#for the record: every breath you take is a banger and if you want it on your wedding go ahead

[roxannepolice]

Rant 2: So what's their Casablanca, or am I missing something?

It's our Paris is one of those quotes that get a lot of adoration from thoschei community, all the way down to the next writer doubling down on it. And for a good reason. It is arguably the most direct metatextual admission of romantic thoschei, what with the reference to a film that's pretty much synonymous with epic, tragic Hollywood romance: Welcome to the Sticks (Bienvenue chez les Ch'tis), a 2008 French comedy about a postman from Marseilles moved to a small town in the north of France that he initially hates but it turns out to be an excellent getaway from his toxic marriage and he grows to like it there. It has a romantic subplot, I guess????

Yeah, I'm being sarcastic, between an airplane and Eiffel Tower I think it's pretty clear it's meant to be about Casablanca. But that's kinda my problem with the quote. It's not like Casablanca doesn't fit thoschei. A love affair between a jaded bar owner and a woman torn between love and duty, all along with The problems of three little people... don't amount to a hill of beans in this crazy world and suchlike quotes fits them perfectly. A little too perfectly, which is exactly my problem.

Because if the collateral damage is thoschei Paris, then what, pray tell, is their Casablanca?

Like, Casablanca the movie follows a very simple juxtaposition structure: there's the pre-WWII-going-west Paris, where Rick and Lisa are enjoying their relationship away from all the problems of the world, with bubble universe atmosphere being amplified by her refusal to talk about her past, and that's to be juxtaposed with the wartime here and now of Casablanca, where they are both faced with ethical choices of love or duty, and to be or not to be. When Rick says we'll always have Paris, it's to evoke a sweet memory trapped in a perfume bottle that will forever be important for both of them, but cannot be relived in any other way than by telling Sam to play it again. Paris is the lost paradise of this story.

Which fits the thoschei story, especially as framed by Moffat and Chibnall, simply too well! There's their childhood together on Gallifrey, and there's the here and now of their enmity of ages raging across the constellations. Basically, by any standards of using parallel as a poetic device, Gallifrey, our childhood, our home is thoschei Paris, collateral damage is their Casablanca! The use of the comparison the way it was done in the series straight up begs the question, if collateral damage is their Paris, then what the hell is their Casablanca? It's not like the latter city lacks love, passion and tragedy for Rick and Lisa (hello, erect Minaret tower shot), but it's not the sweet experience of blossoming love, it's what it's become when exposed to outside reality.

Idk, idk, this is one of those cases where I fell like either I'm missing something (and as always, I'd love to read other intepreations!) or it's the case of people going by vibe rather than meaning, think playing a stalker song Every Breath You Take on weddings.

What I'm asking is, is the Master consiously twisting a cultural parallel, or will their reintroduction include Fifteen sitting them down to watch the freaking movie because they clearly haven't done their damn homework?

[vapekingg]

“You know I like my girls a little bit older.” — Your Love by The Outfield

February 14th, 1986

Eddie knows exactly how you want to spend your first Valentine’s Day together — in the back of his van with the windows steamed up.

A takeout pizza sits half-eaten and torn apart in the box near a makeshift pallet that you’ve gotten somewhat used to over the past few months. A single floodlight that shines into the front windshield is the only light, and it’s just enough. Just enough to cast Eddie in this dim orange-gold glow that shimmers off of the sweat dripping down his stomach.

He always gets worked over pretty quickly when you’re on top, and tonight you needed it. That control, that stress relief.

You’d told your boss at the record shop that Valentine’s Day would be a banger. It has been since you’d started there at sixteen. But what would you know? He’d scheduled you open to close, all by yourself, no question as to whether or not you might want to spend today with your boyfriend.

“Motherfucker,” Eddie’s moan wavers as his head lulls back against the inner wall of his van.

He’s all soft when it’s like this. All praise and devotion. Eddie’s palms swirl around the globes of your ass gently as you lift your hips up and down. He’s holding you close, your beasts against the warmth of his chest, your clit grinding against the coarse hair beneath his waist, his little grunts and cries and whimpers dying along the column of your throat. They inch up your neck and tickle your ear, urging you to keep going despite the burn in your thighs.

“It’s okay, baby. Just take what you need,” Eddie says between labored breaths when he notices the tremble in your hips.

But what you need is him deeper.

You adjust yourself above him, leaning back on your palms so that he slips further inside of you, the base of his cock widening to stretch you open.

There it is.

“Fuck!” You rasp, your hips jerking forward from sudden sensitivity.

Every rut drives you closer to the edge. Every stroke drags the veins of his thick cock against the walls of your dripping cunt. Sweat slicked palms trace up the curve of your thighs to keep you balanced while you ride, and each inch of your skin grazed is ignited like wildfire.

“That’s it, angel. Look at you,” he grits between clenched teeth. “Thought about this all fucking day…”

It must be killing him, holding back like this.

If it were up to him — and it usually is — you would be bent over the front seat right now. You wouldn’t know your own goddamn name, let alone care.

But you like how he looks when he lets you take control. His eyes half lidded and mouth slightly parted, sweat clinging to the hair framing his pretty face. It made the trembling thighs worth it.

“Did you?” You ask him, not caring so much if he responds but knowing that Eddie just likes to hear you when he’s like this.

“Ffffuck, yeah I did…” he moans, his grip tightening on your hips.

Another rut of your hips and his upward thrust meets yours.

"Eddie—" You cry out.

But he doesn't stop. With every stroke of your waist against his, Eddie is there to meet your ministrations. He's watching you. You can feel his eyes tracing over your flesh even with yours closed. The bounce of your breasts, the ripple of your pillowy stomach, Eddie takes in it all.

"That's right. Say my name, baby." The pink of his tongue lashes out to dart over his thumb before he drags the digit down your center.

The second he starts — the quick, gentle motion of his thumb soon growing frantic — it's the beginning of the end.

The swollen tip of his cock nudges its way to that spot deep inside of you that shuts your brain right off. Only he knows how to find it, and he's so fucking good at finding it. Once there, a salacious grin spreads across Eddie's face.

"Right fucking there, baby." He praises you, hands heavy on your hips, weighing you down so you can't move.

You're stuffed full of him, spread open around his thick length and dripping down the base. The receptors in your brain are firing at all cylinders and you've never felt this fucking euphoric before.

Until he grinds up into you.

Your orgasm hits you all at once, without warning. It washes over your entirety and has you begging him for both more and less simultaneously. And Eddie has never been one to give you less.

He feeds you his cock, thrusting up into your sopping cunt now, the van around you shaking in time with your depravity. It's all happening in passing, at the very back of your mind. All you can focus on is the constellations exploding in your vision as Eddie's pathetic little grunts morph into wanton moans of satisfaction.

A few spent moments later, you can feel your joint release leaking out of you. Eddie lays back on the floor of his van with his hands above his head, skin shimmering with the reflection of drying sweat off of yellow floodlights.

It truly is the perfect Valentine's Day. Now that you can think clearly, maybe your shift wasn't all that bad.

With his eyes still closed, Eddie reaches for the joint he'd left in his pants pocket for safekeeping. He lights it while on his back and takes two deep hits before passing it to you. The radio near the back door plays quietly in the background. You don't know what song is on. Boss had you playing Hounds of Love by Kate Bush all day on repeat.

But Eddie seems to know the tune.

He jerks up in his seat, hand wrapping quickly behind your back so that you aren't knocked off of him.

"Hey!" You shout, trying to keep the ruby red tip of the joint away from his beautiful hair.

"Shush," he slaps the volume dial on the radio, knocking it up more than enough notches. "This song is about us!"

Josie's on a vacation far away, come around and talk it over. So many things that I wanna say.

Eddie strums an air guitar behind your back and his eyes pop open wide as he sing-screams the next lyrics.

"YOU KNOW I LIKE MY GIRLS A LITTLE BIT OLDER!"

Your eyes roll back as you exhale the smoke from your lungs.

He'll never let those six months you were alive before him go.

[shixcherie]

Hit After Hit | Jeong Yunho & Song Mingi.ft Wooyoung ☆

~ ~ call me chérie ☆

Navigation | Kinktober List

☆ Day 18 : Just the tip

↬ [ Synopsis ] : As you're cooped up in stress while working on ATEEZ's title track, your bestie Wooyoung suggests a little game. Yunho and Mingi join in on the fun, helping to take your stress away while you cook up a banger title track for ATEEZ’s comeback.

☆Word Count : 3.8k ☆Genre : Smut, Ansgt, Idol Au. ☆Pairing : Idol! Yunho x Producer! F.Reader x Idol! Mingi ( alil bit of Wooyoung in the beginning)

☆☆☆WARNINGS : Smut, just the tip kink, angst, reader is stressed, work talks, Wooyoung the savior, neck kisses, edging, nipple paly, double penetration, praise, pet names(princess, doll, baby), unprotected sex ( wrap it up babies), Yunho and Mingi share you like a freaking baton rewarding you one after the other.

NOTE : Grinding hard to catchup my loves as my exams had a chokehold on me as I deliver Day 18 to you. Since you guys really loved Damsel In Stress with Yunho and Mingi, I am here with another one for you. Our doll-princess duo are back. Hope you enjoy it ma chéries.

Today marked the worst day of your life. Literally!

After a messed-up coffee order, an extremely heated feedback session with Eden, and the worst creative block ever, all you wanted was to lock yourself in your room and sleep the night away. But, sadly, sleep was the last thing on your long checklist of things to fix in ATEEZ’s new comeback song, and considering that, sleep probably didn’t even exist on that list.

With Hongjoong busy handling other aspects, Eden had entrusted you with the title track this time, and you happily accepted it. Given your track record of producing amazing work in the past, this opportunity was well-deserved.

But being entrusted with ATEEZ’s title song is no easy responsibility, and Eden wasn’t an easy boss to impress. Your creative block had really killed the best of your skills, and everything was off about the piece you presented. Hence, the feedback was fair in every possible way.

With every passing second, your frustration only grew as you scrapped everything the moment you put it down. With a two-day deadline to come up with a completely new, 100% successful piece, the blank slate in front of you didn’t help, and a sob choked out of your lips.

“Fuck!” you screamed, burying your head between your hands as you tried desperately to come up with new beats that would match the track’s vibe.

Suddenly, a pair of hands slipped onto your shoulders, gently massaging, and you felt a calming presence behind you. Of your roommate, Wooyoung.His hands gently massaged your shoulders as he spoke softly, “You’re pushing yourself too hard again, aren’t you?”

You took a deep breath, leaning back in your chair. "I don’t have a choice, Woo. The deadline’s in two days, and nothing’s working. Everything sounds wrong."

He hummed, his hand gently brushing through your hair. "You’re just stuck in your head. Take a break, reset, and come back with fresh ears."

"I can’t," you muttered, biting your lip in frustration. "There’s no time."

Wooyoung leaned closer, his breath warm against your ear. "There’s time for a little distraction. San and Yunho are coming over—movie night?" His voice was teasing but gentle.

You sighed. "I really shouldn’t, Woo—" Your mind felt too cluttered to even finish.

"Exactly why you should." He grinned, still massaging your shoulders. "Come on, we’ll make popcorn, watch something ridiculous, and you’ll feel better. Trust me."

You glanced at the screen, hesitation creeping in. "But the comeback... I can’t let the team down. Especially not with the title track."

Wooyoung paused, squeezing your shoulders. "You won’t. Eden trusts you, we trust you, and you should trust yourself too."

"But what if I mess it up? What if it’s not good enough?" you asked, doubt in your voice.

He smiled. "You’ve never let us down, even when you think you’re off. That’s why Eden gave you the title track. He knows you can do it, and so do I."

His words slowly eased the weight on your chest, and you exhaled.

“Look,” Wooyoung continued, “San , Mingi and Yunho will be here soon. We’ll watch something fun, reset, and tomorrow, you’ll crush it. I know you will.”

You chuckled softly. "Okay… but just for a little while."

Wooyoung lit up, placing a quick kiss on your cheek before eagerly pulling you up from the chair. "Let’s go!" he exclaimed, already dragging you toward the living room with excitement.

The movie truly turned out to be ridiculous. San passed out on the couch with his arm loosely draped over your shoulder, while Yunho and Mingi struggled to keep their eyes open on either side of you, and Wooyoung trying his hardest to endure the boring film. But the time away from the screen did clear your mind, a few fresh ideas began to emerge, and you weren’t feeling stuck anymore.

Carefully, getting your head off Woo’s shoulder and moving San’s hand off, you got up from between Wooyoung and Yunho, tiptoeing to your room.

Let’s finish this fucking piece already.

You felt motivated. But just for a while I guess as that motivation faded away into the night. Real soon.

As 30 minutes passed by, you found yourself back at square one, the blank slate laughing at you, mocking you through the screen. The fresh ideas you had turned out to be useless as you chewed on your lower lip in frustration.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn’t notice the faint sound of your bedroom door opening and closing as three figures entered.

A tap on you shoulder had you jump out off your chair as Wooyoung, Yunho and Mingi stared at you. All three of them exchanged a knowing look between the three of them. Yunho was the first one to break silence, “Can we help you in anyway, pretty girl ?”

“I don’t know if even God could help me out of this fucking situation,” you cried, not literally. It was more like a cry for help as a pout formed on your lips. You needed something-anything- to focus, a gentle push in the right direction and distraction to take your mind of the looming deadline. That’s when Wooyoung chimed in with the most bizarre idea.

A year ago, when you joined KQ, you were one of ATEEZ's biggest fans, running a full-fledged fan page dedicated to them. Your life had taken a complete 180 when a mix of one of their songs caught Eden's attention, leading him to call you and offer you a small project. Two years later, you found yourself working on some of ATEEZ's biggest projects, becoming close friends with the boys and even sharing a flat with Wooyoung. It was a “just friends” vibe, filled with occasional flirting and playful touches, but nothing more… until now.

“We thought it might be fun to turn this into a little… game,” Wooyoung said, taking your laptop off the table and walked toward the bed. Your brow arched in curiosity as you glanced betwween Yunho and Mingi, who met your gaze with a smirk,their eyes shining with mischief. Yunho guided you to the bed, and Mingi followed behind you, a sleepy grin on his face.

Your mind was a mush of nervousness and excitement as you were excited as well to see where everything’s gonna go. Yunho freed himself of his clothes as he settled comfortably on the bed, tapping his lap invitingly. Wooyoung positioned himself to Yunho's right, while Mingi took his place on the left, creating a cozy but spicy atmosphere.

Confusion swirled within you, and although your mind urged you to stop, your body betrayed you. A shiver ran down your spine as Yunho’s hands began unbuttoning your night shirt, leaving a trail of goosebumps whenever his fingertips playfully touched the front your chest.

“What’s running through your guys’ minds, huh?” you asked, your voice a mix of confusion and excitement, trying to shift off Yunho's lap. But he was quick to hold you in place, keeping you steady as Wooyoung knelt beside you, leaning in close as the mattress dipping beneath his weight.

“We thought you could use a little thrust after every progress you make on the mix,” Wooyoung explained, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “But you won’t be fully rewarded until you finish the song. Just the tip, baby. Ok ?” His voice was low and teasing, his warm breath brushing against your lips.

His lips, so close to yours, were impossible to resist. Your gaze flicked to them, and without missing a beat, Wooyoung captured your mouth in a hot, wet kiss, his hand firm on your jaw as you eagerly reciprocated. The kiss was brief but intense, leaving you flushed and breathless as he pulled away.

With a smirk, Wooyoung wiped the corner of his mouth and said, “I’ll leave the big boys to take care of you. Fighting, babe. You can finish this.” His voice held a playful encouragement as he slipped off the bed, making his way toward the door.

“But Woo… won’t you stay?” you asked, your lips still tingling from the kiss, eyes wide with anticipation.

“I really want to babe..but there is a kitten in the living room waiting for me.” Wooyoung shot you a cheeky grin, refering to our sleepy kitten, San who had dozed off earlier and with that he ran out the room leaving you with the big boys.

Yunho at this point had fully freed you off you clothes, which you only realised after cold air brushed against your naked form. Both Yunho and Mingi fully naked, sprawled on the the bed with you in between along with your tiny laptop.

All of this was happening a lil too quickly for you to make sense of it.The whole situation felt surreal, like a dream.Anyhow, whatever gets you to finish up the song track, i guess.

You settled into the rhythm of the game, your heart racing as you got started on the brass section, the boys providing just the distraction you needed to refocus. Yunho’s warm breath on your neck, his hands resting on your waist, and his body pressed up against yours radiated comforting warmth. Mingi sat beside you, his eyes gleaming with mischief as his large hands rubbed your soft thighs, occasionally squeezing them.

“You’ve got this, princess,” Yunho murmured against your ear, his lips brushing lightly against your skin as his hands slid lower, teasingly close but not quite enough to stop you from working.

You focused on the laptop, your fingers moving over the keys as you adjusted the mix. The brass section slowly began to take shape, but every shift of Yunho’s hips beneath you sent a shiver up your spine. It was hard to stay grounded in the music, especially when his hands tightened around you while Mingi’s fingers worked magic on your thighs.

“Work hard, doll. Finish it while we take care of you,” Mingi’s deep voice rumbled through you, sending another wave of heat to your core. Only you knew the struggle of resisting the urge to toss the laptop aside and give in to them completely.

The moment you hit “save,” completing the brass section, Yunho’s lips curled into a smirk. His hands pulled you closer against him, and his hips lifted slightly.

“First thrust, princess. Ready?” he whispered, his voice a low tease. He gave you a single, slow thrust, not fully bottoming out, just enough to make your breath hitch. A soft gasp escaped your lips, and your body instinctively arched into him as warmth spread through you. He held you close, placing a tender kiss on your cheek. “That’s your reward, princess.”

After a moment, he pulled out completely, leaving you whimpering at the sudden loss of fullness. With a smirk, he handed you over to Mingi like a baton in a relay race, ready for the chorus section.

You moved over to Mingi’s lap, the switch smooth but leaving you feeling light-headed and NO!, its not just from the work. His large, warm hands settled possessively around your hips, adjusting you on top of him with a firm grip. Yunho moved to your side, still within reach, his fingers brushing your arm left goosebumps in their wake.

Mingi’s lips ghosted over your shoulder, kissing the tattoo behind it as you began working on the chorus. And just like how the chorus elevates a song, Mingi took things up a level, rubbing the tip of his long, thick cock against your slippery folds.

“This is torture, you know.” you muttered, eyes never leaving the screen, feeling Mingi smile against your shoulder. The friction between your cunt and his cock created a delicious rhythm, pushing you dangerously close to the edge.

“Whatever keeps you working, princess,” Yunho teased, stealing a quick kiss that made you smile. His hand moved to Mingi's cock, applying just enough pressure to push the tip into your aching hole. You gasped audibly, blinking a couple of times, but Mingi pulled away before you could fully give in.

Mingi chuckled, the deep sound vibrating against your back, sending shivers through you. Yunho’s teasing and encouraging touches kept you on the edge, but they somehow helped you wrap up the chorus section.

The boys hummed in unison, approving the direction the song was going, giving you hope that you might actually finish it.

As you saved the chorus section, Mingi rewarded you with his first proper thrust. His hips moved slowly and deliberately, though he didn’t bottom out, stretching you just enough to make you feel the burn.A moan finally escaped your lips as your walls welcomed him in, your fingers gripping the laptop. The mix was saved, but your focus shattered.

“You’re so perfect, doll. In every fucking way.” Mingi murmured, his deep voice like velvet in your ear. “This title track’s gonna be a banger.” he added, as Yunho nodded with a genuine smile.

If only you got this kind of encouragement for every single project.You’d be unstoppable.

Next, lets add the drums.

This time you ended up between both of them. As your worked on the next section, Yunho hands made way down south as he found you aching clit, pinching it which had your hands tremble on the keyword from the intense sensation. A low gasp left your lips, but your refocused.

Mingi’s hands wiped the sweat the trickled on your forehead which was kinda ironic given the air condition was at it lowest. Moving a few stands of hairs away from your face his hand found your tatoo again. Guess he had found a new love for it as his hands traced softly on the tatoo.

As you added beats after beats in the drums section, Yunho’s fingers also moved with intensity, matching the beats somehow. His fingers (add something here)

While Mingi’s attention stayed on your tatoo, his one hand busy tracing, his other hand found you boobs. Cupped the left one, he gently squeezed it as you shuddered at the sudden attention there. His long fingers pinched you nipples as the intensity matched with Yunho intense rubs on your dripping cunt but he did not enter you, yet.

Finally you finished the drums section and were ready to earn your rewards and the boys were eager to give. Your gazed flicked, trying to make a decision. Technically you should go with Yunho to play fair but Mingi attracted you equally. So you decided to go with both as you settle in between them, with Yunho below you and Mingi on top of you. Their huge cocks, entered your both holes, stretching them deliciously as your toes curled, a loud moan escaped your lips while the two boys groaned. Not fully bottom out, just stretching you deliciously and after a while they pull out.

You sit up, eyes hazy from the beautiful sensation you just experienced. You needed that more. And not just teasing you wanted them to fuck your properly.

Your eyes burned with fire as you dramatically stretched you hands to bang out the second chorus and final touches, wanting to wrap it up for once and all. The boys chuckled at your antics but were equally impressed as the song fiinally taking shape amazingly.

This time, you sat between both of them. As you worked on the next section, Yunho’s hands traveled down south, finding your aching clit. He pinched it gently, sending tremors through your body and causing your fingers to tremble on the keyboard from the intense sensation. A low moan escaped your lips, but you forced yourself to refocus.

Mingi’s hand brushed the sweat trickling down your forehead, which felt ironic given that the air conditioning was set to its lowest. He moved a few strands of hair away from your face, his fingers tracing your tattoo once more. It seemed he had developed a newfound affection for it ashe softly traced the inky piece.

With each beat you added to the drum section, Yunho’s fingers moved with increasing intensity, matching the rhythm somehow. He pressed down firmly on your clit, his fingers dancing and teasing, heightening the sensations building within you.

While Mingi's attention remained on your tattoo, one hand tracing it gently, the other found your breast. He cupped your left one, squeezing it gently as you shuddered from the sudden attention. His long fingers pinched your nipple, the intensity aligning perfectly with Yunho's passionate rubs on your dripping cunt, but neither of his fingers fully entered you,yet.

Finally, you finished the drum section and were ready to earn your rewards, and the boys were eager to give.

Your gaze flicked back and forth, trying to make a decision. Technically, you should go with Yunho to play fair, but Mingi attracted you just as much.

So you chose both of them.

You settled in between them, with Yunho below you and Mingi above. Their huge cocks entered both your holes, stretching you deliciously as your toes curled and a loud moan escaped your lips, ripping out groans from both the boys. They didn’t fully bottom out, just stretching you exquisitely, and after a while, they pulled out.

You sat up, eyes hazy from the beautiful sensations you had just experienced. You craved more. Not just teasing, you wanted them the whole experience, you wanted them to fuck you properly.

Your eyes burned with determination as you dramatically stretched your hands to bang out the second chorus and final touches, wanting to wrap it up once and for all. The boys chuckled at your antics, but they were equally impressed as the song finally took shape beautifully. It had the Ateez vibe. Almost.

Lets go!

The second chorus part wrapped up in a swoosh as the boys exchanged amazed looks, seeing you fully in the zone. Your fingers quickly worked on the keyboard, layering and layering more and more, bringing the whole piece together. Everything was aligning perfectly as hope surged inside you; the piece turned out beautifully. You were fully confident now that Eden would be so proud and satisfied once he listened to this.

Wrapping up the chorus and adding final touches to the track, you looked at the boys, your eyes requesting them to keep working and finish it out. They both chuckled as they let you continue.

A smile adorned Mingi’s face, his eyes holding adoration for you and your determination. He remembered the first day he saw you in the KQ building when Eden brought you in, and now seeing your work on your title track made him so happy. He had always found you cute and wondered if you were single or not.

Yunho’s mind also ran a reel of memories where you celebrated with them after every one of their comebacks. Your smile had imprinted in his mind, and your laughter rang in his ears. How amazing those times were, he thought, as he eagerly waited for this comeback to become a banger so you could join them again.

“Done!!!” you shouted, your hands up in the air. Your scream pulled them out of their thoughts. “Wanna listen?” you asked, eagerly waiting for them to say yes.

After they finished listening, they were truly in awe of how your little head could come up with such amazing stuff and also proud that you could bang out the whole track in one single night.

“Now shall we return to what we left unfinished?” Yunho asked, his eyes playfully narrowed at you, awaiting your approval. You nodded eagerly.

With that, not wasting a single second, Mingi captured your lips.

Mingi’s lips were warm against yours, sending a jolt of electricity through your body. You melted into the kiss, feeling the weight of the night’s hard work slip away as the tension in the air shifted to something much more intimate. His big hands held your face, deepening the kiss as he pulled you closer. You could feel Yunho’s gaze on you, a mix of hunger and amusement in his eyes as he watched the two of you.

“Careful there, Mingi,” Yunho teased, his voice a low growl. “Don’t make her forget all the hard work she just did.”

Mingi chuckled against your lips, the sound vibrating through you and making you smile. “Oh, I think she’ll remember, especially when I’m done with her.”

Breaking the kiss, Mingi leaned back slightly to meet your eyes, “You ready for round two?” he asked, his voice laced with lust.

You bit your lip, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “More than ready,” you admitted, glancing at Yunho, who looked like he was holding back a smile.

“That’s like my pretty doll.” he said, moving closer.

With that, Mingi shifted you to the side, allowing Yunho to slide behind you. You settled back against him, feeling the warmth of his body envelop you. His hands found your waist, guiding you as he leaned in to kiss your neck, sending shivers down your spine.

Mingi wasted no time as he gave his cock a few storkes before he lined himself against your dripping entrance. He slowly pushed himself inside, stretching your delicoulsy again and he leaned in to capture your lips again. Yunho’s hands guided your hips to his throbbing cock, gently lining himself at your asshole he filled you in as well.

“Let’s see how well you can multitask with both of us filling you, princess.” Yunho whispered against your ear, his breath warm and inviting.

With Mingi's steady thrusts and Yunho's rhythmic movements, you felt the world around you begin to fade away. Every stroke sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, your body caught in a delicious rhythm between the two of them. Mingi's kisses grew more intense, igniting a fire within you, while Yunho's fingers gripped your waist, guiding you to meet their thrusts as you became lost in the sensations.

“You are taking us so well, doll,” Mingi murmured against your lips, his breath hot and heavy.

You moaned in response, unable to form words as pleasure built within you, the tension in your core tightening with each thrust and all the teasing you had endured the whole night. Yunho's voice in your ear only intensified the pleasure. “Come for us, princess. You deserve it after that whole night of work.”

The way they filled you was intoxicating, each movement pushing you closer to the edge. You could feel the warmth pooling deep inside you, a sweet release that was just within reach.

With every thrust, every kiss, every word that left their lips you were pushed closer to the edge, making your heart race.

Finally, with a few more deep thrusts and the sound of Mingi's low growls mingling with Yunho's soft whispers, the tension inside you snapped. You cried out, your body trembling as waves of pleasure washed over you, leaving you breathless.

“I’m—oh my god,Ugh this feels heavenly.” you gasped, the world filled with bliss as you felt them both gently pull out of you, as they found their own release and covered you stomach and back with white ribbons of hot cum.

As you recovered from the release, Wooyoung barged in, his hair and face a mess, proof of the wild night he had with San in the living room. His eyes were already closed, as if he assumed you’d be in some intimate position. “Want an early morning snack, guys?” he asked. Your eyes flicked to the clock, it was 5 AM in the morning.

Wow! That was a long-ass session.

“Yes, please. I am starving,” you replied dramatically, earning a chuckle from both Yunho and Mingi as you all dressed and made your way outside the room to the kitchen.

Later that day, you found yourself standing in front of Eden, your heart racing as you handed over the final piece. The anticipation was almost unbearable as you watched him, his expression unreadable while he listened carefully.

Finally, as the track came to an end, Eden leaned back in his chair, a small but approving smile tugging at the corners of his lips. “This is solid work. This will be on the album for sure.” he said, his voice carrying the praise you had been waiting for. And just like that, relief and pride washed over you. All the hard work, the sleepless night, it was worth it.

You couldn’t help but grin, the weight of the project finally lifting off your shoulders.

Gotta thank Wooyoungie and the boys for being such good focus buddies.

~ ~ Chérie ☆ signin’ off

Disclaimer : This is totally fictional and not a real depiction of the ATEEZ members. It's all just for fun only so please don’t take anything seriously and keep the mood light around here.

© ShixCherie.

[audiodramayearbook]

A compiled list of all the polls!

This will be updated as new categories go live.

Show that is begging the world to please stop making their fictional torment nexuses a reality. (AKA the Stop One-Upping Us Amazon Challenge award)

Listening to this show is cheaper than therapy.

Fuck I missed an important thing because I was listening to this show. (AKA the Do Not Listen While Driving award)

Best show a listener might not like at first, but really picks up to be something special after you give it more then three episodes and leaves you wanting more.

They warned us about this show but we didn't listen and now everything hurts.

I listened to the whole thing and still have no idea what’s going on. (AKA the It's Been A Wild Ride award)

Character most fully unaware of the genre they’re in.

Please just let us take them home and feed them soup (aka the Wet Cat Award)

The character that left us too soon.

The character that didn't leave us soon enough.

We hate them, but love every second they’re on air.

This character is entirely too pure for the show they're in (aka the Cinnamon Roll Award)

The most character of all time.

Actor most likely to jump-scare the listener (aka the Wait, they’re in this too??? award)

Look, all we want to know is when do they breathe. (aka the Pacing And Lung Capacity Award)

The actor whose voice wraps us up in a warm blanket.

If this actor was wearing pants, they acted them off. (aka the Scenery Chewing Award)

We heard their voice exactly once and immediately started daydreaming about who we wanted to hear them play (aka The Fan Casting Award)

Best blink-and-you'll-miss-it cameo

What do you mean it’s not punny? (aka the Highest Form of Humor Award)

Most likely to have detailed notes for expansive worldbuilding & backstory that doesn't appear on screen (aka the There's More Lore Than Script Award)

Writing this show is cheaper than therapy

Writer most likely to be lovingly bullied by their actors & fans.

Best made up word(s) even the writer can’t pronounce correctly (aka the Yes, But is It A Conlang Award)

Enemies-to-Lovers arc but it's you and this show's writer.

Is this a stock sound or custom foley????? (aka the We Do Not Deserve the Priceless Treasure That Is A Good Editor Award)

Longest credit sequence (aka the Award for Most Times Looping The Outro Music)

Most likely to make you say “Wait, This Wasn’t Recorded Live, In Person???” (aka the It’s Like I’m There Award)

Creator of the most artfully-awful misaphonic nightmare. (aka the Oh God It Squishes Award)

This soundtrack is a banger. ( aka the That's What the Kids Say, Right? Award)

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

And remember, any and all shows that released an episode in 2023 can be submitted to the Yearbook! Do that here!

[lyinginahammock]

DC - The Reigning King of TV Superhero Animation

Let’s get this out of the way - on September 7, 1992, DC won the battle for TV superhero animation for all time with the premiere of the Batman: The Animated Series season 1, episode 14, “Heart of Ice”. The heartbreaking tale of Mr. Freeze’s origin, it won a Daytime Emmy for Outstanding Writing in an Animated Program. Honestly, if nothing DC every put on broadcast TV ever again was any good, this episode would still be talked about as one of the greatest pieces of animated TV ever. 

But instead of resting on their laurels, DC decided to keep kicking ass. “Beware The Grey Ghost,” “Almost Got ‘Im”, “Trial”, “Mad Love”, “Growing Pains”, “Over the Edge”, “Old Wounds” - all amazing episodes of animated television from Batman: The Animated Series and The New Batman Adventures. 

Then, in 1999, DC decided to go for (and pull off) a Batman hat trick with the debut of Batman Beyond, a series originally designed to sell toys that the writers decided to make kick ass. But still, it eventually had to come to an end, and Marvel breathed a sigh of relief. 

Until November 7, 2001, when DC dropkicked them with the premiere of The Justice League, which transitioned into Justice League Unlimited with grace and style and was similarly amazing, but appeared to end that run of successes. 

At the same time, DC released the series that sealed their eternal victory and proved them the king of superhero animations - Teen Titans. An anime-infused take on the superhero team of the same name, it featured DC’s trademark complicated storytelling and ran for five years, followed by a pretty good movie. And the theme song fucking slapped, both in English and Japanese.

Also running concurrently was The Batman, another interesting take on the caped crusader which reimagined the origins and appearances of his rogues gallery and had some absolutely heartbreaking twists and turns.

After that came Batman: The Brave and the Bold. I’ll die on this fucking hill - the show is better than people online give it credit for. It focused on the campy elements of comic books of yore, but also gave us the amazing episode “Chill of the Night!”, an examination of what it means to be the Batman.

Then came Young Justice, a wholly original take on a number of DC heroes and villains and marked the TV premier of fucking Superboy. The first season is, in my mind, damn near perfect.

Of course, you have stuff like Teen Titans Go! but that isn't conducive to my point, so I'm ignoring it.

Finally, we get to the present day with programming like The Harley Quinn Show and My Adventures With Superman, the former of which has gained a strong fan base and the latter of which shows amazing potential.

So, why does DC's animation devision have so many absolute fucking bangers under its belt while Marvel doesn't have nearly the same track record? Well, I have a theory.

Marvel hit it big with the MCU and thus have a sort of cannon and, as such, the characterization of their characters has to be pretty consistent across mediums, even animation. DC, however, doesn't have anything like that and can reimagine their characters any way they want. That and their animation department has been kicking ass so long they've proven that, left to their own devices, they'll pump out quality material.

So, yeah.

[cynicalone94]

Ch. 12 Outside Income

When Intelligence gets pulled in to solve a case that another unit can't seem to close, evidence quickly begins to suggest that the gang they're investigating has man on the inside. But what shouldn't be a big deal, Intelligence is known for rooting out corruption, quickly becomes a very big deal when something goes very, very wrong.

Read on AO3 here.

Her partner is sleeping.

That much isn’t new. It feels like Jay hasn’t done anything but sleep for the last week and a half.

The good part is that he’s finally sleeping in his own bed.

There’s still an oxygen concentrator sitting in the corner, a cannula situated under his nose. It’s expected to be there for a while as his lungs continue to heal but they are healing.

Only time will tell if he’ll heal enough to resume the high intensity job that he loves but at least now they know that he won’t be confined to a hospital bed for the rest of his life.

It’s still hard to listen to him breathe, every breath labored and sluggish but it’s getting better.

Things are looking up, looking better all the time.

“I can hear you thinking from over here.” Jay rasps tiredly, eyes still closed.

“Sorry partner.” she says with a wry smile. “I’ll go think somewhere else.”

“And keep not sleeping?” he asks. “Come over here.”

“Jay.” she cautions.

“Just to sleep.” he says. “Not trying to make a move on you. But I know you haven’t been sleeping well. Just come lie down where you can hear that I’m still breathing and get some sleep.”

“You think listening to you breathe like that is gonna put my mind at ease?” she asks with a smirk.

It doesn’t stop her from walking toward the bed, toeing out of her shoes and then climbing up next to him.

“No better lullaby out there.” he mutters.

“You’re an idiot.” she tells him even as she rests her head on the pillow.

“And yet you’ve been standing there watching me sleep for at least forty five minutes.” he counters.

“Well yeah.” she says. “Cause you’re my idiot. Now go back to sleep.”

He still hasn’t opened his eyes but he offers her a tired grin, settling deeper into his pillow.

Within seconds he’s back asleep and she returns the smile, stroking her fingers through his hair and then settles herself onto the pillow.

Soon enough she’s off to sleep herself.

He makes it out to the couch the next afternoon, watching a game on the television while Hailey mills around in the kitchen, handling his meds and trying to put together something for him to eat.

Will is coming over after work to spend the night and she’s probably going to go home. Take care of some things around her apartment, maybe sleep in her own bed for once.

Though apparently she sleeps easier with Jay nearby, when she can hear that he’s still alive, still breathing.

“Hailey?” Jay calls out.

“Yeah?” she asks, racing into the other room. “What’s up? You okay?”

“I’m fine.” he assures her. “I’m sorry, I’m fine. Just… Did you guys figure out who the mole was?”

Hailey’s breath catches.

So this is it. The conversation she’d wanted so desperately to avoid is here.

“Yeah.” she says, sitting next to him. “We did.”

“It was Marston, wasn’t it.”

He’s not really asking and she sighs.

“Yeah.” she confirms. “It was. Jay, I’m sorry.”

“Why did he do it?” he asks. “Why does a guy like that, with a record like his, jump in bed with drug dealing gang bangers?”

“I’m not going to lie.” she says, reaching over to put a hand on his forearm. “I’d rather not answer that question.”

He lets out a long breath.

“Hailey.”

“He needed the extra money to pay for his dad’s cancer treatments.” she tells him. “He started looking the other way, giving them heads up on things. But they just kept asking for more and more and soon he was in too deep to say no.”

“And when we stole their drugs…”

“They told him he was going to help them get their drugs back.” she fills in.

“So he set me up?” Jay says, looking down.

“He says he tried to fight back.” she says. “That he argued against it, only agreed when they promised the cop they took wouldn’t be hurt but…”

“No way he didn’t know they were lying.” he says. “He was in too deep. Couldn’t tell them no without getting killed. Couldn’t get out of following through without admitting to what he’d done. So he handed me over.”

“Yeah.” she agrees. “He did. I’m sorry, Jay. I wish there was something that I could say that would make this better but… everything about it sucks. It sucks that you were taken, it sucks that they burned you like they did, it sucks that you were exposed to that gas, it sucks how much pain you’ve been in ever since. And it sucks ass that another cop willingly played a roll in it.”

He looks up at her, still pale face showing exactly as much heartbreak as she’d expected.

“I can offer you one small tidbit.” she says. “Voight chewed him up and spit him out like a pack of the shittiest bubble gum out there.”

He tries to smile but he can’t quite fake it and she lets her hand slide down over his.

“I’m sorry, Jay.” she repeats.

[jodilin65]

SUNDAY, JANUARY 31, 1999 Unbelievable! After all I ate yesterday, I still woke up at 109 pounds. Maybe a big part of why I haven’t been over 110 in a while is because I’ve been quite regular for a while now. Until today. I’ll have to have some bean soup!

Paula left a message asking me to call her back. She sounded like she was in a good mood, too. I guess I’ll go see if I can catch her now while Tom’s taking his nap.

Later…

Luckily, I’m still keeping my record of being regular. I just took a dump.

I called Paula too, and got a message saying, “If you need to get a hold of me, call me at…” So, I called the number. It was her friend Carmen’s, although she answered. She said she was doing laundry over there. She’s also moving again for the millionth time. She and Fran must hold the records for moving the most often! And they both have phones on and off. She’s gonna lose her phone again for a while, I guess, cuz she ran up a big bill. She gave me her PO Box address which she says she’ll have for quite a while cuz of her SS checks (she goes to it every other day). That’s smart. That’s what I should’ve done; gotten a PO Box since I was moving a lot myself. Not nearly as much as her, though!

My allergies are going spastic on me today! I don’t want to deal with them anymore, so I threw my nose clips on. Can’t they fucking go off when I can afford to take a Benadryl?! I can’t be taking a Benadryl in the middle of my day when I have an appointment the next day. It probably wouldn’t throw off my schedule, but I can’t be taking chances. On the other hand, this is a pretty bad allergy attack. The kind that goes on all day. So I may say fuck it and take a Benadryl.

Later…

I just broke down and took a Benadryl. If it fucks my schedule up, it fucks it up. I’m hoping this will be one of those times where it doesn’t knock me out, but right! That’s not the way life works. It’ll knock me out cuz I don’t want it to. If I didn’t care or wanted it to, it might or might not knock me out.

Anyway, Paula says she’s moving cuz her neighbor’s nosy in one breath, and in the next breath, she says she’s moving cuz of that married guy she’s seeing. She’s moving to Main St. in W. Springfield. She says she’s also leaving for Florida on Tuesday and will be gone till the 17th. Her father lives down there. She still says she’s gonna leave Justin with his father and come out here this summer, but we’ll see.

Tom pulled out the old, big washer for hopefully the last time. I washed the comforter I bought and will use that and the one Dureen sent till we move. Then when we move, we’ll have a full-size washer and dryer and I can wash them easily whenever they need it.

Another unbelievable thing is that not once during the weekend so far, did I hear or see a freeloader next door. The bitch must’ve taken off for the weekend, although we’re just entering their PT, so we’ll see. I don’t have a bad vibe, though. I doubt there’ll be a Superbowl scene like last year. You never do know, though, if a white car with little kids in it may pull in at any second and hop out to play ball and talk like everybody’s fucking deaf! It’s nice to know that there are only five hours left of light.

I thought the Super Bowl weekend would bring out lots of bangers, but nope. It’s been pretty good lately. The Super Bowl doesn’t start till 3:00 or 4:00, though. Gloria’s to be singing at it cuz it’s in Miami. I hate sports, though. Gymnastics and skating, I like, but I hate TV in general, cuz it only consists of three things - sports, reruns, and sad news. I still tape movies on the commercial-free channels whenever they have something new every few months or so. I also watch shows about crime cases periodically, too.

Later…

Wow. We got all the way to nearly 3:00 and there’s still not a sight or sound from next door. I can’t believe they’ve been this non-existent during a weekend I was on days.

I’ve been trying to fight off sleep by having two cups of regular coffee and keeping busy, but I’m still pretty woozy. As long as I don’t lay down, except to have our predictable sex when I get Tom up from his nap at 3:00, I should be OK. Just drowsy. My allergies have improved, but not entirely. I still sneeze here and there.

Later…

All weekend long neither of us saw or heard anything next door. However, there is a light on next door now, and I’ve never known her to leave lights on when she goes out, so I’ll check at about 9:00 or so, her typical weekday bedtime, to see if the lights go out. That’ll tell me if someone’s there unless she got the living room light rigged on a timer recently. If she’s been there all weekend, I’d be truly and utterly stunned. How could this bitch, of all people, stay home all weekend? And stay home with no company? She must be really sick in there, but I don’t know. That doesn’t seem like enough of an excuse to stop her from having company and besides, if she were that sick, wouldn’t her cronies be over there nursing her back to health? Maybe she did get contiguously sick, got a touch of consideration for others, and decided to keep people away. Or maybe she fucked over the people she knows one too many times and they got fed up with her.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 30, 1999 Let me describe the toys I got yesterday. There are three different vibrators.

There’s a microvibe that’s really small. About the size of a tube of lipstick. It only takes one AAA battery (the others take two AA) and as cute as it is, I don’t see how the hell it could get me off. Not unless I was really horny.

The one that’s supposed to simulate oral sex doesn’t feel anything like oral sex and is more of a nuisance that’s not worth it. You have to hold the thing in place, too. I like to have my hands free. I’ll use the vibrator part of it, though, which has got a so-so kick. More kick than the micro vibe. I have it in the bathroom for if I get horny while Tom’s asleep.

The one with the most kick is in the bedroom.

The pleasure panty is great. It’s a red vinyl G-string that has a pocket in its crotch for inserting the vibrator and it really holds it in place.

I’m not a video fan, so I left that for Tom to check out.

Tom’s working this morning as part of the end-of-the-month thing where they all go in on a Saturday. He said he should be home around 2:00. Prime freeloader time (PNT). Although the freeloader’s peak time is from about noon till sundown. Oh, there’s some door slamming and yelling after dark, but only for a few minutes. When it’s light out, there’s room for more activity - even longer bouts of yelling, more door slamming, and ball games. I know how these sick fucks operate. Whether or not there’s a Super Bowl commotion, they’re not done paying us back for the roofing noise, so there’ll be ball playing either today and tomorrow or definitely at least one of these days. They’re not gonna let a weekend go by where we don’t hear from them for quite a while. I know these people, like I said, but their hear-me-too scenes better not include music.

Later…

So far, the only activity at the freeloaders is that they’re having their yard done right now by the people who usually do their yard. Why the fuck are they doing their yard in January? They have Bermuda grass too.

The white car should be showing up anytime now.

Later…

Holy shit. It’s already 3:00, yet no cars have been next door. They’ll make up for this quiet time. Trust me.

I guess we’re gonna screw around later. Or tomorrow. Whichever he chooses. I told him to decide and I’d go along with it, but I don’t want to. I just don’t want to. I’m sick of sex with him and I totally prefer the vibrators. They do everything I like/want and they’re available whenever I want them. They don’t get sick, tired, or make excuses.

How do I tell this to Tom, though? How do I tell him how I feel? I just can’t bring myself to. Maybe a big reason why I can’t bring myself to discuss this with him is knowing how he’ll feel about it. It won’t faze him. He won’t care, and he may even get off on it deep down. He’d never do anything to try to spice things up, and I know him. If he did, it’d only be for a week or two, then it’d be right back to the usual. He just has to control the sex. He has to make sure he doesn’t cum and make sure we do it part-time just so he can be in control, although there are some things that are out of his control. That is out of our control, like my sleep schedule and his work schedule, for example. It’s not that I have a problem with him not cumming and us doing it part-time, it’s that I have a problem with his controlling things and with the damn predictability of it all. Almost every time we get into bed to screw, I know what’s gonna happen. There are no surprises. It’s a bore. I get him hard either by hand or by him rubbing against me, he goes in there lying on his side, then he goes in there from on top, then he pulls out without cumming. Maybe another reason I don’t tell him how I feel is cuz I want him to be happy. His ways obviously make him happy or else he’d have tried to change them a long time ago. So, although I’m tired of the same old routine and predictability, I don’t want to bitch to him about ways that he enjoys, will not and cannot change, when I have the vibrators to supplement me very nicely.

I woke up at 109 pounds today and yesterday, but if I don’t wake up over 110 tomorrow, it’ll be a true miracle. I haven’t been over 110 in a while, but I will be for damn sure! (I weigh myself when I get up) They gave everybody treats at work, so I ate several of the little candy bars Tom brought home. I had to have had an easy 2000 calories today. Maybe I’ll take a water pill tomorrow to kind of compensate.

Tom says my lips and the area around them look thinner, but I haven’t noticed.

I wrote letters to Tammy and Paula using the papers with different pictures bordering the tops. These were the pages I was originally gonna use for printing out journal stuff. So, I’ll be using some for Tammy, some for Paula, and some for the freeloaders but unfortunately, none for Andy since I know he’s not going back east. I told him so in a message too. He’s not gonna give up his house and this weather.

I believe that deep down, Andy doesn’t want David cuz of his age. He’s in his 40s. Andy likes boys, not men. He likes college kids. And druggies. David just drinks. Andy would never admit it, but he wants a pothead just like himself. So, if you do pot, cigarettes, and are skinny and youthful-looking, you can be with Andy. Andy doesn’t want a decent man. He wants a drugged-up unstable boy who lives on the edge.

Evie told me news that I expected to get sooner or later and that did not make my day and it only reinforced my hatred towards God. Pam got Jennifer back. I knew she would. Thanks, God. Thanks a real lot, God. You’re such a terrific, empathetic God, who has nothing but love and fairness in his heart, huh? You want to do the right thing, don’t you?

Well, if there even is a God, he sure doesn’t care to win over my love, trust, respect, and faith. And Tom said not in a million years would she get her back. Ha! I knew she would. If they took her away 20 times, then that’s 20 times they’d give her right back.

God, I hate God! I have absolutely no respect for God. I have no faith in him, and I hate his guts. His ways are sick, cruel, and totally wrong. I know he’s gonna punish me for swearing at him and for saying mean things about him, but you know what? I don’t care!

Later…

I can’t believe it’s coming up on 6:30 and not one car has been seen/heard next door. I wonder if the bitch is even there. Did she get sick and tell people to stay away so they wouldn’t get sick too? Nah. She wouldn’t be that considerate. Does this mean they’ll make up for this peace and quiet tomorrow?

Later…

I can tell exactly why it’s been quiet all day. Cuz no one’s there. Now that the sun had set enough, I went and looked, and the living room lights were off. But when did she leave?

FRIDAY, JANUARY 29, 1999 I guess Melanie will be calling me to remind me of our appointment on Monday.

I can’t believe how fast these teeth move! They don’t overlap anymore, and from the looks of it, only one tooth is still out of place. Are these things really going to need to be on till December? And aren’t the top ones due to come off soon? I’ll have to ask her.

I lost four nails this morning while doing housework. I took off the comforter that I bought when we got this bed, which is going to be washed this weekend, and put a floral one on that Dureen sent.

I’m doing one load of laundry today, and soon I’ll do the dishes.

I haven’t been nearly as tight as I had been for a while there. I guess in the end, the flu brought up all the pollution that was stuck down in my lungs. The little bit of rain we had helped, too. As far as we know, it didn’t leak in here, but it was only a light rain which didn’t last long.

Butterscotch bit me. I went to stick my finger in their cage like I always do and he bit the tip of my finger, drawing blood. I had to wear a Band-Aid for a while. I didn’t bite him back, of course, but I scared the shit out of him by chasing him around the cage and poking at him, so hopefully he’ll learn by this that biting me is not acceptable. If he does it again, I’ll want to swat him good!

Time to go online now and get my six Evie messages.

Later…

I decided to put AOL on hold in case Melanie calls. She hasn’t yet so I think that means that the other lady will be calling. Melanie usually calls by 9:15. The other lady usually does her calling at just after 10:00.

I ditched some more stuff that we’re not taking with us, like Norah posters I’d made, puzzles I’d taped and hung up, animal pictures from calendars, etc.

Every few months they pick up bulk stuff and the next run is in a couple of weeks. We’ll be putting stuff in the alley that we won’t need till we move and that we won’t be keeping, of course. I dragged out the two worst chairs that go to this pitiful kitchen table and the chair to the drawing table. I dragged them out in the backyard for us to put in the alley when it was time.

I’ve gone through the sheets and towels and ditched extras we’ll never use.

I propped open the back screen door. Before we take it off, as we plan to do and not bother to replace it, I want to make sure the cat doesn’t claw the hell out of the door. I doubt he will. If he’s at the back door, he usually just meows and it’s only when he hears us bustling about the house and wants to come in. I doubt he’ll claw on it for hours when we’re not available to let him in, but this will be a good test.

Later…

It’s 10:30 and still no call from the dentist, so I went online, and wow! Only one Evie message. It was a cute joke.

I was just hanging out clothes, and Jesus fucking Christ! Those collies are lucky I don’t have a gun!!

Later…

Maria’s here! And I was right about packages coming in groups too, cuz I got my vibrators as well. Maria’s gorgeous and I took a couple of pictures of her for Tammy and the girls to see. One of her full body and one of her face. She’s about Bailey’s size and I can’t believe that despite her being the same size, and having all the detail she’s got, she cost $50 and Bailey cost $300. Maybe the price cut is in her hands, as Tom mentioned. Both her hands aren’t as realistic as Bailey’s. She’s got a gold net-like veil trimmed with a black fringe that goes down her back. The veil is attached by a pretty gold fan clip that stands up on top of her head. Her dark curly, soft hair came in a ponytail, but I took it down. It looks good curly too, so I’m not gonna straighten it. Her curls fall to her waist, which is still long enough for me, even if it’s not as long as Bailey’s and Rapunzel’s. As Tom said, she has good lips for a doll. Lips are something that doesn’t always look good on a doll. Edie’s got the worst lips of all. Anyway, they’re nice and full and it looks like she may have lip liner. Her eyes are the most gorgeous shade of light brown I ever saw. I was worried about this at first, cuz I couldn’t tell their color on TV too well. I thought she had hazel eyes which isn’t very Hispanic. She has black eyeliner along the lower lashes. Her necklace is a thin red strand with gold threads, and her shoes are red with gold buckles. She has white net-like stockings with some kind of pattern. The main color of her two-piece satin outfit is off-white. It’s not quite what I’d describe as pearl or crème colored. Maybe ivory. There are two layers of ruffles at the shoulders trimmed with red and black. The bottom of the dress has three layers trimmed in red and black. The dress comes to above the knees. She has matching pantaloons. On the chest of the dress is a clump of three red flowers. A major hit to the entire outfit. One hand is flexed upward sort of like one of Sunshine and Lollipop’s. Why, I don’t know. I put a bracelet on this wrist that I made of red shiny beads. Her other hand has its palm turned sort of upward cuz this is the hand that holds the fan I didn’t realize she came with. The fan is white, covered with black and gold netting, and trimmed with the same red and gold that’s in her necklace. She’s not a sitting or a standing doll. She’s more like a leaning doll. I have her leaning against a jewelry box that’s about 8” high. Her legs don’t move at the hips like Bailey’s do and her arms don’t move at the shoulders, either. Both their heads move, though.

I’m psyched to have my first Hispanic doll. She looks much more Hispanic in person. Especially when I put her next to Bailey. You can see the color in her compared to Bailey’s whiteness.

It looks like I’ll be doing my doll shopping from the home shopping channel from here on out. They have mostly boring dolls, but their sizes and prices are quite a hit with me. If you like more expensive dolls that are smaller, then this place isn’t for you.

I still have hopes of having a doll that’s about 30” standing someday. And more as far as a variety of outfits and colors go. More hair and clothing colors. I’d still like someone wearing pink and I’d like to have a black doll, an Indian doll, and maybe an oriental doll too.

The cranberry-colored car was here again. Same scenario - the passenger went into the house for a few minutes, came out, then they left.

I missed Melanie’s call just before 11:00 cuz of all the excitement of getting Maria. She and the toys came just after 10:30, then the regular mail came just after 2:00.

Andy called asking if I could mail the papers Donna gave me so he could try to call some of these businesses to set up appointments, but I told him I dumped them. He said not to worry about keeping them, that Donna would have copies, and she never called about picking them up, so I dumped them. I also don’t see how this would work out for him either, but if he can get another copy from Donna and have it work out, more power to him.

I had a vision where the scale said either 106 or 107 before 2-3 weeks is up. That’d be nice.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 28, 1999 My vibes were right. No Maria. Tom says he thinks we’ll have to end up calling them to put a trace on it by how shocked the rep he spoke to was. The rep was shocked cuz we should’ve gotten that damn doll by now. Why the fuck is there always a problem with getting dolls?

This month is the direct opposite of last. Last month I had major PMS as far as pre-cramps, water, and sore tits went. This month, I’m just four days away from my period and I have not one stitch of PMS. I think I know what that means. I’ll probably start spotting a few days late. Therefore, I won’t get a full flow till about a week later than I was originally supposed to.

I have an idea which may reduce the irritation I get down there, which I told Tom. I told him that since he too, seems to be content with sex on the weekends, since I haven’t heard him complain or seen him scramble to try to change our sex habits, I’m gonna insert a couple of fingers in there every Friday. That way, I should be more open and ready for the weekend. If we have to miss a weekend, I’ll keep myself as open as possible with my fingers, so that when we do get back into it, it won’t be such a shock to my crotch, since we’ll probably miss about one weekend a month. Meanwhile, the toys will supplement me during the week.

Overall, my appetite’s usually kind of low, but I do have horny spurts, so since my husband usually can’t take care of me, those toys really help! I just wish they too, would hurry up and get here! Of course, all three vibrators will be broken by the turn of the century.

Later…

Woke up at 110 pounds today, so I’ve got to watch it.

Typing’s rather difficult for me now cuz I put those airbrushed nails on again.

Tom’s on vacation from the 8th-12th of next month. Supposedly, we’re gonna go look at land, but I don’t know. It seems God’s always determined to steal his vacations. If it’s not the roof, then it’s an illness, and if not that, then Ma needs him. He has jury duty on the 8th as it is. Hopefully, God will let him have this vacation, but with our luck, his mother will fuck things up by having to go into the hospital at the start of his vacation. How much do you want to bet, though, that he’ll still want sex only on the weekends? Well, it suits me well, and whatever turns him on, turns on him.

Changed the rats’ cage yesterday. One of these days soon I’ll have to do the pig and mice.

It’s still a bit early, but so far, my vibes say there’ll be no doll, toys, or CDs today. Packages typically come in groups, anyway. So when we get the doll, we’ll probably get the toys or CDs too.

Later…

We’re getting closer to mail time and my no-doll vibe’s growing. Who did you give it to, you little fuck of a mailman? To the wrong street? The freeloaders? Someone else?

Tom got in about an hour ago and has gone to bed.

He doesn’t think Maria was misdelivered. He thinks she got lost in the mail. Whatever. I’m just sick of having to have such a hard time with getting dolls.

He says Mary’s talking to Mom about giving each of her kids $10,000 of the money she’s to leave after she’s gone. Just think, we could’ve had a total of $100,000 if he was an only child! It’s just my luck he has to have so many siblings! Anyway, you don’t have to pay taxes on anything that’s not over $10,000. I had a dream about this, too. He says, though, that this probably won’t happen until the end of the year. God, can’t we just get on with it here! Can’t you just take this burden of a woman who no doubt would love to be joined with her soul mate and let us get out of here and on with our lives? June or the end of the year just seems too far away right now, even though time flies.

Tom says they shouldn’t raise hell next door this Super Bowl Sunday, cuz the teams that are playing aren’t very popular compared to last year. Yeah, but there’ll be something. There’ll be at least half a dozen kids playing ball, even if it’s only for ten minutes.

Later…

The mailman isn’t here yet, but I just know my doll isn’t coming, and I’m getting pissed. I’m really getting pissed. What? Am I being teased when it comes to dolls and things I really want? It’s like something’s dangling the dolls overhead just out of reach saying, “You want it? Come and fetch it? Fight for it.” Well, I’m tired of having to fight for stuff in the mail, and what pisses me off even more is that there’s not a damn thing I can do about it! From now on, I’m not ordering any more dolls unless they’re to die for. Only then will I fight for them.

Got a free porn video from that company that’s to be sending the toys. They say they’re on their way, so maybe I’ll get them, maybe I won’t. It’s hit or miss.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 27, 1999 I had that T-bone and was surprised to wake up at 109 pounds and not 111-112 pounds.

Tom overslept, so he won’t have time to call about Maria till he gets home.

Two black guys in a cranberry-colored car came over next door yesterday while Bill was there, but was only here for a few minutes. I’ve recently seen these black guys in this car visit quickly. They haven’t played music, but they make sure to announce their arrival by door slams and loud talking.

Lately, I’ve been bored. Yeah, believe it or not, my usual hobbies just aren’t enough lately. I need some fun, new project, but what? Can’t think of any.

Later…

It’s looking like it may rain out there, but the barometer doesn’t say so. Sometimes I wonder if the thing’s broken.

Yesterday, I shooed three kids out of our front yard by an old tree stump we have. They may have just stopped to innocently chat there, but I couldn’t know this for sure, so I opened the door and asked what they were doing. Without a word, they moved on. Why do kids today have to do their thing in other people’s yards?

Later…

The renters just gave me a ten-minute concert, but it was nothing compared to what I’d get from the freeloaders. Some dude is apparently working on his car out front. They got the front door open too, and at first I couldn’t be sure if the music was coming from the car or from inside the house, but anyway, the doors of the car were open and the guy was doing something in the hood. He’s hosing it down now. He killed the music right before he went to hose it off.

A young woman just came out to join him. They’re white and very young. Early 20s. Maybe even 18 or 19. What’s weird, though, is don’t they ever work? Every day there’s a vehicle in that driveway. In fact, four of the houses across the street always have a car or two in their driveway. Does anyone on this street work during the day? Anyway, hopefully, any music will be rare and as soft as that was. It was soft and not all bass. I could drown out its beat very easily with a soft fan.

Tom called about Maria. They say she’s on her way and that if she doesn’t come by Friday to call them and they’ll put a trace on her.

Tom still has a sore throat. I wonder why. That’s an awfully long sore throat.

How many people are living over there? The red car’s gone, but the woman and the dude are still there bopping around the white car they’ve been working on.

Andy just left me a message telling me how happy he is in Phoenix and that this is his home, etc. Yeah, I know. And as I told him in my reply, he’s not going back east. He knows it, I know it, so, so be it.

Please, Maria, be here today! The only problem with that is that I don’t sense her. I’m usually pretty good at sensing when packages are coming. Every psychic has their hot spots. Mail is one of them for me.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 26, 1999 We got the bed frame back on the bed. I forgot just how high this bed is!

Got a message from Marla and five from Evie. Yeah, she couldn’t send just one message to save her life. Most of them were jokes.

A white city pickup was next door yesterday, but not for long. It had the city emblem and the word housing on the door of the truck. Probably just inspecting. Making sure the bitch wasn’t up to any more no-noes. Bill was there when they came. I wonder if they think he lives there.

I dread this coming weekend as much as I dreaded the last three-day weekend. This is Super Bowl Sunday coming up, and even though the cock isn’t living there, it still means carloads of kids and company playing ball, and maybe even some bass, too. Well, once again, I’d rather they stay here till we move, but if they have to go, then they have to go. I have a right to live in peace while I’m still here, too.

Later…

I gotta really watch it now. I woke up at 110 pounds today cuz I ate like a pig yesterday. Yesterday was the first day since getting sick that I was starving. I was doing just fine on my veggie diet today till I felt a little drained and had Tom pick me up a T-bone when he called from Ma’s to ask if I wanted anything. He said I lacked protein. Whatever. I had around 1500 calories today and that’s gonna put me waking up at 112 pounds, so after today, I’ve really gotta watch it. At least I’m not stuck. I’m gonna get watery, though, at this time.

He’s gonna call an 800 number when he gets up to find out why my doll never came.

MONDAY, JANUARY 25, 1999 Andy’s being a pest again with his constant messages. That’s cuz he’s not working till Wednesday unless the temp agency calls. How can he expect to live? How can he make ends meet by working just a few hours a week? He just has no life whatsoever. I don’t see how he can afford his rent alone. Forget about utilities, car payments, pot, cigarettes, and food.

He said he was in this area with Laura looking for an apartment for her, but couldn’t find one. I thought apartments were plentiful out here.

Then he also said something about meeting Barbara Nicks at her house to give her a demo tape of Stevie’s. Something like that. I may’ve misunderstood what he said the meeting was for.

Tom went to begin working on the patio roof yesterday, but he not only found that he didn’t have enough roofing, but he also felt too weak and his cough returned, so he had to stop. This was what he told me in his message to me at 7:30 last night right before he left for work. I crashed at about 1:00 yesterday and didn’t get up till midnight. Guess I was zonked! He didn’t say anything about how the freeloaders returned, so I take it there was nothing to report on. I’ll still ask him when he comes in which will be a couple of hours from now.

Yesterday’s sex hurt like hell. I guess I used too much KY jelly cuz he went flying in there and it felt like I was being ripped apart and I felt a lot of pressure too. Tom says it’s because it’s been two weeks. Yeah, I know, and this part-time screwing has to stop for once and for all. My crotch just can’t take it. We just can’t screw consistently. Period. Maybe after we’ve moved and settled in the new place we can, or maybe when he retires, but we have never been able to yet and I don’t see us able to in the near future, and this isn’t what God wants for us cuz he’s never helped us find ways to screw consistently, so we need to find other alternatives. Maybe toys. Maybe just lying in bed cuddling and talking. Maybe oral and hands.

For the third time in a row, I woke up at 108 pounds. Getting thin again is nice, but it worries me. What will going back to being thin bring since it seems I always swap one problem for another one? Will it bring back the baby desires? Or will it bring some whole new problem? God, just don’t let me go back to wanting that child I can never have, please!

Later…

Tom told me he didn’t hear the bitch come in yesterday at all. Not even door slamming. However, he assumed she did come in at some point, cuz there were lights on when he left for work. Wow. And I didn’t even hear Bill pull in this morning and I was in the back room. The room that you can hear the door slamming the most in. Then again, Bill parked outside the carport. That makes a big difference.

Now here’s something really fucking weird. The cock parked on the corner of W. Weldon and N. 21 and walked to its bitch’s place from there. Now why on earth would it do that?

Tom and I were discussing reasons why Maria might not be here, besides my rotten doll luck or the mailman misdelivering her. They could’ve been wrong with the date they gave as to when she’d arrive, or he accidentally could’ve given the wrong credit card number. But if that were the case, why didn’t they call? Well, Tom will call them today or tomorrow about it.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 24, 1999 Tom said there was no activity next door yesterday. Yeah, but I also slept from 1 PM, which is about their time to come to life for the day, till late in the evening. Only God would know if there would’ve been any activity had I been up.

Woke up again at 108 pounds. I doubt I’ll shit today cuz of it.

Another thing Tom and I wondered about when we were going through all the different possible causes of sterility could be his having meningitis as a kid. He doubts it and so do I, but could it have damaged his testicles? Well, that’s OK that we’ll never know for sure if there was anything wrong with him, my eggs, hormones, or whatever, cuz fate is fate and that’s fine with me. I love my freedom.

Well, I was wrong. I just had to shit. Be back to write more after I eat.

Later…

Wow! Just like old times. I get full before I can finish my food. For a while there, after quitting smoking, I’d eat every bite and still be hungry.

Maria still didn’t come. Who’d the mailman give her to? They said she’d be here by the 24th, but did they know that the 24th is a Sunday? Tom said if we don’t get her by Monday, we’ll call them. Always a problem getting dolls. Always.

Later…

A long time ago Tom said he’d set up a thing that allowed me to choose which pictures to tile and which to center for my wallpaper. Right now, they all have to be one way or the other. Since that was one of the many things he never had time to do, I found a way around having it be one or the other. I went into this program that allows me to select a screen-size background and center the ones I wanted to be centered that way. I put pretty colorful backgrounds on the ones that wouldn’t quite stretch to fit the screen.

I had Mickey in the pink ball that Tom got while I was sick.

I got five animal cards in the mail from that pushy Humane Society, so I used them for my nieces, Tammy, and Paula.

I told Tom I’d like to put the bed back on its frame since taking off the frame ended up serving no purpose like I should’ve known. He’ll have time for it hopefully in a month or two from now.

Yesterday I was tight again, but this time, it wasn’t just cuz of the pollution. It was cuz of the congestion I had. So far, I’m better today. My cough is almost all gone.

Once again, Andy’s so rude and selfish that I wonder why I even bother with him! He left a message saying he got my mail and agreed I looked thin and have lost weight. Then he said that that was a crock of shit how I said I’d come over and take care of him if he got this flu. So I left a message telling him that that was rather insulting of him to call me a liar like that. I really would do everything I could to help him if he needed it. As long as Tom didn’t need me more than he did at the moment. Then he started smacking in my ear and admitted that he’d just started munching, so he was gonna hang up. Of course, he couldn’t just wait the two extra seconds. He deliberately had to start eating right before he hung up, not right after. People just can’t do the simplest little things! He never asked how I was feeling, either.

In an earlier message to me, he mentioned Laura moved back in, but only for a little while. He said he’d explain that one to me some other time.

Once again, I decided to give printing out these journals a break. Meanwhile, I still have all those pages made up of picture borders of family pictures, animals, journals, drawings, etc. So I picked the ones I didn’t want to send Tammy or anyone I know to use for the freeloaders. Pictures without us in it, naturally.

Later…

We’re gonna be screwing in a little while, which I have no desire to do. It’s just that I’d feel mean by saying no, even though he doesn’t want to get off with me any more than I want to with him. I prefer vibrators nowadays. He just went into the bathroom to do a duty, so he says, but I know why he really went into the bathroom.

Freeloader update: Miss Bitch and her slew of company were off to an early start today. I looked out to see two white cars (one on the street with the rack on its trunk and one in the driveway with the thick black trim), three adult women, and at least four kids. The kids were playing ball for a few minutes, but mostly, they were just wandering about with the adults who were all clustered around the car on the street. They were there for about ten minutes, then the car on the street quietly left, and the one in the driveway left a few minutes later playing soft music. I don’t think the bitch was in this car.

Are they testing me? Slowly pushing the music back on me to see how much I’ll take? Well, I won’t take hardly much at all. Trust me, you fucking freeloaders!

Anyway, the bitch was wearing a green sweatsuit, and her little friend was wearing a royal blue or purple one. One of the women was around the bitch’s height and had on a white long-sleeved shirt with denim overalls and a cap. The other woman was very tall.

One of the boys headed into our yard and got to the center of it before the bitch called it back. One of the kids’ names is Jordan.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 23, 1999 And here I was saying how I was sick of him being sick. Well, I guess my tough immune system exists no more, cuz I got sicker than a dog! We both did.

Let me get the quicker subjects out of the way first. Those that don’t take much to write about. At 8 AM on MLK Day, I had a feeling that there wouldn’t be any trouble from next door. I was right. Till 7:30. Yeah, as they do every MLK Day, they had to make their MLK Day salute by banging in for about two minutes. It was the white car this time. Not the cock. I haven’t seen him lately, but that could be just because of my schedule. They came in just two hours after I’d gotten up. God held them off till I got up cuz Tom said he didn’t hear anything else. There weren’t any ball games either since I was on nights. I’m kind of between nights and days right now so who knows what’ll go on this weekend as far as ball games go? Anyway, the white car was dropping the bitch and the mistake off and of course, they made the big deal of it they usually make. Had to slam doors and yell for about five minutes, but the music was only a 90-second thing. Yeah, they were about due for their little music scene they give us every few months, and of course they’d pick MLK Day to do it. If we all were here for 20 more MLK Days, then that’s 20 more MLK Days that they’d do something to get attention. Like I said, though, we’re pretty sure it’s just their I-gotta-rebel-against-her-every-few-months thing since they know one time every now and then won’t get them in trouble, but this weekend will be a test to see if they’re planning on reverting back to old times. If they do, I’ll take care of it, naturally, by doing two things. I’ll beat the shit out of them and I’ll contact the city. Once again, I really hope I don’t have to do this, since according to the stock market, we’re looking at a 75% chance we’ll be out of here in what he says is May, June, or July. I vibe June, July, or August. I want us to go first. Not just so I can make my little delivery to them, but cuz I don’t trust that they’ll leave this house alone. Tom says it’s awfully hard to burn down a brick house. Then they’ll shoot it up, I said, but he disagrees. He said if they went first, they might play loud music while they were loading up, but that’s all they’d do.

I’m so sick of these blacks and Mexicans! If I never see them again it’ll be too soon. All they want to do is deal drugs, kick ass, and gangbang it while they mooch off of welfare and our tax dollars and cry racism. If Abe Lincoln were resurrected tomorrow, I’d put him in the ground again for freeing these subhuman pieces of sheer shit!

We got the pictures back and what a huge difference in these pictures of me compared to the California ones from last April! I didn’t look all that fat at all and when I asked him if he thought I looked fat, he said not even close. So I scanned copies for Andy and Tammy. I also enclosed a couple of pictures of Tom giving himself a haircut with the home haircutting thing we have.

Even Dureen and Art will be getting mail from me. Yeah, you heard right. Tom’s big on not throwing things out, so instead of ditching that big picture of Dureen, Art, Larry and his kids, I decided to mail it back to them and have Andy stick in a message with a couple of those pictures of me we just got. Andy really doesn’t have a damn thing to do with this, but I said I was Andy typing the message, which was only about five lines long. I said I saw Jodi as she was about to throw away that picture and I urged her to address an envelope to you and let me send it to you. She just stepped out at a neighbor’s and doesn’t know I’m also enclosing this message and these pictures. She still doesn’t smoke and is thin again, she had fertility testing and her uterus and tubes are OK, she and Tom are doing great, she’s now into doll collecting, getting ready to move in a few months, and still doesn’t want to talk to you.

In other words - she’s doing just fine without you!

Maria still hasn’t come. Tom said maybe they really do have a set system where they know exactly what day she’s gonna get here. Also, if we don’t get her by Monday, we’ll call them. And maybe we should take a visit to N. 21 Dr. too.

Later…

I forgot to mention the very vivid dream I had the night before I called and canceled the consultation with Dr. Wells. In the dream, I had a test confirming the mucus within my uterus was so bad that I could never conceive. Now that was a definite sign from God or from something. Maybe my uterus mucus or anything else isn’t necessarily fucked up, but the point’s the same - a reminder of what’s meant to be. This, along with logic, helped me to make the decision to cancel. I always believed that God guides us throughout our lives in the ways that he wants and that if we stray onto the wrong path, he guides us back to the right path.

Do I think I’m meant to resume testing at a later date? No. I mean, I know I wasn’t meant to deal with my ear back when I first went to Boston about it in the late 80s, and I know I wasn’t meant to deal with the impacted tooth when I first checked into it in 1994 (at least I think it was in 1994), but this is different.

OK, now about this flu we’re just getting over. It was a killer! I haven’t had the flu or been this sick since the very early 90s. I’ve never had a fever like this either. He got up to 104º and I got up to 102º. The fever kept going on and on, too. Every time it’d lower, it’d go back up again. It was the longest sore throat I’d had too, and a cough just like when I smoked. My lungs burned and stung like hell when I’d cough, and we were both coughing up blood. We had the exact same symptoms. He’s a day or two ahead of me, though. He still has a cough and a sore throat. I still have a slight cough. The cough was weird because I didn’t feel congested till I’d cough. You’d think your lungs were empty till you’d cough and find that there was a lot to cough up. It was high up, I guess, rather than deep down in the lungs. I wonder if the constant tightness I was having prior to getting sick had anything to do with this.

Anyway, I’m really glad to be feeling better. I was quite miserable. I could only sleep for three hours every twelve hours till the night before last. I was too sick to be functional in any way. Tom had to wait on me a lot. If I were still alone, I’d have been fucked! I couldn’t read, I couldn’t write, I couldn’t sing. All I could really do was listen to music or lay in bed and stare at the ceiling.

As I told Tom, this shit’s gotta stop. I can’t keep playing cold and flu with him, now that I know that if he gets sick, I get sick too. He has to do something about his getting sick so often. It’s not only hard on us both when just he would get sick, but now that it’s gonna be both of us, that’s gonna really put a damper on our lives and make things tough. So, he’s starting with changing his lousy eating habits. Hopefully, he’ll do this for more than a week, and hopefully God will let this be the answer. Then we’ll worry about what shit he replaces his colds with once we find a way to get rid of them if we can. I can see one or two colds a year, but his five or six colds a year are absolutely ridiculous for a man who doesn’t smoke, doesn’t have a wife who smokes, or has kids wearing him down.

I’m down to 108 pounds. I had almost no appetite whatsoever while I was sick, but the reason I didn’t drop down to 105 or lower was cuz I also didn’t shit while I was sick. My body hung onto all it could. Its shit, its water, its everything.

I’m gonna begin a veggie diet. I got a good idea that’ll let me eat regularly to keep me from being hungry, yet that’s very low in calories. I’ll eat five times a day, every three hours. Popcorn, soup, and small cans of peas, green beans, corn, and things like that. I’m gonna give up the TV dinners for a while. I’m a little sick of them.

I’m looking a lot better, even if I still do have my share of flaws. My hair’s dead and uneven and I still have craters. My face is out of proportion cuz of my big eyes, average nose, and little round hole of a mouth. I also have a pointy chin, wide cheeks, and a narrow forehead.

Tom said he heard a report saying that if you do journaling, it’ll build up your immune system. Then why was I sicker than a dog back east? I was doing journals there. I asked him this and he said to compare how much I wrote before moving in here and how my health was before moving in here. Well, he has a point. I’ve been writing much more since living with him and I’ve been much healthier, too.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 17, 1999 I have so much to write about but don’t know that I’ll get to it all in one sitting.

The text in this word processor can be centered, aligned to the left, aligned to the right, or aligned on both sides. I always had it where it’s lined up evenly just on the left side. However, I changed it so it’s lined up evenly on both sides and it looks so much better.

Saw a doll show again last night. Out of the 30 or so dolls they showed, only 2-3 of them were nice, but I can’t believe the prices! So cheap.

I also saw Dean Koontz’s Phantoms which just came out in a movie. I read the book a while back. The book I’m now reading is More Than You Know by Judith Kelman.

Andy called yesterday to tell me he received the doll and rat pictures and that the dolls are beautiful. Not what he had pictured.

I think that’s pretty much it as far as little tidbits of trivial stuff are concerned.

Now onto the shit that’s going on around here. Same old, same old. He’s sick again! Yeah, you heard right. Damn! I am so sick of his sicknesses! This guy’s either sick, or dead tired, or busy taking care of his mother, and I’m sooooo fucking sick of it!!! Is this same old shit ever going to end? That’s a stupid question, huh? He’s wondering if all this sickness might not end up building up his immunities as it did with me. Because I had had one cold or flu after another for so long, my immune system is now tougher than all hell, but I also had a pneumonia shot. He didn’t. I can see if he was a smoker like I used to be, but he’s not. There’s no reason he should be getting this sick this often. I urged him to go to a doctor about it, but I don’t know. He had a fever of 104º before and said he’d have gone to the ER if it had hit 105º. Still, I wonder, am I gonna get sick again? And if I do, will it be as easy as the last cold I had which barely counted as a cold and barely lasted 30 hours?

I’m just really bummed out here and even a bit scared. How many more years is his time gonna be tied up in his mother and his colds? And what would God replace him with if his mom and colds were suddenly gone? See? We couldn’t have a kid if I still wanted one and were OK, not just because God wouldn’t allow it, but because there’s no time to have sex more than once every week or two, and therefore, there certainly wouldn’t have been time to raise it. He says he disagrees with all this, but I’ve always felt he just loves to disagree with me. It’s like he’s obsessed with it.

Before I go do other things, let me just say that I’m canceling the consultation and further testing because I don’t want a kid, a child is not meant to be no matter what, and we can’t meet the testing requirements. There’s no way we can screw 2-3 times a week. He’s just too sick, too tired, or too busy. As always, he overestimates us and says things can change. If they’ve been the way they have been for as long as we’ve been together, then they’re not changing. I still have a relatively low drive compared to when we first met, but thank God for the toys that are on their way. They really help fill in the huge gaps here.

How are we ever gonna do what we’ve got to do in this house in order to sell it and get enough money out of it, move, and build our dream house if he’s always sick, tired, or busy??? Again, he totally disagrees with this, but thank God I didn’t get pregnant back when I wanted to. Not just because I couldn’t have handled carrying it, having it, and rearing it, but because if he’s so tired, sick, and busy now, imagine what it would’ve been like for him then!

Unfortunately, I’m on a night schedule now. Got up at 6 PM. I say it’s unfortunate because I’d really like to be up for tomorrow’s antics next door. I’m afraid that if they wake me up, however slim of a chance that may be, I won’t be able to control my actions. I’d lose control for sure if they woke me up in this day and age.

Why the fuck couldn’t they have waited just a little longer to acknowledge MLK Day out here?! Instead, they had to fucking acknowledge it the very same year I came out here. They haven’t acted out today or yesterday, according to Tom, but it’s tomorrow that they will. However, as Tom pointed out, things are different this year. Last Labor Day was the first one that they didn’t make a scene on, so maybe this will be the first MLK Day they won’t make fools of themselves. We’ll see. I don’t have a bad vibe right now, but we’re gonna have to get closer to morning before I can tune in to what may occur over there. I’m surprised there haven’t been any ball games yet this weekend, but there’s another force at work here. It’s not just them that’s harassed me, but it’s also God using and allowing them to badger me. So in a sense, I’m not surprised there were no ball games today. God knew I wouldn’t be up to hear it, not that I would’ve gone and cranked the fan or music up, but it’s just the principle of the point - neighbor’s noise. Deliberate neighbor’s noise.

In due time, God. In due time. That’ll all change. Of course, he’ll go do something else, but I’ll deal with that then.

Another reason I want to push my schedule onto days is so I can be up when Maria arrives. Unless she comes towards the end of the week, I probably won’t be up to get her if she comes on Tuesday. That seems a little too soon, though, even though they said by the 24th. Meaning, she could come sooner. I just hope that if she comes when I’m asleep, whoever delivers her leaves her out front. I don’t know if she’s coming by regular mail, UPS, or what?

SATURDAY, JANUARY 16, 1999 I started doing some exercises with the leg weights on. The leg weights really make a big difference in my ability to really feel the muscles working. I think that extra resistance really helps. It was kind of boring doing the exercises to the music, so I'm now reading while I work out. The only ones I can't do while I read are the arm exercises. The rest, I can hold the book while I do them. Unless the print is large, I do one exercise per page. I'm now doing a total of 15 exercises.

FRIDAY, JANUARY 15, 1999 It’s been a quiet Friday night. So far. The bitch isn’t out or expecting company from the looks of things. The porch light is off, and there are lights on inside. Usually, this means she’s home and expecting no one.

I dread this long MLK Day weekend. I know there’s gonna be some kind of scene from over there if not all three days, then one of them. I mean, with the fans, headphones, and knowing we’re out of here this year, I don’t “dread” weekend ball games, but you just never know if they’re gonna revert to their old ways and thump this house down with their fucking bass. Well, if they do, that’s their eviction notice and their problem. Not mine. From here on out, they won’t directly meet with me and my fists unless they begin waking me up constantly, and if they haven’t done this yet, I’m sure they won’t start. Meanwhile, when they go screaming and ball-playing, I’m not gonna give them the reaction they’d like, but I will have the city evict them if it’s ever necessary. The consolation in it, though, is that it’s our last one. Our last MLK Day here.

I received the latest Ashton-Drake catalog. I was surprised at how many new dolls they’ve got. They have a lot more boy dolls.

They had a couple of cute new dolls. One named Melissa and a cute two-doll set, but they were just too small. I prefer the bigger dolls. The stores are too expensive and the catalog’s too small, so I guess I’ll be doing business with the TV doll shows for a while. I told Tom to let me know when he thinks money’s available again and I’ll watch the show. Their dolls are bigger and cheaper.

Thank God I got Rapunzel and Patrice when I did, cuz they weren’t in the catalog. I don’t know if this means they broke their molds and they no longer exist, or if they put them in every other catalog or so, so they can feature more dolls, but I’m still glad I got them when I did.

Paula called again last night, so I called her back (I didn’t hear the phone ring when she called). Again, she didn’t want anything. Just to tell me that she got it on with this guy who’s already involved in his car in the middle of a snowstorm. I was surprised to hear her say she kind of felt bad for his girlfriend since she seemed nice. I didn’t know Paula was capable of considering someone else’s feelings. Anyway, she said he said they argue all the time. Paula said she’s gonna give him an ultimatum - it’s either her or the girlfriend. I told her that I felt that if he could cheat on his girlfriend, he could cheat on her. I don’t think she believes or wants to believe that, but it’s her life. She said I’m the only one that knows about this, too.

She’s also looking at apartments in Springfield and W. Springfield. Yeah, she sure moves around a lot like Fran did. I’m surprised she’s been where she is for as long as she has been. She says the people are too nosy where she is. Everyone’s nosy, I told her. Especially in apartments and even more so in projects.

I also got those fertility papers. It’s not as complex as I thought it was. Meaning, there aren’t a bunch of complex tests. However, since he rarely gets off, is constantly tired or busy, has to chauffeur his mom to appointments, and since I can’t keep a schedule to save my life, it’s complex for us. Meaning, they’re saying to screw 2-3 times a week. Yeah, right! Then they’re saying to screw every other day during mid-cycle. Ugh-huh. Sure.

I would never have known, though, that position can affect conception. They’re saying the best is the missionary position. That’s about the only thing we got right. However, they’re advising the woman to put a pillow under her hips and that the man stays still inside the woman while he’s having the orgasm. OK, two things we got right and are capable of doing, but that’s about it. They say KY jelly can weaken or kill sperm and they advise you not to use it, but I have to. I’m too dry nowadays during sex. That’s mainly why I get so irritated down there.

It looks like there are about five tests and I’ll be damned if I’ll do the fourth one, cuz that’ll be just as bad as the first test, the HSG (hysterosalpingogram). This is where they scrape uterus cells to see if your hormones are off-balance, but why didn’t they just do that while they were already in there doing the HSG test? The postcoital test is the second test where they test the cervical mucus. This test should be no worse than a regular pelvic exam. The last test is where they check his sperm if he’ll let them have a sample of it.

Anyway, I’m really sick of this stuff. I’ve really had enough. I don’t want a child, I’m not meant to have one, so I’m leaning toward calling it quits here. I see no need to put myself through any more shit when I got my answers. If my uterus isn’t fucked up, then there’s probably nothing visibly wrong at all. Like I said, you don’t have to visibly be fucked up for fate to carry itself out. On top of all this, we can’t meet the requirements for testing. He won’t cum that often, and we’re just too busy, too tired, or off schedule to even get together in the first place.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 14, 1999 Got a steal of a deal on the home shopping channel! As you know, Bailey’s a sitting doll, 24” long, handmade, at a cost of $300. Well, they had a doll just two inches shorter, also sitting and handmade, for just $50! She’ll be here by the 24th. She’s Spanish and her name’s Maria! She’s got on red shoes with gold buckles, white stockings with a nice little design in them, a white dress with ruffles and a rose on the chest, a necklace, and some shiny veil-like thing on the head. She has brown hair and hazel eyes. Most of the dolls they have suck, but the dolls they do have are mostly bigger and cheaper compared to Ashton Drake and the doll stores we’ve been to. Way cheaper!

I’m also getting three vibrators. So, we have four things on their way; pictures, CDs, vibrators, and Maria.

The first of the books I got this time around is good. It’s called One Last Kiss.

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 13, 1999 Evie left me a lengthy message all about how Parker needs constant watching and is in his terrible twos early. It’s things like this that make me not want a child and that reminds me that I could never handle it. How would I not run out of patience and beat the snot out of the thing? Thankfully, I’ve been my usual self and haven’t had a bad day since the 7th. As long as days like the 7th are either never again, or far and few between, I’ll be perfectly content to remain childless. Still, I’m determined to meet with the doctor and hear what she has to say. I’m gonna rebel against God, even if I know what’s meant to be and what’s not. It’s like if I were in a fight; even if I knew the person could beat me, they’re gonna have to beat me down. I’m not gonna just bow down to them the instant they’re onto me just cuz I know they’ll win. Well, I’m not gonna run away from God anymore either, and be his little puppet. He may always win and I may be on his side with this issue, but I’m not gonna just lay down and accept his ways and be his victim. He controlled me and made me how I am for a reason and I want to know how he did it. Not just why. He’s taken enough from me. That’s all I can say. He’s allowed enough bad times to occur in my life. Although he took my plumbing for good, correct reasons, he’s not taking any more. Not if I can help it. I gave my ear, my plumbing, my childhood, and enough’s enough.

I still haven’t gotten that fertility info so naturally, I’m wondering if it was misdelivered.

Woke up at 109 pounds. God, when I was 125 pounds, it was hard to imagine me ever being 109 again, and now that I am, it’s hard to imagine I was up to 125 pounds! I still don’t like what I see when I look in the mirror. I still see someone who’s not downright fat, but who’s chunky, and who’s pure flab. I really should do some toning exercises, but I guess I’m lazy. I do wear the leg weights, though. Well, I know I’m not doing too bad overall. I may not look like I used to, but compared to your average woman, I’m pretty skinny and fit. Especially since most women do have kids and I haven’t.

I worry about Tom. His cold’s been dragging on cuz he hasn’t been able to get enough sleep. His mother made sure of that today and yesterday. Yesterday he went over to fix her light switch. When I asked why Mary or Dave don’t fix their own fucking light switches, he said he wouldn’t want them to. Today, he had to take her to get her staples out of her stomach. At least she’s doing really well and the swelling’s gone down in her feet. She can feel them again, too! Still, I wish God would have her move on and go join Dad. I’m sure they’d love to be together.

I haven’t worked on the puzzles I have on the vanity table in the music room, so I think I’ll go do that now.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 12, 1999 Just changed the rat’s cage around again. I also moved them by the back door so I could see them from the kitchen.

Tom took some nice pictures today before I got up. He took a couple of good ones of Shiny and an excellent one of Shiny. Took a couple of good shots of Porky too, and even a good one of Velvet. I was surprised, cuz Velvet’s hard to shoot cuz he’s just this big black blob.

Anyway, I went through the pictures we’ve been taking and cropped some, and put them where I want them. Some are just being stored on the computer and some are in my subdirectories.

I went to take a picture of Bill’s car at 3:30, but when I stepped out, there was a woman at the collie’s house who saw me, and I’d prefer to be discreet if I can help it. So, I’ll shoot the picture some other day, then enclose that in their little packet, be it superimposed with something or not. That really ought to creep them out.

I’m mailing Tammy and Andy some cute rat pictures and some of my favorite dolls. Stamps just went up a cent to 33¢, so we’ll have to get a few 1¢ stamps to add to the few old 32¢ stamps we’ve got. Like the PO really needs that extra precious cent! I’ve also got Lisa’s birthday card going out to her.

Got my jury dismissal notice in the mail, which is great.

I’ve picked out about 5 vibrators from a catalog that sells them that just came. Perfect timing. I’m really hooked on these things for when Tom’s unavailable. They won’t last long, though.

I asked Tom if he still wanted to take ibuprofen and get off when I’m mid-cycle, even though I know he could get off every day and I’d still get every period, and he said yes. So I made my best mid-cycle guess and that’s on MLK Day. So, we’ll have to screw with the fans on for sure, since they’re gonna be playing ball or whatever the fuck it is they’re gonna do to get my attention and recognition for that day. Yeah, they just gotta rub their color in that day.

I emailed Kim, Evie, and Marla and let them know the HSG test was negative. I told Andy too, on his machine. In his reply message to me, he said it was nice to know that there’s nothing wrong with me, so maybe Tom’s the problem. In my reply message, I told him that just because my uterus and tubes are OK, doesn’t mean my eggs aren’t or that there isn’t some other problem within my plumbing, but I could very well be OK since God doesn’t have to sterilize a woman to make sure she never conceives. All he has to do is just make sure she never conceives no matter if her parts are good or not.

He also said a prayer to God right on the phone for us to have a kid, and says God always comes through for him. If he always comes through for him then why is he still alone? And why isn’t he a rich and famous singer? Anyway, I told him he can do what he wants, but he’s wasting his time praying for a kid. I should know. I didn’t tell him I don’t want a kid and that I just want to rebel against God and go through the motions and play this thing out, even though I know how it’s fated to play out, cuz for a variety of reasons I’m not so open with Andy these days. I don’t discuss much at all with him anymore, whereas in the past, I’d tell him everything. It’s not that I don’t trust him, it’s just that a lot of the time he’s too baked to get it or to remember a damn thing I tell him. He also tends to argue and challenge a lot of what I say. However, he’s been really supportive of this fertility shit I’m wasting my time with, and for that, I’m appreciative and grateful.

He didn’t get together with Juliet cuz she was sick. I hope they’ll get together some other time soon.

Later…

I haven’t heard from Evie lately. Maybe David decided he didn’t like those jokes I sent after all? Well, you know what? I don’t care. If her feelings have been hurt or if I’ve made waves of any kind, if it isn’t just a case of her being busy, I don’t care. My days of being overly sensitive to people’s feelings are over. All that matters is Tom’s feelings.

I decided to grow my bangs out. All of them. Not just on the sides. I got impatient with those sides sticking out and cut those, but now I’m gonna let them all grow out. I need something different, even though Tom and I both like bangs better, and I’m sick of having to always trim them and have them look good some days and dorky other days. Eventually, I’ll cut bangs again after they’ve grown out for a while.

Last night Paula called. She didn’t want me to look up another name for her, either. She just wanted to chat, and it had to have been our best chat yet. It was really nice. She was still her usual ditzy self, but we were giggling and talking about all kinds of things, and I even had a moment where tears stung my eyes over missing her. She talked again about coming out this summer, but who knows? We asked each other our ritual questions. I ask her if she’s experimented on the other side yet, and she asks me if there are any babies yet. She says she knows I’ll have one someday, but it’ll only happen when it’s time. Then she also said she’d find a way to get out here to help me through it if I did have a kid, which I thought was so sweet. I know I’ll never have a kid and that her getting out here isn’t as easy as she may think, but still, that was sweet of her. I know she’s sincere about it.

She’s going to Florida for a couple of weeks to visit her father.

She says she’s up to 140 pounds, has her hair short, and dyed maroon. Yuck. Maroon? Short? She looked so good with her long brown hair. Anyway, I told her about Chromium Picolinate and how it usually suppresses your appetite.

When I hung up, I said “love you,” as I do to those I’m close to and it was the first time she said it back.

MONDAY, JANUARY 11, 1999 Let me do the freeloader update thing first. Bill was here today, and he left at the usual time of 4:30. Then a little while later, a black car was parked in the driveway that we’ve never seen before. Tom saw it as he was pulling in from getting me wax and getting a new filter for the AC duct. He said he saw a lady. During this car’s visit, I saw the bitch talking to the light blue car on the street for a minute. As I was going to listen to music, I heard the bitch yelling and saw her through the music room window talking to the lady who obviously just got into the black car. Yeah, as usual, she was pretty pissed. I don’t know if she was pissed at the lady or if she was just bitching to the lady about something that had her pissed off.

After the black car left, I could’ve sworn I heard a car door next door as I was in the bedroom talking with Tom, but when I went and looked (it was now dark) I saw no car. I saw that she did replace her porch light, though, and that that was on. It’s on right now, so I take it the cock or someone’s coming over. Maybe the car was over there but is in the carport and is just too hard to see in the dark, but I doubt it. Sometimes, though, their low cars are hard to see over that wall, even if I climb on a chair, cuz I’m so short.

Why is she always such a mean, mad, aggressive bitch? I can only imagine just what kind of mother she must be, and boy is it scary! The bitch changed her hairstyle. She’s got it in lots of braids, but it’s still tucked under at the nape of her neck. She looked sort of ridiculous from what I could see earlier (she was only about 10’ away) with some of the braids sticking out and hanging down. Her hair’s gotten long, though. To the middle of her back. Maybe a bit longer.

In my letter to Tammy, I enclosed some pictures of my dolls and some cute rat pictures I took last night. Just of Butterscotch and Ratsy, though. The two bravest. Porky and Mickey were camera shy. As I told her, though, I’ll get them shot sometime, and soon I’ll send pictures of us, too.

Tom and I didn’t get to have sex today as we’d planned, cuz he was too tired. Like I said, something up there does not want us to have sex during weekdays, but my crotch is basically only good for the weekends anyway, or else I’ll get sore. We did chat a bit, though, and we put together a list of the shit that’s gotta be done with this house. Here it is:

Pick up roofing bits from the side and back of the house

Gravel the front

Replace the bathroom sink

Fill in the AC hole in the back room

Tear up back room carpet

Finish the front security door (take off back screen door)

Paint the inside and the outside of the house

Fill in the holes in the back room ceiling

Put a vent in the bathroom

Sand the bedroom closet door

Put a fence around the pool

Repaint the pool steps

Later…

Lights off next door. I noticed this a few minutes ago, so maybe she just forgot they were on.

Thanks to Butterscotch, I had to wash my hair just now and it’s not even a wash day. That’s cuz I literally “scared the shit out of him.” I went to pick him up and he freaked. He squealed and shit in my hair and all over my shirt. Not the usual hard duties, but runny shit. So I had to shower and wash my hair. The poor guy. I made it up to him as best I could with some extra lettuce and cheese.

Paula and I have been playing more phone tag. I’ll try to call her earlier tomorrow.

I just left Andy a message telling him of my test results, that my cold turned out to be the easiest cold I ever had, and that I hoped his visit with Juliet went well. I told him I wanted to hear about it and to leave me a message. When I told him Friday that I had a cold, he asked if there was anything he could do for me. That was nice of him.

I’ll get on with the test results which are sort of unfuckingbelievable in a moment.

First, let me cover Tammy’s latest shit. Sarah passed out cuz of some lung problem, Tammy’s got lung fluid that leaked out of her lungs and into her ribs (if I heard her right), Lisa’s still rebellious, and a young mother (always a young mother), and her two sons died in a fire that lived nearby. Tammy’s worried they’ll all die like they did cuz Lisa’s throwing spent matches onto the floor which is littered with papers. She said Lisa will not clean her room or do anything she was supposed to do and is asked to do, so she called the state on Tammy, then Tammy blew up and called her a bitch. Lovely. Just lovely. I thought my sister’s motto was that two wrongs don’t make a right It’s a waste of time I know, but I told her that name-calling and pitching fits won’t help solve anything. Of course, the state’s not gonna do anything like they almost never do, and Tammy says she’s gonna kick Lisa out when she’s 16 on the 20th of this month. If they call us about taking Lisa, well, I don’t know if I want to anymore. I still love Lisa and I always will, no matter if I never see or talk to her again or not, but Tammy’s right about Lisa’s lying. Tammy may be a shit mom who makes a million mistakes, but she’s not bullshitting when it comes to Lisa’s lying. Even Lisa herself admitted to me she’s lied, and she lied to me about not contacting Larry, so now that trust has been damaged. Maybe we wouldn’t have the same relationship we have on the phone if she came to live with us. Maybe Tammy’s right and maybe Lisa would walk all over us and raise hell.

I reminded Tammy too, that she really ought to smoke outside if she’s not gonna quit. Sarah and Becky don’t need that secondhand smoke. Again, though, it’s her life and she’s gotta do what she’s gotta do. No one can tell her what to do.

Maybe I’ve got more Dureen in me than I’d like, cuz I’m still leaning toward walking when we move. Then again, Dureen would stick around and try to change the person rather than just walk away, whereas I say - if you don’t like someone, don’t have anything to do with them. Don’t try to change or control them, just walk away. It’s not that I don’t like her, Lisa, or the girls, of course. It’s just the same old shit that brings me down and sometimes pisses me the fuck off. Maybe I’m a wimp, but I can’t deal with the anger and with the same old problems with Bill and all that shit (although I guess he kept his paws to himself in Florida). Tom, naturally, doesn’t think I should walk. He said that’d be like my dumping Andy just because someone pissed him off. In other words, that’d be his problem that he’d have to work out. Yeah, I know, but still, it’s that last remaining tie to the past that I really feel needs to be severed. It’s not that I wouldn’t feel bad about walking cuz Tammy wouldn’t do that to me. And also, I know it’s gonna hurt Lisa. But they don’t need me any more than I need to be a part of their problems and a part of that painful past, and as they know and will learn, people come and go throughout our lives. The only problems I can deal with right now are any that may arise within my own household and even that can be hard. This sterility shit I’ve been dealing with for years can really take its toll on me. When it isn’t downright reducing me to tears, it’s still playing on a back burner within my mind. That feeling of being abnormal and being controlled and punished by God is still lurking within my subconscious.

I got my card reminding me it was time for a cleaning/check-up so I first called the dentist to see if I could schedule an appointment with Charlene the same day I see Melanie on the 1st, but couldn’t get in that day. Melanie answered, by the way. So I made the appointment for the 8th. Then I saw that Tom had jury duty that day, so I called back and got Tisha who’s the receptionist that’s always there when I go in, and told her I couldn’t make it that day. So she moved me to the 22nd, and the good of it is that I can see Melanie right after it and hit two birds with one stone.

Then I called Dr. Well’s office and left a message saying that I wasn’t too happy that I haven’t been called back since leaving the message I left last Thursday and to please get back to me. So Monique, doctor Well’s nurse, called me back explaining that she had a family emergency, my HSG test was normal, she’s mailing me papers all about their fertility work-ups that they do, the next step will be to see if I’m ovulating and check his sperm after we’ve had sex, and that one-hour consultation with the doctor.

In other words, if I want to keep going, even though I know damn well what the end results will be, I have to lower myself to more painful tests and deal with his not cumming on command. Not that we’d have the time to screw around for this test if I was mid-cycle during the week. I don’t know if this is no worse than a regular exam, or what. I guess he’s supposed to get off when I’m mid-cycle, then I’m supposed to go in there and have them scrape a sample of his cum from me to see if his sperm count’s too low. Maybe to see if I have that bacteria that kills sperm, too. The doctor’s also gonna do something to see if I ovulate, but I have no clue as to what this could entail. Maybe she’ll give me pills to make me ovulate, then use an ovulation predictor test to see if I ovulated like I’m supposed to.

Tom’s insisting that cumming on a schedule will be no problem just like how he told me he’d cum when he did the last time he did, but I don’t know. Sometimes he keeps his word with that, but most of the time he doesn’t. He even said that he can’t cum under pressure. He can’t just cum on cue.

How can my uterus be fine? This is what I don’t get. Does this mean the DES didn’t affect me in any bad way? If my uterus and fallopian tubes are OK, does this mean my eggs are fucked up? My first guess was the uterus, but my second guess is the eggs since they made a guinea pig out of me for so long with so many different medications. Tom said it could be anything from the way I wash myself down there after sex, to my body temperature. But I thought I gave it enough time in between sex and washing. Is it body chemistry? Hormones? Or am I perfectly normal? Maybe I am normal after all. Like I said, God doesn’t have to visibly alter one’s plumbing in order to make sure they never have a child.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 10, 1999 I just called Paula who says she’s gonna call me back. She left a message earlier wanting to know if I could find a number for some guy in Texas. This time, instead of saying no, I’ll tell her I found a match and give her a bogus number. I know it’s dishonest, but the ditz won’t know the difference. It seems she only calls when she wants me to look for someone on the Internet. If it was as easy as snapping my fingers and having Paula here for a little visit, I would do it in a heartbeat. But if I were to never hear from her again, I can’t say I’d miss her. She’s just there at this point in my life. Just someone who exists that I know. I’ve known her since I was about 19.

Meanwhile, I’ve got a shitload of updating to do, and in the midst of taking breaks to sing, read, and watch some movies, I’m gonna get started. Let me back up and try to go in order of events.

The 7th, as I said before, was a nightmare. It was totally, totally miserable and just like old times. I felt like it was somewhere between 1994-1997 all over again. I just cried and cried and was so pissed off at God for taking away my right to choose what to do with my life/body. I was both sad and angry.

As my anger mounted and peaked, I decided that saying “You can’t fight God and win” would no longer cut it for me. I was gonna take back my rights as a woman, fight back, and beat God for sure. I was gonna get fixed, become all woman no matter how excruciating, and make that mistake that should’ve been mine to make a few years ago. And I was gonna soak up every miserable moment of that mistake, too.

The next day, and since then, I was back to my old self, thank fucking God! I know I can’t fight God and win and change fate. Also, I do not want a child. I want to live. I want to be free. I just hope to hell that the 7th was a rare setback and that it’ll mostly, if not completely, remain a thing of the past. There’s nothing like being as angry and as depressed as I was, feeling cheated, feeling controlled, and cursed by this non-empathetic, controlling God! Never do I want to experience that hopeless despair again!

Tom was very supportive, reminding me that it’s OK to feel as I did. He heard a report on TV about how fertility clinics should really keep in mind that women are angry. They’re angry if they can’t conceive, they’re angry if they do conceive and have to go through all that shit just to do it when no woman should have to in the first place. No one should have to work for or pay for getting pregnant. People should have the right to do what they want with their own lives and with their own bodies. Period.

Anyway, I’ll never have a child, I know that, I’m OK with that as I have been for about a year now, but I still do intend to call this doctor’s office Monday and give them a piece of my mind. Tom says it’s like this everywhere nowadays where it’s a battle just to get a doctor to call you back. Do I think it’s a sign anyway? Yeah, I’m sure it is, but still, I called Thursday and I should’ve been called back by now. Tom says there’s a chance she may not have worked on Friday, but nonetheless, I’m gonna make it clear in my message that when I leave a message, I want to be called back. Also, I want to know what the test results were (in her words) and find out what the next step is if there is a next step. This isn’t over till I say it is!

I’ve got to take charge of my own life and of my own body. If I don’t, God will just keep taking and taking and controlling and controlling. I’m not gonna be God’s little victim. His character that he uses in a script that he wrote out. Fuck that shit! He gave me this life and this body and now it’s mine! All mine.

Tom put in Plexiglas strips around the sides of the floors in the rat’s cage, but plenty of sawdust still seeped out and made quite a mess. So, I took the floors out and was gonna have him make wire floors so that their shit would fall down through to the bass, which is like a huge litter box, but then I got an even better idea which I set about doing. I love it and so do the rats. Tom thinks it’s cool, too. Instead of having the shelves make complete floors for them to piss and shit all over if they’re bare, knock sawdust out if I put any in, and be hard for me to clean, either way, I put shelves in, but not from one wall to another making a floor. I made steps instead, and this way, the shelves are easier to pop out and clean. This is so much better! They make much less of a mess, it’s easier to clean, and that’s less sawdust I have to deal with and vacuum up.

This cold, which is practically all gone now, turned out to be the easiest cold I ever had. I had a sugar craving just like Tom did with his and ate like a pig for two days. I had two candy bars and lots of little donuts. Can’t believe I’m not over 111 pounds.

We got our digital camera a few days ago and it’s great! I love it! It’s easy to use, too. Tom showed me how to shoot pictures, then transfer them to the computer and into the folder I want them in. I took some doll pictures, and sometime soon I’ll take some animal pictures and some of us. That way Tammy and the girls can see the weight I’ve lost and how long my hair is!

Tom and I laughed together over my idea for the freeloaders. I thought I’d shoot some pictures of their house, then superimpose a mouse or something to make it look like they have a giant rat on their roof and a giant mouse on their porch. Something like that. I tried to shoot pictures through the blinds today of the bitch and her sister, but all I got were the blinds since it focuses on what’s closest. Still, a picture of one of them ought to really creep them out! I’ll have to learn to manually focus it. A shot of Bill’s car and the house would be lovely for them to have, too.

I guess tomorrow it’s back to the usual weekday routine for the freeloaders. Today, the cock came in at around 2:00 to watch a football game. I heard two door slams while I was in the bathroom. One for the teenage boy? Anyway, it was here till 5:00. While the cock was here, the sister in the white car was out front fighting with the bitch. At least it looked like the bitch was arguing with her and mad about someone. She was born mad, I swear! They were standing by the car, which was parked on the street since the cock had the driveway. Part of it, anyway. The sister was holding a baby and then I saw the bitch’s mistake and some other kid about that same size. They’re so fucking weird, cuz at one point, the sister started walking down the street and the bitch was kneeling down doing something to the ground, but I couldn’t make out what the fuck it was. Amazingly, there were no ball games today.

It looks like Kim got her computer back together again. She sent me a few messages. One updating me on her life, then a couple with jokes. It sounds like her life is typical. She’s just living with Walter in Northampton, instead of alone in Deerfield.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 9, 1999 Got quite a bit of updating to do. For starters, the freeloaders have been doing exactly what I knew they’d do, but at least we haven’t had setbacks with the music. Or with the bass, I should say.

The bitch got back at 6 PM on the 7th, which turned out to be a miserable day for me, but I’ll get into that later. Anyway, it looks like Bill went with the cock and bitch to the Midwest. I assume Bill went too, cuz I never saw him checking on the house while the bitch was gone, and what’s the bitch doing - leaving her father alone every Christmas? Somehow, I don’t think so. I think the three of them went to the airport in the cock’s car. When they returned, I think the cock dropped Bill off, then its bitch. There wasn’t much in the way of door-slamming that night, and the cock didn’t stay long. After a long flight, I’m sure the cock was sick of its bitch and of its mistake, and just wanted to get the hell home. I saw the cock pull a large duffel bag from the trunk, and that’s about it. Just a few door slams. The cock wasn’t even here for an hour.

Meanwhile, the bitch has been making up for lost time as far as company and door slamming goes and has begun the payback for the roofing noise. I knew she would. Like I said, I know these freeloaders. I can anticipate just about their every move.

The bitch didn’t work yesterday, but it went out with Bill at 2:00. Probably to do some grocery shopping. At 4:00, the cock was in and out, and at 5:00 Bill brought the bitch back. At 6:15, part of the payback began. For about five minutes, I heard really loud voices. Yeah, the bitch had to make a big fucking production out of the light blue car’s picking her up. All I could make out, though, was “I’ll get you something at Wal-Mart.” Anyway, I heard about two kids and two adults. There were at least ten door slams. If these people were normal in any sense of the word, her ride would pull up and maybe honk if she weren’t looking for her ride or standing out front, then there’d be just two door slams. One for her and one for her mistake, and that’s it, but no. She’s gotta make a big show of it in regard to me.

I could’ve sworn I heard two door slams when the cock came and went while she was out on Friday with Bill, and I think I know who that other dude is that he sometimes comes over with. I think it’s that teenage boy I spoke to when I’d had my fill with the dog sitting outside my bedroom barking. I think that her lease allows that house only to her and her kid and that both he and this kid got kicked out. I think the kid moved in with the cock. Well, where is its mother? In jail? Too doped up to give a shit? Or was she killed by an enemy or fellow gang member?

Anyway, the way I know the bitch went out last night when that car came in at 6:15, is cuz there were no lights on inside the house. She had to have gotten back after I crashed, though.

The biggest thing I figured the bitch would sic on me for the roofing noise would be ball games. More so than voices and door slamming. She’d really love to sic the bass on me, but she can’t, cuz she knows she’ll get evicted if she does. Well, I was right about the ball games. I just knew there would be ball games this weekend, next weekend at the latest, but it didn’t go on for hours and hours like I thought it would.

Today, the light blue car came and went and came again a few minutes later. Then a black boy in a dark green sports shirt about 12 years of age came out to play ball, but only for a few minutes. The fan in the bedroom and the air cleaner in the living room, do a great job at drowning this out, so since we haven’t got much time left here (I hope) I don’t give a fuck if they play ball every day from here on out. I’ve got fans and I’ve got cordless headphones for music and even for the TV if I just had to watch something while they were out balling around. And I’ll bet you anything that that bitch coaxed him into playing, too.

So then after a few minutes of him slam-dunking, out comes two black ladies putting shit in the trunk. I saw a bright blue stroller, and what looked like party bags being put in the trunk. The back seat looked like it was loaded with 2-4 kids. I couldn’t tell for sure who the hell these girls were. One had braids and that might’ve been the bitch. After all, she needed a change of style and had had her old style for way too long. The other had nice hair for being black. They usually have lamb’s wool for hair. It was loose, kind of one length, and about an inch or two below the shoulders. She wore a dull-colored outfit, though. A long-sleeved olive blouse, and was it dull orange/yellow pants? Or jeans? Someone had jeans on. Anyway, they were both around the same height and weight and I think it was the bitch and its sister.

So, they take off and it’s about noon. At 5:30, just as the sun was setting, it was back. And so was the dark green sports shirt and its basketball. It played for about 20 minutes, then bye-bye went the car and the dark green sports shirt and its basketball. Some would say I should’ve sabotaged the damn hoop while they were gone, but it wouldn’t have done me any good. If a giant hole opened up in the ground and swallowed that thing right up, they’d just replace it. And if not, they’d just dribble the ball in the driveway to get at me.

The night is young. It’s only 7:00. Got more company to go for that bitch. I just checked and although it’s not as bright as usual, there is a light on over there, so I think the bitch is home and that any more company will go inside the house to see her there. And I’d think it’s too dark to be playing any more ball today.

I’m sure tomorrow will be a repeat of today. Cars in and out, door slams on and off, and 2-3 spurts of ball playing. God help them if they ever even think of returning to basing me out!

I have much more to write about, but I’ve got a little cold that I came down with on the 7th, thanks to Tom and his constant colds, so I’ll do it later. This has been an easy cold, though. I’m not nearly as bad off as I got last year when I had a cold.

THURSDAY, JANUARY 7, 1999 Right again, as usual. I did get my full flow today. However, it’s so wimpy! Nothing hits the pad. It’s just what I wipe off. On the bright side, what I wiped off was too much to be pregnant with, but I’m really wondering more and more about a hormone imbalance or early menopause. So I left a message with the doctor about this. I was told she’d call me at the end of the day. Fine. Maybe she can tell me about the tests I took while we’re at it.

Once again, I am totally, totally sterile! No fertile woman should’ve gotten her period when I did if she had sex just two days prior to being mid-cycle, but you know me. Nowadays I see it as a gift. Not a curse. I just wish God would’ve left the choice to me! Yeah, but while that’s easy to say, we know damn well I’d have made the wrong choice in the past had it been mine to make, and today I’d be lifelessly sitting around regretting it. I just wish the doctor would call and tell me there were no choices to be made, cuz my uterus is that fucked up, cuz that’d just make this whole thing so much easier. Just tell me what I know isn’t meant to be so I can move on in life! No more excruciating tests for nothing! I’m not meant to have any say in this matter, and my days of struggling for what’s not meant to be are over. I’m going with the flow of God’s plan for me, like it or not, and that’s that.

Later…

Tom installed a new modem on my computer that’s faster for when I’m on AOL or the web or something like that. It’s not lightning fast, since phone wires can only transmit information through them so fast, but it is faster than what I had before.

It’s also supposed to have caller ID and when someone calls, the number’s supposed to show up on the monitor, but I haven’t gotten any calls in which to test it out yet. Of all these fucking sales calls we get, none has called yet since I’ve been awake and functional.

Tom’s taking his mom to an appointment today.

Tom doesn’t think Mom will make it throughout the year. Well, I hope he’s right and I’m wrong, cuz regardless of how nice she is compared to most people, she needs to go. She’s done her time here on this earth, there’s nothing more she can do or live for except to burden others, so she needs to pass on and we need to move on. I know God’s gonna really get me for this by making sure no one’s around to take care of me and help me out when I get old, but I already knew he’d do this to me no matter what I felt about his mother. I’m just sick of her and her needs. They may have lessened greatly since she sold that fucking house, but still, she needs to go, and God help Mary and Dave or someone else if they think Tom will then wait on them left and right after she’s gone.

Andy, for whatever reason, isn’t able to come over anytime in the near future to get that extra comforter I have for him, his notes, and to see the place. He’s gonna be busy doing temp work for the next two weeks, so maybe he’ll come over then. Or maybe he just doesn’t feel like it or trust his junky car. He did mention only driving when necessary. So, I’m gonna mail him the notes.

He left a message yesterday saying he was sorry the phone appointments didn’t work out. Donna was bummed too. I knew it was too good to be true; simply making appointments all day and getting $10 a pop, but that’s OK, cuz as I told Andy and Donna, the work was dull and I’d rather make dolls and do something more uppity, even if it’s for shit money. Although, if it had worked out, I’d have done it for a while anyway. Meanwhile, Donna’s gonna pick up the papers she gave me some time over the next few days.

Andy says his friend Juliet’s coming in from California. The one I met back east a couple of times. We all went to the beach together once, and she was with us at one of the bars. Anyway, he mentioned coming over for a visit with her this weekend. He just doesn’t listen or get it when I tell him I’m tied up on weekends! So, I simply told him I’d be busy, which is true, and that she’s his friend. I still don’t want to get into buddy sharing with him, although Donna’s an easygoing enough person to have done business with.

He says he does not want to give up Phoenix but he has to cuz he wants love. Andy, you are not gonna give up Phoenix for nothing and nobody! You know it. I know it. So end it. You’re not destined for a relationship, and if you were, you still couldn’t have one cuz you’re too damn selfish to have a successful one.

Today, the collies are doing a fine job of making up for lost barking time.

Later…

Wow. If you ask me, these teeth are moving really fast. They’re not overlapping anymore, on the bottom, and there are only three teeth that are out of place.

I hope Tom gets home soon. He needs to work tonight, so he can’t be out catering to Marjorie all day. Maybe he’ll give her the last remaining bits of his cold and she’ll die now.

Later…

Oh, how I hate that woman!!! I’m soooooo fucking pissed off right now, I can barely type! Marjorie, drop dead you fucking asshole! Drop dead! I need my husband right now. I’m depressed and I really need to talk to him now, but no! He has to be catering to you. Well, who’s fucking husband is he, Marge? Gee, I thought he was my husband! God, I hate you, you fucking burden! I’m sick of you interfering with this relationship. I’m sick of you taking my husband’s time when I need him. I’m sick of you causing him to lose sleep, to lose more of his valuable time, his life, and I’m sick of you!! God, why won’t you kill this woman, NOW!!! I could scream, I’m so fucking furious and fed up with this user!

That depression’s really turning into anger and frustration pretty fast, that’s for damn sure. Still, I need my husband. I need to talk to him and vent these emotions. It won’t change a damn thing, but it helps perk me up. It’s like an alcoholic who drinks when she’s upset. It doesn’t fix her problem, and maybe nothing can, but it helps to temporarily make her feel better so she can cope and get through the tough times.

I don’t know why I’m so depressed today. I haven’t been this depressed in a long time. It feels just like old times, and this is scary. Is this gonna be a rare thing? Or am I gonna go back to being depressed over being controlled by God on a regular basis? I thought having periods was supposed to take away depression. Anyway, no, I don’t want a kid, but I still feel depressed, confused, angry, frustrated, and cursed at the way God’s dictated my life for me in so many more ways than is the norm. I don’t have a full bag of rights as a woman, I never will, and that still pisses me off and saddens me, whether I want a kid or not. How can God do this to a woman, and why me? What did I do that was so horrible that I deserve this? Why? Why?! Why me? He gave this body to me, so why can’t I use it the way I want to? He gave this life to me, so why can’t I do what I want with it? Well, the truth is my body and life don’t fully belong to me and they never will, so when the fuck am I gonna just get over it and on with my life? I mean, I did such a good job of it last year. I came to accept myself as I am and I was content to live life as I am, half-woman and all. I came to see how wonderful things would be without a child. I still see how wonderful they’ll be, but when am I gonna get over not having a say in the matter and get over the depression and the feeling like God’s picking on me?

WEDNESDAY, JANUARY 6, 1999 At 10:00 I’m gonna call Donna. I called Tom at work and asked him if he wanted me to have Donna come over when he’s home so he can be there too to hear what she has to say, but he said no. He trusts my judgment. Just be careful of what I get into. Of course.

Although I only had a little spot on the 4th, and one on the 5th, and today, I think my period’s getting ready to start. It may be a half-assed one, but I think that by tomorrow I’ll have enough of a period to drain the soreness from my chest. Thank God!

I’m pretty bloated right now and I guess you could say I’m watery too. I didn’t go over 1000 calories yesterday, yet today I’m up to 111 pounds.

I don’t know how long I’ll give the doctor to contact me before I contact her, but we’ll see. I don’t know why I even bother. I know what I want. I know what’s meant to be, so why put myself through more hell? I got my questions answered, as far as I’m concerned. I have a bum uterus. Time to move on. Time to follow God’s plans for me. Just like I have all along, and just like everyone else in this world does.

If there was just one more thing, I’d change about this new rat cage, I’d take out those solid plastic floors and put wire floors in. That way the duties would fall to the bottom, and I wouldn’t have to worry about sawdust. We may as well take these Plexiglas strips out Tom wasted his time and money putting in, cuz they’re still making a mess, kicking sawdust out all over the place. I think an all-wire cage would look better, too.

It fucking figures that my shows didn’t get taped last night. That’s another common VCR problem I’ve had - it doesn’t record anything. Why do electronic things only work half of the time for me? Anyway, I’m not gonna play VCR hit or miss. If I’m up on Tuesdays between 7:00-9:00 PM I’ll watch the shows live if they’re on.

Later…

Tom was right, and so were my vibes. It’s not that this thing of Donna’s is illegal or anything complicated. It’s that it doesn’t get me anywhere. As Tom and I figured, I can’t get appointments set up cuz either the person who handles that is out, or they’re just not interested. The work is also pretty boring. I rather make dolls, even if it’s not good money! But I said I’d try it out and I did. It would’ve been an OK job to do if it could be done, though, and Donna would’ve been a nice person to do business with, but oh well. You can’t make something work that’s not meant to be. I hope Andy won’t let this influence his decision to ever make appointments for her, cuz what may not work out for one person, may work out for another.

Tom got our new digital camera! He says it’s not gonna be a complicated deal to use and that it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure it out. All I want to do is take pictures, put them on the computer where I want them, and that’s basically it.

Later…

The white car just pulled out from next door. I never even heard it pull in in the first place. Guess the bitch will be back anytime now. Tom says the storms have let up.

Fucking cat. He’s so fucking weird! He won’t come in and eat unless someone’s in here with him, and you practically have to invite him over to his bowl. If you just open the door and walk away, he sometimes just sits there and whines, rather than eats. If you let him in, then go right outside yourself, he’ll just stay at the door whining. He can’t even walk by himself to his fucking bowl and eat! Why do I always attract such weird cases? At least he’s not into things and being all destructive like Shadow was.

Now here’s something totally shocking, that I didn’t sense, and that’s absolutely wonderful. I haven’t heard the collies. I noticed how quiet they were yesterday. So yesterday and today I haven’t heard them. Are they there? Are they just being unusually quiet? Or did someone finally get fed up and kill them? If someone killed them, they’d be over here blaming me, so I doubt that. Maybe someone took legal action against all the barking, though, but I don’t know. It’s been great. I love being able to go out back and not have to listen to their deafening barking bounce off of those block walls. The dogs would sound like they were just over the wall in the freeloader’s yard when they’d go off, and any dog barking in the freeloader’s yard is like, oh my fucking God! It’s like it’s right in front of your face. It’s too soon to say for sure what the scoop is, but if they’re gone, I hope it’s at least till we’re out of here! I hope they don’t come back. Or two new dogs to replace them.

I wish to hell I wouldn’t have to have such long drawn-out PMS like this! Why do I have to spot for a handful of days first? Can’t I just get my period normally and be done with it? This is two extra days of the backaches, the water, the bloating, and the pre-cramps.

Initially, I was gonna wait till February to call the doctor if I hadn’t heard from her, and I asked Tom if he thought that’d be too long. He said he felt it’d be too long and suggested the end of January. Maybe I’ll shoot for Lisa’s birthday, which is the 20th. Although, what can she tell me? She can only tell me what I already know. Even if they could fix me, and even if I were willing to pay the price to be fixed, and even if I could handle the fixing, went back to wanting a kid, and was made so I could conceive, then did conceive, God would only make me miscarry that child, so what’s the point? He’s not gonna allow me to get into anything I can’t handle or that isn’t a part of his plan for me.

Later…

They’re there. Yeah, I knew the absence of the collies was too good to be true. They were just having a quiet spell. As soon as I heard the school bus, I ran out back knowing that the kids usually set the dogs off when they go down the back alley. Sure enough, they went off.

I didn’t sense the dogs leaving like I would normally sense something like that. If there had been any money to make with this appointment-making thing, I’d have sensed that too. I do sense I’ll have my period by tomorrow. Thank God!

Tom also got me a faster modem, which God knows I could use.

Later…

Now that was weird. I happened to have stepped up to the window in time to see the white car come in. Not the typical white car, but one with blond hair in it. I knew it was the lady from the red pickup right away. Whoever the driver was stayed in the car the whole time cuz I’d hear her talk to the driver as she passed by him. She got out of the car, walked through the carport to the back gate, then apparently had trouble opening it. She walked up the carport, said something to the driver I couldn’t hear, then went and got a chair off the front porch and brought it back to the back gate. She stood up on that to open it and was in the back for about two minutes. She came back out and brought the chair back to the front, said something inaudible as she passed the driver, and got in the car and left. Why would this bitch need two people checking the house? She must be really fucking paranoid!

Later…

Tom just got up with a duty belly and told me his opinion on the freeloaders. He thinks that due to her and her cock being stranded, the white car’s probably showing up daily just to see if she’s back yet, and the blond lady’s probably from the church and came to pull her mail in so it wouldn’t jam up in the slot. Tom said it’s not uncommon to have different locks for your front and back doors, so she probably only has a key to the back door. He said the two minutes fit. That’s about how long it’d take to open the back sliding door and put the mail on a counter or something like that.

TUESDAY, JANUARY 5, 1999 Still no jury dismissal notice. I hope they know I’m not going. I don’t do courts. Period. And if I ever do step foot into a courthouse again, it’s gonna be to sue someone for a rather large sum of money. Of course, I hope to hell neither of us is ever fucked over that bad that we’d need to sue like that, cuz usually, that’s why you sue for a large amount of money.

I added more icons to my desktop. For quite a while, I had just one vertical row of icons, but now I have two and a half. I put more things on there that I frequently use.

I woke up two days ago at 108 pounds, yesterday at 109 pounds, and today at 110 pounds. Gotta watch it, I guess.

All I had so far was that little spot yesterday. Am I gonna be a few days late or a week late? So far, I’ve never been more than a week late, except for that time in ‘96 when I spotted for two weeks before getting my period two weeks late. You never know with my screwy periods. I could end up skipping regularly! That’d be nice. Still, maybe my hormones are a little screwy and maybe I am going to have early menopause. I haven’t had as many pre-cramps today, but I sure did yesterday! I could swear my period was starting at times.

As I knew it would, my last vibrator broke. Why are these things so undependable? I don’t think that’s really the case, though. I think I’m just as hexed with these things as I am with other things. When it comes to sexual-related stuff, I’m always hexed. This is the third vibrator that didn’t last very long, but hey, nothing good sexually ever lasts for long when it comes to me if it even comes to me in the first place. I doubt I’ll ever get vibrators again, but if I do, I’m gonna get about four at once and not two since they’re just gonna break on me so soon. Everything breaks on me sooner than it should!

The CD club that Tom and I have used several different times over the years now claims you don’t have to send in monthly selection cards anymore, which was a hassle. You now only send in forms when you want something. I’m sure there’s a catch and I’m sure they’re gonna get pushy and send CDs we didn’t even order to try to push more sales, but we’re gonna go for it anyway. You get to start off with 15 free CDs! You only pay shipping and handling and 40% of the cost of one CD.

Linda has a new album out and I didn’t even know it. Andy didn’t tell me either, so I guess both of us aren’t keeping up with these things as much these days. It’s called We Ran. I hope it’s not as bad as her last English album which had all shitty songs on it. Her second to last Spanish one sucked too, that I didn’t even get her last Spanish one.

Linda’s smartening up as far as her weight goes. Since she’s too fat to really look good on an album cover, she just shows her eyes on this one. So does Gloria on her last one. Gloria still looks much better than Linda. Gloria’s about 120-135 pounds and she’s about 40 years old. Linda’s 50 years old and weighs around 180 pounds.

Tom and I did some errands yesterday. We went to Petco and got green sawdust for the mice (I use white for the rats and pig), alfalfa, food, nibble sticks, another bottle and holder (although it turns out I didn’t need the fucking holder!) and that’s it, cuz they didn’t have the bigger balls. We’ll get one some other time.

Then we went to the bookstore where I got eleven books for $14. I looked more in the movie section, but they were just too predictable. I did get The Guardian, though. The one Norah was in and that I think she looked the best in. Also, one of them is a good book, but it turns out that I already read it.

Lastly, we went to Walgreens where we got a variety of stuff. He got some junk food and some orange juice for his cold. He says it helps him to feel better if he drinks juice. He got some cold stuff, too. We got me that chromium picolinate, which Tom says he read that anyone with diabetes in their family should take. Yeah, leave it to Dureen to still affect me from across the country! He read that they’re still not sure whether or not it controls appetites and causes weight loss. I think it helps with hunger, but it doesn’t help with losing weight.

Got a couple more nail kits. The same design as before - red with black, white-tipped swirls.

Got a steamer too, and it helped to get Patrice’s wrinkles out better than I thought it would. It’s a good thing to have. Especially if you’re a doll collector.

Got some pistachio nuts that I shared with the animals, some filters for the water filter, and other odds and ends.

Later…

I saw the white car with the rack on its trunk next door yesterday at 5:30. However, once again, it’s a ghost town over there. Bill isn’t there, and I haven’t heard any car doors. She could be still in the house since it’s still only just after 10:00, but I get an empty feeling from over there. Well, we’ll see what happens, but I don’t sense she’s moving, and there’s no blasting music coming from over there which would be a moving sign. Unless they were to remain dependent on the city and move from one subsidized house to another, which I can’t see happening, she’s not gonna obey the city’s shut-up commands if she were suddenly detached from them.

The collies have been quieter since the freeloaders have split.

Later…

It looks like one of my guesses about the bitch may be right. I felt she either went to L.A. or Chicago. Well, I think she did go somewhere in the Midwest. And if she did, that’d explain why she’s not back yet. She can’t get back with all the ice storms they’ve been having. The white car only came to check on the house. No wonder there wasn’t a ton of door slamming and no wonder the car wasn’t here long.

Someone with the last name M had to have had this number at one point. You know how we used to get a lot of calls for a Carol M? Well, one just came in looking for a Michelle Marie M in regard to her high school reunion.

Later…

I just talked to Andy and Donna about a potential job for me that’s at home and that’s under the table. Well, supposedly all I have to do is call businesses and try to set up appointments for her to meet with them to sell them legal services and I’d get $10 an appointment. It sounds too easy, though. There’s got to be a catch. I mean, wouldn’t most of these businesses say they weren’t interested, or that they already had services? Anyway, Donna gave me her number and I’ll call her tomorrow either way. I won’t leave her hanging. I’ll give her a yes or a no. If I give her a yes, and I very well might, she’ll be coming over here to give me the list of businesses to call since she has a car, and since Tom will be gone when I get up. She’s gonna have her 2½-year-old with her and that thing’s not coming into this non-baby-proof house to break my dolls and more. They are way too destructive at that age, so she agreed to meet outside the house with me. Anyway, I won’t write anymore about it till I find out more.

Later…

The same white car just pulled in and left shortly after. The sun’s setting now, and once it gets dark I’ll be able to tell if the bitch is over there by if there are lights on, but I doubt it. These trips with the white car have just been way too quiet. Whenever the bitch gets picked up or dropped off, there’s a whole slew of door-slamming, but not this time. No unpacking sounds. I haven’t seen anyone or heard any voices, and that bitch has a loudmouth. This car is quietly coming and going with just one door slam. Guess it’s just one person. There’s been no music, so she’s not moving. Thank God. I never thought I’d want her to stick around this bad!

MONDAY, JANUARY 4, 1999 Destiny has arrived. Yup, still as sterile as a doorknob and still as psychic as can be in that department. Thank fucking God! Of course, I can’t just get my period normally. I have to spot 3-4 days before getting a half-assed flow.

Tom got in about an hour ago and he just went to bed. I’m gonna get him up at 10:30, then we’re gonna go to Walgreens, Petco, and the bookstore.

Later…

I was just checking out my teeth in the mirror and could see what I felt last night. When the teeth move, you suddenly notice it. You’ll feel them with your tongue day after day, and then just suddenly, you’ll notice a difference. Well, last night I noticed another area in the bottom teeth that’s shifted. Of all the bottom teeth that are crooked, there are only five. Three of these five teeth are close to where they’re supposed to be and at this rate, it’s hard to believe it’ll take a whole year, now ten more months, to straighten these teeth. Maybe the next time I see Melanie on February 1st, she can give me more of an accurate time frame as to when the top braces will come off.

Tom says there are sick people where he works, but just like with his last cold, I’m wondering about Shiny. He sneezed a couple of times a few days ago and I promised to kick him right out of the house if he sneezed again, but he didn’t. Could he be giving Tom colds? I don’t know. It seems inevitable that Tom gets so many colds regardless of whether we have a cat or not. He sneezed again today, but only once.

Where are these freeloaders? I cannot believe this bitch isn’t back yet! If she’s back, she came in after I went to bed. Well, we’ll see if Bill shows up, but I have an empty feeling coming from over there. It’s been great not having to listen to the door slamming that goes on over there every day, but shouldn’t this bitch be back by now? I never thought I’d be getting antsy for this bitch to return! We need to be the ones to move first and I need to make her a certain delivery!

Anyway, I’d say that bitch definitely went with its cock to its cock’s parents’ house. It’s obvious that the bitch’s mother is dead, and that the cock’s parents are out of state. Bill’s the only parent figure I see visiting. If the bitch’s mom existed, even if it existed out of state, wouldn’t we see it come to visit from time to time? The cock’s parents probably couldn’t afford to come visit when it lived here, so that’s why he and its bitch went to them. I don’t know if the cock’s parents are really old, married, or what, but they’re in someplace like L.A. or Chicago. Another way I can tell she’s with the cock, is because if she had taken off herself, the cock would be coming over here daily to check on the house, do its laundry, etc.

Today’s the day we find out what our stock options are. Tom says it won’t be till the middle of the month before he’ll be more sure about us moving in June, or unsure. I don’t have a good vibe about this, nor do I have a bad one. I still think we’ll move in June. Definitely between June and August. I just hope those freeloaders are here to see us do it!

We found the reason why Shiny’s been limping. We thought it was some sort of arthritis at first, but it appears his claws are fucked up. One of his back paws has claws overlapping.

I threw the old foam mattress out back and rolled it up making a sort of a muff. He really likes to nestle in it during those cold nights and early mornings.

Later…

Andy left a message saying he got my “nasty” letter, which was well written, and he wasn’t mad over it. He selfishly admits, though, that that’s great that he can eat on the phone with me and that I accept him as he is because as I myself said, he’s gonna do the opposite of what people ask of him, anyway.

So in other words, what he’s saying is - don’t ask me A cuz I’ll just do B. That’s how he’s always been! I do accept him as he is and I don’t want him to feel like I’m trying to control or change him, but I still think that people should comply with the wishes of their loved ones as long as they’re not too much or unrealistic. If they’re simple little requests that were asked of them and not demanded of them, what’s wrong with compromising? Andy can’t even do that, but we all have our selfish points. Still, if he wants a successful relationship, he’s gonna have to learn to compromise.

Anyway, he says he wasn’t even eating when he left that last message to me. He was chewing on his nails. Whatever. He also says that eating on the phone is a regular habit of his. Well, to each their own, but how does he enjoy his food that way, and how does he not choke? Also, if he’s so hung up on youth and thinness, especially thinness, why does he eat like a pig?

I sent him another letter as a little compensation for the last one. This one’s more of our old kind of letters without the lectures. I enclosed a few notes too, from the bunch I made up for him for whenever the fuck I see him, and put some pictures on the back of the envelope, but he’s too stoned to really want to do much of anything, although he did say something about helping out his friend Donna at a company she works at. Something about making appointments. I’ll have to ask him more about it. He didn’t really get into it.

SUNDAY, JANUARY 3, 1999 Another day off from the sales calls, then I’ll have six days of them calling constantly.

I went to bed at around 6:00 last night and from what Tom’s said, who stood up a little later, the freeloaders still aren’t back yet. They’ll be back today then. Thank God they waited till Sunday. I was hoping they’d come back today and not yesterday or the day before. So, lots of door-slamming today! Not only are they gonna slam doors as they usually do, but they’re gonna slam them a little harder than normal, so they can really let me know they’re back.

I was really watery yesterday and took a water pill. I woke up at 108 pounds.

Later…

Today we put the 2” high strips of Plexiglas around the base of each floor in the rat’s cage. This should help keep sawdust in better than it would’ve otherwise. It was really gross how they’d piss on the bare floors before. They need something to absorb their piss.

Tom said Evie lost a lot of weight. That’s not what she told me when we last talked, but good for her.

Yesterday, there were some weekend bangers, but nothing too bad. I saw the little girl in the rental, along with some teenage girl, roller-skating down the street and in their driveway. Tom said he saw many people out and about yesterday as he was coming home. It was a beautiful day. A beautiful and polluted day.

I still can’t believe that any kids at the rental haven’t waltzed on over to play ball at the freeloader’s. It’s obvious they aren’t home, but kids don’t need someone to not be home in order to just go play on their property. Even more so, I can’t believe the collie kids haven’t played in months. Where are they, anyway? Those kids are wild. I usually hear them out front or out back, but not lately.

We had sex earlier. It was predictable and typical. Of course, it didn’t help that he’s got another one of his fucking colds. I’m sorry he doesn’t feel well, but God, I’m so fucking sick of these colds of his! Every 3-4 fucking months! He said it’s because he works with people who go to work sick, which people don’t normally do. Yeah, leave it to me to have my husband working with a bunch of freaks. Well, can’t someone talk to these people? They should make it a general rule that if you’re sick, you should stay home. You’re not only risking making the people you work with sick, but you’re risking making their families sick too, but that’s our selfish society for you. So now I have to deal with his cold too, and have our lives put on hold for the millionth time. Either someone needs something, something needs fixing, or he’s sick. God, it gets old! I haven’t had a cold since last January, so I’m hoping that I get as lucky as I was with his last few colds and don’t get this one. I’m not the one here, though, with an immune system as weak as a child’s or an old person's. I used to be that way, but what is this? Now that I get over my catching one cold after another, I have to live with someone who does just that?

I prayed to God twice to help take away this constant anger I have almost every day. I could be doing whatever, then suddenly, I want to kill Larry or Bill or someone. The last thing I want is to be angry at these subhuman losers for the rest of my life. They’re in my past now, and I want the anger to be a part of the past, too. God, life isn’t fair! I mean, I know these people aren’t going through this. They don’t have me suddenly pop in their heads and get so angry that it eats at them. Why me? Why is it always me? If it isn’t, I sure feel like it is. Since I have to give in order to get, I tried bargaining with God and agreed to accept the fact that these people invade my dreams constantly, if he’d just curb my constant anger.

Two nights ago I prayed to God to show me in my dreams a sign as to whether or not Measles was alive, and if there’s any way possible, that I don’t see or sense, that I could be wrong about being destined to remain childless, like it or not. This stemmed from my asking for his guidance once again, as far as the sterility issue is concerned. I told him that I still don’t want a child, accept his decision to keep me childless, and will do the right thing and not fight him should I ever find myself wanting a child again someday. However, is there a chance I could be wrong about God’s intentions? I don’t see how I could be wrong any more than I see Tom killing 20 people, but I asked for a baby-related dream if I were wrong. I also asked for a dream with Measles in it if she were still alive.

That night I had no dreams pertaining to these things. The next night, last night, I did. I did not dream of Measles, but I did have a baby-related dream. It was weird, though. It wasn’t about me or someone else getting pregnant or having a child. It was about me thinking about how I could never handle childbirth. On top of it all, the dream took place in the second house we had in Longmeadow, and guess who was downstairs while I was upstairs in the dream? You got it. Good old Dureen and Arthur.

Upon waking up, I realized that if God was showing me anything at all, he wasn’t showing me a kid is meant to be. He was reminding me of one of the reasons it’s not meant to be. Makes perfect sense to me.

Tom was telling me earlier, after I asked him what he thought, if he thought my trying to be a singer, if I still wanted that, would interfere with our marriage. He agreed it would probably interfere with our married life since I’d still have to perform in a band somewhat full-time. Not that I could get into a band, though! I’m sure if I did, they’d make some excuse later on as to why they had to disband the band. What happened back east - that was certainly God’s way of saying it definitely wasn’t meant to be! The signs were that obvious.

Anyway, if he can agree that my trying to be a singer would get in the way of our relationship, how can he feel that a child wouldn’t? It’d interfere a million times more.

What I wonder is this - God wouldn’t let me be a singer, God wouldn’t let me be a mother, so will he let me be a doll maker? I hope so, although this one’s quite material in nature, and I don’t feel the need/desire to do it as bad as I once did with the other things.

The Crib didn’t go over very well with me, so now I’m trying Life Penalty.

There goes some desperate soul with its bass pounding away.

SATURDAY, JANUARY 2, 1999 Still no freeloaders. Not yet, anyway.

Tom’s working now. You know how they have to work during the daytime on a Saturday at the start of every month, so in he went at 8 AM. He’ll be home around 3:00, then we’re gonna have our cumless weekend screw.

Tom and I were talking earlier about the difference between a resolution, a goal, and a dream. To me, a resolution is something that’s within your control that you hope to change such as quitting smoking, losing weight, or eating better. A goal is something you hope for that’s not unrealistic like hoping to move by June, hoping to get into making/selling dolls. A dream is something you wish for that’s impossible. That’s why they call it a dream when it comes to things like wishing I was tall, and how I used to wish to be a singer and a mom.

My current goal is to be able to have a little more control over my schedule. Maybe not as much control as most have, but still, it’d be nice to be able to keep a schedule most of the time. That way, I’d feel like I had more doors open. I could make plans, for example, to go to Vegas on a particular date that was months away. Now, I can’t do that, cuz I don’t know what the hell my schedule will be months from now. I know, though, that this is just a dream, and I accept it.

Another dream of mine is to be able to sleep with my husband. If he woke me up once or twice a month, that’d be fine, but I wish I could sleep with him most of the time. Again, just a dream, I know it, and I accept it.

My current goals are to move and to get into making/selling dolls.

I don’t really have any resolutions this year. Just to wear my leg weights as often as I can, although I still don’t see how the hell they’re gonna change how my legs look, but I’ll give it six months or so.

I wish I could say that my resolution was to quit eating two bites a day, for the most part, eat normally, and let my middle-aged fat come on, but I’m not ready for that yet. I think forty is a good age to let go and that’s when I probably will. I can’t keep working this hard and dealing with hours and hours of hunger every day for the rest of my life!

Although I’m very watery right now, I ended up waking up at the same thing I woke up at yesterday - 111½. That’s because that hamburger and fries ended up being all I really had. I had some bean soup, a part of a chicken TV dinner, but that was it. I didn’t stuff myself all day.

Later…

I dusted, vacuumed, and changed the mice’s cages. Maybe that’ll help with the tightness I’ve been having. I fucking slaved my ass off, gained weight, and went through hell to quit smoking. Yet half the fucking time, I still feel like I did when I smoked! Thanks, God!

I’m having rotten book luck this time around. Now I’m trying out The Crib and hopefully, it’ll be better.

Will the doctor call me this week? I wonder. And what will happen from here? I know my problem lies within my uterus, I know that guy that did the HSG test played down the severity of my uterus problem, I know I don’t want a kid, I know one’s not meant to be, so am I really that curious to take this any further and see what’ll happen next? Most of me doesn’t think so, but I’m not gonna make any decisions right now.

We were going to go to the store today after he got off work. I need to go to the pet store to get another bottle for the rats and a few other things, but we’re gonna go on Monday instead when it’s less crowded.

Oh, fuck! If there’s anything good about holidays, besides being able to spend more time with Tom, it’s that I get a wonderful break from the fucking non-stop sales calls, but they’re back. Tom said today’s the day they’d start up again, too. Well, he was right. That’s the second call that just came in, so I’m sure there’ll be at least four more.

I ran out of patience with Andy and wrote him a letter expressing my feelings and all that since I’m better with words on paper than I am with words out of my mouth. I know it won’t do me any good. Andy’s a stubborn, selfish person in his own way, who’ll mostly do what he wants to do, but keeping it to myself and holding it in was getting a little tough to do. I basically told him what I’ve said in these journals - that I didn’t think I was making any ridiculous requests or him, nor that many, and how it makes a person think they don’t give a shit when they don’t do what a friend asks of them. Also, I asked these favors from him. I didn’t demand. Once again, if he can’t handle the little things, what about the bigger things? What if we were going away for a week and he was the only one available to feed the animals? Would he really feed them? Or would he just say he would? And of course, I know I can expect him to counter-lecture me and to get all defensive. In the last letter I sent him, he said he was too baked to remember. Why is it that baked or not, I really feel he’ll remember this one since it’ll probably piss him off even if it’s just a little? It’s human nature to remember more of what’s important to us, but I’m starting to wonder if his memory problem is a little more selective than he lets on. He forgets the things he doesn’t care about or care to listen to.

As I told him, though, I wasn’t gonna lecture him in the way that Marla said she did about his staying home and getting baked. If he wants to stay home and get baked, that’s his choice. I’m not gonna tell him how to live his own life. He bitches that he’s such a loser who can’t get ahead in life, yet I never see him really try to move on. Even he admits he doesn’t really try. Therefore, as long as he’s not willing to move on and try his best, he won’t stand a chance of finding a decent job/love and it’ll be his loss. If he does all he can to sober up, get a good job that he keeps, meet better, cleaner people but doesn’t succeed, that’d be different. Then it’d just really not be meant to be for him, but he then would’ve at least tried!

That’s the third sales call. Just three or four more to go!

FRIDAY, JANUARY 1, 1999 Starting my writing early this year! Just backed up my stuff and completed my subindex for 1998. Well, the last two months of 1998, anyway.

Tom had to take Mom to the doctor yesterday cuz her feet swelled up. Actually, I think Mary brought her, but he was at the house doing things. She didn’t have to be admitted to the hospital, so that’s good.

I crashed around 3 PM and had Tom get me up at 9:30. That way I could have a half-hour to have coffee and wake up a bit before watching the ball go down in Times Square for the last time. They’re gonna be making a new ball next year. Tom couldn’t get a station covering Dick Clark’s Rockin’ New Year’s Eve, but MTV was there, so we watched that. It was 10º there!

At 11 PM our time, I went back to bed till 3 AM. I was surprised to have slept past midnight our time since people tend to shoot guns and firecrackers off, but all we heard was a few minutes of Mexican music about a block away just before 10:00.

I don’t understand how after shitting twice yesterday, eating around 1000 calories, not eating for twelve hours, how I could wake up just one pound lighter at 111 pounds, but that’s just my barely moving metabolism for you.

I had massive pre-cramping today and yesterday, but still no spots yet.

I’m now reading On My Honor.

I forgot to mention that Pam’s husband died of a bum liver from alcohol abuse. He asked for it if you ask me.

Andy left a message yesterday and said he was sorry he didn’t acknowledge Ma’s being ill before. That’s nice of him. He also said he was only working at Red Lobster this week. Damn! That’s only a few hours of work! How’s he gonna afford his bills and food, let alone his pot? In Marla’s email to me, she said she was lecturing him about getting a job, rather than staying home and getting wasted. Lecturing him won’t do anyone any good. He doesn’t want to work. He wants to stay home and get stoned.

Marla also sent us a New Year’s greeting card, but I’ll let Tom activate this thing. I don’t want to chance fucking things up.

I typed up a New Year’s card for Tom, as I want to finish off the cards Dureen sent. I even typed up Andy’s birthday card already and typed up about four for Bob.

Here are my predictions for 1999.

We will move this year on approximately June 19th.

The braces will come off this year, both top and bottom (he disagrees with this).

Tom will be at BOA throughout the year.

Tom’s mom will live throughout the year (he disagrees with this).

I don’t see much on doll making, which means it either won’t work out or it’s more towards the year 2000 that it’ll happen. Most likely, it’s still too far away to really see into (he disagrees with this).

Tom may be in a car accident but it could be avoided if he pays attention. If it happens, though, God won’t kill him, thank God! He’ll be OK, save for a few bruises. It’ll be more of an annoyance and a hassle, than anything serious.

I see us having an average two-person income (he disagrees with this).

It will remain just the two of us.

I think we will talk to the doctor who’ll tell me that if I’m fixable, it’ll take major surgery that’ll cost many thousands. Many thousands we don’t really have and that’d stall the move for 2-5 years. So, it won’t be a simple case of hormones or something that I’ll magically outgrow like Tom said. I will refuse any major surgery that may fix me since I do not want a child (he disagrees with this).

The sex will be the usual - on the weekends. We’ll have sex about once a week and he’ll cum 3-4 times this year (he disagrees with this).

I’ll be about 100 pounds on my birthday. I may even reach 100 pounds by this summer (he disagrees with this).

As for my 1998 predictions - I got most of them right, as usual.

I was right when I said he’d still be at BOA, we’d still be here, and his ma would live throughout the year, and I was right about the sex being typical. He came less than I thought he would, though. An all-time low of three squirts for 1998. I sure was wrong about the blacks moving in 1998, but at this point, that’s great. Speaking of them, are they coming back today?

Later…

Tom and I treated ourselves to Jack-n-the-Box. Once again, the hunger was so intense that I just didn’t give a fuck about the weight I’d gain over it. Yeah, I’m pretty watery now too, and am gonna try that chromium picolinate again. It helped curb my hunger before. Now that I have a good diet plan, I’ll see if this will help me stick to it.

New Year’s Day has been a pleasant one, save for a few of society’s desperate using their stereos to cry out their loneliness and ring in the New Year with a little notoriety from the city.

Tom got the rats’ cage up on wheels and man is it tall! It’s just a couple of inches shorter than Tom who’s 5’ 10”. I popped out the shelves, which make up the second, third, and fourth floor, so I could wash them. They were really crapped up with duties and piss! Tom’s gonna put a little Plexiglas around the sides of the shelves and create enough of a base to put sawdust in without them kicking it out. For now, I’ve got them out and they’re all down in the bass on the first floor. It’s plenty big enough even for four rats. I was able to entwine one of the wheels in the side and I stabilized it with bag ties. The bass of the wheel went in between the wires. The other wheel is in the bass along with their burrow and nest, but no one ever really wheels anymore. We’re gonna go out tomorrow to get another water bottle for the top level, and one of those big balls I saw.

I kind of renamed Cutie to Butterscotch with his coloring. He also has one cloudy eye like Piggy did before he died. Is this contagious? Are they all gonna die? God, I hope not! Anyway, Butterscotch doesn’t appear to be in any pain, but we’ll see. Maybe he and the others will be OK.

I asked Tom how he could agree it’ll be just the two of us this year when he’s supposed to believe that what’s wrong with me is minor and that we’ll have a kid. He said because it takes nine months and there are twelve months in a year. Meaning since it’s January, getting fixed and pregnant by March is a wee bit too soon. Well, I hope I’m right about Tom’s subconscious being anti-kid and I hope he’ll always be able to live without one just fine because I absolutely refuse to allow myself to conceive even if God would allow it. I do not want that!

I also don’t want those freeloaders coming back. Not now. It’s too soon. Fortunately, there’s still no sign of them and I hope to hell they come back late on Sunday, but with my luck, they’ll be here prime time tomorrow. Around noon-2:00. If they come back today or tomorrow, though, that would probably mean I’ll have to deal with a three-hour ball game with ten kids participating. I’m gonna have to deal with that shit on MLK Day as it is. I’m sure just about every black ass in the country will make some sort of spectacle of themselves that day. It’s still a miracle that that two-minute ball game those two boys played was all that’s occurred since last - what? April?

Anyway, whenever the hell that bitch does get back, she’ll let me know it. I can only imagine how much door-slamming there’ll be!

Tom’s showing zero desire for sex, but it isn’t the weekend yet.

[theblogs2024]

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[fanfic-gallery]

Hi, again! So, my idea includes mc singing Waste My Youth [Ethereal Version] by GALXARA and the om!brothers... I just can't stop thinking about how they'd react! 😔

Waste my youth

✎ Demon brothers x Reader

✎ You wanted to spend your eternity with them, waste your youth on them like no one else.. fortunately, they do too..

✎ Tags: fluff, gn! reader

: ̗̀➛ Manger’s/Author’s note: This song is a fucking banger- like sheeesh, how have I not hear of this before?! Underrated I tell you, underrated!! aHEM ahem.. anywaysss hope you enjoy <3

I wanna waste, wanna waste my youth on you, you Oh, the sounds running through the glass You can take the moments that I have I wanna waste, wanna waste my youth on you, yo

*.✦ Lucifer

If you sang this during the earlier periods of your arrival, he would have thought of it as wishful thinking, wasting your life away, falling for demons, you can’t be serious...

But now, as you belt the chorus, a burning sensation has made its way to his cold heart. Smile tugging at his lips, piercing crimson irises softening in, body leaning closer into the door frame as he hummed along with you

“Such great talent, ” he would mutter, ears twitching with every striking tone and emotional grip, the lyrics sinking their meanings in the pits of his mind

A lost of composure, leaving a soft creek of your door, head snapping over to the noise, only to meet eyes with nothing but a lingering scent of cologne

Stiff figure against the corners of the frame, breath heavy, the flame internally scorching, red dusting his face

"This is interesting... my.. what great strength you have over me, love.. "

*.✦ Mammon

Tanned skin rosy, steam picking up pace, leaking from his eardrums, the rapid pumping of his heart stirring in his chest

Body leaning further and further, ears tingling at lyrics leaving your lips, breaths heaving with every second he stood longer

Subconsciously alerting his presence with creak at the door. Blueish yellow ombre eyes stared at yours, rushes of embarrassment flooding his nerves

A coughing fit and a slight tug at his posture as he made up his excuse, cheekbones still stained in bright red, pupils darting all over the place, never once aligning with yours

"N‐nice singing human— w‐what?! I didn't eavesdrop!? W‐why, why would the Great Mammon waste his time doing that! Stupid human.. "

*.✦ Leviathan

Trembling hands reached for his pocket, device trying not to slip out of his sweaty palms, top jaw chewing at his bottom lip, pinkish flesh being nibbled at as he stared nervously

Blood boiling to an extreme, thoughts of you singing to his favourite songs with that harmonious voice of yours, even through the chaos up in his head, the underlining lyrics didn’t go unnoticed

Screeching noises of a steaming kettle spilled in him internally, a hand raising to bury his burning cheeks, deep exhalates and twitching pupils

An arm raised, ready to snap a mini video for himself, only for a flash of white to appear in brief instead, alerting a startled you to stroll towards the creaking door

You met with nothing but the thumping of footsteps in the distance of the hallway. The demon sighed in relieve, ass hitting the floor as he raised his phone to his eyes

“w-why... ughhh, is this what normies call this fuzzy feeling ‘l-love’.. ”

*.✦ Satan

Book in hand, eyes glued to the page, fingers trailing the edge as he strolled the halls, the booming voice of yours reaching his ears when he took a corner

Figure passing the rest of the doors before taking a pause at yours, emerald green stared, eyes widening when he meet you, hairbrush in hand, movements swift yet graceful, melodic harmonies leaving your throat

Taking a breath, he left, footsteps thumping quicker by every second, nose scrunched up, opened book hovering over his tilted head, cheeks sparkling embers of red, ears ringing as your sharp belts rewind in his head

Face squishing further into the pages, the angelic dance of you played on repeat like a broken recorder, heart stabbing draggers at his chest, daring to escape his clutches as he coughed it up to maintain his calm physique 

“Such grace, poise... my chest hurts, but I don’t dislike it..”

*.✦ Asmodeus

The intro starts, taking a deep breath, before even slurring the first word, a bang on your door made you flinch, arms envelope your waist, warmth swallowing you whole

 Head snap to notice wavy strawberry blonde, a glossed smile capturing your gaze, lovely tunes leaving them, leaving you shocked, a grin of your own spread on your face as you joined in

Slender hands taking yours, fingers locking, intertwining together, feet dragging against the floor, bodies swayed, as tones harmonized with one another

Ending getting closer, movements slowing down, hands pulling your frame into his, red tainted noses touching, lips grazing, pinkish eyes pouring into you, as the heat from his body melted your beating muscle

“Heheh~ this was fun, should we go for round two?”

*.✦ Beelzebub

Was walking towards the kitchen for a midnight snack, footsteps as quiet as a mouse despite his huge build. Lavender eyes dilating when he turned a corner, pupils darting towards you, sitting on top of the counter, legs swinging, mug in hand as you sang

Gently taking a step, hand trying to reach the fridge’s handle yet not wanting to disrupt the angelic tone you were singing, gripping his arm back as he continued to stare

Closing out the song with soft whispers till moderate claps sounded, head rolled around, cheeks flared into flames, your shaky voice called out for the ginger now digging his head into the cold powered furniture

You rushed towards the sink, scrubbing away at the stains, directly putting it onto the dry rack only for a larger hand to grasp yours, eyes meeting lavender, cheeks swollen with food, little smile still tugging at them

“Can you stay a little longer? I want to hear it again.. the song, it might help my starving stomach, ‘cause I feel half full already.”

*.✦ Belphegor

Numb limbs slithered and warped around you, head snuggling into your chest, warmth surround you and the demon in your arms, humming tunes turned into running vocals, sweet muttering harmonies leaving your lips

Sleepy lilac eyes fluttered, tears staining the corner, irises rose, attention lingering on your lips, his tug on your overalls seemingly tighten, pulling your frame closer to his

Breaths deep and heavy, cheekbones to the edges of his ears dust in pink, your scent alongside your voice overwhelming his nervous system, inner workings going haywire

His pleading whines got to you, apologies poured over, only for the whines to grow louder, lavender eyes squeezed shut as head shook around, hand raising and drawing along your jaw

“Please keep going, doll... your v-voice *yawns* is.. so.. soothing..”

[mieux-de-se-taire]

Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge - Part 2

This is part 2 of my song-by-song review of Revenge. I’ve already posted part 1 of Revenge and one for Bullets, and I’m planning on posting reviews for their other albums as well.

The Jetset Life - first of all, I love the transition between The Ghost of You and Jetset Life, it’s so satisfying with the gradual introduction of the gallop-like drums for Jetset Life, vocally it’s a very fun song with how Gee says “the hotel Bella Muerte” at 1:14 and how he sings all of 2:09-2:38 with the autotune very deliberately obvious, I really the outro as well with the scratchy guitar effect from 3:28 to the end, also I looked up what jetset means and google defines it as “wealthy and fashionable people who travel widely and frequently for pleasure”, which makes the song make much more sense

Interlude - not too much to say, a nice reprieve from the intensity and anger of some of the other songs, a nice vocal performance by Gee even though I had no idea what he was saying until I looked at the lyrics, you can really hear the Catholicism, short, simple, sweet

Venom - also one of my favorites (it’s a really good album), an absolute banger from the first moment, brilliant intro, I really like how he punctuates certain words in the verses like “paid me” at 0:38, “made me” at 0:41, “save me” at 1:25, and “gave me” at 1:27, I love the guitars in this song, especially Ray’s solo  at 2:12-2:38, my favorite part is probably the chorus, it’s catchy and sharp and I love the lines “You’re running after something / that you’ll never kill / If this is what you want / then fire at will”, Venom has some of my favorite lyrics from Revenge and it’s great to sing along to

Hang ‘Em High - I was dubious when I first listened this song because of the whistling in the beginning, but I ended up really liking it, it’s another song with intense somewhat cacophonous sections with lots of yelling like 0:07-0:14 and 2:33-2:38 which I think are very fun, my favorite part is 0:56-1:30 with the fun rhythm in the first part and how one of the guitars follows the vocals so closely in the second part, I also really like how Gee says “sights” at 0:36 and “God” at 1:02

Deathwish - it took me a long time to warm up to this one, but the killer intro finally got to me, everything about the guitars in this song is amazing, I love the lyric “from the razor to the rosary” at 1:45, my favorite part is 1:54-2:01 when Gee says “I will avenge my ghost with every breath I take” because of how each syllable is punctuated, overall I really like his vocals in this song. Also, interestingly enough, Gerard said, “‘That’s when I wrote “Skylines and Turnstiles” and some of the earlier material. I actually wrote “Fashion Statement” too at that time, though we didn’t use it until Revenge. I wrote those songs sitting in my pyjamas or underwear with a tiny amp’” (The True Lives of My Chemical Romance, 29-30).

Cemetery Drive - another slightly softer and more vulnerable song, I love the imagery it evokes, this song really brings forth and connects with the concept most to me, it really has the tragic, doomed romance vibe down, there’s something haunting about the lyrics “Did you get what you deserve? / Is this what you always want me for?”, especially in the context of the narrative, my favorite part is the way Gee sings “way down” starting at 2:36, his voice is so soft but there’s still a very raw and pained quality to it, overall a macabre and beautiful song 

What I Do for a Living - fuck, what an album closer, maybe even my second favorite song from the record, less of the traditional song structure that became more common on Revenge and more Bullets-esque structure, reminds me somewhat of Demolition Lovers, some more great lyrics (“Just get in line and I’ll grieve you”, Jesus Christ), I love how the song goes from normal, angry, concept-related (also pretty horny) song (0:00-1:43) to absolutely feral wailing (1:44-1:56), then the stripped down quiet section staring at 2:10 that just builds deliciously back to screaming and wailing at 2:59, and then that final yell of “I can’t clean the blood off the sheets in my bed” at 3:26 and back to the quiet section from before, god, the visceral pain and rawness when he screams “I tried”, fuck, and the repetition of “Never again / and never again / They gave us two shots to the back of the head / And we’re all dead now”, just the regret and guilt and horror of devoting yourself entirely to something and doing everything you can for it, including terrible things because you’re so convinced it’s right and then realizing it was all for nothing and none of it was worth it, but you can’t get back the person you were before, fuck, what a way to end the story and the album, imagine hearing this live

I’m not including extra songs or b-sides in the album reviews, but I will make one (or multiple) later about all the extra material, including Desert Song (which is one of my favorites).

Also, I forgot in my last post, but happy belated 18th birthday to Revenge!

[nugnthopkns]

i’ll tell you i was wrong if you dance with me

word count: 3.3k

warnings: explicit fem!reader, slightly unhealthy relationship moment (lack of communication), mention of infidelity, cursing, alcohol consumption, a fair bit of angst

recommended listening: fred astaire | adam brock

a/n: communicate with your partners!!! also yeah this is the song from lady bird. it’s a banger

This seriously isn’t happening. 

You never fight with Travis. Communication comes easy between the two of you, but you also make it a priority to talk about your feelings. It keeps things from boiling over; both of you are known to unleash wicked tempers on occasion and have found being direct stops issues from occuring. Arguments still occasionally happen, but they’re typically over trivial things like what movie to watch or where you’re spending the holidays. Travis apparently forgot about the fact you talk to each other about things. 

He’d been upset when he came home from practice, but you were pretty sure he was fine after he woke up from his pre-game nap. Knowing he’s a superstitious person and has a lot of pressure on him to put up points, you had made the choice not to ask about what was bothering him. Throwing off his routine could have detrimental consequences. Tonight's game is tighter than it should have been, but the Flyers come out on top. Travis spends a bit more time in the penalty box than you would have liked, but everyone was getting chippy by the start of the third period. Claude tries to talk to him on the bench but he gets shut down. Whatever Travis was upset about before is still clearly bothering him, and it’s affecting his game. 

You’re following Travis home from the game, and can tell he’s uptight from the way he’s gripping the steering wheel. As you wind through downtown Philadelphia you try and prepare yourself for any bomb that could drop. Chances are that when you reach your apartment things will explode. Maybe it’s nothing; Travis is fine and just wants to be a responsible driver for once. You pull into the free spot beside his car and see him walking towards the elevator, suit jacket balled up and tucked under his arm. This won’t be good. Trying to buy yourself some time, you take the stairs. Seven flights later you arrive outside your door; he left it unlocked, which gives you a sliver of hope things will be fine. 

“Do you want to talk about what’s bothering you?” you call into the darkness of the apartment. Your sneakers are left at the door and to retreat towards the bedroom, looking for a sign of life. You find one in the bathroom: the light is on. A gentle push on the door reveals your boyfriend is in the shower and ignoring you. 

“Trav?”

“Yeah,” he huffs, words muffled by him tossing his head back to rinse the shampoo of his hair. Apparently the shower isn’t as relaxing as he had hoped. 

You don’t bother to tread lightly, upset that he’s acting like a child. “You’re being an asshole. I get that you had a bad day, but you can’t take it out on me. I just want to help.”

Travis turns the water off suddenly. “Can’t help if you’re the problem,” he scoffs. 

His statement doesn’t make sense. You’ve done nothing out of the ordinary the past couple of days; nothing that would warrant the behaviour you’re receiving. “What do you mean?”

Shouldering passed you to exit the room, Travis doesn’t bother to respond. You’re beyond frustrated: partners in healthy relationships communicate, not show emotions like grade schoolers. “You’re not giving me the fucking silent treatment Travis. You gotta talk to me.” The bedroom is dark when you enter and you flick the overhead light on to see better.

“You really don’t know?”

“Of course I don’t know,” you seethe. “If I did know we wouldn’t be in this predicament because we’d be solving the issue.”

The glare you receive is sharp enough to cut stone. He pulls on a t-shirt, anger clear in the aggression he does it with. “Why did I have to find out from Carter that you’ve been getting coffee with your TA?”

You’re shocked. In no way is it what he thinks it is. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” you sigh, upset that Travis would take someone else’s words at face value and not talk to you about it. 

“I’m dead fucking serious Y/N. You preach communication, but it looks as though you’re the one who hasn’t been doing enough talking.”

The room around you starts to spin. You can’t comprehend what he’s insinuating. “Wait, you think I’m cheating on you?” you ask. There has been a gross miscommunication error somewhere; never in a million years would you think of having an affair.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Well what the fuck did you say?”

Travis tugs at the roots of his hair in frustration. He doesn’t answer immediately, pacing the length of the bed a few times. “I just–” he struggles to articulate his words. “I just said that you’re being a bit hypocritical, don’t you think? You’re standing here yelling at me because I didn’t voice my concerns, but you haven’t been talking to me about what’s going on in your life.” Travis’ tone is sharp, and it stings. 

It’s your turn to show how upset you are. Your hands curl into fists at your side, and you squeeze your nails into your palms before releasing them. “I do tell you what goes on in my life Travis,” your breathing ragged as you try to not lose your cool. “I ran into my TA at the coffee shop yesterday, and he paid for my drink because my card wouldn’t work. Didn’t think it was breaking news, sorry I don’t send you every single fucking life update that happens. What’s gotten into you?”

“You could have been cheating!” 

“But I wasn’t!” you scream, no longing caring about keeping up appearances. You can’t believe Travis would think that. It hurts. “And I never would! You know this”

He turns his back to you, like it pains him to look at you, but you don’t understand why. You're not the one suggesting infidelity. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got to say?” he seethes. 

“That’s all there is to say! There’s nothing to explain, no secret to uncover. I’m not in the wrong here.”

“And you think I am?”

You look at Travis like he has three heads. “Are you serious? You’re the one who’s so fucking upset over a situation that could have happened to literally anyone.” Your tone suggests that you’re exhausted with the conversation, and Travis gets the hint. 

He slinks towards the door, still visibly angry. “I’ll take the couch tonight,” he grits out before tightly gripping the doorknob and shutting the door with more force than needed. 

The bed doesn’t look appealing, full of much happier memories, but fighting with Travis has knocked any and all energy out of you. You gingerly pull back the covers and slip underneath. Tears trickle down your cheek as you toss and turn, trying to fall into some sort of slumber. However, your mind has other ideas, replaying the blowout. You can’t begin to understand why Travis is so bothered by the instance, and more importantly why it caused him to disregard a fundamental part of your relationship. There’s little movement from beyond the door, but you can hear the faint noise of a Johnny Cash record playing from the speakers in the living room. After hours of staring at the ceiling your eyes close and a fitful sleep follows. 

You might have gotten nine hours of sleep, but you wake up feeling exhausted. Fighting with anyone drains you, but fighting with Travis is especially terrible because it rarely happens. There doesn’t seem to be any movement from the other side of the door; maybe he’s still asleep. You refrain from heading into the kitchen, unsure of what will happen if you see him. After nearly twenty minutes you can’t wait any longer to start your day and pad into the main living space. It’s empty: no sign that Travis has been there for many hours. Guess you don’t have to immediately deal with the fallout of last night. 

A post-it note is tacked onto the fridge handle and your heart skips a beat. In Travis’ chicken scratch it reads I’ll see you at the gala tonight. We’ve got media all day and I won’t be back in time for us to go together. There’s no mention of the fight, and you can’t judge from a two sentence note whether or not he’s still pissed off. 

“Fuck,” you groan. “The gala.” Tonight’s the annual Flyers Give Back gala, and you’re expected to be in attendance. It’s not even a charity event; the organization is offering a chance for business men to chat up the players in hopes they continue to donate. You find things like these unbearable and tedious, but Travis does his best to make them enjoyable. Not knowing what page you’re on with him is going to be terrible. There’s a pretty good chance he’ll ignore you if he’s still upset. 

As if someone is reading your mind, the better halves group chat starts to explode. Everyone is chattering excitedly about tonight, and under normal circumstances you’d be excited to see them in such a relaxed setting. It’s been a while you’ve all hung out, but you can’t find yourself to contribute to the conversation. You mute the notifications and do your best to move on with your day. The rest of the morning is spent working on your thesis; mind numbing work that almost makes you forget about everything that happened in the past twenty-four hours. Once you’ve hit an acceptable word count for the day you shutdown your computer and make lunch. 

The grilled cheese sandwich you eat while watching a John Mulaney comedy special fulfills your appetite but doesn’t curb your dread. You decide to call your sister, hoping she can be a welcome distraction. Dialling her number you sink further into the couch cushions, wrapping yourself tightly with a blanket so that only your head is poking out. “What’s up?” she asks, and you hear her shuffle in the background, presumably to move somewhere more private. It isn’t normal for you to call her unannounced. 

You hold it together for approximately two seconds. The tears start and they don’t stop. Every emotion you’ve felt since getting home last night comes to the surface, and before you know it you’re sobbing into the receiver. 

“Woah, slow down,” she says. “Y/N, take some deep breaths.” When your breathing returns to a somewhat regular level she continues speaking. “What happened?”

It takes you nearly twenty minutes to tell the whole story because you’re so distraught. No detail is spared, and you go back much farther than is probably needed. You recount what happened after yesterday’s practice, pretty much the entire game, and the fight that followed. “I just don’t know what brought this on,” you sniffle. “We don’t fight, we talk about things. I’m not sure if I’m more upset at what he insinuated or at the fact he broke a cardinal rule.”

Your sister sighs, and you hear her breath fan in slight annoyance. You’re worked up about something kinda stupid, you know, but you can’t let it slide. “It’s probably a bit of both. So, what are you going to do?”

“What can I do? I know that we need to talk about what happened, but a public event is not the best place to do that. I also can’t not show up or ask Trav to ditch in order to figure this out. We have to be there.”

“Sounds like you’ve got it figured out then.”

You really don’t. “What happens if he ignores me the entire night?”

She laughs and tells you to not to anything stupid, and to take your mind off of things tells you a story about your nephew eating dirt. It does the trick; you’re momentarily distracted and forget about Travis. You talk for a while longer before she has to go. “Miles is crying, will you be okay if I let you go?”

It’s your turn to laugh. “I’ll be fine,” you insist. A glance at the clock tells you it’s time to start getting ready. “I’ve gotta shower and start the process. Beauty is time consuming you know.”

Against your better judgement you open your text messages to see if there’s anything from Travis. His text thread is the same as it was yesterday and you’re disappointed. You had hoped that maybe he’d get bored between interviews and check in. With no new notifications you exit out of the application and pull up a playlist you hope will brighten your mood. The steam from the shower relaxes your tense muscles and warms you up. It’s comforting in the way a cocoon is; you practically have to drag yourself out of the bathtub. 

Your bedroom is cold and doesn’t offer the same respite as the bathroom. The music continues to float in from the hallway, and you allow yourself to get lost in it. It’s been a while since you danced around your room; it worked to cure sadness when you were a teenager. Hopefully the magic hasn’t worn off. You flail your arms, not caring how silly you look since no one is here to see you anyways, and scream along at the top of your lungs. After a few songs you feel better and return to the task at hand. The dress code is labelled as ‘black tie’ on the invitation, but that isn’t what you’re worried about. You own a million dresses for situations like this after being with Travis for so long. You don’t know what he packed to wear, and there’s a decent chance you’ll be pushed together for photos. Clashing colours will look terrible.

A quick glance through his side of the closest leaves you no clues, so you decide to be as literal as possible. Black is a flattering colour and works well with every colour combination. There’s a jumpsuit hanging in the back that catches your eye and you think it’s the perfect choice. After pulling it on you move back into the bathroom to do your hair and makeup. Everything is natural and relaxed; once again for the sake of potential photos. The clock strikes on the hour and you realize it’s time to leave. A pair of heels are slipped on and you order an Uber before locking the apartment and heading to the lobby. You had thought about driving yourself, but on the occasion that things don’t end well with Travis you’ll probably have more than a couple of drinks. 

The entire way to the venue your leg bounces up and down. It’s been years since you’ve been this nervous about being around the team. You’ve been with Travis for a few seasons now, and the organization has become a second family to you. No one is going to know about the fight and you worry they’re going to talk about your solo arrival. The outside of the convention centre is sharply decorated, and your driver lets out a low whistle at the extravagance of it all. “Thank you so much,” you gush, and exit the car. Thankfully no photographers are set up outside, and you dart inside without being seen. 

Once in the main event space, you scan for the bar. There’s no sign of Travis, which should make you more relaxed but doesn’t. What if there was an accident on the way to the venue? You have no idea where he was all or who he came with. Overthinking distracts you from your original goal, leaving you standing aimlessly in the middle of the room. 

“You look like you might need one of these,” Ryanne chuckles, handing you a champagne flute. You gladly accept and down it in two gulps. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, eyes scanning to see if your boyfriend has made an appearance. 

She sees right through your facade of calm and wraps you in a tight hug. “What’s going on?”

For a second time today you explain what happened last night. There’s no judgement from Ryanne as there might have been from your sister because she understands. Dating a professional athlete isn’t easy; things like this happen much more frequently than you’d expect. Perhaps it’s all the time spent apart that makes the occasional lapse in communication so apparent. She listens quietly, full attention on you. To your credit you don’t cry this time, slightly more numb to the situation to due more time passing. It still hurts a tremendous amount. 

“He’ll come around,” Ryanne insists. “TK is a little moronic sometimes, but he’d never jeopardize his relationship with you. You’re quite literally the most important thing in his life.”

 “I know. I’m just upset because the whole thing could have been avoided.”

She offers you a sympathetic smile. “I know.” Ryanne links her arm through yours. “Let’s go find something to snack on.”

You spend most of the night with Ryanne, and occasionally Claude when he can get away from the hot-shot businessmen. Travis eventually came in, flanked by Nolan, but was immediately pulled into the politics of the night. The two of you occasionally sneak glances at each other and you tell he’s uncomfortable. You can only hope it isn’t because of your presence. It’s nearing eleven; the party has become a much more relaxed affair, and the DJ is playing sappy love songs in an attempt to get the media team some good photo ops. An intern asks the Giroux’s if they’ll dance for an instagram story and they both look hesitant. “Go on guys, I’ll be fine,” you reassure. It’s the subtle push they need to enjoy a quiet moment together. 

As if he can sense you’re lonely and feel out of place, Travis approaches you. It’s tentative, like he’s petrified you’ll turn him away, but he comes regardless. Drinks are in each of his hands and he extends one to you. When you don’t take it he sets it on the table behind you. “Hi,” he says sheepishly, fiddling with something in his pocket. 

“Hi Travis.” You’re determined not to let his presence crack your resolve; last night illuminated a big issue and it needed to be dealt with. It’s proving to be difficult because he bumps a shoulder against yours and all you can think of is kissing him senseless. 

The song changes to a Bruce Springsteen ballad, and you recognize it instantly. It played at the coffee shop on your first date with Travis all those years ago. One look at him tells you this isn’t an accident, that he had requested it specifically for the two of you. “Dance with me?”

You sigh deeply, looking him in the eyes. “Trav, this isn’t going to magically fix things.”

“I know, baby, I know,” he pleads. “I fucked up so bad last night because I was being an idiot. I wrote down everything I would do differently if I had a time machine, look.” A hand reaches into his jacket pocket and pulls out a piece of paper filled with his nearly illegible print. “Just one dance, and then we can go home and talk about it like I should have suggested in the first place. Let me know we’re still okay.”

If you hadn’t been in public you’re sure Travis would have been in tears. It’s not necessarily a good look to cry in front of hundreds of sponsors. He has a reputation as the goofy boy who takes no shit to uphold. “You have a lot of talking ahead of you,” you say, and let him drag you onto the dance floor. Swaying in his arms you realize things are going to be just fine. Travis loves you and you love him; there’s nothing the two of you can’t work through. 

☼ ☼ ☼ ☼

taglist: @jamiedrysdales​ @kiedhara​ @tortito​ if you want to be added shoot me an ask :)

[sabraeal]

Sic Semper Monstrum, Chapter 6

[Read on AO3]

Obiyukiweek 2021, Day 2: Death Upright: Change, Ending, Release Reversed: Refusal to Change, Unfulfillment, Stagnation

A seam strains along a well-worn shoulder, so stretched he can actually hear it creak over the din of the canteen. That clinches is: that asshole’s got to be picking out too-small fatigues from the GI bin.

There’s no other way for him to look like that, biceps testing the tensile strength of cotton every time he takes a sip of his coffee. Sure, this guy’s jacked the way all the active rangers are, ready to heave 750 tons of metal onto their backs at a moment’s notice, but he’s not Mitsuhide. It makes sense when he pops buttons off his coverall, or stretches out one of their dingy cotton tees. But that’s not this asshole.

He’s lean, the kind that telegraphs that taking an elbow from him might be career limiting. There’s no reason the general issue tee should cling to his back like it’s painted on, his coverall hanging off his hips like he’s got an occupation other than freeloading. Shirayuki leans over, fingertips brushing over his sleeve with a laugh--

“Just punch him already,” Kiki drawls, “get it out of your system.”

Zen blinks, suddenly aware there’s still some Taco Tuesday left in his mouth. “What?”

“Kiki.” Dark bruises circle the skin beneath Mitsuhide’s eyes, underscoring the weary strain in his voices. “We shouldn’t be encouraging that sort of behavior.”

“Why not?” Her elbows dig into formica as she leans over her plate, shoveling rice into her mouth. At her father’s table, Kiki knows the use of every spoon, the name of every fork, but this deep in the dome, Ranger Seiran��s never met a meal she can’t inhale in five minutes flat. “I did it.”

Air hisses right through his perfect teeth, the only sign he’s annoyed besides the tense bar of his shoulders. “And you’re lucky you didn’t get caught.”

Kiki hums around the lip of her mug. “You mean like you did with Lugis?”

Mitsuhide doesn’t have skin like his, the sort that flares up like flash paper at the barest hint of sun or taunting. But still his neck flushes red as a burn, so bright Zen’s half tempted to slap it, just so he knows what it’s like.

“T-that was an accident,” he insists, even as his mouth settles into a satisfied smile. “Even the inquiry said so.”

It’s a struggle to keep his own from curling at the edges. “Only because Lugis didn’t want to press charges.”

“Only because he didn’t want it getting out that a girl ran circles around him on the mat,” Kiki corrects, each word a scalpel’s slice, excising those particulars from that shitshow with surgical precision. They can talk about this; Lugis’s challenge and the way Kiki swept him; that he was hardly on his feet when Mitsuhide somehow mislaid his fist and found it in his face, but everything else, the whys of it--

Those are all off the record. Forever. Or at least they would be, if Lugis wasn’t crawling through the dome like a stoat that’s caught whiff of an egg.

But that’s not what this is about. “And you want me to do that with that asshole?” Zen mutters. “Since it made Mitsuhide such good friends with Lugis, after all.”

“Obi isn’t Hisame,” Kiki informs him with the kind of steel in her tone that suggests she won’t be taking critique on that particular assessment. “All your issues with him are external.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” he snaps, teeth gritting down.

It’s a mistake, a rookie one at that: never ask a Seiran a question you don’t want the answer to. “He’s got Shirayuki’s attention and you don’t.”

Mitsuhide clears his throat, shoulders set like Zen better plan to shelter in place. This particular storm isn’t about to hit its usual conversational breakwall. “Attention you’d have, if you hadn’t skipped out on your session.”

Zen grips the table to take that hit. But it’s not nearly the last; the stare Kiki turns to him is wide-eyed, half-betrayed. “You didn’t say anything about that.”

“It’s none of your business.” Even as the words fly from him, he knows it’s not fair, that he’s spitting nails into the wind so that they’ll hurt someone else instead of him. It doesn’t stop him, it never does, but a guilty knot settles in his gut. “The sessions are voluntary. They always have been. I don’t need--”

“Someone to keep your head on straight?” Every syllable snaps like ice, her eyes twice as cold. “That was the whole point, wasn’t it? So if something happens to us, you’d have--”

He can’t listen to this, not another word. “That was never the plan! I would never plan for you guys...”

Not coming back. For Redwood Dancer to be left a ruin on the sea floor, their bodies strapped in, hermetically sealed until the ocean wore the jaeger down to parts.

“Nothing is happening to you guys,” he grits out. “Shirayuki was always an addition, not a-- a replacement, because you’ll never--”

“No one can promise that.” Mitsuhide’s never one to throw a first punch, but oh, does he know how to end a fight. All the breath’s knocked clean out of him, and there’s Dancer’s right hand, shoveling down another bite of rice like it’s nothing. “Every time we go out there it’s a flip of a coin. It doesn’t matter how good we are, one day there’s going to be a kaiju that kicks us clean off our feet.”

He shakes his head, wishing the words would fall right out of them. “No. That’s not--”

“Zen.” He’s never heard a siren’s call, but it can’t be as inexorable as Mitsuhide saying his name in that tone, both firm and pitying and mournful all at once. “You know better than anyone. Rangers don’t grow old.”

There’s no thought when he levers himself up from the table, just up with away chasing its heels. He just can’t be here listening to this, not now, not after they just barely crawled home from another kaiju clawing its way across Korea’s shoreline. Not when he knows he should be fighting shoulder-to-shoulder with them-- that he would be if they stopped trying to saddle him with every rookie that rolled out of the simulator and finally put him with the only person that could fill that brace beside him.

“Zen!”

It’s easy to ignore Mitsuhide’s shout over the dinner rush; it’s just part of the noise, a buzz at the edge of his senses. Something to goad him, to push him out of there before either of them think to follow after. Their pity’s the last thing he needs, the last thing he wants. After all, it’s not him that won’t climb in the Conn-Pod, but his--

“Boss!”

Zen blinks, the empty corridor resolving around him. He’d let his feet carry him, their only imperative away-- and now he’s all turned around, every bulkhead the same. He’s heard about this happening to rangers when they lived in the dome too long; chasing the Minotaur, a ranger called it, three drinks down at the local hangar. And no fine little princess to give you string to find your way out.

Except he did have one of those. A person to help him through the labyrinth, even if she couldn’t show him the way. He’d been avoiding her.

That seems stupid now. It’s not like she’s on that asshole’s--

“Hey! Hey, boss.”

Speak of the devil. Zen turns, and there he is, too-tight t-shirt and all: his own personal problem. “What do you want?”

“Nothing.” He holds out his hands, as if that’s proof enough to clear him of ulterior motives. “I just...saw you head out and it looked like...”

Zen’s shoulders square, body braced like they’re back on the mat. “Looked like what?”

Obi’s breath rushes out of him. “It looked like you shouldn’t be alone.”

It’s not until he lifts his hand that he realizes it’s trembling, barely able to push his bangs back where he needs them. “Yeah? And you thought-- what? I’d want to see you?” Even to his own ears, his laugh is bitter, wrong, like it came from someone else’s mouth. “You, the guy who won’t get out of my way?”

Something ripples across this asshole’s face, too fast for him to catch more than its wake. “You think I’m the stick stuck in the mud here?” When those strange cat’s eyes stare at him, it’s out of placid waters, but that grin on his face-- it doesn’t reach them. “Rock, meet hard place.”

Zen’s hands clench, so hard his knuckles creak. “You think this is a joke? You’re trying to shove your ass in a seat that isn’t for you, and you--”

“You think I want to be out there?” He lets out a bark somewhere between pitying and derisive, arms folding over his chest. Zen takes special care not to check how stressed his seams are. “I did my time, Your Highness. I got out. I got told no one would ever look for me again.”

“Then why are you here?” Zen spits. “No one wants you.”

“You don’t know how true I wish that was.” A hand pulls at his shoulder, long fingers digging in around the blade. “But your brother dragged me down the coast because I’m not done. I’ll never be done, because I can’t sit on the sidelines and watch Snotju or Head Banger or whatever cosmic asshole crawls out of the rift wreck another wall.”

His hand lifts, scrubbing through the bristle of his hair, just a shade too shaggy to be regulation. “It’s fucked up, isn’t it, Master? I’m the one who doesn’t want to be here, but I’m the one who’s got the balls to get back in that jaeger. And you--” a cold gaze rakes over him-- “you’re content to sit there and watch the world burn just because I’m not--”

“Shut up.” He’s trembling, every muscle straining against his self-control. “Shut the fuck up. You don’t know a goddamn thing--”

“I’ve been in your head,” that asshole reminds him. “I know exactly what I’m talking about.”

“You don’t.” He can’t. “You don’t fucking know a thing about me.”

He cocks a hip, grin loaded like a bullet. “The prove it.”

Kiki’s right: in the instant where his knuckles hit that cut-glass cheekbone, Zen feels great.

Shirayuki’s office has always put him at ease; he stepped in here the first time before she’d even properly covered the walls, the tension seeping right out of him into the push carpet under his boots. There’s just something about how she fills a space-- something that has nothing to do with furniture or wall hangings or motivational posters-- that makes his brain put out whatever chemical that means safe. He’d never understood why the other rangers avoided her, not when they could have forty minutes in the room equivalent of a warm hug.

But it’s different this time.

“Izana made you call me here.” He’s ramrod straight on her worn couch, hands clenched in his lap. Or rather, right over the throw pillow he moved to sit. “Didn’t he?”

“The Marshal’s personal feelings have nothing to do with this.” Her words snap like a window on a sill, closing on that topic with a sense of finality he expected from the top brass, not their therapist. “The PPDC’s code of conduct is quite clear on the procedure to be followed after a non-sanctioned physical altercation between personnel.”

There’s a loose thread right by the fringe; he’d noticed it months ago, but never dared to tug it. Every time he’d felt the urge, he’d think of dominoes and load-bearing pillars, of the whole edge unraveling in his hands right as she looked at him.

Today, he pulls. It comes right off with a snap. “And that’s the only reason you brought me in?“

Shirayuki turns to him, one incredulous brow raised. “You were the one who cancelled our last session--” her mouth twitches as she twists the knife-- “last minute.”

Well, he deserves that one. Sure, he’s had his reasons, but Shirayuki-- well, she deserved more than one step up from ghosting. If the thought of having to look anyone in the eye after all that hadn’t made his stomach turn for three days, maybe he would have come to that conclusion before Kiki ripped him a new one over it.

“Sorry about that,” he mutters, aware with every word that it’s not enough, that there’s not enough apologies to patch up the trust he broke. “I wasn’t...ready to talk.”

He expects the clap back; yeah I got the message, or but you were ready to take a swing? But he should have known: that’s not how Shirayuki works. She’s a professional, whether that’s what he wants from her or not.

Instead he face softens, right back into his friend. “I know. What happened in the drift can be...intense.” She hesitates, teeth sinking into the plush bow of her lip. “I just wish that you had felt comfortable conveying that to me. As my patient, you’re supposed to be able to control--”

“I don’t want to be your patient.”

Her mouth closes with a grunt, hand pressed to her stomach as if he hit her. “O-oh,” she murmurs, breathless. “I hadn’t realized that you, ah, wanted to terminate our sessions--”

“No!” God, it would be nice to be able to say this all smooth like he’s sure that jacked asshole can, leaning against a wall with his hand right by her head, sexual tension rocking the Richter scale. “I just meant--” his teeth try to grind down his thoughts into something palatable-- “Shirayuki, I don’t want to just be your patient.”

He could fall into her eyes they’re so wide, rounded ‘o’s that match her mouth’s geometry. “Ah, Zen, that’s...”

“I don’t mean because I-I like you.” Even though he does, but there’s rules for that. The kind the PPDC will look the other way on, but not Shirayuki. She’s not from under the dome; she still worries about what people might think outside of it. “I just...wish you were on my side.”

“I am on your side.” Her shoulders pull straight against the back of her chair, her soft look hardening into resolve. “Which is different from telling you want you want to hear.”

He jerks back, cheeks stinging like he’d been slapped. “I didn’t say I wanted that,” he mumbles, hands clenching over his lap. “But I don’t need you to tell me to do whatever it is Izana wants me to either.”

“I wasn’t going to.” The notebooks in her lap closes with a snap, and with trembling fingers, she sets aside her shield. “Izana wants you back in a jeager for the legacy. For the unbroken line of Wisterias standing between humanity and the rift. But I...”

Her eyes lift to his, and they’re no longer the lush, leafy green of a forest, but the hard glint of emerald. “If you get back in that cockpit, you need to do it for yourself.”

It’s an effort not to say, I don’t see the difference.

“I saw you when the siren went off.”

Zen scrubs a hand over his face; he remembers. Their eyes had met over that seething mass of fear and competence, and-- and he’d been so sure that if he saw her, something more than that glimpse of red in the corner of his vision, he’d forget every inch of his resolve and go to her. That he’d just take her in his arms and tell her all the thoughts roiling in the sea of his mind, but--

But he hadn’t. He’s taken one look at her and, without even a pang of guilt, left her there. A real hero.

“Zen.” She says his name so firmly, so seriously, that his head jerks up, gaze tangling with hers. “You don’t want to be on the sidelines. You don’t want to be the general hiding being his troops. You want to be out there, Rex Tyrannis shoulder-to-shoulder with Redwood Dancer. And you could be.”

It’s his breath that’s rasping, the death rattle of the man he’s let himself be these past few years. “How?”

There’s not an ounce of hesitation in her when she says. “You have to choose to move forward.”

And cozy up in the cockpit with that asshole. He thinks about that grin, cocked with a confidence he’s never been in the neighborhood of having, and...

It’s so familiar that his double vision makes his head pound. “I can’t work with that-- Obi. I won’t.”

“I know that...” Her lips press together, bursting apart with a pop. “I know there’s no limit to the amount of people a ranger could potentially drift with, but there’s something...special when you find the right one. That there’s something right about it than can’t ever be replaced.”

He stares, head galloping in his chest. She shouldn’t know that-- there’s no way she could. Most rookies out of the academy just drift successfully once, and that’s it-- that’s their partner, for better or worse, like marrying the first kid you kiss. There’s exceptions-- emergencies, injury, irreconcilable differences-- but even though this job has a high turnover...rangers rarely die alone. There’s not enough people for a paper.

“Yeah, I’ve...heard that too.” Probably from the same mouth she did, though it seems Mitsuhide’s polished the speech since he last gave it. To him, at least.

“I understand that you have a vision of who you want beside you in the pod,” Shirayuki presses, voice growing tighter, more tense with every word. “But Atri’s gone.”

Every drop of blood in him turns to ice. “Atri?”

Her breath hisses out through her teeth, relief slumping her shoulders. “I know no one can be him, but--”

“You think this is about Atri?” A giggle bubbles up from him, bitter on his tongue. “I’ve been sitting here for weeks-- no, months! And you think all this, the whole reason I won’t climb in a jaeger with just anyone off the street is because of Atri?”

Every corner of her face lost. “Isn’t it?”

“No, I...” He pinches the bridge of his nose, like it might stem the pounding of his heart behind his brow. This whole time he’d been so careful, trying to be understood for once, to let someone see him instead of his mistakes--

But he should have known; as long as his brother is obsessed with sending him an endless parade of nobodies which he sits behind a desk, it’ll only be his hang ups hung out for everyone to rifle through.

“I should go,” he finally manages, levering himself to his feet. The room spins, his heartbeat thrumming in his ears, but he can’t stay here, not when she thinks-- when she’s always thought--

“Zen,” she murmurs, voice muffled by distance. “Are you all right?”

--That he’s pathetic. “Yeah.” He stumbles to the door, swinging it open. “I just need to--”

And of course, standing right there is that asshole, hand half-raised to knock.

“Boss,” he breathes, clearly stunned. “I, uh, didn’t think you’d be...”

The awkwardness in the office is palpable, so thick that he might as well be moving through molasses. Before this guy showed up, he’d though he had half a chance; he was practically the only one outside of K-Science that would even look at her, and his sessions always felt like more, but now--

Well, it’s no wonder he didn’t stand half a chance next to him, if she thought he was waiting for Atri.

“Don’t worry about it.” Zen pushes back him, shoulder clipping his. Or at least near enough to claim the feat. “I’d hate to keep you two from your--” date-- “dinner plans.”

Shirayuki’s breath gasps from her. “Zen, wait, we’re not--”

“It’s fine,” he lies, every muscle tense where he stands, fighting the urge to look back. “A couple of things are clearer now.”

It’s not just her. They all think he’s waiting for him, that one day he might stroll back in here like nothing happened, and Zen--

“Please.” Shirayuki’s voice trembles, and even if he’s not looking, he knows she’s at the door, vibrating in its frame. “Let’s just finish the session.”

-- and Zen’s been giving them nothing else to work with. All these years, looking like a kid stood up on prom night.

“No, I just remembered there’s something I’ve got to do.” He forces a smile on his face, giving her a bare hint of it as he peeks over his shoulder. “I’ll see you next week.”

It kills him how much hope lights in her eyes. “Next week?”

“That our appointment, isn’t it?” he says, light tone limping. “Unless I see you around the dome before then.”

“Right,” she breathes, cheeks flushed at both corners of her smile. Obi’s watching her, concern writ large in his eyes, and well-- maybe he’s not as much of an asshole as Zen wanted to believe. “Until then.”

He gets halfway down the hall, before Obi calls out, “Hey, boss...”

It’s clear when he looks back that Obi hadn’t meant to speak, but now that he has, he clear his throat, giving himself a visible shake.

“You could come with us,” he says, hesitant. “If you wanted.”

It’s an olive branch, one he doesn’t deserve. One he should take, if he wants all this to heal over without a scar. But he’s not ready for that, not yet.

“No.” He shakes head. “I wasn’t joking about having something I got to do. Go enjoy yourselves.”

This is a terrible idea.

He knows it the entire time he’s walking, the anxiety cresting the second he sees the plate on the door, engraved and letters painted black: IZANA WISTERIA. MARSHAL.

“Well,” Izana hums from his desk. “Are you going pace outside my office all day, or are you planning to come in?”

Zen lets out a rush of breath and pushes the door open the rest of the way.

“You win,” he says, all in a rush. “I’ll do it. I’ll give him another chance.”

“I think at this point, he’s giving you another chance,” Izana tells him, barely glancing up from his pile of papers. “But...I’ll arrange it.”

He nearly says, I figured you’d have it all arranged already, but bites it back. “Thanks.”

“My pleasure. And Zen.” His brother looks up, capping his pen calmly before he folds his hands over the desk. “It’s not me who wins. It’s humanity.”

“Yeah,” he breathes, meeting that steely gaze. “But I’m not doing it for them.”

For once, his brother doesn’t have anything to say.

It’s Obi who’s locked in first this time.

His cheeky smile is already waiting when Zen steps on deck, body gripped by Rex Tyrannis’s hydraulics when he throws him a wink. “Second time’s the charm, right Your Highness?”

“Third time,” Zen mutters, keying in his code. “It’s third time’s the charm.”

“Right, but you were top of your class.” A guy like Obi shouldn’t be so comfortable when he’s got twenty tons pinning him in place, not when he’s got a face just asking to be hit. “So we can shave one of those off, right?”

“Depends.” His mouth twitches. “Where did you rank?”

Obi’s grin grows stiff enough to float. “I think you’d say I’m a natural talent.”

“That bad huh?”

A laugh saws out of him, raw in the loud silence of the pod. “You have no idea.”

“I think I could take a guess.” The hydraulics hug Zen tight; even lifting to his arm to the panel is a chore. “Ready?”

“For you?” Obi’s mouth stretches into a leer.  For once, he feels like he’s in on the joke. “Any time.”

Don’t chase the rabbit. It’s Obi’s voice that says it; not the way he had before, serious and concerned, a scolding and a reminder. No, this one is a laugh restrained, sing-song. One pill makes you big and one makes you small.

There’s a faint riff of guitar, and Zen’s about to tell him to can it, that putting trash in the drift just clogged up the flow, but--

But between one breath-- one blink and the next, he’s lost in the tide, rolling through his memories rudderless. When a hand grips his shoulder and--

“I’m ready.” Zen’s always too honest, too eager but he’s young here, younger than he ever remembers being wearing the badge. “To pick up the legacy. To be what father meant us to be.”

The memory runs true, his younger self still chatting away with Shidnote, unaware that his whole world’s about to be cut off at the knees. But he’s not watching that now, he’s watching the way shadows crawl across his brother’s face, a storm front that appears and vanishes in the moments no one looks.

“About that.” Izana settles his hand on the desk, but the drumming is no longer bored but...nervous. An asynchronous beat that runs at the speed of his thoughts. “I meant to tell you. I’m being promoted.”

“Promoted” The word still kicks his legs out from under him, still knocks the wind out of his lungs as efficiently as any punch to the gut. “But I thought we would--”

“They want me in a command capacity now that Mother’s taking over Anchorage.” Izana won’t look at him. The man who has built his career on being able to stare down Orochi in Sagami Bay can’t bear to look him in the eye. “I’m being taken off active duty.”

“But--” He looks between them. “But--”

“But--”

“But--”

The memory stutters. It’s him, he’s the one who’s pushing away. He’d always thought he couldn’t give this to someone, to some guy right off the street, someone who might pity him, but it’s-- it’s him. He can’t look at this. He can’t face failure another time.

And he doesn’t know how to stop.

Hey. Obi’s voice is too close, but he’s just an outline in the drift, blues and grays fuzzing between misfiring synapses. Hey, we don’t have to watch this.

They do. They have to, if he’s going to get through this.

Right. There’s no way for Obi to sigh here, where there’s no air, but he does, long and loud. It sounds...different. Almost...feminine. I have worse. Want to see me wet the bed when I was--?

The words fuzz before they can continue. Go ahead, Obi says, sounding like himself. Take as much time as you need. It’s not like we have clocks here.

Zen can’t nod here, not without a body, but he breathes, one solid in and out--

“It’s supposed to be us.” Even with the distance of time, every word is carves straight from his flesh, laid out on a platter for his brother to see. “We’re supposed to carry on the legacy.”

“Shidnote will continue on in his current capacity,” Izana explains, bored, as if he didn’t even speak. “He’s served me well. I’m sure you’ll both be sufficiently compatible.”

“But--” Zen grits his teeth. “It’s supposed to be us. Why are you giving me an excuse--?

He blinks. He never said that. He’d been thinking it the whole way to his bunk, but in the moment it had only been a yes sir. I understand, sir.

Then why--

“It’s an excuse.” The shine’s all worn off Atri’s grin, baring the raw edge beneath. “That’s all I’ve ever been to you.”

Scrap litters the floor at his feet; he’s never known what jaeger-grade parts sold for on the black market, but he knows it’s not pocket money. This is a small fortune if someone knew where to sell it.

Which clearly Atri does.

“You’re going to blame me?” Zen’s laugh limps with bitterness. “I catch you with stolen goods, and it’s my--?”

“It’s not stolen, it’s salvage,” Atri snaps, snatching a length of steel from his hands. “It’s not like they’re using it.”

A lie-- there’s not a shred of steel or wire that’s wasted in the dome. Jaegars come with a price tag that only governments can pay, and any corner that can be safely cut on maintenance is considered savings passed onto tax payers. There’s no way he can’t know it, not after six months, but--

He doesn’t care. He never did.

“This is why you agreed to be my copilot.” Every word aches as he births them from his lips, a truth that cuts even as he speaks it. “You didn’t care about protecting your friends. You just wanted access to parts.”

Atri shrugs, the barest twitch of his shoulders. “I never said I gave a single fuck about all that hero shit. You just assumed I did, because you do.”

“But the drift...” His breath wheezes, the way it did when he was a kid, before his dad paid for all that to be fixed. “How did you...?”

“I just thought about the stuff you cared about. Friends. Kaiju. Me.” Atri’s grin turns smug. “Some of us don’t wear our heart on our sleeves, Wisteria.”

Wow. Obi’s outline fuzzes as he circles behind Atri, a single brow raised. He’s a real fucknut, huh?

His memories are jumbles, him-now and him-then all tumbled together until his first instinct is to jump to Atri’s defense. He may not be an academy-trained ranger, someone who has a lifetime worth of experience in a simulator, but put him in Rex Tyrannis and he’ll--

Steal the toilet cover? Obi offers, mouth canting into that insufferable grin. The one that always reminded him of--

Ah.

Obi darts a glance to where Atri stands frozen beside him. Jeeze, you really know how to hit a guy where he lives. You think I look like this asshole?

Just the grin, really. He’s almost a head taller, broader in the shoulders, and Asian besides. Better looking too--

Obi’s smile stretches into a leer. You don’t say, bossman?

Maybe Atri’s right. He’s got to get better about what he thinks about in the drift. Especially with someone this insufferable around.

If anything, Obi’s more amused. So it’s this guy though, he’s whole hold up you have with me? It’s not--

Against his will, Atri springs to life, mouth curled into his nastiest sneer when he says “I don’t know why you’re acting so betrayed. After all, you only wanted me to get back at the Marshal, and I played my part, didn’t I? I’m sure he’d jump in the pod if that meant he could be rid of me.”

“That’s not--” true, he should say. He can’t though, not when he’s not this-Zen, when he’s just looking out from his eyes, straight into Obi’s.

“Yeah.” There’s no spit to swallow in the drift, but he does anyway, a force of habit. “It is.”

The memory fuzzes away from him, and it’s just them now, two men braced in the Conn-pod, staring at each other through their visors.

“Right hemisphere, calibrated.” Zen blinks, watching as his hand opens and closes, the robotic voice’s dulcet tones washing over him.

“I never wanted this, you know,” he murmurs, “not if it wasn’t with my brother. That’s how it was supposed to be, me and him versus the kaiju.”

“Left hemisphere, calibrated.” His arms seem to move on his own, and it’s strange how he can’t keep the smile off his face this time. It feels good, moving like this again.

“No,” he breathes. “It was supposed to be me and him versus the world.”

“Ready to activate the jeager.“

Obi’s arms lift, a fighting stance to mirror his. It’s easy, so easy. Easier than he ever thought it could be. “What changed?”

He’d shrug, if the hydraulics would let him, but this isn’t Redwood Dancer. “Seemed like a shitty reason not to save the world.”

“Calibration complete.”

Obi grins, teeth shining bright under the lights of his visor. “Doc tell you that?”

Zen laughs. “Pretty much.”

“She’s got a gift,” Obi agrees, hands moving in sync with his. “And it’s making you feel like an asshole.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Looks like you jokers are getting along,” Kiki deadpans through their helmets. “How do you feel about taking Rex out for a drag?”

“After being cramped under this dome for months, Princess?” Obi drawls, tossing him a conspiratorial wink. “It’d be my pleasure.”

“Just give us a sec!” It’s been a long time since Zen’s talked much with the crew in CIC, but he recognizes that voice-- Yuzuri, one of Shirayuki’s friends. The peppy one with the cute accessories. The one that told him she’d give him cement shoes if he made her cry. “Let’s see if we can get you off your leash.”

He’d always liked her. Hopefully the feeling’s mutual, since she’s right next to the plug.

“Hey, boss.”

Zen blinks, glancing across the cockpit. “Yeah?”

“I know Atri was supposed to be a big fuck you to His Majesty, but...” He hesitates, thoughtful. “You drifted with the Big Guy for a while after that. Why?”

“Ah--”

It’s impossible not to think of it, the siren rising in the air, the men running past them, voices drowned out by the drone.

“I’ll do it,” he says, glaring up at the man across from him. “At least you know you’re just a seat warmer.”

“Zen--”

He blinks, the memory stuttering beneath him. That’s not what Mitsuhide called him then, that wasn’t until after--

“Zen.”

That’s not inside the memory, that’s inside his helmet. “Mitsuhide?”

“You’re out of alignment.”

He shakes his head, uncomprehending. “What do you--?”

“You’re out of alignment.” He repeats, each words strained. “You both chased the rabbit, and...Obi went straight down the rabbit hole.”

It doesn’t make any sense. “But I--”

“You have to go get him,” Mitsuhide says, dire. “He’s pointing the plasma cannon at Mission Control.”

[bananaofswifts]

Album Review: Taylor Swift - Fearless (Taylor's Version)

A power move and a poetic force ‌‌‌‌‌‌‌‌

8/10 STARTS

By KELSEY BARNES

‘’Fearless is getting back up and fighting for what you want over and over again, even though every time you've tried before, you've lost” is one of the lines penned by Swift for the prologue in the album booklet for her second studio album, Fearless. At the time of release on 11/11/2008, she would’ve been 18 and wide-eyed, still reeling from the bubbling success of her self-titled debut and wondering where her music would take her.

After being the most awarded Country album of all time and receiving Album of The Year in 2010, it’s easy to argue no one would have guessed then that 13 years later she would be taking all of us back to the start again as she re-records her first 6 albums. Some might wonder why she’s going to such great lengths, but Taylor has been telling us all along: Fearless is getting back up and fighting for what you want, and what she wants is to own her life’s work.

Fearless (Taylor’s Version) is both a power move and a poetic force. Taylor has been outspoken about musicians owning their work and being rightfully compensated for it, whether it was penning a letter directly to Apple Music or when she cheekily stated she would be re-recording her music during an interview on GMA in August 2019 and sent the internet into a tizzy. Some blamed her for getting her teen self tied up in a contract that favoured everyone but the artist and now she’s looking for a way to make more money as her former label and manager-who-must-not-be-named shopped them around as if Swift’s first 6 studio albums were a used car. But, as always, Taylor knows better. She knows what has set her apart since her self-titled is her lyricism and storytelling and that regardless of who may think they own her life's work, they don’t know the narratives behind each one.

When comparing the two records, they do seem the same with just a breath of fresh air in 'Taylor's Version'. Rather than trying to make a version of Fearless that buckles to what is considered popular in music now, Swift is creating a bridge between two worlds; one where she’s merging older, timeless songs with a mature voice and outlook. Where some spots on the original recording can feel slightly timid and fearful, the re-recordings are full of robust power; tracks like ‘You Belong With Me (Taylor’s Version)’ is even more of a banger than its predecessor and the deeply underrated ‘The Way I Loved You’ will get its justice in the re-recordings as a song that has always been one of her best and, somehow, ‘Breathe (Taylor’s Version)’ is even more painful than the original with the violins teetering on the edge of haunting.

Where there are slight changes — refined guitars, fuller drums — it’s clear they lift the song to another level without trying to overshadow her then 18-year-old self. Obviously, what has changed the most is her voice; the country twang she adopted as a teen is now gone. But rather than trying to use her now-experienced and smooth vocals, Taylor never tries to out-sing the teen version of herself. She’s always been good at both acknowledging and honouring the past, understanding the significance in things like the soft, welcoming giggle in ‘Hey Stephen’ that fans love so much, the breathless outro on ‘The Other Side Of The Door’, and the overly dramatic flair of ‘Forever and Always’. There are moments where you can both hear and feel Taylor’s age in the best way, like in the small vocal changes in ‘Fifteen (Taylor’s Version’ which means so much more when you think about her now, at 31, and all of the fans that have grown up alongside her since then.

[wastelandcth]

lovebug - cth

summary: a moment captured by ashton leads to an engagement present that the doves had no idea would ever exist. 

author’s notes: alright guys, this is all thanks to the most amazing ask that left me floored and eager to write this up. i hope you all enjoy this and that lovebug is stuck in your head as it was mine for the past couple of days. 

warnings: pure fluff and dovey (for once) being a soft human towards her soulmate, calum. 

masterlist || request

It had happened almost by accident, a moment that was meant to be shared by just the two of them. But Ashton found himself in a lot of these moments when it came to Calum and Dovey, in little pockets of time where it seemed like they were both too lost in one another to realize anything else. He'd been early, the first guest to the monthly band family dinner that the Doves had been hosting since moving into their new house a few months back, Dovey claiming that they needed an excuse to use their new kitchen and what better way than celebrating with the band. He'd walked in through the side door which he knew Calum always kept unlocked since it was closer to his home studio and the guys could just come in and work on songs without ringing the doorbell and having Duke bark up a storm. He had expected to see the two of them procrastinating on making dinner, which was usually the case when it came to band dinner night, but he was instead met by the two of them dancing along to lovebug, a song that reminded Ashton of the Doves in general. He wasn't even sure why he did it but in an instant, he had his phone out and he was recording the moment, a fond smile on his face as he watched his best friend fall further in love. 

Calum loved family band night, he loved being able to spend time with his brothers and their partners, and he especially loved the part where he got to show Dovey new recipes to cook together. They'd been making a new Italian recipe, the smell of fresh tomatoes and herbs filling the kitchen as they both worked in silence, the only sound around them was of the knife against the chopping board and the music playing from the speaker on the counter. Calum had been lost in cutting up some basil that he almost missed the soft gasp that left Dovey when she heard the familiar guitar notes playing from the speaker. Calum recognized the song almost immediately, knowing that it was one of Dovey's favorites because as she had told Calum multiple times during their car rides or when cooking, "the Jonas Brother's were the best band ever and no one, not even The Beatles could compare. Well except maybe your band, Cal, but even then, Lovebug is a banger." Calum never argued with her on that because he knew how special the band was to her and she wasn't wrong, Lovebug was an absolute banger. 

Calum had set the knife down on the counter and made his way over to Dovey, his arms wrapping around her waist as he sang quietly along to the song. He couldn't help but smile as he saw the way Dovey's eyes lit up and her arms wrapped around his shoulders, to pull him in closer. They were both singing to one another, swaying along to the guitar as the world seem to just blur until it was just the two of them swaying and taking each other in. 

It wasn't long until the song started to speed up and Dovey pulled away from him, a fond look still in her eyes as she squeezed both of his hands in hers. Calum had been admiring her ever since he pulled her into his arms, wishing things could always be this way and the pressure of touring or promoting would go away. He hadn't told anyone yet, besides Mali who had gone with him to what seemed like every jewelry store in Los Angeles, but there was a box with a ring in it hidden in his office. He'd bought it a month before, his heart racing every time he thought about getting down on one knee to ask Dovey to spend the rest of their lives together, to become one. He'd been trying to plan the perfect time to ask her, to make it a day she wouldn't forget but it just seemed like life kept getting in the way and Calum kept getting whisked off to a different city for a performance. He'd been planning on taking her next time he was pushed onto an airplane and just ask her in the most romantic spot he could find but-

"Now I'm! YEEEEAAAAHOW!" 

Calum's thoughts were once again interrupted by Dovey, who had seemed to take her performance of the song from dancing with Calum to a full on air guitar performance while she bounced around him. Calum's laugh echoed through the kitchen as he watched the love of his life rock out to a Jonas Brothers’ song while they were meant to be making dinner. He couldn't help but join in on the fun, whipping his head back and forth as he joined Dovey in playing out the guitar riff as he sang along, knowing that Dovey was the one for him and that he was going to be marrying her one day. 

Ashton, who had been staring at the couple and recording them, stifled his laughter and shook his head as he watched them both dance along to the song. He slipped out of the hallway, making his way back to the side yard as the two lovebirds were left panting and in a fit of giggles from their performance. After looking back at the video, he opened up his messages with Calum and was about to hit send when Calum walked out of the house and called his name, the message long forgotten as he saw Calum struggling to juggle a bag of recycling and a very excited Duke on a leash. 

Ashton had gotten a call a few weeks later, Calum speaking way too fast for him to understand and sounding like he had just run a marathon. After telling him to calm down and take a deep breath, Ashton couldn't help but chuckle as he heard the good news about an engagement and Calum asking him to be his best man. Without hesitation, Ashton agreed and congratulated the couple as he switched the call to Facetime, grinning as he saw the Doves with flushed cheeks and teary eyes. With promises of a celebration of their engagement and another round of congratulations, Ashton hung up the phone before Dovey could start crying again and started planning a time where everyone could get together. 

It had started off as a group chat, late one night when Ashton's worries about not getting a present for the Doves' engagement party had him scrolling through homeware websites until all he could think about was Dutch ovens and air fryers. He'd sent out a message to everyone he could think of that had had the honor of spending time with the two weirdos known as the Doves, it was a simple request really, one he knew he'd get plenty of replies from.

"Can you guys send me any videos you have from the Doves?"

It wasn't long before he and Andy were looking through all the videos Ashton had received and sorted through the best clips. After a few hours filled with both of them laughing at how perfect Calum and Dovey were for one another, Ashton's present was complete and ready for the Doves to see. 

Calum had been obsessed with holding Dovey's hand ever since she had started wearing her engagement ring, running his hand over the thing gold band every time he had the chance to. Whenever they were out running errands or hanging out with their friends, his hand would be tightly grasped in hers, his eyes looking down at the ring every once in a while to admire it. Even as Calum drove them to the address that Ashton had texted them at the beginning of the week, with promises of free booze and a celebration of their big news, Calum couldn't help but glance at the ring that was adorning Dovey's hand. 

The party had been filled with lots of congrats from the Doves' friends and family who had all found themselves in a courtyard hidden in the middle of the wine country where flowers decorate the walls and love flowed throughout. It was filled with delicious food and a lot of champagne, not that anyone was complaining too much. But it wasn't until Dovey and Calum found themselves in the middle of everyone facing a projector screen that Ashton had been setting up for the past few minutes with Andy that everyone had settled in their seats and waited with anticipation. Calum looked around the crowd, confusion clear in his eyes as he tried to figure out why everyone was watching them both him and Dovey. 

"So as we all know, we're here to celebrate the fact that these two lovebirds have finally decided to tie the knot!" Ashton grinned as he clapped his hands and chuckled when everyone followed him. "And to celebrate that, our good friend Andy and I have decided to make a video, with the help of many of you here today, to show exactly why these two lovebirds were meant to meet." 

Calum's head cocked to the side as he listened to his best man speak, his eyebrow raising as the projector screen switched from plain white into a picture of him and Dovey with a kangaroo when they had visited Calum's family back home and taken a trip to the zoo. As the picture faded, Calum heard Dovey's laugh playing out from the speaker near the projector, a video of her and Calum from one of the many game nights they'd attended playing out. 

As the rest of the video played out, Calum's laugh joined Dovey as the scene switched and a video of both of them at the latest album release dancing along to Wildflower. Different moments in time showed the way Calum and Dovey's relationship seemed to be something more than either of them realized, something more than just two people who loved each other. It was moments where Dovey was laughing over Calum spotted her from the stage and they both waved at one another, moments where they were both asleep on a couch while their friends argued over the rules of a game, moments where they seemed too lost in one another to even notice anyone recording them. 

Calum glanced over to Dovey, who had been watching the video while squeezing his hand every time she laughed, she had a soft look on her face, one she rarely ever showed to anyone except for Calum when sleep was so tempting but she wanted to stay up and talk the night away. Her eyes were focused on the video that was playing in front of them, too lost in reliving those moments where she thought that no one had been watching nevertheless recording. It wasn't until Calum heard the familiar notes to a song that Dovey loved that he saw the tears forming in her eyes. His own eyes moved back to the screen, watching that moment from weeks ago in their kitchen where they had danced along to a Jonas Brothers' song and had gotten lost in each other, never realizing that Ashton had been recording them. 

It was the moment when Calum had realized that he had needed to ask her to marry him as soon as he could, it was the day where after everyone had left Calum had booked them a trip away where the two of them could take each other in and where no one could stop him from asking her what had been on his mind for a while now. It was all in front of him and Calum felt the breath sucked out of him as he once again was hit with the realization that Dovey, who would have dance parties with him in the kitchen and then proceed to fight with him over the fact that celery was not a delicious treat, was his soulmate and there was no way he was ever going to let go of her, the ring on her finger shining almost as bright as their smiles as the video ended with the one and only, Lovebug. 

[newmusickarl]

Album & EP Recommendations

Once Twice Melody by Beach House

Although the American dream-pop duo drip-fed the release of their eighth studio album as four separate EPs, I deliberately held back listening to their new music until the full project was revealed. In hindsight, I don’t think it matters too much whether you choose to listen to Once Twice Melody as short bursts of songs or as a near 90-minute odyssey, the result would be the same – this is an utterly dazzling and visionary work of art that ranks up there with Beach House’s very best.

Once Twice Melody is one of those albums that you’ll undoubtedly enjoy on your initial listen, but the more you spend time with it, the more it wins you over. Whether you’re tackling it in one single sitting or through the convenient bitesize chapters, eventually the addictive melodies and shimmering waves of synthesizers that wash across every inch of sound will soak into your veins.

In terms of highlights there’s too many magical moments to name them all, this is one album you just have to dive in and enjoy. That said, the glistening sheen of the title track and the rainfall like synths of New Romance stand out in the first half, whilst string-tinged acoustic ballad Sunset and ambient lullaby Many Nights mesmerise the most in the latter parts.

So, whether you just want an aesthetically pleasing, short background listen, or a totally immersive headphones record, Once Twice Melody is the chameleonic album that can shapeshift to whatever you need it to be – either way, be prepared for truly spectacular results.

Listen here

Fever Dreams Pts. 1-4 by Johnny Marr

Whilst Morrissey is spending his days cancelling gigs and ranting online, legendary guitarist Johnny Marr continues to deliver the goods, returning this past week with his excellent fourth solo album, Fever Dreams Pts. 1-4. Much like Beach House, Marr also decided to release part of his 16-track album as two initial EPs, before unveiling the full works this past Friday. Written over lockdown, Fever Dreams is simply the sound of a great artist filling his time, with Marr frequently trying out new sounds and seeing how they fit.

Whilst admittedly not quite everything here lands, the variety and ambition of Marr’s output is more than enough to keep you engaged for the full hour plus runtime. There’s also plenty of his best solo tracks to date too, like opener Spirit Power and Soul with its slight Dead or Alive You Spin Me Round vibes, the blistering riffs of Tenement Time, the dramatic and atmospheric Rubicon, as well as soaring closer Human.

As you would expect though, the main star of the show is Marr’s guitar playing which shows no signs of getting any less innovative or hypnotic. So, whilst there are a few tracks that you may probably skip on repeat listens, you should also find plenty in here worth your time.

Listen here

As I Try Not To Fall Apart by White Lies

It is actually amazing to think that indie outfit White Lies are now on their sixth studio album. Although many would have initially written them off as a flash in the pan that borrowed heavily from other artists, their consistent output and great songwriting over the years has proved their doubters wrong and aided their longevity. With As I Try Not To Fall Apart, they show no signs of slowing down either, delivering another fairly solid collection of synth-soaked indie bangers.

The singles of course stand out, with opener Am I Really Going To Die centred on a bouncy piano melody and a catchy chorus, whilst the wonderful title track is a big singalong anthem built on their signature pulsating synths. Elsewhere Breathe features a funky bassline and an 80s shimmer, whilst I Don’t Want To Go To Mars is possibly my current favourite - a grand rock epic that takes not-so-subtle shots at Elon Musk and sonically calls back to their earlier work. Whilst the second half becomes a bit patchier, the instant playful melody of Step Outside and horn-backed closer There Is No Cure For It are both also excellent.

Overall, White Lies continue to serve up the huge tunes, with this latest album one of their most consistent front-to-back listens since their debut. If you’re already a fan of their work, chances are you’ll definitely enjoy this one.

Listen here

Small World by Metronomy

Another late 00s band that have shown their staying power, indie-electro outfit Metronomy also just recently returned with their seventh studio album. Whereas the band’s previous outing (2019’s Metronomy Forever) was a lush and expansive 17 track opus, on Small World things are noticeably more stripped back. Crafted in the midst of the pandemic, the songs that have emerged from Joseph Mount are more intimate, more vulnerable and more minimal than anything they’ve done previously.

Life and Death is a gorgeous, poignant opener - a hazy piano ballad with slight shades of Bowie. Things will be fine is then, as the title suggests, a slightly more upbeat and optimistic track, driven primarily by acoustic guitars. It’s good to be back is probably the most polished song with its bouncy synths and pop vibes, whilst right on time is a wonderful new-age disco track about simply enjoying the good weather.

Isolation was obviously a key part of lockdown, so its unsurprising that its also a key theme here for two of the album’s best tracks. Loneliness on the run is a brilliantly bluesy number with Mount channelling his inner Johnny Cash at times, whilst Hold me tonight is a fantastic collaboration with indie rock outfit, Porridge Radio. So, whilst Metronomy may have shelled their glossy sheen for more natural sonic textures, their potency for playful, romantic tunes hasn’t diminished one bit.

Listen here

Also out, also great: 

Angel In Realtime by Gang of Youths - read my full review via Gigwise here. 

Islands by Josef Salvat - read my full review via Gigwise here.

Every Moment, Everything You Need by Deserta (recommended by Twitter pal Kiley Larsen (@kilarzleesen) who can sell this incredible album much better than I can) – read his review here.

Tracks of the Week

Starlight by Dave

Fresh off his UK arena tour and his show-stealing performance at this year’s Brit Awards, grime superstar Dave has returned this week with his new single, Starlight. Self-produced, it sees Dave take a grounded look at his current high-rolling status.

Watch the video here

Hi-De-Ho by Jack White featuring Q-Tip

Anticipation for Jack White’s new double album continues to heat up, with another taste of Fear of the Dawn now here to join the previously released title track and excellent lead single, Taking Me Back. The main selling point of this new one – it contains a feature from none other than A Tribe Called Quest legend, rapper-producer Q-Tip. Based on these three tasters alone, I’m starting to get the sense this is going to be something special!

Listen here

Baby by Charli XCX

Experimental pop sensation Charli XCX continues her hot streak with her string-tinged, ultra-catchy new single Baby. Speaking on the inspiration for the track, Charli has said:

“This song, it was kind of the foundation of the vibe of the album. It’s probably the most sexy song I’ve ever made. It’s about sex and sexuality and having good sex and just feeling yourself essentially.”

Listen here

Lost Track by HAIM

Riding the success of their starring roles in his Oscar-nominated movie Licorice Pizza, the HAIM sisters have celebrated with yet another collaboration with acclaimed director Paul Thomas Anderson. Once again, the director finds himself behind the camera for one of their music videos, this time for a great new cut – Lost Track.

Watch the video here

Used To It by Sharon Van Etten

A song originally written for HBO documentary Baby God but never used, Sharon Van Etten has now released the shimmering haunt of Used To It as her second single of 2022. Speaking on the track, Van Etten has said:

“I found myself welcomely challenged to the idea of writing a song about the concept of family, connection through blood, nature vs nurture, while attempting to incorporate ideas of love and the complexities of science and technology. I am grateful for this song to be able to have a new life, relating more to the times we have all been living through and redefining the meaning of this song by focusing on the positives of seeking connection and understanding what family means to the individual.”

Listen here

King by Florence & The Machine

The last few weeks has also seen the long-awaited return of the mighty Florence & The Machine, back with her operatic and empowering new single, King. Discussing the song, Florence Welch said:

“As an artist, I never actually thought about my gender that much. I just got on with it. I was as good as the men and I just went out there and matched them every time. But now, thinking about being a woman in my thirties and the future, I suddenly feel this tearing of my identity and my desires. That to be a performer, but also to want a family might not be as simple for me as it is for my male counterparts. I had modeled myself almost exclusively on male performers, and for the first time I felt a wall come down between me and my idols as I have to make decisions they did not.”

Listen here

Samsaric Sacrifice by Generous Gods

And finally on the tracks front, like Deserta this one also comes courtesy of a recommendation from Twitter pal Kiley Larsen (@kilarzleesen) who shared this final track from an online acquaintance of his Gray Griggs, aka Generous Gods, who tragically passed away last October. Listening to the utterly spellbinding near 14-minute-long psychedelic odyssey, with Griggs himself recording all the instruments at his home studio, it is difficult not to get emotional at the lyrics and the lost potential. An incredible song and one that will completely blow you away.

Read Kiley’s full blog on the track here

Listen to Samsaric Sacrifice here

[vincess-princess]

ex malo bonum

Chapter 8.

Word count: 7091 Warnings: murder, blood, violence Author’s note: can’t believe we’re here, guys. A year and a half later, we’re here. At the end of this fic. I got so used to it during this time, I don’t even know how I’m gonna cope without it. But I do hope you have a good and satisfying reading :)

“Alright, alright,” Nikki raised his hands up in surrender. “Do it yourself, if you wanna. Don’t blame me when you fuck your hair up, though.”

Vince pulled off a hairband and shook his head, disheveling his hair. He liked it more framing his face in a loose way, but couldn’t handle constantly noticing the black that had already conquered more than a half of his hair length. Noticing it now, he shuddered - since he had last taken a look at it, it had added two more inches. It’d only been a week or so, with him trying to act as angelical as possible. Then why did it spread so fast?

“If I’m going to do it often, I need to learn how.”

“Fair,” Nikki shrugged. “Okay, now get your hair wet. See that thing looking like a telephone with holes in it?”

“I can recognize a shower head,” Vince rolled his eyes, holding his breath at the same time – would Nikki care? Would he get angry? After a second or two he exhaled quietly – his little trick went unnoticed. Or unpunished.

Vince reached for the shower head and turned on water. It was cold, but he didn’t want to wait for it to warm up. It trickled down his back and shoulders, leaving trails of goosebumps on his skin.

“Yeah, I gotta admit you’re making progress pretty fast,” Nikki nodded. Oh, yeah, Vince remembered, they had been carrying on a conversation. “Now, get the dye out of the package and mix it.”

“With what? Water?”

”No-no. See, you need my guidance.”

“With what?” Vince repeated, ignoring the last reply. He was going to do everything himself in this one. It was already too much that Nikki bought it for him. He couldn’t owe him even more.  

“See this little bottle?” Nikki fished the bottle out of the package and handed it to Vince. Vince took it, careful not to touch Nikki’s fingers. “Pour the liquid from it into the cup and add dye from the tube. Then mix until it’s homogeneous.”

“Homo-what?”

“Homogeneous. I swear, you only think about one thing.”

“Hey, you said this word first!” Vince protested, and this time his stomach sank not so shamefully deeply, maybe a little, but it was something.

“Maybe so,” Nikki waved his hand. “Okay, did you make the dye? Yeah, you’re supposed to mix it. No, not with your fingers!”

Oh no, Vince’s stomach shrunk, he did it wrong. He didn’t know, but he still fucked up. Fucked up-

He looked up at Nikki’s face, searching frantically for signs of anger, or annoyance, or fury, or- anything, just anything negative. Anything that would justify Vince running out of the room and crawling under the bed in his bedroom, shaking and panting. He had become an expert of reading that face on that night. He should have seen something.

But there was nothing. Nikki’s eyebrows were slightly raised, and his mouth was a little bit open, with a smile starting to form on his lips. It was in its very initial stages, but Vince could see it. Nikki wasn’t far as good at reading Vince’s face as Vince was in reading his; he couldn’t see all the bugs of terror and panic crawling under Vince’s skin.

He probably though they were friends. Enjoying each other’s presence in a totally normal, friendly way.

Vince exhaled in a short, sharp movement of his chest and throat. “Why not?” he grinned, the grin fake but plausible, then especially slow put his finger in the cup and started mixing the dye. Nikki’s eyes went wide open, he made a disgruntled “Hey!”. Vince considered licking the finger to make Nikki even more exasperated, but that was probably too much for his already battered body – he was sure the components of this dye were far from safe. Vince’s scars have healed already, but he was still getting spikes of pain at every sudden movement, especially from walking and sitting. He eventually came to a conclusion that the pain was going to stay with him for life.

Maybe that was for the better.

“Mixed it?” Nikki leaned closer and checked the cup. “Hm. Probably should be enough. Now, where is your hairbrush?”

“I don’t have one,” Vince reminded. He hadn’t brushed his hair since the day he cut it. It hung in messy curls and knots around his face.

“Yeah, you don’t,” Nikki muttered. “We should definitely take you to the store and buy all the stuff humans use on their bodies. Not that it’s necessary but helps keep the body in a decent shape. And – attract a lot of chicks,” he winked. Vince had to suppress the urge to kick him in the smug face.

“I swear, you only think about one thing,” he uttered instead.

“Hey, that’s my phrase!” Nikki exclaimed indignantly, and satisfaction blossomed in Vince’s chest. He wanted Nikki to realize he couldn’t bug him and not expect anything in return.

“Okay, so I need a hairbrush,” Vince said before Nikki managed to come up with something else. “But I don’t have one. What, are we going to the store or something?”

“No, you’re not going anywhere looking like this,” Nikki waved at Vince, got up and left the room. For a second Vince really thought he was going to go to the store right there and then, and he wasn’t ready to wait for so long. Everything inside him itched and twisted to get rid of that beastly color on his hair tips. But then Nikki returned, a hairbrush in his hand. “Here, take mine.”

“Uh,” at first Vince reached out to take the hairbrush but Nikki’s words made him stop in his tracks. Realizing how stupid he must have been looking, with his hand hanging in the air, he quickly dropped it. The corner of Nikki’s mouth twitched, and Vince froze mid-inhale, but Nikki said nothing. “Uh… won’t the dye spoil it?”

“It probably will,” Nikki shrugged. His hand was still hanging in the air, holding out the hairbrush, and the atmosphere was quickly growing awkward. Why doesn’t he just lower his hand, Vince prayed silently. Why doesn’t…

“Thank you,” he mumbled and grabbed the hairbrush, again trying his best not to touch Nikki’s fingers in the process. The hairbrush’s wooden handle retained the warmth of Nikki’s hand. “Okay, okay,” he attempted to calm his quickly beating heart. They were living together, when will Nikki’s mere presence stop making him fucking fall to pieces? “We’ve got the hairbrush. What’s next?”

“Put the dye on your hair.” Nikki’s face was perfectly indifferent, but his eyes gleamed triumphantly, the same they had when Vince accepted the box of cheap hair dye fresh out of the store. Vince wanted to kick this expression out of him. There was nothing victorious in it – on the contrary, it was a collection of Vince’s defeats. “Use the brush to get every strand,” Nikki continued. “Your shell is blonde from birth, so you only need to dye the tips.”

Vince carefully, like he was holding something fragile, brushed the front strand of his hair and smeared the dye all over it.

“Are you sure this is gonna work?” he asked while evenly distributing the dye to the rest of his front strands. This white cream smelling of chemicals didn’t seem to be powerful enough to obliterate the all-consuming black.

Nikki shook his head. Vince couldn’t help but glare at him from under his wet hair. Was he going through all this for nothing, damn it? “But we can at least try,” Nikki added, but not very reassuringly.

“Yeah,” Vince’s shoulders sunk, but he kept applying dye to his hair. There was still hope, right? It could still work? Then he had to try it.

Finished with the front of his hair, he proceeded to brush the back and realized that dying it was going to be way harder than the front. But he was going to do it himself, even if the possibilities of fucking up were going to be sky-high. Vince reached for the cup to grab another portion of dye and realized he definitely needed to use less or he would run out of it quickly, or some part of his hair could just as well remain undyed. Fucking great. Of course, they could always go buy more, but he didn’t want to ask Nikki for that. He hadn’t asked him for the dye in the first place. But he accepted it, nobody forced him to, besides, maybe, the uneasiness in his stomach appearing at the sight of Nikki getting even mildly annoyed. So now he had to get through all this.

Still, there also was a possibility that it’d work out.

Nikki soon got tired of watching Vince dying strand after strand, slowly and carefully. “Call me when you’re done,” he ordered and left, and the atmosphere in the room immediately got less tense. Vince even sat down on the edge of the bathtub and began murmuring a song under his breath that got stuck in his head. And she’s watching him with those eyes, and she’s loving him with that body, I just know it… He’d heard about love, of course, a divine feeling when channeled towards Him and a dirty, filthy feeling when channeled towards other people, especially in an animalistic, sexual way. It was interesting also, how humans could fixate on one person so hard they could only think and dream about them. Maybe that song exaggerated it a little, after all.

Vince had heard a lot of songs during the week that passed. Having nothing else to do, he was glued to the record player in the main room, listening to a record after a record until he ran out of them. That was a tough moment for him, because he had to either just go through what he had again, of which he was already very tired, or ask Nikki to share his collection. Tommy helped – or, rather, fucked everything up but in a good way, - by dragging Vince into Nikki’s room so that Vince had to stand there with his ears red and listen to Tommy explaining Nikki the problem.  Nikki did share, and his collection did have a lot of “bangers” – that was the word Tommy used once – in it. And halfway through the thick stack of records Vince had almost forgotten it was Nikki’s music. Almost.

Dying his hair was a slow and painstaking process, but Vince even enjoyed the thoroughness of it. Also, it was repetitive – take some dye, put it on a strand of hair, distribute evenly, repeat – and let him think his own thoughts but without getting too deep down, where his demons lurked. So Vince was even disappointed when the last strand was covered and added to the slimy bundle on his head. He looked into one of the pieces of the mirror he shattered – the biggest one was left until the mirror would be repaired, - and chuckled. He looked funny, with his hair sticky and put up in a sloppy bun. This way even the roots, which were still blond, looked darker. Maybe that was just the way the dye looked like while doing its job, Vince tried to calm himself down. Or maybe this cheap dye just couldn’t get through to the demonic black. Either way, he had to finish what he started.

He headed to the door, peered out and shouted: “Hey, I’m done! What’s next?”

Nikki stepped out of his room, cast a look at him and started laughing.

“What?” Vince raised an eyebrow. He thought he would never be able to hear Nikki’s laughter and not shudder again, but him laughing like this, open and sincere, relaxed something very strung out inside him.

“You look like a wet rat out of a sewer,” Nikki told him though laughter. Vince had no clue how rats out of sewers looked like, but, since Nikki meant it as an insult, he assumed they didn’t look very attractive. Good thing he didn’t care about Nikki’s opinion on his looks. Even more, every time he remembered Nikki call him pretty in that sleazy, lusty voice, he wanted to disfigure himself so that Nikki would back off at his mere presence. Not that Vince was actually going to do it, but a man – or a demon, rather – can dream.

He still didn’t really understand the concept of beauty; he hadn’t seen that many people to make his own judgements. The only description of himself came from Nikki – “pretty”, a single world that could mean anything in other contexts. Vince spent hours looking into the fragment of mirror, trying to single out beauty in his own features and realizing with disappointment it was too early for him to judge his own appearance according to human standards. But he also took his time to explore the vessel he was now bound to stay in it for the rest of his life. He didn’t have a chance to thoroughly study it before, apart from catching its reflection in shop windows and that one time in a club bathroom where he overdosed on heroin.

Once he did pay attention, he noticed a lot of interesting things: the way the left eye was a little bit lazy, an old burn on his elbow, the faded lines of tan on his hips, the dry, cracked skin on his knuckles, a mole on his inner thigh. His own markings, what made his vessel- no, his body different from others.

He barely noticed any people during his stay on Earth, blinded by grief, so he could only compare himself to Nikki, Tommy and Mick. Nikki, of course, claimed to be gorgeous, with all those attracting-chicks comments of his, but his features were completely different from Vince’s – boyish yet delicate, absolutely not matching his tall, muscular body. How was it possible that Vince and Nikki, looking so different from each other, were both considered good-looking? Tommy was just a little bit taller than Nikki, but had a slimmer frame and more sophisticated, chiseled-out features. He was, as Nikki confided in Vince, also “drop-dead gorgeous.” Yet another inconsistency. Tommy’s vessel was the youngest of the three of them and still bore traces of teenage clumsiness. It matched well with his light-hearted, careless, a little bit immature character.

Mick was way older than the three of them combined, but his exact age was hard to define. It was possible even he didn’t remember it – years start to fly by faster the older you get. His shell, though, was middle-aged, as wrinkles gathered in the corners of his eyes when he smiled, and visible lines traced across his forehead. Mick’s frame was frail, he was even shorter than Vince, and his shoulders were constantly slumped – Tommy revealed to Vince in a dramatic whisper that there was some illness going on. But the grace with which Mick walked, the precision of every his movement couldn’t not convince Vince that the end of his days was still so far in the foreseeable and even unforeseeable future that the three of them, being lower-caste demons, couldn’t even dream of reaching it.

“Hey,” Nikki interrupted Vince’s train of thought, waving his hand in front of Vince’s face. Vince snapped out of his thoughts so quickly he blinked in confusion – too absorbed in his thoughts, he forgot Nikki was talking to him. “Earth to Vince.”

“Yeah?”

“You done with the dye? Great. Now just wait. Half an hour should do. And don’t get the dye everywhere!”

“Maybe that would motivate you to clean the house,” Vince muttered, turning around, and he could say he didn’t want Nikki to hear it, but why would he lie? It was supposed to be friendly, and Vince did try to play his part well. The fact that he tensed up so much and bit his lip anxiously, waiting for Nikki’s answer with dread building up behind his ribs, was of little importance.

“Whatcha say?” Nikki squinted at him, but his mild indignation was obviously and purposefully feigned. So Vince flashed him his widest smile, so wide it balanced on the edge of creepy, and went back to the bathroom. He could turn on hot water and sit in the bath for some time, maybe wash himself again. A feeling of something sticky and warm slowly seeping down his legs and random spikes of pain in his lower part of the body returned every day, and only a good bath or a shower helped get rid of the feeling and soothe the pain for a while.

Vince returned to the bathroom, checked that the door was locked twice, turned on water and got rid of his clothes – same Tommy’s shirt, same Mick’s pants, already slightly stinky. The hot, almost burning water began to fill the tube, and when Vince undressed and stepped carefully into the bath to check the temperature, it already covered his ankle. Whatever, it could fill up perfectly well with Vince already inside, so he submerged himself into the bath, lay down into the thin layer of water and sighed with pleasure. The water slowly climbed up a few inches and the cool air of the bathroom was creating nice contrast on the skin of his legs. Vince loved contrasts: they let him explore two different sides of an often the same thing. But were there just the extremes, or there was something in between, he asked himself, and the answer came after reading a lot of books from Mick’s personal library - the whole linear representation of “good” and “bad”, which he was taught in Heaven, was actually a spectrum. Contrasts were still necessary, by the way - he needed to be able to see the extremes but not be lured into them.

Vince dipped his hands in water and splashed it onto the bare skin of his legs. Cold immediately replaced by heat, then cold again once the water flowed down, leaving only a couple of droplets on his skin. Vince did it again, and again, and again, relishing in the sensation. Sensations – even as simple as this one - were new and exciting. Some of them were pleasant, and they made life worth living; some of them – not so much, and the pleasant moments became even more delightful after that. In Heaven it would take him an entire year to feel the enormous variety of feelings and sensations he could feel here in a single day.

Heaven. Vince bit his lip and leaned onto the side of the tube, careful not to rest his head on it. He didn’t miss it, he kept telling himself and everyone else around him. What was there to miss? Endless service just for the sake of it, with no promotion, no reward, commanded by someone Vince, His own child, hadn’t seen once in his long, very long life? With no explanations and not a single answer to the questions a lot of angels, including himself, undoubtedly had? What was there to miss, again?

Still, Vince kept waking up in the middle of the night seemingly for no reason, the sense of a tremendous loss fresh and poignant in his heart. When he asked Tommy about it, Tommy denied it pointblank. And of course, he did, Vince was one hundred percent sure he was told to behave as demonically as possible so as not to lure Vince back to God’s side. But Vince could see it in the depth of his eyes, in the very feeble tension in his voice, that it was there, that it still haunted him sometimes. One who knew this incredible sorrow could always recognize it in another.

Tommy was here, on Earth, for little less than half a century. Very young for a demon, the equivalent of a human toddler. What he and Nikki had found in common remained a mystery for Vince, but the evidence was there: they were thick as thieves, always hanging out together, throwing parties and getting in trouble. it was Tommy who was getting all the trouble though, Nikki was a mastermind behind all of it. He kept insisting he was “too old for that” to actually participate. How old Nikki was exactly remained unknown, but he was definitely much, much older than Tommy.

And because he had spent so much time in this cruel, animalistic worlds, Nikki’s angelic features faded. His sorrow for Heaven had long ago turned into bitterness, and bitterness then - into hatred, the same hatred he poured out onto Vince. You see, it’s not so much about you personally, as about you being an angel rang in his head. Vince squeezed his eyes shut and pressed his hands onto his temples, massaging them. Slowly, slowly Nikki’s grinning face from that night faded in his mind.

Though Vince was not exactly fond of Heaven already, he couldn’t imagine how much time would have to pass for him to start actually, sincerely hating it. It was his home, after all; it disowned him, threw him out into this cruel human world, but it remained his home, the place where he lived and served. His former home, he corrected himself hastily. Now his home was this place, this small house in the middle of Los Angeles (how ironic), this room with a bed soaked with his blood. They changed the sheets, but the mattress was still the same, and Vince hadn’t slept on it once, preferring the awfully uncomfortable leather couch in the living room. He didn’t particularly like this home he was staying in, after all that happened to him under its roof, but he had nowhere to go. After Nikki and Tommy told him about angel hunters he became even less eager to leave. The longer he stayed inside, the more time passed, the less the possibility that they would come back for you and try to kill you, Nikki told him. The transformation will have finished and you will be much stronger by then.

When this moment would come, Nikki didn’t specify; Vince just wanted it to arrive as quickly as possible.

The water had already reached Vince’s ribs, so he turned the tap off. He splashed the water onto his bare chest and straightened his legs, which were just long enough to reach the other end of the bathtub. The steam rising from the water covered the walls of the bathroom with tiny drops of water. Vince traced his finger down the wall, gathering the drops on his fingertip.

One of the strands of his hair broke free from the mess on his head and slid down his back. Vince tucked it back into the bundle, his fingers smeared in the dye. It was of a dirty white color. Vince washed it off in the water of the tube. Then it occurred to him that he probably had a trace of dye on his back from the loose strand, so he plunged into water so that only his head was above it, hoping the stain would wash off.

The abrupt knock on the door startled him, and he almost dipped his head into the water as well.

“Vince!” Tommy shouted from the outside. “Get out, I gotta pee!”

Vince sighed. As long as Tommy was around, he wouldn’t get any peace in this house.

“I can’t! I’m in the bath!” he shouted back.

“I don’t give a shit!” he heard from behind the door. “Open the door, asshole!”

Vince rolled his eyes. He could, of course, ignore him, but Tommy would totally find a way to take revenge on him for that. It would probably be better if he just let him in.

“Okay,” Vince said, getting out of the bath. He didn’t bother to wipe the water off or cover himself - Tommy had seen all of that anyway - and left a trail of puddles behind him. If Tommy slipped on them, that’d be his own personal problem.

“What’s up with your hair?” Tommy said, casting an appraising look all over Vince’s naked body and smirking. Vince didn’t like the smirk, but Tommy didn’t do anything else besides that and headed straight to the toilet. While he was unzipping his leather pants, Vince got back into the bath. The water had already lost a lot of warmth, but he didn’t turn on hot water again, though he wanted to. But it was time to get out - half an hour had probably already passed, and Vince wanted to see the result.

“Dying It,” Vince shrugged. “Nikki said I gotta wait half an hour, so…”

“What color?” Tommy flushed the toilet and zipped his pants back up.

“Blonde.”

Tommy cast him a long look over his shoulder. “You can’t escape your demonhood like that, y’know.”

“I’m not,” Vince murmured, staring at the water rather than at Tommy. “I just look better with blonde hair.”

“Well, that is true,” Tommy nodded with a stupid grin, his seriousness gone as fast as it had surfaced. “I have yet to see a guy rocking blonde hair the way your vessel does it.”

“Thanks… I guess,” Vince leaned forward and pulled out the bath plug. “You done? Get outta here.”

“Okay, okay, boss,” Tommy laughed but did get out… leaving the door wide open.

“You little shit!” Vince shouted into his back. Tommy laughed and sped up, hiding behind Nikki’s bedroom door.

Goosebumps went down Vince’s chest when he got out of the bath again to close the door. The comparatively cold air entered through the open door and made Vince shiver. Closing the door didn’t help much - it was already much cooler in the bathroom – but at least he was no longer on a display of everyone passing the corridor.

Vince sighed and reached for the towel. He didn’t know whether it was Tommy’s or Nikki’s, but did hope they would eventually wipe their faces with it.

After the body came the turn of his hair. Vince washed it thoroughly, making sure all dye was gone. His hair did look a little lighter, but not light enough, and Vince’s stomach sank. He had to remind himself that wet hair always looked darker than dry.

“Done?” Nikki asked when Vince peered into his room, with wet chunks of hair around his face being in dire need of brushing. Nikki and Tommy were drinking, beer bottles in the hands of each.

“Wanna a drink?” one of them pulled a beer out of the package and threw the bottle to Vince. A week or so ago Vince wouldn’t be able to catch it, but his reflexes improved since then.

“No, thanks,” Vince threw the bottle back, aiming at Nikki’s head. Nikki caught it without even looking at it. “Now what?”

“Just wait for it to dry,” Nikki said. “Wait, I have a hairdryer somewhere.” He got up and began rummaging in his closet. Something long and pink fell out, and Nikki hurriedly shoved it back into the closet. Tommy burst into laughter. Vince watched him in confusion. “Here. Just plug it in, it’ll start working. You can change the power with that slide.”

“Okay, got it,” Vince accepted the offering and retreated into his room. The hairdryer turned out to be incredibly loud, but the wave of hot air it was sending forth felt nice against his face.

As he finished, Vince put down the hairdryer and pulled out Nikki’s hairbrush. His hair was still slightly wet, but his patience had run out. He brushed his hair quickly and hurried to the mirror. What if it didn’t work, what if it-

It did, and surprisingly well. Now it was almost impossible to tell what his hair color had been. Vince was blonde again, exactly like he had been when he had just fallen. No trace of that beastly black on his hair! And if it grew more, the dye would hide it!

Vince grabbed a fistful of his hair and brought it up to his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t that platinum blonde his vessel had, it had warmer undertones, almost golden. But it wasn’t black, and that was enough for him. He didn’t really care about good looks of his vessel, as he didn’t even know how good looks were supposed to, well, look. He hated to admit that Tommy was right, but he was: it was all about hiding his demonhood, like one would hide a crazy relative in a tower so they would never be seen again.

So what? What was wrong about it? It harmed no one but Vince himself, so he was going to continue. He would dye his hair again and again, install a lock after a lock on the door of this tower. Nikki warned him that constant use of hair dye would fuck his hair up, but Vince preferred not to think about that now.

Someone rang the doorbell. Quickly, impatiently, pressing on it way more often than necessary. Someone in a hurry. Weird, they weren’t expecting anyone, and Mick had his own keys. Tommy shouted “Coming!” from the other room, and Vince almost stepped forward to stop him, but then braced himself. Some stupid friend of Tommy to go pick up on the girls, surely, or a junkie coming for Nikki’s heroin. Something mundane.

He heard the lock click. Tommy asked something, probably “who the fuck are you,” because the voices at the door were unfamiliar. Vince couldn’t hear Tommy well, but he sounded more worried with every second. Vince put down the hairbrush, tensing up.

Then Tommy shouted. His shout was abruptly cut off with a shot. Regular weapons could do nothing against a demon, just irritate him more. If this one worked, it wasn’t a regular weapon.

Vince’s fingers weakened, the brush fell out of his hand and onto the floor. The noise it made was exceptionally loud in a post-shot silence.

The demon hunters had come.

Vince sprang onto his feet, his heart beating so fast it as though wanted to get out of his chest. Did they kill Tommy? Were they already in the house? And where, god damn, was Nikki?

That very moment two shots were fired in the corridor, and then two unfamiliar voices began to scream, right behind the thin door of Vince’s bedroom. Seconds later their screaming sounded more like gurgling, as they probably were choking on their own intestines. Nikki could be quite inventive in those matters. Still, there were way more than two of them. And they had their magical anti-demon bullets.

A drop of sweat slid down Vince’s spine. He wasn’t a coward, and he was always ready to fight, but he had just begun living his life here, enjoying it, in a sense. How fucking unfair it was of the demon hunters to come right now to take it all away from him. So fucking unfair.

Vince darted to the dresser in his room, pulled out the bottom drawer and upended it above the bed. Not much there, Vince didn’t have time or desire to hoard things, still confused by the concept of private property. But the thing he was looking for, his only actual possession, was there, hid under the false bottom. Tommy persuaded Mick to give it back to Vince, vouching for his loyalty.

“He can’t even do what you ask him to do,” Mick said to Tommy then. Vince, who was eavesdropping behind the door, bit his lip anxiously. “I mean, good for him for going against the authority, that’s what I put a blade in the cupboard for.” Vince automatically reached to touch the scars, jerking his hand back halfway as Mick’s words dawned on him. Oh, so it was Mick. Oh, how smart. “But he can’t be trusted with weapons yet.”

“But the hunters are out for us,” Tommy said then, almost desperate. He was the closest to Mick out of the three of them – somehow, the youngest and the oldest managed to find something in common. But even he couldn’t cross some lines. “He needs to protect himself”.

“Then what the hell are you here for?” Mick said tiredly, but there were no stern notes in his voice, no prohibiting undertones. Tommy also recognized that and beamed so brightly Mick was utterly and completely defeated. Vince heard the sound of a drawer opening, and the next second Mick opened the door and looked down on Vince sitting on the floor right behind it. “Next time you want something, just ask for it yourself, okay?”

The double bottom fell out, revealing the holy blade. Vince picked it up carefully, trying not to touch the steel. It started to warm up, reacting to the demonic presence. His demonic pre- fuck, Vince stopped himself, there was no time for this brooding now.

Vince shoved it into the pocket of his jeans, hoping it wouldn’t burn a hole in them. Mick promised to rip his heart out if something happened to his jeans. Well, figuratively, Vince hoped, though he was absolutely sure Mick could actually do it.

He flinched at three gunshots fired in the other room, accompanied with shouts. Something heavy rattled across the floor. The thin wall shook under someone’s full weight thrown into it. Vince just hoped it wasn’t Nikki’s body. He tried not to think about Tommy.

He should go and help Nikki. Yes, he had only a “toothpick” and they had guns; but here or there, he would die anyway, and he’d rather do it in the middle of a fight. He absolutely should. Should he?..

Yes, he cut himself off and dashed to the door.

And almost collapsed into it, as it opened right in front of his face.

Vince froze. The hunter right in front of him did the same. It lasted barely seconds, but for Vince it felt like hours. Hours of just standing there and watching each other. Blue eyes, freckles on the nose, ragingly ginger long hair with darkened tips. And a rifle pointed right at Vince’s stomach.

Vince stepped back. Just a little.

Then he was pushed in the chest so strongly he lost balance and fell onto the bed. The hunter straddled him, making his hips jerk with pain at the movement, and his rifle was pointing right at Vince’s forehead now. It was so close Vince could feel the warmth of the barrel.

This hunter has already killed someone.

They looked at each other, silent. The hunter was examining his face so thoroughly as though he tried to see past Vince’s expression. Then he released the rifle with one hand and ran his fingers through Vince’s still slightly wet hair.

“It should be black,” the hunter murmured in confusion. “Enough time has passed, it should be black! You should be a full-scale demon now. Why isn’t it black?!”

Vince exhaled slowly. That was his chance.

“It never darkened,” he murmured. Congratulations on your first lie, demon. The hunter was so fixated on Vince’s face he didn’t notice his hand moving oh so slowly towards the back pocket of his jeans.

“Show me your nails,” the hunter ordered. Vince stretched out his left hand, hoping desperately that the blood under his nails, the blood he couldn’t wash out hard as he tried, wouldn’t make them look sharper.

The ginger grabbed it, looked it over, even smelled it. But, judging by his face, found nothing suspicious “They should be longer, sharper,” he whispered. His own nails were pointy and long, just like Nikki’s or Tommy’s. Vince suppressed the desire to tear his hand away from this grip.

But then – the hunter hit Vince on the head with the rifle handle, so strong the world lost its color for a moment. There was only black and white, and white was so all-encompassing Vince squeezed his eyes shut.

Vince knew why the hunter did it – it was his last check. Demons’ eyes darkened at a very strong emotion or feeling, revealing their true selves in the toughest moments. Nikki’s black eyes after he’d been stabbed, Vince’s own blackness seeping through his eyelids when he was beating up Nikki – all of that happened to both of them at a very emotional moment.

But pain could no longer elicit emotions from Vince. He had so much pain over the last couple of weeks it became inseparable from his entire being. It was almost mundane now, an every-day little inconvenience.

The hunter stared at his perfectly light, hazel eyes, and his grip on the rifle weakened.

“You’re an angel,” he whispered so quietly Vince had to strain his hearing. “A real goddamn angel.”

Vince slowly, very slowly began moving his right arm down.

“How the hell could these stupid demons mistake a real angel for a fallen one?” the redhead hissed. “They never were smart, but this… it’s beyond comprehensible. Why are you still here, with these despicable creatures? Did they imprison you?”

Maybe because you wanted to shoot my brains out, Vince wanted to say but didn’t.

“Yes,” he said instead. “But all is in His hands. We cannot change our fates, and if mine is here, with this demons, I will be here for as long as He tells me to.”

The redhead kept hovering over Vince, but he put away the rifle – unfortunately, not far enough to not be able to reach it in a second. His hungry look wandered over Vince’s body. Hunger as not lust, but the crave of remains of angelic grace, a trace of angelic beauty.

The hunter hovered over him again and grasped his shoulders – not with an intention to hurt, more like a drowning man clings to a lifebuoy. “Do you hear Him? Do you hear Him still?” he asked, his voice shaking.

A slow nod and an honest look into the eyes of a hunter – and he released him and sat on the bed, his back turned to Vince. Vince raised his hips slightly to fish out the blade from his back pocket. He squeezed it in his hand and got up as well, settling near the hunter on the bed.

“What does he say?” the redhead asked. “I haven’t heard from Him for so long. I-“ his voice dropped, - “I miss Him.”

“Me too,” Vince said gently. “But He always cares about all His children. Even those who chose the wrong path. Especially those.”

“I thought he left me,” the hunter lowered his head. “I though he left me alone, after I fell. To this cruel, evil and sin-infested world. World full of demons. How could one defeat all those demons? Are they free to roam the Earth for or against his wish? I killed many demons, but with every one I kill, two more appears. I’m tired, angel. I want back. I want back so much,” his voice quivered, and Vince could even feel a spark of sympathy for him. But only a spark. His hand gripped the handle of the blade.

“What is your name, brother?” Vince asked.

The ginger frowned. “I don’t remember. Nobody remembers, don’t you know that?”

“I do. I mean, what is the name that you picked for yourself? You can’t go nameless in this world full of identical people. You need your own label.”

“I…” the hunter swallowed loudly. “I’m Axl. But why?”

Vince smiled his most kind and compassionate smile. “So that He knows who to reward there, in Heaven. You’ve killed so many demons, you deserve it.”

“What?” Axl’s face lit up. “You can tell Him about me? You can ask him to take me back?”

“It’s even better,” Vince put his hand on Axl’s slumped shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for you here, and these demons were your trials. You passed them successfully.” He squeezed Axl’s shoulder maybe a little too tightly. Axl’s breath accelerated at these words, his cheeks reddening with anticipation.

“You’re going to meet him,” Vince said finally. Then he reached to embrace Axl, the blade in his hand slightly vibrating. Axl trustfully leaned into his open arms. Oh, how damaged he was, how naïve. “You’re going to meet Him very soon, Axl,” he whispered and drove the blade up to the handle into Axl’s back.

Axl flinched, for a second not understanding what just happened. Then he did and looked up at Vince in such shock and disbelief that shame waved over Vince – but just for a second. Then Axl exhaled sharply, still looking at Vince, and started to fall down. Vince carefully lay him down across the bed, pulling the blade out in the process.

“I’m sorry, Axl,” he said quietly. “Go, meet Him. For me.”

***

“There’s blood on your hands,” Tommy noticed immediately once he appeared in the doorway. “Are you hurt?”

“No. His.” Vince nodded at the lifeless body on the bed, soaking sheets with blood once again. His ginger hair spread in a circle around his head looked like a halo. “And you should worry about yourself instead,” he added sternly. Deep bleeding gash – he could even see bone through it - across Tommy’s temple where the bullet grazed him was more urgent to fix.

“Ah, this?” Tommy dipped his fingers in his own blood and licked it off them. “It doesn’t even hurt. It wasn’t a silver bullet. I just pretended it was, so that they would leave me and go for Nikki. And how did you manage to take him out with that toothpick of yours?” he nodded at the blade still in Vince’s hand. The weapon didn’t heat up anymore, only vibrated slightly – it was no longer hungry. For a while.

“I think he didn’t complete his transformation,” Vince said, wiping the blood off the blade on his own shirt. “But why does it the fuck matter?”

“It does,” Nikki’s voice sounded from the corridor. Soon he was in, limping and holding onto his side, his face covered in blood – Vince sincerely hoped it wasn’t his own. But if he could walk and talk, he was probably going to be alright. “The first murder – it seals the demonhood in you. No coming back anymore.”

“My demonhood was sealed long ago then,” Vince murmured more to himself than to the demons, but Nikki heard him.

“What?” Nikki leaned forward, stepped on the hurt foot, yelped and would definitely fall down if Tommy didn’t catch him. But he didn’t break eye contact with Vince even while falling. “You say this- this is not you first-“

“What do you think I fell for?”