable single life.

Series Warnings: 18+, Swearing, Angst, Fluff, past mentions of rape, self-harm, attempted rape, domestic violence, stalking, death threats, possible Dark!Steve?, Steve will be an asshole a LOT in this series but I don’t know how dark it will get, explicit sexual content, mental health issues, kind of A/B/O dynamics but not really (no they are not actual wolves, more like the hierarchy), mentions of suicide, flashbacks of suicide, nightmares, panic attacks

A/N: There will be no taglist for this story! I apologize in advance!

“Do you have your taser?” Steve and Bucky said collectively as you gathered your purse in your arms and slipped on your shoes.

“Oh my god,” you giggled your response. “Yes, I do.”

It was the day after your surprise birthday party and since you were now going to be heading to St. Lucia tomorrow, you realized you didn’t have much clothing for any kind of tropical place. Darcy had quickly agreed to go shopping with you and that’s why you were leaving the tower.

In the last month you barely left the tower. Not that you felt imprisoned at all. No. It was that you were comfortable. Now that everything was out in the open with Steve and Bucky, you didn’t feel the need to leave the tower much. The last time you left was for your appointment with Dr. Wang and both Steve and Bucky took you there.

They were the ones who normally liked to go with you out of the tower, but since they would be on vacation with you for a whole week, they needed to get some last minute things done for any upcoming missions. So, it would be you and Darcy and you were really excited to spend some time with her.

“Be safe and be good,” Steve said as he gave you a chaste kiss to your lips. You smiled at him, nodding your head.

“I don’t want to get a call that you are in jail,” Bucky joked as he kissed you next.

“It’s only going to be me and Darcy going shopping and out to brunch,” you replied, folding your arms in front of your chest.

“That’s what we’re worried about,” came Steve’s smart ass remark.

~~~

“How many swimsuits do you own?” Darcy asked as the two of you walked down the sidewalk where all the good shopping was. Clint had dropped you two off seeing as neither Steve nor Bucky wanted you two walking that far and you had agreed to stay within a certain radius of where the shopping and dining was. Especially after they found out that John or John’s friends had been sending you threatening letters and messages. But what you didn’t know, was that the bracelet that Steve and Bucky got you for your birthday, also had a tracker in it. They planned on telling you while on vacation, but it brought them a piece of mind and set them at ease while you weren’t with them.

“Umm, I honestly don’t think I even own one,” you remarked.

“Shut the front door. How do you not even own one swimsuit?”

You gave her a shrug. “I don’t know. I guess I just didn’t really have any time or anywhere to go swimming recently. Before meeting Steve and Bucky, I never really got out to do much at all.”

Darcy linked her arm with yours and smiled at you. “Well, I’m glad I’ve met you because now I get some more girl time. With Nat being away on missions more often than Clint, I get stuck with him a lot.”

“Oh come on. You love him and you know it,” you teased back.

She sighed, “I do. I really do. But he is obsessed with going into the vents at the tower and he always wants me to go. He doesn’t realize that I have boobs and a butt that most certainly won’t fit in those vents.”

The two broke out into laughter and you loved how easy it was being around your friend. You didn’t have many friends growing up. With your parents mental health issues, you didn’t want to bring anyone over to the house and when you were invited over for a sleep over or to hang out somewhere else, you always said no because you felt like you had to keep an eye on your parents.

“Oooh, get this one!” Darcy put the slinkiest red bikini in your hands and your eyes grew wide at how little fabric there was.

“Darcy, there is literally nothing to this bikini,” you whispered to her, heat flooding your cheeks at the thought of wearing something like this at the beach.

“That’s the point! You’re on vacation with two of the hottest men in the world whom, by the way, you have wrapped around your finger. And plus, Tony’s place has its own private beach meaning no one else but you three get access to it,” Darcy spoke as she continued to look at more bathing suits. She did have a good point, but you would still feel utterly exposed in something like this. “And we’ll just get you a few more suits for when you want to go to the public beaches.”

“How many suits do you think I should get?”

“Uhh, at least seven. You’re going to be there for a whole week so you need to have one for each day.”

While you had more than enough money in your bank account, you realized Darcy had a major shopping problem and she was to help you drain it dry. At least she offered to buy you lunch today.

The two of you shopped for a few more hours. The sun was shining high in the sky and it felt so good to get fresh air and spend some girl time with Darcy. She helped you pick out a bunch of new clothes including some light weight dresses as she thought all your clothing was too dark and heavy for some place tropical, swim suit cover ups and her personal favorite, lingerie. You didn’t own anything more than a few matching pairs of bras and underwear and they weren’t even lace. Darcy was an expert at lingerie, stating both Natasha and Clint loved seeing her in it.

While you had spent a bit more than you wanted to, you knew it was for something good. Spending an entire week with your two soulmates on a tropical island for a vacation sounded heavenly and you couldn’t wait for it to be tomorrow already. Never in your life had you gone on vacation, let alone a vacation that is fully paid for.

After lunch, the two of you went to Target to pick up some last minute essentials and a few travel sized items. Darcy explained that Tony would have everything covered at the beach house but you just wanted to be on the safe side.

Once done, Darcy called Clint to pick you two up and you headed back to the tower. Your feet were killing you, even though you wore your comfiest pair of shoes. It was a long day on your feet and you couldn’t wait to get this vacation started.

“Honey I’m home,” you sand as the elevator doors opened to your apartment.

Neither Steve nor Bucky were in the living room or kitchen as you walked into the apartment. There was however a note sitting on the kitchen counter for you.

Y/N,

We hope you had fun shopping with Darcy today and we can’t wait to spend the next week with you in paradise. We had a few errands of our own to run and will be back in time for dinner.

Xoxo

Steve and Bucky

While they could have easily sent you a text telling you they would be out for a little bit, you couldn’t help but smile at how old fashioned they were. Honestly, you loved the notes they had left around the apartment for you to find. Sometimes on your pillow when you woke up, or a sticky note attached to your mirror in the bathroom. It was little sentiments like that, that made your heart swell with pride knowing they were all yours.

With your numerous bags in hand, you headed to your bedroom so you can begin packing for your week in paradise.

Dumping your purse and bags on your large bed, you went into the closet and you pulled out the suitcase that Darcy lent you. Hauling the suitcase onto your bed with a grunt, you opened it and admired just how much space there was in the suitcase. At least you didn’t have to pay extra for the large suitcase since you were taking Tony’s private jet.

Just thing, your phone alerted you to a text message. Rummaging it out of your purse, you turned your phone on. The smile instantly wiped from your face. Your blood running cold as you started at the words.

I’ll be seeing you soon babe. I can’t wait to get my hands on your precious body. –J

Your heart began to race. It was getting harder to breathe.

“Miss Y/N,” F.R.I.D.A.Y.’s voice echoed faintly in the room. Your vision started to get blurry and you didn’t know if that was from the tears or if you were having a panic attack. “I am calling Captain Rogers right now.”

Your knees buckled from under you as you reached onto the bed to somewhat break your fall. This couldn’t be happening. How did he get your number? He knew where you used to live, but you had changed your number and made sure to not give it out to anyone. How could he possibly have gotten your phone number? Your breathing was ragged and you were beginning to gasp for air. If he had your phone number, that meant he was closer than ever to you. Closer to finding you. But he was still in prison, he was still locked up. Right?

“Sweetheart,” Steve’s voice came over the speakers. “What’s going on? F.R.I.D.A.Y said your heartbeat is skyrocketing.”

“He-he, John,” you couldn’t get the words out as you were gasping for air.

“Breathe doll,” now it was Bucky’s voice you were hearing. “Just breathe. We are in the elevator right now coming to you but you have to breathe.”

You tried. Fuck did you try to breathe but it was so hard. It felt like someone was squeezing your chest. It hurt. You hurt. Your vision began to go dark as you faintly heard your name being called over and over again.

Slumping down on the ground, you thought this was it. This was how you were going to die. Alone. Terrified. This isn’t how you wanted to die. You wanted to die old and wrinkly with Steve and Bucky by your side, not like this.

Before you could full go unconscious, you felt yourself being picked up in strong arms. Your vision slowly coming back and you realized you were on your bed, sitting down with your back against something hard and firm, yet soft at the same time.

“Y/N? Sweetheart can you hear me?” Steve’s worried voice consumed your mind as you slowly began to blink, seeing him kneeling in front of you on the bed. It was then that you realized you were laying against Bucky, his metal arm around your front and holding your chest tightly to him. “Good girl. There’s our girl. Now I need you to breathe. Feel Bucky breathing behind you. Match his breathing sweet girl.”

You took a few gasping breaths and you could feel Bucky’s heartbeat against your back. Doing as best you could, you could begin to feel your heartbeat starting to regulate. Reaching up, you placed your hand over Bucky’s metal arm, wanting to keep anchored to him.

“F.R.I.D.A.Y, what happened?” Steve’s voice was calm and collected now as he watched you start to finally relax, eyes closed.

“It appears Miss Y/N had a massive panic attack,” the A.I responded.

You could hear Steve take a deep sigh and you opened your eyes, finding his blue orbs staring back at you. “What brought this one sweetheart?”

Instantly your chin began to quiver. “Wh-where’s my pho-phone?” you choked out?

Steve looked around the floor for your phone as you Bucky kept you anchored to him. You felt as if you were to move from your position you would fall apart.

Once Steve found your phone, he handed it to you. You didn’t want to look at it. You couldn’t. Instead, you shook your head and with the saddest voice, you told him to open it.

He looked between you and Bucky and then down to your phone in his hand. You didn’t have a password on it so Steve pressed the button on the side to light your phone up. He didn’t even need to swipe to open. He saw the text. It was right there, staring back at him. Steve’s hand gripped your phone so tight you were honestly shocked he didn’t break the phone in half.

[hiccstrxd]

Heaven is you

This was an idea i had for Rayla's birthday and the outline seemed too wholesome to not do it lol. It has family feels and rayllum being soft as always. Read it on ao3.

Summary: Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness. But this one in particular has brought her an abundant amount of joy, filling her heart with the purest of loves.

Or a recollection of Rayla’s birthdays through the years.

i.

Rayla always remembers her past birthdays with fondness.

She recalls being four and waking up to her mum’s soft voice in her ear, a happy birthday, my love being lovingly murmured in the air. She would pretend that she was asleep, cracking one eye open from time to time and doing her best to contain in her laughter as her mother would start to rub her hair soothingly to wake her up. But she would burst into a fit of giggles before her mum could say anything else — even though Rayla is pretty sure she saw past her flimsy excuse of a stoic facade — and her mother would start to laugh alongside her, tickling her belly and asking her when has her little moonbeam gotten this sneaky.

She hadn’t, obviously.

She’d scoop her in her arms and they would go downstairs where her dad would be cooking her favorite breakfast — he’d always go all out when it was her birthday. And he’d see them still laughing as they approached, he’d see them — his two favorite people ever — and he’d come up to them, lifting her in his arms and making her laugh, telling her that today she chose what they would do because today was all hers. Because he’d move earth and sky for his tiny warrior.

And she remembers the glimmer in her mum’s eyes, her father’s beaming smile, her own expression mirroring theirs; she remembers feeling loved, safe, and content.

ii.

Rayla recalls being eleven and coming back after nearly an entire day of training to a cake on the dining table, a sole candle lit on its center, and a neatly folded paper resting beside it. It was rather late, her whole body ached as the practice had been a vigorous one, but upon seeing the homemade gateau she no longer felt the ever consuming exhaustion. No, she felt lighter, more at ease.

Ethari had been sporting the warmest of smiles, his eyes showing every bit of love towards his foster daughter who they had come to care for as their own. Runaan had walked over to where his husband was and stood right next to him, somehow matching his emotion almost instantly — he had been sort of tense before leaving the meadow — and they had wished her the happiest of birthdays, holding her tightly in their embrace, muttering words of comfort and pride and love.

She remembers thinking that there was still a void in her heart as the aftermath of her parents’ absence, but being there surrounded by her two guardians that loved her an abundant amount and whom she loved as much in return, that showed her day after day their support and their care was enough to bring her solace.

She had felt love all the same.

And she always looked forward to reading her parents’ letter at the end of the end. The words were like a warm hug from afar. She became misty-eyed and held the letter close to her heart for hours as if she was keeping her parents in a safe place near her heart.

iii.

She recalls being sixteen and sitting alone in the Xadian forest. She had been wounded and restless, tired and alone. Everywhere and everything hurt, but ironically she had felt numb from head to toe. Somewhere in the back of her mind she vaguely remembered what that day was supposed to be.

And the bittersweet afterthought made matters worse because then the pang in her chest was just a little too hard to ignore.

Rayla had felt cold and empty, being alone with her thoughts was as harmful as it sounded and the unbecoming urge to cry was getting hard to suppress. But she ended up shedding tears, letting them fall freely as they have been welling up and contained in since much too long ago.

It was her birthday, and she had tried to forget it, making herself not feel, perhaps then the pain would subdue.

It hadn’t.

iv.

It was her birthday and she couldn’t get the royal physician’s words out of her head. They were spinning, echoing, repeating themselves. And she felt equal amounts of excitement and trepidation all at once.

Congratulations Your Highness, you’re with child.

They have been trying, of course, they have, so the news shouldn’t be such a surprise to hear that their efforts had actually turned out fructiferous. But they have, and she didn’t know how to assimilate them without cutting the appointment short and leaving a very confused physician behind, one who was patiently waiting for a reaction out of her.

Because she was excited and elated and so beyond happy that it was taking a lot of willpower to remain seated and not run off to find Callum.

“Your Highness? Is everything all right?”

She blinked, “Of course.” Rayla offered them a smile. How could it not be, honestly?

And after a couple of recommendations and how they’d like to see her in the span of a few weeks — after all, the babe was still a halfling and the pregnancy was to be monitored constantly for that matter — they bid her goodbye with another well-meaning congratulation on the way.

Rayla couldn’t help the fast pace in which she was walking nor the beaming smile from breaking out.

“Oh, there you are! I’ve been looking nonstop for you. What did the physician say?” She heard Callum’s voice round the corner; the worried tone of her husband of three years was enough to make her smile deepened because he was just the sweetest person ever and she just knows that he’s going to be the best father out there.

And the mere thought was enough to make her heart burst with adoration.

He took a couple of steps forward and placed one hand on her cheek, gently rubbing his thumb back and forth, “Are you all right?”

“I’m pregnant.”

The words left her mouth before she had time to catch herself, before she had any time to dwell on how to tell him, but after they were out, she knows that there was no better way, no better time. Because seeing those expressive, loving eyes widen in realization, going through every emotion in the span of a second, how his hand stilled its movement on her cheek and how she heard his breath catch in his throat was as heartwarming as if she’d had outlined a grander plan in advance to break the big news to him.

“Really?” He whispered, barely audible.

She hummed.

“You are pregnant?”

She hummed again.

“There’ll be a tiny, perfect mix of the both of us in a couple of months?”

Rayla nodded unable to keep the grin off her face, her arms coming upwards to lace them loosely around his neck and raising herself on her tiptoes to breath small kisses across his cheek — damn those two inches he had gained on her. Their chests were pressed together, and she felt the deep rumble in his chest that soon turned into a peal of boisterous laughter that surely could be heard through the entire hallway. The sound was too contagious to not let out one of her own.

His arms came to encircle her waist, engulfing her in a tight hug, both of them shaking with laughter and happiness and pure delight.

“We’re having a baby.”

“We are.”

They pulled back slightly, faces inches away from each other’s, noses brushing against one another, breaths mingling in their shared space. She wanted to capture this blissful moment in a picture.

And then his lips slowly curved into a smug grin.

“Don’t.” Rayla raised a single brow, looking pointedly at him because she knew where his mind had headed in a matter of seconds. And because she also remembers rather vividly exactly what he had thought about — it had been a very nice anniversary gift, after all. It had carried the promise of fervent love, a burning passion, and a couple’s desire of at last starting a family.

He let out an amused laugh, “I didn’t even say anything!”

“You didn’t have to, I practically saw you thinking about it!” She rolled her eyes playfully and crossed her arms over her chest, letting out a huff in faux disbelief at her husband’s antics. They locked gazes, grass green meeting amethyst violet, a glimmer in both of them. They couldn’t help the small laugh thereafter.

His eyes softened as the laughter ceased, pulling her closer by the waist and planting one tender kiss on the lips, feeling all the love conveyed in such a small action and trying to reciprocate as much as she was receiving.

“I love you.” She said lovingly when they parted, her hands coming up to cup his jaw in a light grasp.

He brought one hand to his lips, kissing the underside softly, “I adore you.”

Rayla knows that it wouldn’t be easy, parenting — motherhood— never was as the rising self-doubts, the exhaustion of both mind and body, the anxiety of diving into the unknown, and all the possible mistakes that were bound to be made. But, she thinks, as long as they have each other — and everyone else who has been there for that matter — this baby would be raised with abundant love and affection. She'd make sure of it.

It was superfluous to say that this birthday by far had brought her one of her greatest joys. A surprise that couldn’t be topped by any other.

[thisisarcanereverie]

Should’ve Known  Chapter 4.

Hey, so originally I was planning on skipping this episode in WandaVision and get straight into the 70′s, however, after re-watching the episode I thought to myself, maybe this episode would be useful in what I have planned for that chapter. Also again, thank you for all the love and support you show when I post. It really helps me write, especially when you leave a reply one what you liked or suspect from this chapter or other chapters. It really makes my day and it makes it easier to write knowing others are willing to read it. 

I’m trying my best to write as much as I can while i’m still motivated, updates really could be anywhere from a day or a few hours apart at this point. Honestly I only started writing fanfiction again to help me start writing in general since I’ve been writing a book for the past few months and I’ve hit a road block. Writing this helps and plus it’s fun for me to write fanfiction like this. 

Also I did write this based loosely on what I imagined the residents of Westview must have felt like living day upon day. Also a little on Doctor Who, specifically the “Silence in the Library” and “Forest of the Dead” When Donna was trapped and sort of lived like she was in a show. 

DISCLAIMER: I don’t own Wanda or Steve they are owned by Marvel, I don’t own the gif either I just got it from Pinterest, also I’m really tired so any mistakes or stuff that doesn’t make sense that’s on me. 

WARNINGS:Angst, Swearing, the stages of grief, loss, dark themes, 18 + from here on out.

WORDS : 2,040

SUMMARY: Feelings of unease continue to rise as you begin to know Wanda and start to be wary of Agnes....and of Steve. 

You could have sworn you and Steve were just having dinner, the thought of food caused your stomach to turn. You wished for the life of you to know what was ailing you so you could take some medicine. You would have to make an appointment with the doctor but for now you had to continue the day. You gently rose from the bed so as to not disturb your sleeping husband. 

Husband.

Something about that felt wrong to you. 

You shook off the feeling before finally getting ready for the day. 

When the thought of what to wear came to mind you suddenly found yourself all ready dressed with your hair and makeup done. 

You wore a cardigan sweater over your short sleeved blouse and plain skirt. Your hair was neatly done, curling slightly around the edges with a flower barrette in your hair. You looked good, however, how good you looked was the last thing on your mind. You instantly became confused and your head began to ache. How did you get dressed so quickly? Where did the clothes come from? 

As soon as all those thoughts appeared, they vanished upon hearing your husband's voice calling your name. Suddenly you wondered what you were even thinking about. 

“Doll are you ready to rehearse?” Steve’s voice carried out, seemingly echoing off the walls. 

“What are we rehearsing for again honey?” you asked, your heels clicked against the wooden stairs as you made your way down. 

It was only when you saw Steve did you realize something was seriously off. 

It looked as though someone had renovated your house as you had slept, there was new furniture and wallpaper. The kitchen was now at the opposite side of the house. Even the stairs were new, from bannister to the steps themselves. You don’t know why you hadn’t noticed before.

“Doll don’t tell me you forgot,” he teased you, you rolled your eyes refusing to admit that you may or may not have forgotten something. 

“Of course I haven’t forgotten,” you lied, “I’m making sure you remember.” 

“So you remember then, is that correct.”

“Yes.”

“So tell me what we’re rehearsing for then.”

“No.” 

You could feel his eye roll as you made your way to the kitchen, you were suddenly starving. Steve had followed you to the kitchen where you quickly made yourself a sandwich. 

“It’s the Annual Talent Show Fundraiser for the local school,” Steve said “it’s your favorite event in the season.” His eyes searched you in concern. You don’t remember there ever being an Annual Talent Show Fundraiser in Westview. Thinking about it you don’t really remember anything abou-

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“Of course it is honey,” you smiled at him, “I was just keeping you on your toes.” you brought your pointer finger to his nose and bopped him lightly, you and him smiling all the while you both leaned on opposite sides of the kitchen counters.

“Are we still going for that strength test this year?” 

You nodded excitedly, you were never one for muscles, however, when your husband lifts hundreds of pounds over his head (or yourself for that matter) it had you all giddy with excitement. 

“Anything for me to bring out the big guns huh.” Steve teased face leaning closer to yours, you leaned in closer noses touching. “Naturally.” you replied, finally closing the gap and kissing him. 

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You suddenly find yourself with Dottie and the rest of her Ladies in Hating sitting by the pool. When you realized you were seated next to Agnes you stiffened. You barely heard a word Bev was saying, it took most of your control not to switch seats with someone, anyone, so long as it got you away from Agnes. You pretended to listen to Bev talk about her store when you noticed Agnes looking at you through the side of her eye. It nearly made you jump out of your skin. 

You quickly tore your gaze from Agnes and to the person on her right, Wanda. 

You were greeted with Wanda looking at Dotty instantly, seemingly trying to mimic Dotty in how she presented herself, which you thought silly. 

Wanda was far more charming than Dotty anyways. 

Why were you so sure about that?

You switched back and forth between watching Dotty and watching Wanda who seemed to have made a new friend with Geraldine next to her. 

There was something off about her as well. 

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You find yourself helping Dotty and Wanda with cleaning up after the meeting. Wanda was picking up the trays of the barely eaten cookies and desserts that Dotty had ordered, while you were busy stacking plates and cups. The radio was playing something light, which was more than you could say for Dotty. She was just “supervising” to make sure things went accordingly. 

Both you and Wanda made faces behind her back and tried your best to keep your laughter among yourselves. Although you have only known Wanda for a few months (although it feels like you met her only yesterday but it also feels like you’ve known her for longer.) you immediately became fast friends. 

“Thank you Dotty for choosing (Y/n) and I to help you clean up today we feel so lucky.” Wanda thanked Dotty, a kind smile adorned on her face. 

“You are.” 

As you and Wanda turned your backs to Dotty you both stuck out your tongues at each other. Playfulness in each other's eyes. You both turned back to Dotty you had adjusted herself in her seat. 

“I can’t help but wonder if you and I haven’t gotten off on the wrong foot Dotty and I would like to correct that if I can.” Wanda said, her smile a little forced but still pretty. 

“And how would you do that.” Dotty stated, her eyes glaring holes into Wanda. It was almost like you weren’t there. Wanda fidgeted with her hands and brushed away a stray hair that had fallen out of place. 

Dotty stood up from her chair and made her way to where you and her stood. 

“I’ve heard things about you,” she stated her eyes then darted your way, “and about you too, don’t think I’ve forgotten that you’re here.” 

Dotty’s heels clicked as she advanced, almost like a tiger stalking their prey, and you had the feeling you and Wanda were two very unfortunate monkeys. 

“You and your husbands.” 

That word still felt wrong to you. 

You weren’t even focusing on Wanda or Dotty anymore as you began to notice how the radio had stopped it’s tune, the crackling of the device overcoming the music and then you hear it. 

“Wanda, (Y/n) do you read me over.” it was a male voice, crackling, breaking in and out. 

Why was he calling for you and Wanda?

“Who is that?” You heard Dotty’s voice shake, you tore your eyes away from the gray radio and to the light haired lady in front of you. Her eyes were wide with confusion, all tiger energy faded and what was left was a frightened woman. 

She was trembling. 

Her eyes went from the radio to look at you and Wanda, her eyes widened. 

“Who are you?” her voice shakes. 

The man speaks again and you immediately tear your focus away from Dotty and to the radio again. 

“Wanda....(Y/n).....Who’s doing this to you Wanda....(Y/n).....Wanda....(Y/n).....Wanda” then as if a spell had been broken the radio blew up, shocking Wanda and Dotty, Dotty shattering the glass in her hand. 

Red

You had forgotten what other colors had looked like so seeing red was a change that left you speechless. After stuttering for a few seconds Wanda went to grab Dotty a washcloth. 

You kinda block the rest of it out, instead you stare off into the distance. 

Where Agnes stood watching. 

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You paced backstage with Wanda, frantically waiting for your husbands to arrive. You and Steve were to go after Wanda and Vision. You tried your best to calm your erratic heart. Wanda looked breathtaking in her magician's assistant outfit and your eyes kept wandering back to her...Now wasn’t the time to question any of the thoughts running through your mind. 

Steve and Vision were late, Steve was a part of the neighborhood watch and went to the meeting today, apparently Wanda’s husband had done the same. Geraldine was backstage with you trying her best to keep the both of you calm, which even on a good day was nearly impossible. 

Finally you spotted your husbands together, one of Visions arms around Steve’s shoulders seemingly leaning on him for support while your husband seemed to be helping him walk. 

“Steve honey what happened,” you ask immediately, upon dashing to your husband Wanda instantly went to check on Vision. 

“I don’t know doll but I don’t think Vision is able to perform.” He answered, gesturing to the flampent behavior of the otherwise reserved man. Wanda looked at Steve and it broke your heart to see her eyes well up with a disappointed expression. 

You had a feeling you were going to regret what you were about to do. 

You immediately turned to Wanda, grabbing her hands out of what felt like instinct and grabbed her attention. 

“Wanda how do you feel about doing the Talent Show with me?” You asked, hopeful. You could tell she wanted to, her eyes lighting up at the mention of doing the Talent Show afterall, but immediately looked at Vision with concern. 

“Who would take care of Vision?” 

‘I would,” Steve answered, Wanda looked at him with apprehension, 

“Are you sure?” 

“Absolutely you girls kick ass out there.” 

You and her immediately looked at each other in excitement. You two immediately went to figure out whose routine you were going to perform, quickly settling on Wanda and Vision magic act. 

Instead of the magicians assistant she would take place as the magician while you took her place. Next was to figure out your stage name, once again Wanda quickly settling on her keeping Glamour and you sticking with Mirage. Finally she ran the whole act with you and by the time you were done planning the previous act was up and now it was your turn. 

“And now for our final act I give you, Wanda and (Y/n)” After Dotty’s introduction your performance ran overall smoothly, Wanda being shockingly good at close up magic and illusions. 

That was until suddenly Senior Scratchy decided to turn the magic act into an escape act. A powerful gust had knocked Wanda’s magicians hat off her head and you felt the terrible pit in your gut worsen. Looking to the crowd you thought you had seen something colorful, like the red you saw before. 

Before what?

Wait....how could you forget that?

Your eyes immediately darted to Dotty and saw her seemingly unfazed of what happened prior to the Talent Show. How could she be fine? She didn’t know who you were, how could she not have known who you were?

You turn to Agnes, her eyes narrowing on your figure. 

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You and Wanda won the best magic show award at the Talent Show, you insisted Wanda keep it since it was her act, you had merely assisted her. You and Wanda immediately made plans for you to host that dinner you were talking about months ago, tomorrow. 

Steve congratulated you on a show well done and that if you ever felt the need to get magical in the bedroom he wouldn’t mind being your assistant there either. 

Upon returning home Steve immediately booked it for the shower, claiming that taking care of Vision was no easy feat. You laughed him off and went upstairs to your shared bedroom to get ready for the night. There was no need to cook dinner since you and him ate out. 

You were so tired that you almost didn’t notice the world around you changing colors. 

Or a familiar leather bound notebook on the bed. 

Almost.

After getting used to the newly found colors around you, you immediately opened the notebook noticing how old it was, and in semi faded ink on the first page read. 

“Property of Captain Steven G. Rodgers (Captain America).”