#heard there was a prize at 1000

[anatomight]

[scrompsautobotsrchives]

The grand race

Alright, first Mirage fic !! *Cracks knuckles* Lets do this. Word count:1K

Mirage lived for adventure even back on cybertron. He would always get up to antics which would have pissed off the prime leader back then. Now on earth, it was his personal playground, He would always toy around with the police in chases, Doing the best stunts he could do. But he always wanted to do more.

One day as he was cruising around the city, He parked nearby just to watch the city go by. He then saw two friends walk up to each other and have a quick chat before one said. "You still down for the race tonight ??"

"Yep, I also heard that they jackpoted the prize to a $1000" The other said enthusiastically.

"Woah..." That was all he needed when he started to zoom back to the makeshift HQ, You were busy helping Optimus and Bumblebee setting everything up when you heard the familiar revving.

"Hey y/n !!" He transformed and kneeled to your height, eager to tell you the news. "Guess what I heard today ?? Your gonna love it"

'What's up ??' You stopped what you were doing and gave him your full attention.

"I heard these guys in the city talking about a race that's happening tonight"

"Oh yeah, They do those almost every year now"

"Really ?? We should go !!"

But before you could give your answer, a familiar prime's voice boomed. "Absolutely not Mirage, We need to remain undercover and away from prying eyes, Drawing attention to yourself will only cause more damage then good" He said, bee whirred in laughter and soon the radio flicked to an audio of the Nelson Muntz... "HA HA !!"

"You must promise me to stay away from that race" Optimus said firmly.

"Yeah yeah sure, I'll stay very well away so far away... Dude don't leave me with these tightasses bro, We'd make a great team" Mirage whispered to you pleadingly.

"Mirage you heard what Optimus said, I'm not doing a race just so you can get kick out of it" You frowned to him.

"But what about for friendship ??" He said, making you raise an eyebrow in dissapointment.

"Ah or or or what about for cash ??"

You looked up at him. "How much are we talking ??"

"$1000, I can get that to you easy"

Now what you could do with $1000, ooooooh you could buy that new games console that just went on a market. You looked at Optimus who was helping Bee before back at Mirage.

"Ok, I'm in" You nodded.

So later in the night, the two of you went out. Heading to the start of the course where all the racer's would line up. You got out as you heard rap music playing on full blast, People catching up and taking selfies. You saw a dude with a clipboard standing nearby, Taking down the names of another person who arrived before you.

"Guess that's our ticket in" You closed the door and went up to him. "Hey, I wanna enter the race"

"Awesome, What car are we racing with ??"

"The Porsche behind me" You nodded to Mirage.

He nodded and took down your name as well. "Alright, your in kid"

"Thanks" You headed back to Mirage and got inside. "Ok remember, we need to make this look natural so nobody notices something's off ok ??" You reminded him of the rules.

"Don't worry, your boy's got this" Even in car form, you could tell Mirage had a huge smirk on his face.

You lined up, Eyeing the competition. some had modified cars ranging from old to new. They took this seriously.

"This'll be easy" Mirage chimed in, revving his engine as he got into place. "Relax"

You nodded as you gripped the steering wheel, Watching someone walk to the middle with the chequered flag, signalling the race was about to start. The contestants around you started to rev up their cars as the flag was raised, and then with the swish downwards, Tires skidded on the road and soon everyone was off.

"Come on Mirage !!" You cheered as you made pretend movements on the drivers seat.

"'scuse me 'scuse me'" He chuckled softly as he passed some contestants with breeze.

But some were proving to be a little bit of a challenge, like we said, some were modified specifically for this race. Mirage grumbled as he attempted to pass some of them. "Move over !!"

The driver in one car could only chuckle and pressed the nitro, picking up speed.

"Damn it !!" You pushed the pedal to the medal, and Mirage began to speed up, pushing a little more and sped past the guy, blowing dust in his face.

"WOOHOO !!!"

The first lap was done, Just gotta keep up the momentum. "Let's kick some aft !!" Mirage cheered.

You cleaned up the second lap, But on the third, one of the contestants began to kick it up a notch. Mirage was cruising along when he felt that he wasn't ahead anymore. "Huh ??"

You watched as one of the contestants sped past you, This car looked like it went through hell and back on the performance.

"Shit !! Come on we got this !!" You reminded.

Mirage was determined, as determined as ever to win this. He tried to speed up as best as he could, Tires burning every drift. The other driver wasn't giving up as well, Both of you pushing the pedal to the medal as the finish line was nearing. The crowd cheered as the two of you crossed, Mirage made a total stop. "Did we win ??"

"I'm not sure ??" You got out of the car, asking the racer. "Yo what's going on ??"

"Beats me" He shrugged.

Because it was such a close call, Some people had to review the footage on their phones just to see who touched the finish line first, You waited for almost 5 minutes before one nodded and shouted. "It was the Porsche !!" Making everyone cheer.

"YEAH !!" You were so goddamn happy, Mirage was so goddamn happy, Oh screw it you were both so goddamn happy.

Others watched as you showed off from mirage and as promised, you were awarded the $1000. You drove off soon after.

"Holy shit that was incredible !! Did you see the guys face !!??"

"Oh, he was so mad !!" Mirage was so happy. "We gotta do that again sometime.

"Maybe... Just maybe" You smirked. You made your debut, a race or two never hurt anyone.

Taglist: @callofdudes

[chitrapatangh]

it will fovever pain me to see how misinterpreted women are in romance. I hate it when people generalize things based on gender and all, but how can I not defend women in love when all romance songs are written and sung by men? all the poems by men yearning for women? every play, book, piece of media is made by men and women are called "selfish" "goldiggers" and "bewafa" when it comes to love. Have you heard of Maa Sita? Or Maa Radha? Or any avatar of Mata Lakshmi for that matter? Have you heard of Mata Parvati doing tapasya for thousands of years? Mata Sati burning herself from hearing her husbands insults? Mata Saraswati literally being declared wed the moment she was born and still doing her Patni Dharm? Women can obsess in love, yearn, crave, cry, write, create art, think of their beloved every passing moment and it will never be enough... because there are a 1000 types of men, and then just a *woman*. We are an archetype, a side character, a prize to be won, we are half the population yet so aliented and unknown, we have a "charitra" and can only ever be defined by men either as whore or virgin mary. perhaps I'm an exception but I'm tired of hearing "Men in love this" "Men in love that" okay but have you ever seen a woman in love?

[the-ghost-of-jason-todd]

Hello MotA and other WWII fandoms (based on real people or not)! I have a fun piece of history for you that you may or may not be aware of.

I just finished my last day working at a pretty cool place. It's a branch of the public library in Albuquerque, New Mexico, U.S.A. What does this have to do with WWII? Let me tell you!

I just so happened to work at the Ernie Pyle branch, named so because it was the only house that the WWII war correspondent Ernie Pyle and his wife Jerry ever owned. Ernie Pyle, if you have never heard of him:

went overseas with the soldiers to document the second world war

pioneered human-interest style journalism for war reporting, specifically focusing on the lives of the soldiers and conditions on the front lines

wrote MANY MANY articles about the soldiers and their daily lives

won some awards, including a Pulitzer Prize

and was killed in action in Japan in 1945, at the age of 44

Here he is, looking a lot more serious than a lot of the pictures of him in his home, as well as a shot of him, his wife, and their dog, named Cheetah:

And, if you've never seen it, the house-turned-library looks like this:

The Indiana University has a few of his articles free to read, so check those out if you want to get an idea of the kind of journalism I'm talking about here: https://erniepyle.iu.edu/wartime-columns/index.html

For the MotA fans specifically, one cool fact about Ernie Pyle is that he had not one, but TWO separate B-29 "superfortresses" named after him. One was just called the Ernie Pyle, while the other was called Ernie Pyle's Milk Wagon (in reference to a quote of his calling the bombings of Japan "milk runs"). The library has a picture of the Ernie Pyle up on top of one of the windows:

And here it is in flight:

So, why a library? Why not, say, a museum? Well, there IS a museum--in his hometown of Dana, Indiana. After his death in 1945, and before his wife's passing that same year, Jerry Pyle (said wife) decided to give their house to the City of Albuquerque in order to honor his memory. There was a lot of back and forth, but one thing stood out above all else: Ernie was a private guy, and this was his home. According to an interview he once gave, he'd said that he built a house because he "needed a place to store his books"--and so what better way to commemorate his work than to fill his house with books?

The house was built in 1940, and as a library it has been in near-continuous use since 1948. It's now a national historic landmark, as well, and celebrates National Ernie Pyle Day every year. It is the second oldest library of the Albuquerque Bernalillo County Library System--the oldest being our Special Collections library--which makes it the very first satellite of the ABQ library system. The ABQ library system now boasts 19 locations. The Ernie Pyle branch is, still, the smallest.

It also has an Ernie Pyle G.I.Joe action figure on display, which is clearly the most important thing to note here:

I don't know how Ernie would feel about the fact that people come from all over the country to visit his home, but at just over 1000 square feet, it's the coziest library I've ever been in. I think it's really neat how history ties us together, and it seems pretty profound to me that Ernie Pyle was so dedicated to immortalizing the men who risked life and limb to fight a war that spanned the entire globe.

Not to mention the fact that I got to put up a lot of staff picks and displays, which was hella fun. Here I am with Moby Dyke and Chainsaw Man (top) and some pictures of one of my favorite silly displays (bottom):

(when is the best time to come out of the closet? ...when the coast is queer!)

I also got to make our holiday card this year! So, to all you WWII nerds, fandom or otherwise...

[luimagines]

Battle Prizes (1000 Follower Raffle)

Our first prize winner was @psique-dragmire.

They asked for some battle scenes with a post battle kiss with Twilight.

Masterlist

Content under the cut!

Despite the fact that you should have known the drill by now, there was still that level of uncertainty. Would you make it out alive? Unscathed? Would your friends be as lucky? Would it all be over by dinner time?

You ducked. A blade flies over your head, cutting off the bits of hair that couldn’t follow your direction fast enough. You don’t care. You slice back and dodge to the right, bringing your shield up to block their upcoming hammer swing. There were at least three of them around you. You couldn’t tell if they were infected or not but seeing that you had managed to get a cut on the one you’re currently engaged with, you doubted they were enhanced beyond your typical capabilities.

You could hear vague sounds of battle around you. Metal hissing against metal- dull thunks as clubs meets shields- panting breaths with beats of battle cries all crescendoing together in a symphony of battle. Your blood rushed in your ears, providing a base for all the music to come together.

You backflipped and cried out in rage, cutting the arm off the monster behind you before it could hit you. You kept the arm swinging to slice up the third monster’s body before it got any funny ideas. The first monster followed you, pushing past its injured comrades in its wake to destroy you.

Your glare was sharp. If looks could kill, all three of them would have long since burst into flames- or rather, combusted on sight. It certainly would have made your job easier.

Beyond you, you could see Warrior and Twilight fighting back to back. They each had the looks of fierce determination on their faces. They were surrounded. Outnumbered 4:1. Admittedly, they had it worse off than you, but they seemed to be holding their own. You would have dropped everything and helped them in any other circumstance, but when another swing to your head cancels your thoughts- you realize that you technically have bigger fish to fry.

You rush forward, swinging your blade with as much force as you can muster towards the beast’s stomach. It creates a clean cut from side to side. The force of the hit makes the creature take a knee and you use its lack of momentum to charge forward and ram your sword into its head before it can get up again.

It explodes, leaving you down to only two more monster’s to defeat. Significantly better than what Warrior and Twilight seem to be dealing with. You chance it and look over your shoulder to where they’re fighting. The last two monsters notice your lack of focus and your need to catch your breath. Even though one is lacking their arm, they are still beginning to make their way toward you.

You don’t notice it at first.

You’re too busy looking at the way Twilight has gritted his teeth. The way his arm moves as he slashes the monster in front of you. There is no mistaking the way he’s shaped, the way his body curves, the way he fights- his lines and edges- that this is a man. And he knows it too.

You black flip, having noticed a club coming down from above you. The monsters have reached you now and you need to refocus your attention on not dying.

You swing your sword, adjusting your grip and your stance. You’ve caught your breath. Time to tango once more.

You charge forward, side stepping out of the right as a large arm comes down and swinging your sword with the momentum. You hear the creature shriek in rage and in pain- but you’ve miscalculated.

The second monster remaining was positioned just far enough away that you’ve danced right into its reach. And it had already begun to swing.

A sickening crack was heard on the battlefield. You were suddenly dizzy. You were on the ground. You thought you heard people calling your name.

You were angry.

You pushed yourself up and out of the way, just in time to roll away from the second attack. Had you been any slower, you would have had your skull caved in… But you don't register that. Your only thoughts are ending this.

You push yourself to your feet. You’re wobbly and unsteady. You can feel it. However, there’s something inside you that wants vengeance. Revenge. To pay them back with the same coin. You grit your teeth and shake your head, trying to clear it. You jump backwards, dodging another attack- only to jump onto their weapon and run up the length of it. Your added weight makes it harder for them to pull it up from the ground and you swing your sword down onto its face.

It yells out in pain and stumbles backwards. You lose your footing and fall to the ground as well. You hit your back and it’s hard to tell your left from your right. Is your arm broken? Do you have a concussion? Are you in a position to tell?

You can hear more yelling of your name. It’s someone from the group. They’re telling you to stop. They’re telling you to run.

No.

You can finish this.

You push yourself to your feet again, perhaps even more unsteady than before. The second monster is currently bleeding out from the face. It’s trying to wipe the blood off so it would be able to see you clearly. You think you might have taken out one of its eyes.

The third monster with the missing arm stalks towards you but it too is running low on stream. With that injury untreated, there wasn’t much energy left on its part to continue attacking at full strength.

You run towards it, swinging your sword with wild abandon. You lose track of your thoughts and your actions. You keep hitting the beast until the familiar purple smoke surrounds you. Once that’s been cleared out of the way, you turn your gaze to the third and final monster.

It has seemed to regain some of its rage to continue fighting while you feel as if you’re getting started.

An arrow pierces it through the head- ending it before it began.

Twilight runs through the smoke in your direction. You sag in relief and allow yourself to finally fall.

He catches you, cradling you close. “You’re crazy. You’re hurt. You’re bleeding.”

He sounds out of breath. He must have been running to you. You look up at him then. There’s a small cut above his eyebrow and there’s a bruise that’s forming on his jaw, but his eyes… so clear- almost crystalline.

You reach up, feeling that it’s the only thing you can do and grab onto his collar. 

Twilight pulls you closer. “You’re going to be ok. I’m impressed you kept fighting for as long as you did. How on earth were you even standing?”

You shrug and giggle. It’s funny, isn’t it? Twilight was outnumbered more than you were and yet you’re in a worse condition than he is. Twilight runs his hands over your hair and your cheek.

“Did we win?” You try to sit up. Weird, it suddenly hurts to do that.

Twilight nods, stopping you from injuring yourself any further. “Yes, yes. Most of the monsters have been taken care of.”

“And the others?”

“Right as rain.” He replies, leaning closer. “We just need to make sure you’re taken care of. Don’t fall asleep any time soon, ok? I’m sure the Champion has potions that we can give you. You’ll be back to how you were in no time at all.”

You nod and can’t help but smile wider. “I saw you.” You say with a giggle on your lips. “You looked very cool, very handsome.”

A shy smile blooms on Twilight’s face. It’s very pretty. Almost as pretty as the soft blush on his face. “Oh dear… You’re worse off than I originally thought.”

You poke his cheek. “Very nice.”

His blush darkens and he shakes his head again. His smile widens as well. Teasing, he pokes your nose back, picking you up effortlessly in his arms. “Let’s go. This is no place for this.”

You kiss him.

He freezes.

Just when you’re about to pull away, your kiss, fueled by your concussion and budding emotions, is followed by his own. Twilight starts kissing you back, cradling the good side of your jaw as he pulls back to him.

“Oh by the three-” Warrior laments on the side lines. “This is not the time.”

Twilight comes to his senses, pulling away from you with a shocked expression. You don’t seem to care either way, giggling and letting your head rest against his shoulder. “Well… that was nice…”

Twilight clears his throat. “R-right… Sorry.”

“I liked it.” You keep giggling. “I feel like I won a prize.”

Warrior rolls his eyes, sending Twilight a mild glare. Twilight blushes darker, unable to clear his face of his grin.

[perpetualexistence]

Since you seem to be the expert, could you write a quick fic of Chris or Don putting tiny Topher in their wallet and then putting their wallet in their back pocket?

Topher would be so excited to be in the wallet in the back pocket of his favorite hosts.

It's been 500 years pocket Topher anon. And I'm so sorry I took this long. But I finally got around to it! Don't know if this is what you were expecting, but it's what came out of my brain.

Also it's like nearly 1000 words. I hope it makes up for the wait.

There are many advantages to being a tinyshifter. Others would argue that being able to shrink was more dangerous than it was worth. What with being stepped on, or being seen as prey by now much larger animals, or just how long it took to get from one place to another.

Those people didn't see the potential that Topher saw. Being small was perfect for a gossip like him. You could get into anywhere before any security detail noticed. He'd even snuck his way into the hottest party of the year once! Yeah he'd nearly gotten mauled to death by a fiesty purse dog. It had been worth it to actually spot the Chris Mcclean. For the 5 seconds it took for someone to see him unshrunken and kick him out.

So when his dad revealed that he was going to host a new show traveling the world, Topher was more than excited. He could sneak onto the most hyped up reality show AND get a free flight to wherever he wanted?! Sweet! Or, it would be if his dad had said yes to tagging along.

But he never listened to the word 'no', and he wasn't about to start now.

He waited until Don was about to leave. He always forgot something last minute. He always panicked, and it always made it easier to snatch his wallet.

Not that it was hard to steal his dad's wallet in the first place. Oh the things he'd charged on that credit card. And he WAS running low on hair products...

Wait, focus! eyes on the prize Topher!

He set the wallet down on the coffee table right by the front door. Perfect, now for the fun part.

He focused on making his body curl in on itself without actually moving. Just have to be as small as a mouse to slip into places and get the best gossip. Smaller, smaller...perfect! He was pocket sized now. Now to just slip himself inside of the wallet.

That was on the coffee table miles above him. Oh. Whoops. No problem, he just had to grow back to normal, sit on the table, and THEN shrink.

And he had to do it now because he could hear the thunderous creaks of his dad coming down the stair.

Crap crap crap! He thought of getting bigger as quick as he possibly could. The second he was able to reach the coffee table, he climbed onto it. The table creaked at his weight but that didn't matter now. He could hear Don's footsteps getting louder. It wasn't hard to shrink when he desperately wanted to hide. He dove into the folds of the wallet just as he heard Don stop in front of the table.

"Oh, there you are! I've been looking everywhere for you!"

Topher could feel himself jostle as the wallet was being picked up. He couldn't see much of anything now that it was closed, but that didn't matter. He was so close to spoilers galore and worldwide shopping and why wasn't the wallet moving anymore?

He yelped when artificial light hit his face. He closed his eyes at the shock. When he opened them he could see Don's disappointed face staring at him.

"Topher, get out of my wallet." Don ordered.

"Aw, but the plan was so good and everything! How'd you know?" Topher whined. He crouched deeper so only his head was popping out of the wallet. If Don wanted Topher out, he'd have to grab him himself.

"You really thought I wouldn't notice my wallet being heavier?"

"Are you calling me fat? I can see the headlines now. 'Up and coming reality tv host Don Mallory gets cancelled for fatphobic comments. Public devastated!' Your career would be ruined. But if you were to, I don't know, make it up to me with a trip around the world-"

"Topher, you know I can't just bring you along! The network won't just let me bring a plus one."

"Then the network doesn't have to know! Let me hide in your wallet. We can call this father and son bonding!" Topher knew Don was always desperate for ways for them to connect, so maybe this would work?

"We've already done that in a way that won't get me in trouble with the network! Remember disco night?"

"Disco is dead and you killed it."

Topher knew he screwed up when he saw his father's face fall at that comment. Okay, maybe that one was a bit too far. Don had been really happy when he'd dragged Topher along. It wasn't his fault his dad was super embarrassing!

"Topher."

"Okay, fine, sorry! Just...please? Who knows when I'm going to get a chance like this again?" Don was still looking hurt so great, okay, fine, Topher would make it up to him. "...You can tell me all the history facts they make you cut for time?"

The smile began to return to Don's face and Topher knew he had him. Don still let out a light sigh. "Alright, BUT. You have to stay in my pocket the whole time we're airing. No trying to get on camera."

"Promise!" Topher lied. He wouldn't ever stop trying to do that, but he could stop himself from making it TOO obvious. "Now, don't you still have a flight to catch?"

"Right, right. Sorry, this is going to be a bit bumpy." Don moved his thumb and gently pushed Topher's head back all the way into his wallet. Topher immediately began trying to fix his hair from the safe confines of the wallet before being jostled as he was moved into complete darkness.

By the way he was now moving, he was in Don's pocket now, moving rapidly as Don moved to grab his luggage.

Luggage that Topher wouldn't have with sneaking himself on.

Oh well. He'd just figure something out later.

[ebonyweb]

Ok, I'm bored

10 GUITARS GWEN WOULD DO UNSPEAKABLE THINGS TO OWN

Gibson DG-335 (Original Run)

I'm not secretive about this, but one of my major inspirations is Dave Grohl of the Foo Fighters. This, based on the Trini Lopez 335 with modifications, is one of his weapons of choice. No hate to the Epiphone DG-335 (In fact I'd actually like to have one of those since it's a model I can actually fucking afford) but this would be the prize jewel of my collection

Gibson Explorer (With caveats)

While I love this thing, I do want some features not available on standard Explorers. Mainly, a volute (Added material at the midpoint of the neck and Headstock), a set of Burstbucker pickups (or similar PAF pickups), and in Shell Pink.

Fender Nocaster (Either Vintera II or original)

A Tele without a name, which happened because of a copyright Grestch held on the original name, the Broadcaster. I also just like Telecasters, and TBH, these are just cool bits of history.

Fender Kurt Cobain Jaguar

Nirvana is a band I have found a love for. Kurt Cobain was a genius on the guitar, and I find he and Grohl influence a lot of my style on guitar. This is one of his many modified guitars, and I personally really want it, especially for the upgrades like the Tune-O-Matic bridge and separate volumes for the pickups.

ESP E-II Eclipse

While I by no means am a metalhead, I do really enjoy "Metal" guitars. Stuff like the Explorer, ESPs lineup, even something like the 5150 amp. This is a beautiful thing, a pastiche of the ebony Les Paul Custom with modern features like EMG pickups, a volute, and a thinner body.

Epiphone Les Paul Custom (Birth Year)

Speaking of, this beautiful thing. As much as I love a guitar that makes my wallet scream in terror, I like the simple stuff too. I love the Les Paul shape, and the man behind the guitar was invaluable. Seeing this guitar up on a wall with the name "Les Paul" under it is an inspiration.

EVH SA-126

I actually saw this guitar before it was released. Wolfgang Van Halen, son of the incredible Eddie Van Halen, was at Rockville 2024 with a road testing prototype. Playing one of these in a Guitar Center was unreal, because it felt so light and growled through the amp. Plus, look at it. It's beautiful.

Martin D-18e (Replica)

A odd choice, certainly. I mean, these are mega expensive and rare, and the one pictured here is the awe-inspiring model played by Kurt Cobain in Nirvana's MTV Unplugged concert. But, there's the rub. I don't want an original. As a challenge, I want to recreate this with a cheaper Dreadnought acoustic, the exact pickup model (which are still sold), and any custom modifications needed to replicate that historic model, much like Nirvana Guitars did (minus the modifications Kurt Cobain and his guitar tech made such as the soundhole pickup.)

Schecter Ultra (Pelham Blue)

Again, I like metal guitar gear. Schecter Guitar Research is one of those companies I've heard good things about, but as someone who doesn't really vibe with S-style guitars, I don't really look too much for their stuff. This is different. It adds elements of the Gibson Firebird, Telecaster, all with modern features and a beautiful look.

Gibson/Epiphone SG Special (Pelham Blue)

I just really like the SG body shape. It's fucking devil horns. With all my talk of how much I love this, is it a surprise it's on here? Although, honestly, I showed the Gibson version because the Epiphone version is relatively cheap, especially in comparison to their recent output (Fuck you, Epiphone Ripper being $1000+), so the Gibson version would probably be a bit more out of reach.

[iheartchv]

1000 followers gift 🎁 or close enough anyway xD

Since I dont have time anymore, I decided to do this as a prize for everyone who entered my last raffle I hosted back in August, and for my followers as well. C:

Thanks again for almost +1k followers ^v^/~ °¤☆°

💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗💗

💗 Heres part 1 if you need a recap Please read if you haven't c:

Everyone mentioned is 18+// 18 content ahead.. THIS WAS WRITTEN BY AN ADULT FOR ADULTS! youve been warned ⚠️

🍭"Sweet as honey, Sugar" PT 2🍭

Leo/Raph/Donnie/Mikey...

looked down at you, your eyes half lidded, your cheeks and your body colored with blush. His gaze locked onto your mouth, and his cock started to throb again and pulse in sync with his beating heart. He wanted to feel your plush lips around him.

He nestled himself between your open thighs and started kissing you again, his hunger for you still evident... in more ways than one... His tongue pushed inside your mouth, tangling with yours and tasting you. His groans sent vibrations through your body. His hands roamed your body, feeling you up.

"It doesn't matter how many times I kiss you, touch you, or even taste you, enough is never enough..." he huskily moaned.

You moaned into his kiss. You felt his hardened length against you. Everything you were feeling only heightened as your body craved more of him, too. You wrapped your legs and arms around him and wanted him to be buried deep inside you. Even then that wouldn't ever be enough for you, either; You just wanted to be closer than close.

He pleaded in between kisses,"Baby... Baby, I need you to stroke my cock..." A deep churr rumbled in his chest. "I need to feel your hands on me..."

You smirked at him,"ok~" and started sliding your hands down his hard plated chest, to his sides, and then down his muscled thighs. You heard him intake a sharp inhale and then a long exhale. You inched closer to his throbbing member, loving the moans he was making, which only urged you on. Finally you reached the place that ached for you.

You stroked his length from the topside, to the underside, up to the tip, and back to the base. His growls of pleasure seemed to pierce the atmosphere in the room, shaking you to your core. That ache between your thighs grew again.

He sighed deeply as his pent up need for you dissipitaed but just a little now that he finally had you. "I've been wanting you all day long. Every little thing you do turns me on to no end." His breathing and heart beat sped up. After a short while he switched places with you because he needed to feel your lips englufing him.

You saw a drop of precum on the head of his cock and licked it off, making him hiss under his breath. Slowly your mouth wrapped around his cock, taking in as much as you could. When he reached the back of your throat you moved your head back up, your lips gripping around him in a suction motion.

With a pop you let him go, and you started leaving little kisses all around the start of his shaft. Your tongue followed after, licking and sucking his cock like the lollipop you had earlier today. ( You couldnt resist the look he gave you and pretended to not notice ) His hips jerked and you couldnt help to giggle.

"Did you know lollipops is my favorite treat when I have a sweet tooth?" you teased. You went back to swirling your tongue around his sensitive tip, making him let out sounds only you've ever heard, and your arousal grew hotter and wetter. Your ministrations sped up as your body burned with desire. You wanted him to take you right now.

You took him to the edge and stopped before he could cum. In a way he was glad he didn't because he wasn't ready for this to end, but the need for release was even stronger the more you teased and pleasured his dick. Swiftly as the ninja he was, he picked you up to gently throw you back down onto your matress. Towering above you, he lowered down to your ear. He whispered,"You know whats my favorite sweet? The kind with the cream inside." He licked and kissed the spot near your ear, causing you to let out a gasp as your body shivered.

He aligned his sex with yours and groaned in ecstasy when your tight walls kept a grip on him in a vice as he pushed further inside. His hands widened your legs further and pushed them upward to keep you at an angle where he could hit every spot that made you scream. As soon as he was fully sheathed inside, he started with long slow strokes before gripping you tightly and rocked hips against you.

"Ohhhhh god, princess. You're so tight and wet for me. You-" his breathing hitched. "You feel so... good~"

"Mmmmmh~" you whimpered. Your eyes shut as wave after wave of bliss hit you. The bubbling heat in your belly grew hotter as the need for release did, too. You indicated that you wanted to have your legs around him. Then you wrapped your legs around his hips, locking your ankles just under the rim of his shell. Wiggling your hips you urged him,"Faster~ You're driving me crazy~"

"I'm driving you crazy? What do you think I'm feeling right now?" he smiled and teased before cupping his hands underneath your hips, lifting you, and start to thrust his hips harder and faster. The bed squeaked underneath the weight and movement of your sweating bodies. You'd be bruised and sore in the morning ( he learned how to control his strength so he didn't crush your bones), but he would make it up to you; the moans and screams of your fulfilled desires was music to his ears and was his undoing. He was so very close, and so were you. He made you cum first so he could feel you squeeze and milk every drop of his cum into your womb. He came hard and deep, shooting his hot white load into you, letting out a loud and long groan as muscles clenched down on his bones.

The overall ecstasy you felt all at once was so intense that you screamed at the top of your lungs, crying out his name and cursing as you came hard gripping and digging your nails into his shoulders. Hot tears burned your eyes and spilled down your cheeks as every shockwave came and went. As you got your breathing under control and you came down from your high, your body shook from the rapturous pleasure you hadn't felt in a long time.

He held you to him still as he brushed stray tendrils of hair away from your face. He left soft kisses everywhere he could easily reach. "That was amazing. You were amazing, my sweet goddess." He nuzzled his face into the crook of your shoulder, enjoying the afterglow.

"So were you~" you giggled sleepily. "We should do this every now and then." You heard him softly chuckle and kiss your temple. This sexy session drained you of energy. Your eyes were heavy and closed them for a bit before you drifted off to sleep, being snuggled in the arms of your turtle beau as he watched you sleep and soon drifted to sleep as well.

🍭END🍭

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[sabraeal]

If the Mind Is Willing, Chapter 5

[Read on AO3]

Written for @bubblesthemonsterartist, who long ago won the top prize of my 500 Followers raffle way back in 2018. These were all supposed to be done in the few months I had before I gave birth to my second son...who is now less than two months away from his fifth birthday. And in a few weeks, I will be posting the beginning of my 1000 Followers celebration. So you know. Better late than never

His fingers flex before they settle on the keyboard, a cacophony of cracks that would set his mother’s teeth on edge if she heard them. Not that she’d scold him; oh no, Yamazaki would just find a new bottle on his desk after school, some brown glass container— not plastic, never plastic; things like that were made from oil and oil has chemicals, and no matter how often he explain that all things are made of chemicals, even her all-natural essential oils, it would never take— that would say ‘Susu’s Supplements’ complete with a smiling face. Nearly four years out of the house and his shoulders twitch just thinking about it, ready to hike up around his ears at the first whisper of homeopathy.

Instead, Yamazaki rotates them, points angling from inward to outward, forcing his shoulders square and spine straight. Head over heart, heart over pelvis. A straight line from crown to coccyx. Already the muscles ache, longing to hunch— too many hours at a screen, his mother would say, we’re meant to hunt and gather, not hunt and peck. Lips pressed tight, he tilts his head, popping his neck for good measure. One side, then the other. There’s an order to these things, a ritual, and he’s in no mood to rush himself.

But he’s fast running out of joins to crack, excuses wearing thin as he twists his spine, then flexes his feet. A few satisfying pops press them flat to the floor, and he bites the bullet: inbox open, his outstanding draft unfurls across the screen.

Re: Re: Re: Final Grades Deadline, the subject line reads, and with delicate precision, Yamazaki types: Dr. Matsumoto, I hope you are enjoying your time back in Japan with your family, however—

Orange flashes at the corner of his eye. It’s the messenger, wedged tight between tabs on his task bar. Out of the way. Easy enough to ignore.

—however, it’s come to my attention that—

It’s silent, that’s the problem. Just a block of color that won’t go away until he clicks it. And a small 1 in the corner of it, letting him know it’s a direct message. That someone is looking specifically for him. And it won’t go away, not until he pays it some sort of attention.

—that there are still students for whom grades have not yet been—

Not that he has to. If it was urgent, if he was needed, anyone with that information could simply call him. This email, however, is time sensitive. Time oversensitive, if he really thinks about it. Which he’s trying to not, if only so he can finish it.

—not yet been finalized with administration. If there are any changes you would like to make, tomorrow is the last time to—

He could swear it’s flashing now, the number flicking up to 2, then 3. Like message after message is careening into his DMs, a pileup of personal correspondence he’ll only be able to sort through the wreckage of if this takes any longer.

—tomorrow is the last time to submit electronically. Anything after that will have to be manually changed by—

It’s a trick of the eye, an illusion of increased frequency. It blinks at the same rate for one message as it does for one hundred. His palms break out into a sweat. It would be so easy for 3 to flip to 4, for 4 to suddenly become 9+, and he’ll never know just how many messages are waiting for him, how many people are waiting for him until he finishes this damned email.

—stopping by the administration office in-person. Please let me know if you need any assistance with the electronic submissions.

Relief bows him over the keyboard, and with a quick flourish, he tacks on, Best, Yamazaki.

One last click sends the message on its way, that particular problem no longer his responsibility— until Dr Matsumoto inevitably makes it his— and he turns his attention down to the current object of his ire. The application flicks open, and—

[Saito.Hajime] Souji has sent me a number of Direct Messages regarding the creation of his character for our upcoming roleplaying event I thought you should be made aware

“Oh,” Yamazaki mutters, tension already flooding his shoulders. “Come on.”

*

[Susumu Yamazaki] Oh? Is that so? Color me surprised. Just what did he want to inquire about? Perhaps whatever character concept would be personally inconvenient for me to have to deal with on short notice? Maybe he’d like to be the emperor? Or a lizard person? A lizard-person emperor?

[Saito.Hajime] I do not believe his is taking into account your level of discomfort Though he did inquire about the non-human options open to him

[Susumu Yamazaki] Of course he did.

[Saito.Hajime] Also, I do not think the Zokujin are available as a player race Not in the current edition of the rules

[Susumu Yamazaki] No. They’re not.

[Saito.Hajime] However I did take the liberty of discouraging him from looking further into the Kitsune Impersonator school

Yamazaki grinds the heels of his palms over his eyes, fireworks splaying across the dark. The last thing he needs is letting Okita loose in a room full of roleplayers extremely sensitive to ridicule with a skill called ‘Fanning the Flames’.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Good. I would like to be invited back to the next event. So what does he want? There has to be some catch. There’s no way he’d be happy creating a character using just the core rules.

[Saito.Hajime] He asked if it was possible to acquire some information on his clan of choice There was not much present in the books we made available during character creation

[Susumu Yamazaki] 1) How would he know? He wasn’t even there? 2) The Player’s Guide has a sufficient overview of all the available Great Clans. Which one could he possibly have trouble finding information on?

[Saito.Hajime] Souji was interested in learning more about specific aspects of the Cat Clan

His teeth grit so hard he can feel the fault lines forming. Tell him, he types, pecking each key with relish, to go fuck himself. Each stroke feels good, feels perfect, up until he hits the backspace.

[Susumu Yamazaki] Leave it to Okita to pull something like this. Cat Clan isn’t even one of the listed options for play in 5th edition! Guy doesn’t even bother to show up to our planned group session, but now he wants to ask us to jump through additional hoops to help him create a character from a niche clan for the *meme*or whatever he’s on about now.

[Saito.Hajime] To know it is even an option means that he at least read the material we provided That conveys a certain level of personal investment on his part More than I would have expected Souji to show

[Susumu Yamazaki] Really? You don’t think that he just went, ‘I like cats. I think I’ll say I want to be a cat and see whether or not Yamazaki personally loses his shit about it?’

[Saito.Hajime] I think you are ascribing malicious intent where there is only indifference

[Susumu Yamazaki] Thanks. Definitely makes me feel good about all this.

[Saito.Hajime] Souji often masks his interest by attempting to be mocking or feigning disinterest

[Susumu Yamazaki] He’s also the kind of asshole who likes to take advantage of everyone’s better nature and pretend that he’s interested in something they care about, only to turn around and make a fucking joke out of it, like a total sociopath

[Saito.Hajime] If it bothers you to put in a sustained amount of effort to assist him in the event that he is ‘simply fucking around’ then I would be happy to help him on my own I would hate for him to be truly interested and refuse to engage with him over simple skepticism about his motives

[Susumu Yamazaki] Fine. It’s your time. I can’t stop you from wasting it.

[Saito.Hajime] Your concern is appreciated if not entirely warranted

“It’s just…” A hiss whistles through his teeth as his chair swivels, bringing him level with Saito’s level stare. “I don’t know why he’s even bothering to do this when he doesn’t even want to go. The other guys might be forcing him to go for” —to be honest, he’s not really clear on the reason, and at this point, he’s certain the answer will only aggravate him— “bonding purposes, or punishment, or whatever, but I don’t care if he puts in effort. He can feel free to have a bad time, it doesn’t have anything to do with me.”

Saito tilts his head, thoughtful. “Is it really so hard to believe that Souji might enjoy the idea of pretending to be someone else, so long as it was in a structured, positive, and judgment-free environment?”

Yamazaki swivels back to his keyboard, mouth pulled thin as he types, Stop trying to make me feel bad for Okita. It’s not going to happen.

Saito glances over at his screen and lets out the smallest, nearly imperceptible sigh.

[Saito.Hajime] I do not expect you to

[Susumu Yamazaki] Am I just supposed to forget that he broke Ibuki’s arm? It wasn’t even a year ago! It’s not like he’s changed!

[Saito.Hajime] You are not often so intractable, but on this subject you do insist on itAnd I respect that you feel that way

He scowls at the screen, pulse throbbing just beneath his collar. I’m not being intractable. If it were anyone but Okita, none of you would even—

Knock. It’s a soft little noise at first, but enough to jar him from his thoughts and set his hands hovering over his keyboard. Knock-knock. Knock?

Okita. That’s who it has to be. Clearly using Saito as his proxy isn’t yielding the results he wants. No, now he’s got to come down and twist the screws himself. Got to saunter on over and drink the annoyance straight from the spigot. Because of course that’s who his evening would choose to shape itself around: the single person in this house he can’t stand. That’s what would make narrative sense, at least.

But as he swivels over to scowl at the door, it occurs to him that Okita might knock, but he wouldn’t bother to wait. He’d try the knob at least, rattling it so hard Yamazaki would hear it even through the noise-canceling on his headphones. But this is tentative, almost a question, and that, that seems more like—

“E-excuse me?” A voice filters through the wood, almost as soft as the knocks. “Y-yamazaki? Are you h—ah, in?”

“Ah…” Saito’s mouth curls at a corner, as close as he comes to a smile, and Yamazaki’s tongue trips over, “Y-yukimura? Is that you?”

“Um, yes! It is!” Her feet shuffle on the carpet, boards groaning with every shift. “Is it…? I mean, would it be okay if I came in?”

“Oh, ah…” He scrambles to his feet, scanning their floor in a desperate scan for contraband. They both keep their sides tidy, clothes in hampers and beds neatly tucked, but it would be just his sort of luck for her to come in and stumble over a pair of yesterday’s boxers. “Yes. Of course. Please.”

Saito’s brows raise as he takes his seat again, less surprised than amused, and Yamazaki has just enough presence of mind to hiss, “Don’t,” before the door slips open, Yukimura hesitantly insinuating herself through the gap. Her eyes fix on the toes of her slippers as if she could will them to stillness.

“Thank you for letting me—oh!” Her gaze flicks up, fluttering when it lands on the other occupant of this room. “Hajime, you’re here too!”

“I can leave,” Saito offers, far too quick. “If you would prefer to be alone.”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Yukimura’s cheeks had already been a pale pink when she shuffled in, but now they veer to a vibrant rose. “Actually, this might be better. Ah, I mean…I think. Not that I had planned to, um…”

It’s…sweet, the way she shuffles; one fluffy slipper scratching fruitlessly at the back of her ankle as she tries to wrangle her intentions into words. Yamazaki could watch her do it for hours, one bashful scratch after the other, but he takes mercy on her instead. “Did you need something, Yukimura?”

“Oh, um, yes!” That gets both feet back on the floor, spine so straight even his aches in sympathy. “It’s…the LARP. I thought we might talk about it, maybe?”

She’s changed her mind, that’s what this is about. After two hours of listening to all of them talk about clans and rings and whether a lion was really Toudou’s fursona, she’s finally realized that it’s just some silly kid’s game. It’s Yukimura, so she’ll dress the reason up, nice enough that even gilt might shine like gold, but that will be the long and short of it: it’s a childish little pretend game, and Yamazaki is a loser for liking it.

“Oh.” Might as well yank this bandaid off before it can bond to the skin. “Sure. Of course. Why don’t you, er…take a seat?”

His hand sweeps out before he completes the crucial mental math needed to know: there’s only two chairs in this room, and him and Saito are sitting in both of them. He jumps to his feet, offer already on his lips, but—

But Yukimura simply smooths her skirt over her thighs, settling down on top of his comforter in a way that is…distracting. To say the least. And it’s not made any better with Saito’s eyes boring into his back.

“Oh, um, is this okay?” Her eyelashes flutter uncertainly, gaze darting from him to the door to his seat and then back again. Enough time to realize he’s staring like some sort of idiot. “If you’d prefer that I move, I don’t mind st—?”

“No! It’s—it’s fine. I wouldn’t even mind if you…” Slept on it. His teeth snap shut around the words. That’s not exactly the sort of suggestion a teaching assistant should be giving a student, even if the class had run its course. “Make yourself at home.”

“Ah…” Her smile stretches thin. “…Thank you.”

Despite the invitation, she’s rigid, a wary little statue perched at the edge of his mattress. Her heels hook on the frame, hands pressed tight over her kneecaps, bent like she’s ready to spring, to hop off at the slightest hint of his displeasure. Gargoyle, Okita might call her, savoring the nasty flavor of the insult— or at least he would until Saito hummed, without a spout for water flow, she’d really only be a grotesque.

But Yukimura isn’t here to emulate architectural features. No, she’s here to let him down gently, even if it seems she could use some assistance doing so.

“Ah, Yukimura…” Yamazaki clears his throat, forcing the bile back down to his stomach, where it belongs. “You know, if you aren’t interested in participating in the event, it’s all right. You won’t be hurting anyone’s feelings.”

The amount of personal disappointment Saito can pack into a single cluck of his tongue would give his mom a run for her money. But if guilt is the target he’s aiming for, Saito misses it by a mile; instead, Yamazaki’s annoyed. Here he is trying to smother the sickening free fall of rejection, not letting a single twitch of it show on his face or the slightest tinge color his tone, and somehow it’s not enough. That somehow by refusing to push her, he’s letting everyone down, and—

“No, that’s not— I don’t mean that at all!” Yukimura waves her hands, as if that alone might clear his misunderstanding. “It’s the opposite. I mean, if there is an…um…opposite for something like this. It’s just…I know what I want to do! But I wanted to talk to you about it first. Oh, ah” —her gaze darts behind him, to where Saito sits— “the two of you, I mean. Since both of you will, um…”

She shrugs, helpless, but Yamazaki can hardly help her. It’s taking all he has to just gape, to parse that not only does she want to come with them, but she has a…a concept. A character she wants to play, one that’s complicated enough she wants his input, and he’ll look stupid if he pinches himself, but that’s the only way he could possibly prove he’s awake.

So it’s Saito that chimes in with, “Of course, Yukimura. We would be happy to provide whatever assistance you need.”

“Oh, really?” She perks where she’s perched, mouth as round as her eyes. “That’s…good! Great, even.”

“So, what are you thinking?” It’s a struggle to keep his excitement from tugging on his words, dragging them out of his register like an overeager puppy. “I know you hadn’t made up your mind when we were all working on characters, so—”

“Ah, actually…” Her shoulders round, barely obscuring the shy pink spread over her cheeks. “I, er, sort of knew what I wanted to do then, but I just…I thought that maybe it wouldn’t be okay? So I tried to come up with something else, but…”

But this is what she wants to do. What she really wants, because she has an opinion about it. She cares what she plays. It’s terrible how much he likes that about her.

“Anything you want would be fine,” he rushes to assure her, too breathless. “There’s very few things that aren’t allowed.”

At least, things Yukimura might think to do. When Saito finally strong-arms him into give the same talk to Okita, there would need to be more than a few caveats. Strictures, even.

Saito nods.“The event organizers are quite open to most concepts their players create. If you have conceived of something outside the usual bounds of play, I’m sure they would be happy to work with you to—”

“Oh, no, it’s nothing— nothing like that.” The look that filters up through her lashes is shy, hopeful even as her head ducks against her shoulder, as if she’s bracing for a blow. “I just…I thought…I mean, it was really Kimigiku who said it first, but I think I agree that it would be, ah, best if I made a character that would give me an excuse to stay near more experienced players, since I’m, you know, new, and, um, not really good at acting yet, and, ah…?”

“Ah! Excellent idea, Yukimura. There are plenty of well-established players that enjoy teaching newer ones.”  Shimada would be an obvious choice— he’d been the one to take him under his wing, shinobi-to-shinobi, back when Yamazaki first joined— though his steely Hiruma scout was a difficult sell for companionship. Enomoto too, though as an organizer, it would be hard to say if he’d be playing his Kitsuki investigator or a more plot-bearing role. “Do you think if I were to email Ootori now, he might be able to get us a list of—?”

Saito clears his throat, pointed. “I think Yukimura might already have some idea of what mentors she would prefer.”

“Oh…?” Yamazaki glances at her, catching the quick bob of her head. “Ah, sorry! I didn’t think you knew anyone but Saito and myself. But if there’s someone else…?”

He hardly thinks he’s earned the weary glare Saito slings his way. At least until Yukimura stutters out, “It’s just…I thought…?” Her eyes dart between the two of them, brow pinched tight over her nose. “I thought maybe…I might play the, um…daimyo’s daughter? If that’s okay, that is.”

For as acute as his hearing is, Yamazaki cannot have possibly heard that right. “…Excuse me? Which…?”

“The, uh…Crane Clan princess.” Her lips purse, thoughtful. Too thoughtful, really, when he can’t even knock two brain cells together to get a spark. “Or I guess she’s not really a princess, but…um…?”

“The Doji daimyo’s daughter,” Saito says, devastatingly even. “The one that Yamazaki and I are sworn to protect.”

“Yes!” She smiles so bright she can’t possibly understand what she’s asking. “That way I’ll have a reason for sticking close to you two!”

He can only stare, mouth working useless at a muffled, “W-what?”

“Oh, I just…I didn’t want to impose on you two by making some new character and forcing you both to shoehorn her in to accommodate me. But I…” Her hands flutter, flustered under his gaping gaze. “I could do that, if…if that’s better? Or I mean, you don’t have to do anything for me at all, I could just, um…?”

“What?” Yamazaki asks again, slightly louder. “Do you really want to…? I mean, the daimyo’s daughter…?”

“Yes! Unless it would be a problem?” Her teeth worry at her bottom lip, and— and he can see it now, the pucker of red that would be painted over it, bright against the white of her teeth. Heat flares up his neck, head ringing with sudden rush of blood flooding over his ear drums. “Ah, I didn’t even ask if there was someone already playing her character! There probably is. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have assumed—!”

“There isn’t,” he blurts out, more exorcism than information. God, what he wouldn’t give for a good slap, just to rattle his brain back into working order. He’s never been one to believe in percussive maintenance, but he’ll make an exception, just this once “She’s just…just lore.”

“In my opinion, it’s the perfect solution.” Saito’s mouth lifts at a corner, practically a smile. “As expected from you, Yukimura.”

“O-oh.” Hands clap to her cheeks, but it does nothing to cover how pink floods her from collar to hairline. “It’s nothing, really. I wouldn’t have even asked if Sen and Kimigiku hadn’t told me I should.”

“It is a good idea.” He means the words as he says them, and yet somehow he can’t help but add, “It’s just…I don’t see why a daimyo’s daughter would be following around a shinobi. Her father pressed him into another service nearly three years ago, so why would she…?”

Care. That’s the crux of it. For all that hime-sama had meant to him, a shinobi is eta, less than a person, worth no more than the dirt at the bottom of her slipper. That she had even deigned to notice him was proof of her generous nature, but to care for him beyond what a girl does for her most loyal hound, enough that she would risk herself and the reputation of her family to come to his side? That could be no more than a fantasy, a story he might tell himself in the last moments before death claimed him, and she—

“Kimigiku had a good idea for that too, actually.” Yukimura’s tremulous smile finds its footing, growing more eager with each word. “What if there was someone who was after her? An assassin, or maybe…some other clan who would like to hold her ransom? That way she’d have a good reason to be in disguise.”

“Disguised?” Saito settles back in his chair, eyebrows raised. “As a kunoichi? Or as someone else?”

“Kuno…?” Yukimura blinks, turning those guileless eyes onto him.

“A female shinobi. Er, ninja, I guess.” He raises his hand, but there’s no bag to tug, no strap to hold onto while he flounders. Instead he has to settle for his collar, the echo of his mother’s voice clucking, keep that up and you’ll stretch the darn thing out. It only makes him tug harder. “Mechanically, there’s no difference. It’s just, uh…flavor, I guess.”

“Oh.” Her mouth rounds into a perfect circle. “Then I guess…no? I thought that— well, Kimigiku thought that it might make more sense if I…ah, I mean, since she has been traveling by herself, that she might be trying to pass herself off as a boy?”

It’s the perfect idea, slotting right into the extensive backstory they’d hashed out three years ago— adventurous hime-sama, separated from her two most stalwart protectors just as the pillars of the Doji clan shook beneath the weight of an ailing emperor. A daimyo’s daughter gone missing in the chaos of the capital, right when her marriage would legitimize either of his son’s claims.

Silence stretches between them, long enough it starts to buzz, to ring. Like static, only interrupted by the ragged pull of his breath, and the relentless pounding of his heart.

“You…?” His tongue tangles, mouth too dry to right itself properly in his mouth. “That’s…?”

“Very clever, Yukimura.” A corner of Saito’s mouth lifts, spreading into the faintest smile, and— ah, of course he’d enjoy this, the sadist. It’s not like it’s his heart trying to escape through his rib cage. “Quite impressive.”

A blush flares across the highest arches of her cheeks. “Oh, it’s not me that…I mean, it was really Kimigiku who thought of everything. She even had a costume I could borrow, if I wanted. Do you want me to show you?”

Against all reason, Saito’s brows lift, and it’s all the encouragement Yukimura needs to fish through her pockets, pulling out a slender screen covered in cherry blossoms. She scrolls, excitement practically palpable, and yet all Yamazaki can stumble out is a “But…?”

“It’s a good hook.” Saito gaze darts toward him, pointed. “A very good one.”

Meaning: Ootori’s going to love it. With the emperor barely clinging to his mortal coil, a conflict between his sons would be imminent. The reappearance of Doji Hogyoku’s prodigal daughter at a secret meeting in support of the youngest imperial son would cause the exact sort of political upheaval that man salivates over, and all he has to do is sign off on a player’s participation. The fact that it would create a good amount of personal drama for Yamazaki in particular— well, that would just be the cherry on his sadist sundae.

“I know it is,” he snaps, shoulders hiking up to his ears. God, the smile that’s sure to spread over that cherubic face— it gives him shivers just thinking about it. “It’s just…”

He’ll never live it down. For hime-sama to show up— no, for her to arrive in his care, a personal friend he’s allowed to take her roll—

“O-oh.” Yukimura’s hands fall to her lap, grip limp where they wrap around her phone. “I’m sorry. I’m overstepping, aren’t I?”

That’s exactly what she’s not doing, but his head’s too scrambled to say so, not before her shoulders round, framing a rueful smile. “It’s really okay if you don’t want me to play her, Yamazaki. I know she’s really important to you. I can just come up with—“

“No! No.” His hand flies, like he could somehow physically stop her from running off with the wrong idea. “That’s really not it at all. Saito’s right, it’s a great idea. I’ve already, uh…”

He’s not sure what’s worse: the hopeful look Yukimura gives him as he stammers to a stop, curiosity shining out of every eyelash— or the casual way Saito kicks his chair, dislodging what he’d hoped he could keep to himself. “I’ve already played around with a potential build for her. I’ll, ah…email it to you.”

Saito’s glare burns where it bores into his neck, but he can stare all he wants; Yukimura doesn’t need to know how long this character sheet has sat on his hard drive, unused. Never meant to be used, not unless Ootori asked for it, the metatextual third member of the Crane Clan trio, the one both of their characters had been built around. The one whose absence left them less than whole.

And now here is Yukimura, squinting at her screen, about to fill it.

“Oh.” Her eyes pulse wide, scrolling through the overview. “You’ve filled out the whole thing!”

“I don’t expect you to use it! I mean, not as-is, if you don’t want to.” He shifts his squirming into a shrug, not casual enough to be normal. “You can do whatever you like, it’s just, ah…someplace to start. If you want it.”

“I do!” Yukimura’s smile peeks out from behind her screen, the sun emerging from behind the clouds, and an inconvenient warmth rolls through him from head to toe. “I mean, I have a couple of ideas that I thought I might want to use, but this…this is super helpful. It must have been so much work.”

“Less than you’d think,” he manages, faintly. “I’m glad it helps.”

She nods, emphatic. “It really does. Do you think I could take a couple minutes to look through this on my own, and then maybe…?”

There’s uncertainty in the way she lifts her gaze, a hesitation in the way her voice rises, as if she’s waiting for someone to finish the thought— and it’s not until his chair jolts under him, aided by the firm application of Saito’s foot, that Yamazaki realizes that it’s supposed to be him.

“Ah!” The sound slips through his teeth long before he’s composed an acceptable interjection, but now she’s looking at him, expectant, and the pressure alone squeezes out, “Did you want me to help you, Yukimura?”

It’s worth it for the way her whole face lights, for the way her whole body pitches forward, eagerness leaking from every pore. “Yes! I mean, if that’s okay.” Her eyes dart over his shoulder, curious. “Do you mind?”

Saito shakes his head. “It would be our pleasure.”

“Great!” The sun itself couldn’t put out the wattage Yukimura does now, so bright Yamazaki nearly squints. Oh, he’s never going to live this one down. “Is after dinner okay?”

“Yeah,” he manages faintly as she springs to her feet. “Perfect.”

*

The door’s barely closed behind her before the pressure of Saito’s stare bores into him, the pregnant silence only honing his unspoken words to a point.

“I know,” he grunts, head falling back against his chair. “I know.”

“It’s a good idea,” Saito says after the world’s most judgmental pause. “I’m sure Ootori will feel the same.”

A groan filters through his fingers. “I know that too.”

“It will solve more than a few logistical issues this session’s agenda has presented.” Yamazaki hardly knows what’s worse: the ribbing he’s about to take from every player in their party, or the fact that Saito has done his own math on the matter, and whatever amount he’s derived has made his tone downright sympathetic. Gentle, even. “Her part would have to be filled sooner rather than later, and I would rather have it be someone of our own choosing, rather than having it assigned to one of the admin—”

“I know. I’m going to DM Ootori about it in a minute. I’m sure he’ll be thrilled.” For more reasons than logistics, but that’s the last thing he’s ready to hash out right now. Especially with someone whose personal philosophy is that all is fair in LARP and roleplay— as long as it’s interesting. “It’s just…”

There’s too much ‘just’ to make a tidy little list; so many it’s impossible to separate them from their Gordian snarl into discrete, presentable bullet points. So instead the silence stretches as he struggles, trying to cut it down to its most salient points, the ones that Saito might not only understand, but appreciate, and—

“Complicated?” Saito offers simply.

Yamazaki sighs. “Yeah. Really fucking complicated.”

*

[Susumu Yamazaki] If you have a moment.

[The1andOotori] for my favorite shinobi? any time

[Susumu Yamazaki] I wanted to update you on our progress with character building. Or rather, if one player wants to progress with one of their current concepts, I think it may require Story Master permission.

[The1andOotori] oh? intriguing if they’re your friends, Susumu, i’m sure that i’ll be happy to accommodate them the others have been just fine right? we were a little thin on lion clan people anyway good to have some more

[Susumu Yamazaki] Please reserve your praise until after I’ve explained their idea.

[The1andOotori] ominous! i like that in a concept anyway lay it on me. promise to react with suitable horror maybe even clutch my pearls

[Susumu Yamazaki] She is an inexperienced player and concerned with her ability to roleplay well with people she is unfamiliar with. So she wanted to pick a character that would allow her to stick close to more familiar and experienced players.

[The1andOotori] that’s pretty clever

[Susumu Yamazaki] She is.

[The1andOotori] so she wants to stick close to you and hajime? i think we can manage that did she have some idea of what she wanted to do?

[Susumu Yamazaki] She wants to be Doji Hogyoku’s daughter.

[The1andOotori] HIME-SAMA??? sorry, just surprised that’s…good with you?

[Susumu Yamazaki] Saito and I have agreed she would be an adequate player to embody her role.

[The1andOotori] wow okay yeah that’s fine wow it actually takes a load off my plate. we were going to have to cast her for this session marie already volunteered but i can tell her we got it covered wow

[Susumu Yamazaki] My friend can pick another role if you it would be too difficult for you to change plans now. I know this is short notice.

[The1andOotori] no no this is good i’d rather have hime-sama be someone you like

[Susumu Yamazaki] I’m sure Marie could also do an admirable job with hime-sama. If that would make things easier for you.

[The1andOotori] uh huh okay if you had your pick of hime-samas do you want marie or your friend?

[Susumu Yamazaki] …

[The1andOotori] no judgment. your choice

[Susumu Yamazaki] I think hime-sama’s personality would come more naturally to Chizuru.

[The1andOotori] there it is then i’ll want to talk to all of you after check-in Saito too i think you guys will be interested in what we’ve cooked up

*

Yamazaki doesn’t so much sit back in his chair as wither into it,  hands clapping over his eyes. “There. I did it.”

A chair squeaks— Saito must be turning to him. “You’re going to have to tell her.”

His shoulders stiffen so fast they ache. “I can’t do that. It would be— be metagaming. She should only know what hime-sama knows.”

He’d also rather die than explain that particular bit of backstory to Yukimura, but he doubts Saito will find that as compelling an excuse.

When his hands tumble to his lap, like dying leaves from a tree, Saito is staring at him. “Who is to say she doesn’t?”

“Excuse me?” He straightens, righteousness flaring beneath his chest. “The Daodoji are circumspect. He would never let her think— no, not even let her suspect—”

“I understand,” Saito assured him. “But what if she hopes…?”

Yamazaki licks his lips, his mouth impossibly dry. “No. That’s not possible. She doesn’t…hime-sama thinks of him as her loyal retainer. And it will stay that way.”

“Unless Ootori changes that.” Saito gives him a pointed glance. “Or Yukimura.”

His heart flutters uselessly in his chest. “She won’t.”

Saito hums, unconvinced. “I could tell her if you want.”

Yamazaki glares. “I certainly don’t!”

*

“Hm.” Oume settles back in her chair, a slender finger pressed against her pursed lips. “Cutting the deadline a little close this year, aren’t we, Mr Yamazaki?”

“Ah…” Yamazaki’s hand spasms around the strap of his bag, guilt pulling his polite smile thin. “Professor Matsumoto had a few contestations in progress before he left for Japan. I’m given to understand the thirteen hour difference made the process go…slower than either party liked.”

Oume gives him a look over her half-moon spectacles so eloquent the lit department could write a dozen papers about its themes and allusions without even scraping the surface of her meaning. She might be in Administration now, but fifteen years as the former provost’s personal assistant had left her fluent in the sort of subtlety that would make government agencies green with envy. "And that is why you are here, handing me a handful of grades on a…post-it?…at three forty-five?”

“Uh…” He swallows, neck so tight he’s half afraid he’ll gag on his own Adam’s apple. “Yes. But to be fair, I at least put it on a Large Note?”

Her finger twitches; the note’s struck across it, wide enough the stickum spans the whole length, delicate blue lines running in parallel. The movement angles it just enough to read his neatest print, each name and grade change logged with precision, and her mouth wobbles at a corner. “Whatever Ryojun pays you, it isn’t enough. You can tell him that, from me.”

He won’t— even an undergrad knows better than to get between an academic and their funding— but he appreciates the thought. “Sorry again for the late changes. I tried to get them over as early as I could.”

“I’m sure you did, Mr Yamazaki.” There’s a hardness to the set of Oume’s face, a sharpness Yamazaki’s not used to seeing. With a keystroke, she brings up her university inbox, mouth pursed as she clicks Compose. “Don’t worry, I know exactly who to blame.”

It’s a sign— not one of those simple ones, like Caution: High Voltage or Slippery When Wet, but the kind that had skulls and thunderbolts and reads, This Will Kill You and Hurt the Entire Time. His sign really, telling him it’s time to clear out before he can get caught in the splash radius of whatever cursed energy she’s about to lob across the pacific.

He clears his throat, just soft enough to catch the edge of her attention. “Have a happy New Year, ma’am.”

Pale eyes flick up toward him, her mouth sparing him the smallest of smiles. “You too, Mr Yamazaki.”

Yamazaki steps out into the hallway, making it nearly three strides before he lets go of the breath he’s holding, deflating like Toudou’s most recent attempts to make something edible. Next semester, he’s going to sit on Dr Matsumoto’s luggage until the final grades are filed.

“Ah, Yamazaki!”

His whole body starts, jerking to attention, but when he looks up it’s straight into the second button of a maroon parka, left open over its zipper. He has to take a step back— and crane his neck— to even catch a glimpse of the friendly smile hanging above it. “Haah, Shimada. I didn’t see you.”

How a man as big as that can move so silently, he will never know. He appreciates it in the LARP, but here on campus— well, there’s a reason big dog owners at least put collars on them. People usually like a little warning before a Great Dane bounds up into their business.

Shimada’s mouth twitches. “I take it Oume is perhaps not in her best mood?”

“If that folder you are holding contains final grades in it, then I would not expect a warm reception,” he confirms, sternly. “I didn’t think you’d be the sort that would sit on them this late.”

“Oh, no.” A manila envelope has never looked so reasonably sized as it does in his hands. “These are the class descriptions for next semester.”

His brows raise. “Weren’t those supposed to be in a month ago?”

“Yes.” There’s another twitch of that wide mouth, this time in the other direction. “I have a feeling she’ll be just as happy to see these as she would be if this was full of grades.”

Yamazaki has no answer but a grimace.

“Oh, I talked to Ootori last night.” Shimada’s tone is curious, but only politely so. “I heard you’re bringing your friends this weekend.”

“Ah…” He can only hope Ootori didn’t get specific about just who was coming. The last thing he needed was everyone pressed to the glass when they showed up, trying to get a glance at the girl he let play hime-sama. “Yes. My housemates, actually.”

“Oh, that will be nice.” Shimada’s smile widens. “Itou probably hasn’t seen them in a while. No doubt he’ll be excited for them to see him in his biggest role—”

Yamazaki stiffens. “Ah…what was that?”

Shimada blinks. “Oh, didn’t you hear? He’s getting to play Hantei’s younger son. Daisetsu.”

*

[Yamazaki Susumu] I think we may have made a grave miscalculation.

[Saito.Hajime] How so?

[Yamazaki Susumu] Itou is going to be there.

[Saito.Hajime] Yes?

[Yamazaki Susumu] And we’re bringing Okita.

[Saito.Hajime] Oh Well Shit

[themeraldee]

Now… hear me out…

Homelander and a drag racer! Vought forces him to stop a gathering that’s happening bc it’s illegal. He drops down in the middle of the race on the track and makes a car crash, but she avoids it by only a bit- scratching our prized vehicle. “HEY ASSHOLE! YOU SCRATCHED MY PAINT JOB!” Is very confused at first why she’s not scared (it’s because adrenaline junkie <3) and is very amused that she is so upset over the most famous supe and probably admired person in the world scratching her car. He tries to arrest her but there’s no way she’s taking any more points on her license so she speeds away which ends up with them just racing eachother (homie in the sky ofc). Drifting turns, handling lanes, and suddenly he gets so distracted with how awesome she is that he flys straight into a wall “HAHAHHA SUCKA! EAT MY RUBBER BOSS!” (Boss used with full Long Island deli intent 😂) He eventually finds her again in daylight when out with the seven on patrol and notices she added a bumper sticker that says “better handling than homelander”. I think he’d be all over the Americana lifestyle of it and the audacity she has of no one even seeing her beat him and STILL making a custom bumper sticker for it.

I love your energy in this even though it took me a long while to process what this is saying. Not as much of an English issue (although there were many things I had to look up lol) but this is such a wildly different world that I've never even heard of so I have little to say 😂

However I adore the racer's cocky attitude and really he could do with someone putting him in his place!

However, sorry that car is 1000% getting lasered in half when she's not in it lol just to wind her up bcs now it's personal.

[l0ve-letter-4-u]

HIIIII pleasr respond if yoy can please.please please

i have some questions about your dsaf oc marlin ...... that u posted about like months ago i dunno sorry

first of all is he related to dsaf al? (the fangame) if he is, what r his relationships with clover, abby etc ?

what does he think about john? (the arizona location's phoney/manager)

and uhh snd uh . does he like rubber ducks?? would he sell rubber ducks

HI WAVES MY BIG SCARY HAND AROUND

dsaf al? :3c I don't think I've heard of a fangame of dsaf !! if you have a link to a yt playthru or some source links id luv to read thru !!

as for john, marlin considers himself good friends with him !! (john however . does Not ) . it's not that he hates- let alone dislikes him, he just finds him . mildly annoying ? it's a combo of little things that irks him (talks a little too loud, not good with social cues, generally friendlier with people than he should be, tends to space out, stumbles over words, and also because he's Accidentally given some kids allergic reactions from the whole Fish Thing) . given the faz franchise hasn't really had the best of history with its workers, john is slightly suspicious of marlin having ulterior motives given how buddy-buddy he is with everyone combined with aforementioned stuff from above as well (marlin does not . he is just a sweaty undiagnosed autistic guy .)

RUBBER DUCKS YESSS he would 1000% love rubber ducks ..... hed probably have a little personal collection in a locker (and by collection i mean maybe . 3-4 stashed away) considering they're much more easier to obtain than most cheap fish themed prizes . the Aquatic Adjacent Pass :]

ALSO NO NEED TO APOLOGIZE KING ❗❗❗ i do Not get to talk abt our ocs often so being able to ramble about Funny Fish Guy is so awesome sauce 🩵🦐

marlin 4 u.... Sniles so Sneetly

[madamemiz]

well that sure was something. somniphobia thoughts under the cut

ok so first of all i lost 5 minutes of life every time the book called him moondrop

anyway

i liked sam as a protag actually, i thought he was endearing. got that neurodivergent swag. using the dream sphere to relieve memories of his lost dad kinda tugged at my heartstrings ngl

it's so bizarre to me to think that these dream spheres are just given out at the arcade for what, only 1000 tickets? like damn. i guess so they're easier to give out as prizes to.... what, harvest souls? for what purpose? how many of these things exist? how many mini-moons are out there? gonna be real, when i first heard the story premise i assumed it was going to be a thing that existed in the pizzaplex like the actual dca moon, but the fact that there are probably hundreds or thousands throws my perception of the moon in the sphere off a bit. are they more like the mini djmms? are they a hivemind? could they theoretically communicate with dca moon?

it's interesting that the moon in the sphere seems to be malevolent, but not necessarily... malicious? interesting choice there, narratively. it would have been so easy to have him torment sam or imply he tortures his victims, but if anything he seems to ease sam's suffering in the end. i kept wondering what the point of the dog attack aside from just being a chekov's gun firing, but when he starts feeling the dog attack in the dream, moon erases the pain. suffering isn't the point here, even if death or sorts is the goal

almost reminds me of fae lore, in a way. luring your mind to a dreamworld where everything is perfect and lovely with a guide who can give you anything you want, but the tradeoff is your physical body/death

not really any more deep thoughts here, but i'm fascinated by the whole concept. i'd love to see it explored a bit more either in canon or in fic settings. a lot of room for angst here

[oathbreakerapologist]

been thinking about sharing some of my writings about my durge Ghost lately, and I'll probably put some up on AO3 eventually, but figured I'd test the waters with a (relatively) short (~1000 words) little thing about how Ghost ended up with his name

Name

Whatever foul tonic had been forced down his throat minutes ago was making the already-indistinct shapes he could make out in the light shift and smear like ink across a page. Gods, the light—it was too bright. Much too bright. He hadn’t seen this much light in a long time. It was strange light, too, not torchlight or even moonlantern light. It was the color of a fresh bruise, and it was much, much too bright.

He tried to say something, but the muzzle over his mouth kept it shut. He’d forgotten about it until that attempt to speak. Or maybe he hadn’t forgotten anything. Maybe he hadn’t had it on before. Had he been asleep? He didn’t remember falling asleep. But the tonic was making his eyes drift closed again. He tried to force them open, even though that bright purplish-red light pricked at the corners of his eyes, stung enough to run tears down his cheeks. At least the stinging cleared his head enough to make the ringing in his ears abate.

Or maybe it wasn’t ringing. Maybe it was the squealing of the wheels of the table on which he was stretched out. Tied down, too, it felt like. A few sluggish exploratory movements of his limbs, each one of them reluctant to obey his desperate urging for motion, suggested the presence of sturdy leather straps criss-crossing him in gods-know-how-many places. The table rattled beneath him. It must have been the squealing of the wheels that resonated in his ears. It stopped and started at just the right times.

When finally the table came to a stop altogether, he realized that there were voices, though they were as blurry and indistinct as anything he could see. Yet again he tried to speak, and yet again his jaw met the hard iron of the contraption bolted around it. Perhaps that was alright. He didn’t even have words in mind to say. He didn’t have much in mind at all, save for fear and confusion and pain—and not even an interesting sort of pain, but the sort of pain that had grown utterly boring in its constancy, the sort of omnipresent oppressive pain that not even he could enjoy—pressing in on his skull like a vise.

A strangely resonant voice cut through that fog; he heard its words more sharply and clearly than he’d heard anything in a while, at least as far as he could remember. “This is the one?” said the resonant voice. “I was told to expect a drow.”

A lower voice—one he heard more hazily than the first, a voice that sounded as if it’d traveled some distance to reach him—responded, “Believe it or not, you are looking at a drow. It’s got albinism, or so it appears. Of course, that alone doesn’t explain why it’s so… big.”

“How unusual,” said the resonant voice.

His eyelids were drooping again, and his head spun as he forced them open. He could hardly even command his jaw to press up against the muzzle again, let alone force out a word or even a sound. The blood in his veins flowed like sludge.

Words from the second voice faded into and out of focus.

“—not common, of course, but not unheard-of, though I can’t say I know the exact—”

 “—highly prized because, as you yourself discovered, almost nothing about their appearance would reveal—”

“—call them szarkai. If I recall correctly, it means ‘ghost spiders.’ I find that—”

All the voices, all the strange purple light, all the pressure of the table against the points of his elbows and shoulder blades and heels and the back of his aching skull, all of it melted away into a comfortably paralytic numb-dark-silence as the tonic overpowered him at last.

— — — — —

The woman looked at him like she expected him to introduce himself.

That was not a particularly unreasonable expectation, and he had a sense that he knew how to introduce himself, but he needed a name to actually do it. But there wasn’t any name there. He had to have had one at some point. He must have had one. But getting a sentence, an image, a fleeting spark of a memory out of his miserable writhing brain-meat felt like trying to snatch an eel out of a barrel of grease.

At least the green one had done him the mercy of not caring to ask his name. He had a sense, however, that she didn’t know how much of an act of mercy it was, perhaps because he doubted she’d willingly extend any mercy at all. Perhaps it was better for the both of them that way. But it didn’t solve his present problem.

A name, a significant word, something one was called—

“...or so it appears…”

—something one was called by others. But what others? Who called him—

“...but not unheard…”

—who called him anything at all? He tried to put together a face, a voice, even the names—

“...you yourself…”

—even the names of others, whether or not they’d lead back to his own name, for if he could call a name to mind he could at least borrow a name, borrow something to call himself—

“...call them ‘ghost’...”

The woman nodded in response to something he didn’t realize he’d said, startling him out of his brain-racking. At least whatever he did say seemed to have been acceptable. “Ghost,” she said (or, it seems, repeated),  then as her own introduction, she said, “Shadowheart.”

“Shadowheart,” he echoed, trying out the feeling, the sound of the name. He barely avoided repeating “Ghost” as well. Did he really say that to her? Was that his name? He felt fairly certain that wasn’t it, but for lack of any better idea, perhaps it was his name now. 

“One moment, please,” she said, and she turned to pull something free from the pod, something she quickly shoved into her pack. Were he not so riddled with unanswered questions—and, frankly, the sense that there were innumerable other questions he couldn’t even think to ask, let alone answer—he might have been curious about what that thing was.

The green one clicked her tongue contemptuously. “‘Ghost’ and ‘Shadowheart.’ Your people have such strange names,” she said.

“And yours is so much better?” Shadowheart snapped.

“It is,” the green one responded, showing no hint of any desire to share exactly what that name was. “Tsk’va, we have already wasted too much time. Follow me.”

And so they followed her.

[running2reanimation]

Sticktober 2023 - Day 11: Competition

"Okay Dad, here's how this works, using the blocks the crew has given us, we have to try and make whatever prompt pops up on that big board - and we have 5 minutes to complete it! Once the bell rings we aren't allowed to place any more blocks! Sky, Teal and Indigo will vote on who made the better build! We do this 4 times and the person who wins the most, gets the prize of $1000 and bragging rights at home!"

"I feel somehow this benefits you more than me, even if I win," King commented, looking at his full inventory.

"Mmmmaaaybe," Gold grinned, and behind him fireworks went off and the board displayed the word: CAT.

"Alright, timer starts now!" Gold shouted, heading off into his corner while King sauntered to his own.

"I really don't think I have much of a chance, sorry to anyone who's actually rooting for me," King laughed, scrolling through his inventory before placing down some quartz stairs and then shaking his head and placing down some white wool, "He just has much more experience doing this - I've seen his other build battles."

--

At the end of the first round, they revealed their builds - Gold's was a simple small tuxedo cat all in wool, while King's was a much bigger orange tabby with varying materials for the differing shades of orange.

The judges declared King the winner, "You went easy on me!"

"No, no you won fair and square!" Gold insisted, and the fireworks went off again. The board displayed the word: POTATO.

"Potato?" King rolled his eyes and started looking at the various wood in his inventory, "How am I supposed to make a visually interesting potato?"

--

King and Gold had similar ideas, attempting to recreate the Minecraft potato, but King's was a little bigger so the point went to him again. This time there was no banter and Gold frowned as the next prompt appeared: REFRIGERATOR.

King was once again puzzled over what to do with this one, "A fridge is kinda simple. Oh! Maybe I could add some fridge art, stuck on with magnets?"

--

King's fridge, while impressive, didn't match Gold's this time. His son had opened up the fridge door to show it's contents. King was sincerely impressed, and wasn't really surprised that he lost this round.

"That was really good," King complimented and Gold nodded in thanks, "So what happens if we tie?"

"One last build battle, winner takes it all," Gold explained as the potentially final prompt appeared: PIANO.

"Oh, this'll be easy, I used to play piano!" King charged off to his side, getting to work.

--

King's piano was a simple one, modelled off of the one he used to play as a kid, while Gold had gone for a grand piano.

"Oh wow, it even has the right number of keys," King remarked, counting them while Gold stood proudly, hands on his hips.

"Does yours?"

"Of course."

Again the win was given to Gold, which meant it was time for the tiebreaker: SOUP.

"Soup? How am I supposed to make soup?" King scrolled around his inventory, "I can't change the colour of water. Though I could use lava, that would be really risky and I'd have to find blocks that the lava wouldn't burn."

In the end King went with glass blocks as the soup but just as he was finishing up he heard a shout from Gold's side of the competition space, "DAD!"

And suddenly the game didn't matter and he dropped what he was doing to run to Gold's side of the wall. He found an incredibly high wall of iron blocks; a massive soup pot.

Without even thinking he began placing and climbing up ladders, practically shooting up the side of the build. As soon as he reached the top he could see that Gold had fallen into the "soup" which in his case was lava.

He could hear the bell ringing but that didn't matter.

At least Gold was close to the edge as King reached down and grabbed his son's hand, and despite the burning heat he did not let go, pulling his son up onto the ledge with him.

Without thinking he just dumped a bucket of water down between them and they rode the flow down to the ground.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah. You know that wouldn't have actually killed me, right?"

King nodded, hand scratching the back of his head, "Of course, but you called for me. And I'll always come running when you call."

--

King looked away from the screen and down at the blackened hand that had failed him. Failed to save him. But Gold was still calling from the other side.

And King would always come running when Gold called.

[basedkikuenjoyer]

Spiderwebs Pt.2: For Whom the Bell Tolls

For this story we’re going to need to go a little further back than Dressrosa. Back to a time that felt so long ago even when Dressrosa was in serialization. Back to the island One Piece became about something bigger. Doflamingo is such a fun villain because he’s built so well. But we establish his ethos through Bellamy. This is such an amazing scene, where the beauty of Mock Town the classic pirate haven comes into full swing. It’s not unlike Zoro & Wano down the line; this island offers a lot of temptation but Luffy keeps his eyes on the prize.

The point with Bellamy though is how he’s changed come Dressrosa. Why he’s stalled on that path. I don’t think I really need to spell out how antithetical Bellamy is being to the core of this series in Jaya. It’ll also be great for distinguishing Blackbeard as a villain. Bellamy & Doflamingo are the “real” pirates that are interested in taking the money and power they see in front of them, but BB is still up for finding the big treasure even if he’s willing to go about it the “wrong” way.

The climax of Skypiea, ringing the bell, is still potentially my favorite moment in the series. The big goofy shadow in the sky as Cricket looks on. But of course everyone on Jaya would have seen/heard it. It was only a couple of days after that Straw Hat kid whopped Bellamy and ran off. Surely it was the talk of the town! Bellamy lost everything to follow suit but he made it. There was an island in the sky, there was a perfectly good “scientific” explanation for it. Be a little more open-minded yo. Quit acting like you know everything because grand scheme of things Bellamy wasn’t really that noteworthy of a pirate. How about the idea of him mentioning it to Doffy, who could easily casually know “yeah, Sky Islands are just a thing dude.”

Between here and then though we meet Doflamingo. Quite a few times. He’ll get his own but I care about two big themes that pop up intermittently. His introduction and followup with Bellamy/Sarquiss on Jaya is all about inducing infighting. That’s a big aspect of Wano’s “quiet” theme I’m always on about. Then the symbolism of his talk about SMILEs, the side effect we learn come Wano, and how Bellamy is “The Hyena.” An animal famous for it’s laughter. Bellamy is often laughing but it’s a cold, heartless kind of it. Even here, it’s what he’s bringing up leaving behind.

This is where the complexity comes in. Luffy from way away on a whim cheers for Bellamy. There’s no meaning to it. He doesn’t hold grudges and the man has changed for the better. That’s laudable. His goal in and of itself is not detestable, he just wants to earn someone’s respect. Wrong man to try and earn the respect of but we’ll get to that in a minute. What I love in hindsight is this idea of Luffy doing something innocuous that ends up wounding the guy’s pride. And it’ll end up coming back around in the clash later. It’s a big element of Luffy & Bellamy’s story this arc. Luffy casually introduced a big hurdle by doing something Bellamy took as shameful. Pride & Shame are obvious big themes for Wano later, case in point:

This underpins a lot of how Luffy acts towards Kiku. He respects her after Bakura. Narratively its why you would rather her see her father figure show it’s okay to ask for help than a classic “I want to live” or “Save me, Luffy.” It’s why 1042 was such a vindicating chapter. Once everything else below was stripped away, we hammer the core themes of Kiku’s story as Izo’s flows directly into Luffy’s. That’s still core, he didn’t get distracted, but after Bellamy he wants to respect her pride. This is there from the get-go, it’s a barely subtle part of the Sumo match that he’s weirdly like, “yeah yeah if you can somehow beat me do what you want with Kiku.” Why he feels a need to pipe up at Sanji’s advances, not making a scene but slipping in a “hey, she’s really tough.” The significance to her story in Chapter 1000 is Luffy looking up to see Izo (who he should recognize) there with the group.

Izo’s the one who makes this mistake. Don’t dote on her like the baby sister of the group. Respect that she’s playing the part. He gets it after he gets a snippy response, Kin’s begrudgingly accepted it, but still the segment immediately flips to Neko learning about Carrot/Wanda giving into their anger and Yamato just “itching” to fight. Given an extra layer through Kin’emon with his words at the end of the Raid about respecting a decision a woman summons all of her courage to make alongside the little bit about finally showing she was next to Toki. Anyways, the idea is that Luffy believably learned his lesson in how to navigate someone like that through Bellamy. An example of how careless words can have unintended effects. 

Breaking the rule a little bit here, but it’s important. Because we’ll already set that up...then give Bellamy the big lesson about misplaced loyalty. Doflamingo knew what he was doing making Luffy waste time with him. Putting him down with that big punch first would have been kinder, it would have let you get back to Law faster. Don’t lose sight of the goal, Bellamy needs to see Doflamingo fall too. He’s put his faith in the man this long and never seen a real reason to doubt that. This whole fight is just heartbreaking, even get the big fake smile to drive the point home.

I find it really interesting too that this chapter, Bellamy the Pirate, is followed up by the SBS segment spelling out Monet & Sugar’s connection. How they followed Doflamingo out of being rescued from a bad situation. There’s also another thing Bellamy in Dressrosa has going for him that we mentioned a lot for Kiku in Wano. Being the more mundane example of the arc’s core themes. The grounded counterpart to the fantastical symbols like living toys, the classic puppetmaster, and repressed memories.

[jodilin65]

MONDAY, MAY 30, 2005 There are no parties going on right now, though Patty let the dog annoy me earlier. It barked twice to be let in, making me want to shake Patty and say, “Stop leaving the damn dog out back unattended!” I wish dogs could be litter box trained like cats. Better yet, I wish they weren’t so damn loud! As I said, if I’m going to be forced to listen to barking no matter where we go, we may as well get our own dog once we get settled down in Sacramento. At least down there, I could leave it outside during the daytime when I happen to be asleep to bark with all the others and know no one’s going to complain.

She’s taken to hanging things out, too. Mostly big things like sheets and blankets.

We took our walk earlier and got $13 worth of groceries for just $6, thanks to the girl that fucked up for the better for us. It’s nice when people fuck up for the better! It was slightly warm for walking, but not too bad. We may walk to the Chinese place next weekend or order a pizza, depending on my schedule, because as Tom said, we deserve a treat. I agree, so long as it doesn’t screw us out of getting out of here. We are giving notice come September or October at the latest. What’s weird, though, is that walking has been causing me to get cramps in my hips. They walked us to death in Valleyhead yet I never got shit. I know I’m older now, but Tom’s even older and he doesn’t get that.

The summer hours at work start this week, which means he’ll be going to work and coming home an hour earlier.

SUNDAY, MAY 29, 2005 Today was 10º too cool, so tonight, just like last night, the heater will need to be on. At least it kept things quiet around here. I don’t even have bad vibes about tomorrow, but we’ll see. Either way, we’re going to walk to the grocery store in the late afternoon or early evening.

The first week of dieting has lost 4 pounds. I don’t think I’ll lose any more without dropping my calories to 1000 or lower after I’ve been having about 1100-1300, but I also don’t think I can do that.

Tom has been burning floppy disks onto CDs. You can fit around 500 onto a CD. Then he’s going to ditch most of the floppies. It’s all in preparation to fit our stuff into just the truck alone for when we get out of this state. He thinks that if we leave at 8 AM, we can hit Redding by 11:00, then Sacramento by 3 PM. But when??? This year? Next?

SATURDAY, MAY 28, 2005 Yesterday was cloudy but gorgeous. I saw Patty. She was pulling out as I was pulling the dumpster in. She waved to me.

Next door’s been quieter today.

We submitted my story No Escape. It came out to have 57518 words. If it doesn’t make it, I’m not going to submit anymore. At least not for a very long time. Also, if it doesn’t make it, I’ll at least not have to worry about being so perfect with my writing, and I can then use all the racial slurs I want. Even the names of celebrities.

I also finished Traces of Hope. Finally. I’m proofreading it now.

I decided to give the sweepstakes until we move out of this duplex. Even I’d be surprised if I didn’t win at least some kind of small prize between now and then, as pessimistic as I am. I mean, you’re talking hundreds of entries a day!

Tom got the bird-chirping wall clock to work again which had failed to work once we got to Maricopa. Maybe some of the evil that dwelled there had a hand in that. Our shit broke in Phoenix too, but not nearly as much as it did in Maricopa.

Not much happened today. Tom said he heard a few minor bangs from next door, but that’s it. It rained and was cloudy, so maybe that had a part in it. After not having to run the heat for two days, I may have to run it late tonight.

THURSDAY, MAY 26, 2005 Just as I was thinking we ought to kill next door’s cat since that seems to be what mostly stirs up the dog and since it’d be easier to kill a cat than a 45-pound dog, I hear her come out and make her cat calls. She’s also taken to leaving her door open around this time too, so I said to myself, ok, lady, now it’s time to hear me. And the timing was perfect too, because Patty was leaving. So I cranked up the tunes, and sure enough, she closed the door. Yeah, it sucks to be annoyed by neighbors, doesn’t it, Crystal? Oh well. At least they’re still quite tame compared to past neighbors. Still, it was funny to have annoyed her for a change. Why would you want to open doors in the first place and let all the bugs inside? What’s wrong with the windows? Anyway, I won’t annoy anyone too often till we’ve officially given notice. They complain here, and while it may not get us evicted (it didn’t get the last people in here evicted), it could hinder us from renting elsewhere, so I won’t overdo it.

It’s to be around 80º today, 90º in Sacramento and 100º in Maricopa. At least for once, we’ve got the best temp of them all. 80º is perfect. I don’t think my heater went on at all late last night or early in the morning. After all, I got it up to 85º in here by 7:50 when the sun drops down behind next door’s roof.

I have the back and front doors open, but the screens are latched. I’m not afraid to take on any would-be intruders, not that that’s likely in a place like this, but I wouldn’t want them sneaking up on me before I had a chance to do anything about it, but you have to be really, really asking for it to go breaking into people’s houses on such a busy street like this. Some do want to go to jail, though, not that God would allow anyone that messed with us to pay for it since He would only protect their identity, but still, there are some sickos who will stop at nothing.

Later…

This weekend, we’re submitting No Escape. Right now I’m working on Traces of Hope. I’m on a roll with it, though it won’t be very long or as good as No Escape.

It’s still pretty warm, and not surprisingly, next door’s outside gabbing, even though it’s dark now. Fortunately, I can’t hear their chatter in the bedroom with either music playing or the fan on low. Tomorrow I’m going to drown them out with something from the get-go. I know they’ll be outside all the time now, so why wait for them to distract me and interrupt my train of thought while I’m working on my stories or sweeping? In August they’ll probably be out at night only, so I kind of wish we could jump up to that month. We’d not only be a couple of months closer to moving, but as uncomfortable as it may be in August, it may drive them inside more. Then again, maybe not. Heat doesn’t seem to drive people indoors the way cold does. Oh well. In just 4-5 months they’ll be just a memory (I hope), then we can deal with whatever noise we may move next to. At least it couldn’t get this close to us, whatever it is! And I thought the freeloaders were so close! I still don’t see how we could move this fall, even though I still don’t see a house here in Oregon either. Maybe the old white house with dark trim by train tracks that I saw a while back is really down in Sacramento.

Another reason I don’t see us moving this fall is because of what he just found out about unemployment. Each quarter, he’d receive more money. Right now, if they laid him off he’d get $98 a week. Fortunately, they like him at work because that ain’t shit. In August he’d get a little over $100. In October he’d get a little under $200. But come fall of next year he’d get more than he’s taking home now which is barely a grand a month.

According to what I read online, many places are putting bans on these outrageous car stereos we’ve been cursed with for the last 12 years, but they really aren’t doing any good because noise violations aren’t easy to enforce. What they need to do is stop selling the damn things in the first place and make them illegal to have, but that’s just our stupid society for you. All they have to do to really curb the problem is ban the damn things.

By 4:00 this afternoon, I realized it would get well into the 90s in here if I didn’t shut the blinds and drop the blanket I’m using as a drape. It’s still pretty warm in here in the mid-80s. It’s to be in the mid-80s tomorrow, a little warmer than today, so I may not open anything. At least not the blinds. I’d say the heater is definitely not coming on tonight! I missed the summer and I love the money it’s saving. I just wish next door would hang in front like they do in Arizona!

WEDNESDAY, MAY 25, 2005 It’s to be in the 80s today. Next door’s already sitting outside gabbing. If this were Arizona they’d be in front! Nah, God would make them an exception and send them in back with me. This is what I figured they’d do once it warmed up. At least it’s just talking. There’s no music, banging or screaming, though I’m sure they’ll be there all day. They’re not always right outside, but right by their open doors and windows. Unfortunately, their bedroom and bath aren’t in back. Their kitchen and living room are. They’re lucky next door’s not empty or else they’d have gotten bassed to hell a little while ago. I’m sure they heard me singing, but oh well. Speaking of bass, the warmth is enhancing the stereos now that people are driving with their windows down. These things have two speakers. The one inside for those inside the car, and the one in the truck that’s meant to annoy anyone they drive by. I still can’t believe there are people out there so desperate for attention that they’d spend hundreds of dollars on a stereo like that, but that’s just our competitive and pushy society for you.

I’m so sick of this home-all-the-time trend I’ve been living with since ’93! But when you live where everyone’s either retired or disabled, that’s what you get. I just hope it rains like hell on Memorial Day! It just may do that too, according to the weather site, and it may also drop down to the upper 50s. That wouldn’t necessarily stop them from partying as opposed to it being cold and snowy, but we’ll see.

I wish we’d skipped Maricopa and Oregon altogether and just gone straight from Phoenix to California. I just didn’t think we could afford to live in areas of the state that weren’t so crowded. If we’d gone straight there, then I probably would’ve gotten out of having to go to jail and I definitely would’ve gotten out of having to play motel so much and now be stuck crammed in here with these people, old and white or not. I’m sure, though, that God had a hand in guiding us in the wrong direction just so I would have to be stuck living with so many damn people along the way. There’s just no escaping them! I’m never going to get to live in peace and seclusion. I guess Tom and I wouldn’t have spent so many years in cities if we weren’t meant to be in them. At least we can walk to stores and things like that.

Later…

The dog was just barking frantically at next door and their cat. They’re going to live out there till the fall! Anyway, I appreciated how she came and coaxed the dog away as soon as it went off, but still, can’t she leash it down by her door if she’s going to have it out there for more than a few minutes?

When I again mentioned poisoning it to Tom, I just got the runaround, but I’m not surprised. I knew he’d never do it. I just hate it when he agrees to things he knows he won’t do!

They’re talking about overtime where he works, but if he’ll really get any, who knows? That sure would be nice and we sure could use the extra money. Because of that, I have my doubts. It seems that the less you need money, the more it’s available. They’re hiring now, too. Especially since the husband-stabber is going to prison for drugs, and someone else is going to do time, too.

It’s over 85º in here. Quite like Arizona! I love it. I missed the heat more than I realized. It’s nice not having to wear socks or gloves. No more frozen hands or nose tips. No having to sleep with shirts on either. In another week or two, we should be able to turn the heaters off till late September. That’ll save us big time. The heat may not come on tonight at least in the bedroom as it is, and if it does, it shouldn’t be till close to dawn. Being in a real building really helps as I know that if I were in that RV right now, it’d be freezing not long after dark.

I went from 130 pounds to 126, but that’s no surprise. That much is easy. I realize, though, that what was tripping me up in the past was that I was replacing what I’d lose over the week on the weekends. It takes me a week to lose a few pounds, but it only takes a day or two to put them back on. Well, I was pretty much just going around in circles. I still don’t think I’ll lose a significant amount of weight, but I’ll definitely make sure I limit my weekend treats. Especially since getting carried away only makes it hard to jump back on track anyway.

The tree blossoms have withered away, but along part of the back wall of the place are these big bright orange-red flowers. They’re quite lovely.

TUESDAY, MAY 24, 2005 I read that a bunch of bigots filed a lawsuit against a school whose sex-ed department not only showed a film of a woman using a cucumber to demonstrate the proper way to put on a rubber, but that taught that gayness is a biological trait, which is true, and demanded that they teach students that same-sex attractions can be “overcome.”

That’s quite a world we live in when you can sue someone for teaching acceptance and tolerance and make them teach bigotry instead and stuff that’s simply not true. One can’t “overcome” gayness or straightness anymore than one could overcome their heights and I wonder how many more years it’s going to take this world to realize that. If I could quit being attracted to women at will, then a straight woman could quit being attracted to men at the snap of her fingers, too. When that happens, then I’ll believe we aren’t born one way or the other and that it’s a choice or a learned trait.

We’re in the process of figuring out how to convert all the little files a DVD makes to one big file so I can store as many Charlie’s Angels episodes as there’s room for on my hard drive.

MONDAY, MAY 23, 2005 We’ve been hitting the 70s lately. For the last few days, the heater’s been off in the bedroom for half the day. It got up to 79º in here. The warmer weather’s stirring up mom and daughter a little bit, but not nearly as much as I thought it would.

As usual, Patty was quiet over the weekend, but today she had her usual slew of weekday company which meant that the dog had to go outside and on a 20-second barking spree. I saw the driver of the maroon pickup. It’s a young fat chick that looks like it could be Patty’s daughter, though she never did mention having family. If she does, I’m sure I’ll be forced to meet them on Memorial Day.

SATURDAY, MAY 21, 2005 Tom and I took our walk up to the grocery store, then came back and were playing with the rat when I noticed the webs and spider mites on the big palm that’s been slowly dying ever since I got it, so Tom put it in the garage.

Although the ground flowers are still in bloom all over the place, the cherry and apple blossoms are withering away.

I had yet another great story idea, but I’ve been so busy sweeping that I don’t know when I’ll get back to my writing. I’ve been making zillions of entries on the unlimited-entry contests I’d like to win. One’s for an iPod, two are certificates for clothing/accessory stores, one’s for an indoor cactus arrangement, and another’s for a DJ machine we can sell if we win.

Anyway, the story idea is to have some chick get in trouble for some petty crime in a place where they’re doing this “new experiment” which is to place inmates in the homes of cops, guards, POs, etc., rather than jails. The chick will have to wear an electronic anklet whenever the cop she’s been placed with isn’t home. I figured the chick and cop could fight for a while before they eventually fall in love. Tom said my characters fall in love too quickly anyway, so I’ll slow it down with some conflict beforehand.

Patty took off with some chick in a dark gray van. I think they even took the dog with them, which is customary here. Everyone takes their dogs out with them. I’m surprised they don’t take them to work!

FRIDAY, MAY 20, 2005 I haven’t heard any outside barking for a couple of days now, though I’ve seen the dog. We decided that if the dog becomes an issue, though we doubt it will, we’ll kill it. A poisoned piece of meat tossed out in the middle of the night should do the trick.

A gray SUV visited yesterday and that blue car was back again today.

With the exception of when Bev had the animals over, I don’t know if I can say this one is better than she was. She has the dog, she has company nearly every day, and she’s constantly out back, even if it’s mostly just to let the dog in and out. Before bed, she turns the patio light on for a while too, as she lets the dog do its last shit of the day.

Of all the rodents I’ve ever had, none have been as clingy as this rat is. It’s a good thing he can’t scream like a guinea pig because he’d never shut up.

I’m now quite convinced that yes, Mary only responded to my letter so she could try to use me to connect her and her dumb boyfriend, and that no, I’m not going to hear from her again. She probably figures that now is a good time to give me what I gave her for 8 months which is silence. Only she’ll probably remain forever silent. No prob. All she does is use people, so it’s okay.

THURSDAY, MAY 19, 2005 Last night was when I learned that Patty can be just as hypocritical as Bev was. The dog went on a barking fit at 7:30. It was only for a minute, but it was highly annoying and distracting since I was on a roll with my writing. This morning, however, wasn’t as bad as I thought it’d be. I saw the dog, but it didn’t bark. She had that maroon pickup there, as well as a dark blue car I’ve never seen before. As usual, the company was gone and all was quiet by 11:00. They didn’t bang around too much.

The dog seems to be let out an average of 3 times a day, though not on any particular schedule. Perhaps we’ll get a dog in Sacramento. I figure that if I’m going to have to listen to barking, it might as well be our own.

The day we give notice will be the last day I’ll worry about keeping my music for my ears only.

The good news is that I don’t “see” a house here any more than I ever saw a washer, which Tom now says he doesn’t want to get, because he wants to exercise on the weekends, too. As he said, he doesn’t want to struggle on Mondays because he lazed out over the weekends. I still don’t see how we can bust out of this state this year, but if I’m right, then something’s got to break. His computer programs won’t be ready this year, I couldn’t make shit off my book if it got accepted, so that leaves the sweepstakes or a lottery ticket, for sadly the queen ain’t going belly-up for 4-5 more years. That’ll mean about 15 years of being her perfect daughter’s daughter – hee, hee! I think if Miss Perfect could ever have anticipated her hanging on this long, she’d have had second thoughts about taking the selfish bitch in for sure.

I forgot to mention getting a letter from Paula last week. She’s going through one Puerto Rican loser after another, as usual. She said I was nice to her and that I could send her whatever incense I wanted to send her and that she may send money after her birthday for me to get her some. I’m sending some along with a couple of CDs for her birthday, then if she sends money, I’ll have Tom grab some from Jan. She’s not too far off his bike route.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 18, 2005 No barking today, but that may be because she had no company. Meanwhile, if the housekeeper is a weekly thing, she’ll come by tomorrow and bang around while the dog barks outside. I’m trying to keep on days at least throughout Memorial Day. That and Labor Day are the only major holidays we should have left here, and of course, I don’t know when Patty’s birthday is. She could have a party here if her birthday is between now and when we leave. As much as I’d hate to stay an extra month, I wish we could be here for a full year and go straight to California, rather than leave at the 11-month marker and get a house downtown, which is probably the only place we’ll find one since that’s where all the dumps no one wants are. Even if the yard’s flanked by dogs and screaming kids, they at least won’t be able to get this close. I hope not anyway!

I let Tom know that this is it, too. Meaning, I’m not going to keep bumping up our moving dates. We’re out of here come either October or November. Period. I’m not looking forward to another 130-160 days here, but it’s better than forever.

I also let Tom know that I refuse to ever be attached to anyone again, other than in motels! Not even God can keep dragging me back to live with others once we’re out of here. We’re going to hopefully get a place in the heart of Sacramento for two months while we get to know the area, then get a place once we pick out a location. I’m not going to get to know Sacramento in a duplex or an apartment, because I know better. I know that first and last month will turn into a few months, which will turn into a few more, etc.

The cost of living is much higher down there, so we have to make sure we leave with enough money, no matter what he may be collecting from unemployment.

Tom’s finally gotten me to see that yes, we really can move in the truck without having to spend an additional grand on a trailer. This is because we’re going to sell or dump most of our stuff and mainly take the computers, dolls, clothes and hygienic items. We’ll only take a couple of mugs, cups and plates. Not a zillion of each. We can get new things little by little down there. We can downsize our wardrobes and much more. One box fan and one portable heater are enough. We don’t need 3 of each which is exactly what we have right now. One of the large rat cages can go, too.

I gotta bounce to Kate’s DVDs since bouncing to music is boring me lately. It’s discouraging to know you can never lose weight unless you eat so little you feel like you’re starving. That’s just what I’m going to do, though, whether it makes me lose weight or not because I’m bound and determined to get out of here. It may not be to California, but I ain’t staying longer than the 1-year marker in this place. So, whenever I get hungry, I’ll think of Freckles and the banging, even if the banging’s not nearly as bad as the animals were. I doubt I’ll lose weight in the process. I never do. I haven’t lost more than a few pounds in years and all I do is put it right back on when I do. At least it’s been stable.

Here’s a real pisser. Arizona’s now giving free medical to Mexicans. Meanwhile, nothing’s free for us. No, we have to work our asses off and pay for insurance and some of us still can’t get insured even then! Why don’t they just make Arizona a part of Mexico? It is Mexico! Then they go bragging that they just elected the first Hispanic mayor in many years. Why can’t they just elect the damn cock and leave it at that? I’m sick of their reverse-discriminating bullshit! They ought to shut their traps and get over it! All the Americans do is give, give, give, and all the Mexicans do is take, take, take! What’s wrong with this picture? The world’s fucked up!

I “swept” for 6 hours! If all this work doesn’t pay off in a few months, even I’ll be surprised, and I’m as pessimistic as you can get!

TUESDAY, MAY 17, 2005 Again with the morning company and barking. The dog only barked once, but once is all it takes to wake me up, depending on how deep of a sleep I’m in and what ear I’m laying on, so rather than struggle to stay on days, I think I’ll use earplugs when I’m sleeping during the daytime.

The company stayed for an hour, maybe a little more. And I was just about to praise her for not having much company, but just like Bev, she seems to have it a few times a week. As long as 6 little kids don’t go stomping around over there, we’ll be ok.

I’m getting pretty convinced that Mary’s lack of letters is because she can’t get anything out of me, so I’m going to stop the letters permanently unless I hear from her.

A couple came and mowed us down. I was wondering when they were going to mow. The grass was getting pretty tall.

We’ve revised our moving plans again. Neither of us wants to live with Patty, Freckles and next door, no matter how quiet they may be overall, for another 16 months, so we’re going to give notice in either September or October. Our first goal is to try to bust out of this state this year, which would mean we’d leave here at the 1-year marker of moving into this duplex. If it doesn’t look like we can get out this year, and I have my doubts, we’ll move into a house around here a month earlier. The reason we don’t want to move now is that the rates are cheaper in the winter. Plus, we want to save money to get out of having to have a lease. Money makes them go away, and in that case, we wouldn’t be losing any because we’d get the deposit back. We think we can have a grand saved up by then, which would be enough for a deposit, on top of first/last month.

For me, desperation or rage is often the key to my success with things like weight loss. However, as an adult who doesn’t care what others think, I’ve had a hard time motivating myself to lose weight, as opposed to when I was a child with a mother taunting me all the time. Well, while the desire to get out of here may not be as bad as it was in the NHA, PHX or jail, it’s high enough. Therefore, it should motivate me to save money by getting very little food, which should drop me some weight. I’m even determined to save money by toughing my teeth out and putting off the fillings as long as I can. In fact, I’d like to tough it out till I lose the damn teeth. I’m sick of the cavity game. So much so that I’m dead serious about wanting to lose my molars, which is where I mainly get cavities.

MONDAY, MAY 16, 2005 If every day could be like yesterday for as long as we’re stuck here, then it wouldn’t be so bad. It’d take a lot of stress off of me. Patty was quiet all weekend, save for 1 backyard bark and some in front while she was cleaning her van, which she’s parking in her garage more often. I’d rather 100 barks in front than 1 in back because of how the bedroom’s in back where I spend most of my time.

It was dark and rainy all day yesterday. Not even a peep out of next door was heard. We’ve been having a lot of rain and clouds. The kinds the locals hate.

If you asked who I think is better, Bev or Patty, I’d agree with Tom and say they’re about equal. It’s the fucking dog that keeps Patty from winning over Bev. Patty’s definitely more of a weekday/morning person. There were visitors, banging and barking this morning. A dark blue pickup, which I saw last Friday along with a maroon one, was here for about an hour. I don’t know if it was a friend, a nurse, the housekeeper or what, but I wish she’d quit leaving the dog unattended in back when she has company. Normally, she stays by the door and is ready to let it in before it gets the chance to bark at the door, but when she has company, she gets distracted. It was only a couple of barks which I wouldn’t mind at all if I were always on days, but I’m not. I’m going to have to live with other people’s dogs for as long as I live, so I better get used to it. The banging wasn’t anything like the kids, so that’s good, but still, I want to bust us out of here like YESTERDAY! I know Sacramento will be just as noisy, if not noisier, but it’ll be warmer!

What I don’t get is why she would knock on the door to apologize for the barking, just to be allowing it to happen over again a few days later. Gee, what a hypocrite!

We walked up to the grocery store on Saturday. We also checked out a couple of video stores to see if they had season two of Charlie’s Angels, but they didn’t. I guess we’ll have Walmart order it for us. The less we have to get by mail, the better.

We also stopped in a store that sells tons of beads and fragrance oils, along with Indian and hunting-related stuff. This red fox fur they had for $75 was way nice. I especially liked the tail.

The best news of all is that I got the oils on Saturday! Bob’s never been that fast. The 6 trial scents have yielded 2 fantastics, 3 so-so’s, and 1 bust. The Hugo Boss and Magnolia are nothing like Bob’s. The Angel is, but it’s like the newer one. The Caramel’s just ok, but the Pecan Pie and Jasmine are fabulous! So the plan is to get the Charlie’s Angels DVDs next month, then more oils a couple of months after that.

We also “shook up the earthquake” in my book yesterday and made it more intense, but when we’ll ever get it submitted, I don’t know. I still get the feeling he’s stalling for time.

FRIDAY, MAY 13, 2005 Although it took us until nearly mid-May to hit the 70s, that’s just what the weather report says we’re going to do tomorrow. Finally! And of course, I have mixed emotions about it. It’ll feel better and do our electric bill a world of good, but a part of me wishes it was cold and snowy so people wouldn’t be as likely to hang outside. So far, mom and daughter next door haven’t been as bad as I thought they’d be, but it’s not summer yet, so we’ll see. I don’t know about next door, but my vibes say mom and daughter will be here till we move. That’s both good and bad, I guess. I mean, they have no rowdy kids/dogs, but I still have to deal with their doors. I guess I just gotta deal with something no matter where I am. I just don’t understand God’s obsession with me having to live with people. And so damn many of them, too. Having an average of 3 roommates for the two years I was at Valleyhead should’ve been enough of a sign telling me that that’s what I’d be in for, for the most part, though back then I slept just fine with all the shit they had me doped up on. It was getting up in the mornings that was hard.

Anyway, the only thing I heard from her yesterday after the outburst from the dogs was her washer/dryer. She must’ve been drying something heavy because I could hear it clunking away.

Today I noticed before 6 AM that her van wasn’t there and thought – great! No morning banging. But then I saw a dark blue pickup and heard her talking to someone in the utility area, along with some bangs. About an hour later the truck left. I’m guessing she parked in the garage to make room for it, though she could’ve slipped out, came back in the pickup, then left in the pickup, planning to take her van back.

I like being on nights as much as I like being on days. Days keep me from being woken up, but nights are so peaceful around here. Even more so than Maricopa was.

THURSDAY, MAY 12, 2005 I was all set to give next door a stamp of approval, and maybe even consider her better than Bev until a little while ago.

Then yesterday I saw the dog out back at just after 6 AM, but it didn’t bark. Then I decided in the afternoon when I saw her in the yard doing what appeared to be picking up dog shit, to take the direct approach rather than stage an accidental meeting. So I went out saying that I thought it was time I met the new neighbor, and introduced myself. Her name’s Patty and she is on disability. She said her dog, Freckles, who ran up to me barking, yet was friendly, is a service dog that is 13 years old. I told her that if she and her dog are as quiet as they have been, then I hope they’re here as long as we are. She said we were so quiet ourselves and seemed grateful for it, and that she too, uses headphones. She has a housekeeper come out once a week to clean for her and the state pays for it. In fact, that’s who she thought I was at first because she says we sound the same.

She’s lived in Ohio and southern California, but that was many years ago. I told her where we’re from and that we’re saving to move to California. She also says it’s usually warmer by now, but that they’ve had snow in June and July here.

I still can’t believe they allow those on disability to have dogs, vans and cars like she and Bev have, but she said Freckles is a service dog that she’s had ever since she was a baby. We only spoke for a few minutes cuz all I wanted to do was settle my curiosity, though she never did say how long she planned on staying and I didn’t want to pry or give her the idea that I’d be her buddy. She did say to let her know if we needed anything and I said she could do the same. So I thought, yeah, she’s cool, and hopefully Freckles will stay cool, too. She didn’t give me any wild or partying vibes. She’s not as high-strung and doesn’t seem like the type to be a company freak, so I thought that just maybe we were finally being compensated for past assholes we were stuck with, though I still can’t wait for a house in California!

Then, just after 8:00 this morning, I heard more than the usual scattered and subtle bumps and bangs from over there. I could hear the dog barking, but through the walls, it was pretty muffled to the point where it was no big deal. Still, this told me something was going on over there. At first I thought oh no, Bev’s grandkids are back! But when I pressed my ear to the wall, I could hear another adult woman chatting with her. There was no other vehicle parked in the driveway from what I could see unless it was hidden by Patty’s van, so the person was either picked up by Patty or they walked over. She didn’t come alone, though. She came over with a huge black lab much like the one an associate of Bev’s had! They were both barking at the back door to be let in. I don’t know if they heard me yell “Hey!” over the racket, but so much for thinking she may be a better neighbor. Barking dogs would be just as bad as Bev’s grandanimals shaking the place apart. I just never get to live in peace no matter where I go, and I never will, though today’s got me contemplating giving notice once again. It’s just that that could be taking a worse gamble than staying here would be, to say nothing of how it may set us back financially. Besides, I know Tom would prefer to stay here. I’m hesitant to move too, but apartments, duplexes, they’re just too bangy. I didn’t come here to play roommates, which in a sense, is exactly what we are.

I just wish she’d wait for the damn dog at the door. It’s when it comes up to the door to find no one there to let it in that it goes off barking. I’m so sick of being tortured by other people’s dogs and kids! If it’s not one, it’s the other. It never fucking ends. Never. Now the pressure to stay on days is on. The barking really echoes loudly within the confines of the patios. I swear people shouldn’t be allowed dogs unless their nearest neighbor’s at least a half-mile away! They’re just too damn loud.

Anyway, I don’t know who this is. I don’t know if it’s the housekeeper, a friend, a relative, or what. I just hope to hell they’re not staying for a few days! I’m sure they’ll be there for at least most of the day. Therefore, I’ve got the stereo going in the bedroom. It’s not blasting, but it’s going to be if I hear any more barking.

I heard whoever it was go out back with a wind chime and then call out, “I found one” (probably Bev’s old hook).

I hope to hell this person doesn’t come around regularly, because if they’ve brought the dog this time, then they always will. What kind of housekeeper would bring their dog, though? Not this one, I hope! Because if this is the housekeeper, then that means I’ve got to deal with it once a week and even that would be way too much.

I’m just so sick of going through this shit. So fucking sick of it! I don’t make neighbors a part of my noise, so I really wish they wouldn’t make me a part of theirs. As the pizza lady said, though, people just don’t care. They’re going to do whatever it is they’re going to do and to hell with whoever has to deal with it. God, I wish I could stay on days! I’d still have to put up with the noise distracting and annoying me, but it couldn’t wake me up. Not as long as it wasn’t a round-the-clock thing. At least she has a schedule. She seems to sleep from around 10 PM-6 AM, so at least I know that those hours are likely to be peaceful. The afternoons and evenings seem to be pretty quiet, too. She’s definitely a morning person. I wonder if I’ll be early to bed and early to rise when I get old. I doubt it. I mean, I just can’t imagine myself doing that every single day. Being without a schedule is just so much a part of who I am.

If there’s any good news it’s that my oils have been shipped. I can’t wait to try them! They apparently got the money order yesterday, as we figured they would. I could get the oils on Saturday, but more than likely on Monday. This site, unlike Bob’s, has an order status feature that actually works and it was cool to see it go from “on hold pending payment,” to, “in production, will ship soon,” to, “shipping today.” They sent me emails when each thing happened, too.

Later…

Here’s a happy update. After an hour of going bump, bang and bark, though not consistently, there was a knock at the back door just after I finished vacuuming. As soon as I opened it, Patty said she was so, so sorry, and explained that her housekeeper brought her dog over to see if it would get along with hers. Why the hell she’d care if it did or not, beats me, but anyway, she said her housekeeper won’t be bringing it around again and that she told her, “My neighbor just got done telling me how quiet I am which makes me feel all the worse. I don’t want trouble with neighbors.” So I told her it was no big deal and that I really appreciated her letting me know what was up, cuz I was wondering. I just hope there aren’t regular outbursts from over there! For now, though, she’s back to being cool (I think). A part of me still wishes Bev were here. Her animals only came around occasionally, but this dog is always here.

We only spoke for a few minutes and I thanked her again for filling me in and said to let her know if I get noisy myself. She said, “Oh, don’t worry, sweetie. You’re as quiet as a mouse.” I get the impression she doesn’t want us to give notice till we leave the state, which is good if that’s the case, cuz then she’ll be more considerate. I don’t want to gamble on an Oregon house for the same reasons Tom doesn’t, as much as I didn’t come here to play house-sharing.

MONDAY, MAY 9, 2005 Yesterday we walked to a Laundromat we’d never been to before which is right by Fred Meyer. It was a long walk. About a half-hour each way. I felt a little strain in my left hip and a lot of strain in my left ankle. In fact, my ankle is still killing me. At first I thought it was age because I used to walk to school in Longmeadow, and of course Valleyhead made us go on walks, and I was fine. But then I realized that Tom has no problem and he’s 8½ years older. He says it’s just a case of me using muscles I don’t normally use. I guess that’s why variety in exercise is so important. He went through this when he first started riding his bike, but now his muscles are getting used to it.

It drizzled on us all the way and was even cold at times despite the heavy jacket and gloves I wore. I was like, what’s wrong with this picture? What’s wrong with it is that it’s May and I’m still fucking cold! I can’t wait to get out of this state. Especially since there’s snow on the ground right now! Snow in May? That is so fucked up! Nonetheless, it was good walking weather, and the blooming flowers and cherry and apple trees were pretty to see. They seem to really like tulips and daffodils here. Meanwhile, it’s been pouring since I got up 3 hours ago. I’m glad it never rained hard on us.

Tom had to wait a little while for a washer, but it only ran for 32 minutes, so it wasn’t too bad. We never bothered to dry the clothes. Instead, I hung them around here when we got back.

While he was washing the clothes, I got a few things we needed at Fred’s, including the other doll in the My Scene series I wanted which was on sale for $10. This one’s Barbie and she’s wearing purple. She came with a spare outfit which is just about the nicest Barbie-n-friends outfit I’ve got. It’s in the top 5 anyway. The dress she has on is a purple satin dress that goes over one shoulder and has an angled hem. It’s sheer at the waist too, making it look like two pieces from a distance. Her spare outfit is a pink metallic top and a black skirt with zigzag stripes of pink glitter. Her shimmering black shawl makes a great halter for the Tonners.

Anyway, I’m glad I did the walk, as sore as I am. It was fun and it was good to get out and get exercise and fresh air.

On the way back we stopped at a convenience store for snacks and he got a lottery ticket that won $7.

The lady next door not only didn’t have company over the weekend but she was gone for most of it. Can’t complain about that!

I’ve been having a lot of nights where I only sleep for 6 hours. As long as I don’t get too tired, I’d love to be able to sleep for only 6 hours. It’d help me maintain a schedule tremendously.

Although we are going to keep our eyes open in case there’s a hell of a deal that may come along, we’re thinking we may just stay here till we can get out of this damn state, and hope for the best along the way. That would mean the neighbors staying put and not being replaced with nightmares, or becoming nightmares themselves. Meanwhile, we’re not locked into a lease, so if it gets bad here, we’ll split, even if it sets us back a bit. I’ve lived enough places in my life that were a nightmare, so I won’t put up with any shit here. I just hope I won’t have to and that we can go straight to rural Sacramento from here, skip the motels, etc. That may be asking for too much, but if we can at least stay here till we leave the state, then that’d be one last move to have to make along the way. I just wish I had more singing privacy and could blast my speakers. Oh well. I can make do as I have been for another year or a little more. I just hope it doesn’t end up taking us a few years to get out of here. We still have to deal with my teeth either way, and his shit of a mom isn’t going to drop dead anytime soon. She won’t go till we’re settled in California and not as bad off as we are today. My vibes still say she’ll be 86-87, and she won’t even hit 82 till August.

Time to go do my daily sweeping!

Later…

The Phoenix and Tempe letters to Marilyn have been returned as “undeliverable as addressed.” What? Does this site print wrong addresses or something? The Scottsdale one is still out there, so I’ll just hope she got that one, though I highly doubt she did. Same with the sick black bitch. Yeah, I found her. I finally found her. That’s real fucking bold to allow your address to be listed after you got someone thrown in jail. That’s wanting to be killed for it! I doubt she had the brains to think of that, though. If anything she was hoping I’d start up with the journals again so she could get me thrown in jail a second time. But still, could you bait yourself like that after doing what you did? I couldn’t. I’d be too scared to and I don’t usually scare too easily.

Anyway, I sent a quick note to 3 different addresses, one being in Surprise, compliments of the user in Florida. I used some of those postage-paid envelopes I was supposed to send to her friend. At least this time around, associating with her paid off, but just the fact that she hasn’t written and won’t even do me the favor of connecting Hope and me after all I’ve done for her goes to show how truly selfish she is, like most people in this world, or so it seems.

The note was brief and meant as a little scare-tactic, even though I knew it’d be short-lived since I couldn’t possibly have the blessing of doing what I said I was going to do, and that was to sue her and her cop friend for setting me up. Just for her to know I hadn’t forgotten her and knew where she was (assuming any of these addresses were current) was what I was out for. Besides, I promised myself I wouldn’t let what they did scare me from exercising my right to free speech, and that’s exactly what I did. No threats, no racial slurs, just my constitutional right to speak my mind. Meanwhile, if the black pig wants to put time, money and effort into hunting my ass down through Tom’s social security number or his family, I’m ready for him. Yes, this time I’m ready for him, and in the end, I can promise just about anyone that he’ll end up saying, “You know, I am so sorry I ever bothered to find that girl!” if he ever does have the balls to find me. It’ll depend on how suicidal he is. Some people have death wishes, that’s for sure, because cop or no cop, finding me would be a definite death sentence for this mother-fucker. He’d have to make something up, though, because after learning all I have about the laws, thanks to them, nothing I did could possibly call for grounds to come after me. I even handled the letters and envelopes with gloves and used tap water to seal the envelopes, so if they came after me, it’d only be because they hate white Jews as much as I hate blacks.

In the end, I know God made sure none of those letters got to her because they would shake her up, and we know how God not only loves blacks these days but also loves to protect anyone who’s fucked me over, so I’m sure she never got any of them. If I’d been dumb enough to write something they could get me on, then yes, He’d make sure she got one of them then. But if all it could do is piss her off or get her all worried, then no. Her feelings are much too important as opposed to my welfare. Oh, and of course I wrote no return address, so if they ever noticed the Oregon postmark if they got any of them, who knows?

Did I tell Tom? No way! I secretly mailed them from the next block that has an outgoing slot on their boxes. Well, I started to, but then I ran into the mailman as he was doing our own box and he took them from there. I’d never tell him even a decade from now, that’s how paranoid he is. If he knew about it now, he’d still be paranoid they were going to come after me when he was 80. I’m paranoid, too. I mean, these were very determined and obsessive people after all. But life must go on and we must live our lives as we see fit. We can’t let sickos like this scare us and bully us out of taking a stand for ourselves and doing what’s right. I believed firmly that I was doing the right thing by contacting the Arizona Republic and the sicko, and so I did. I don’t know if my email was read any more than if my letters got to the sick bitch, but I did what I felt was best and now I can move on a little easier. Not as easy as I could if they were either made to pay for wronging me or killed, but at least a little easier.

Starting late in my day yesterday, my ankle got better, but both hips have been on fire ever since. I still don’t see how I can get this sore just from walking. Had I walked 20 miles, or run, or gone by bike, then yes, I should be sore.

I see so many pros and cons of staying versus renting a house. I know we’d be taking a gamble either way because we can’t know for sure that it’ll stay quiet here until we can get out of this damn state, nor do we know if it’ll be quiet in a house. Or stay that way if it at least starts off quiet. Although we’re unsure of what’s going to happen, and although my vibes say we’re not giving notice on the 1st, I know there’s a slight chance I could be wrong, so I guess I’ll do a pros/cons list. Sometimes it helps to see them written out, though I know that can still be deceptive if you have a few small pros versus one huge con.

The pros of staying are spacious rooms, good neighborhood, good neighbors (for now), close to stores, each room has its own heater, good shower/toilet pressure, would save money by not moving unless he could find someone reliable or we moved close enough to here to chance taking the truck, bedroom is blocked from street, busy street, garage. That’s a total of 10 pros.

The cons of staying are wet/moldy windows, electric heat, far from work, connected to next door which calls for banging/music, the dog next door, neighboring duplex too close, next door’s doors, expensive, no vent in the bathroom, no self-cleaning oven or self-defrosting fridge, no dishwasher, can’t send/receive mail at the door, no singing privacy, can’t blast speakers. That’s 14 cons.

SUNDAY, MAY 8, 2005 Tomorrow would be the earliest I could hear from Marilyn if she got my letter, and if she turned around and wrote back the instant she got it. Somehow I doubt I’ll be hearing from her. Not because she got the letter and decided not to respond, but because she didn’t get it in the first place. Oh well. I tried.

Tom used a large duffel bag to stuff our laundry in and rode his bike to a Laundromat he’s never used before which he said was very nice. He was only gone for 1½ hours. He’ll have to make two trips a week, though, just like with groceries. Once we get moved, we’ll get a washer for sure.

I haven’t heard the dog since the other day. When Tom gets up I’ll ask him how things were with it being a Saturday. I crashed at 11 AM, so I wasn’t around for the most part.

I’ve had severe bloating lately and I can’t figure out why. Most days I’m not overeating, though I could still afford to cut down greatly, and I’m just about over my period. I guess it’s just fat.

FRIDAY, MAY 6, 2005 This morning at 8:45, I saw and heard the dog barking at the dividing fence. I’m sure it was barking at one of next door’s many passings, if not their cats. The woman softly, yet firmly told it to hush. Then after a few more barks, she said, “Come on, Jelly Belly,” and it turned and ran inside.

I was like, fuck this shit! This dog may not be a problem like the Arizona dogs, but I’m sick of being forced to live with other people’s dogs and kids. They’re not my dogs/kids, so I shouldn’t have to be the one to hear them. That’s why I have none of my own; so I don’t have to hear them. Instead, I’m stuck having to deal with listening to everyone else’s, and it gets old. It really does. I better get used to it, though, because Sacramento’s no doubt going to be quite noisy. The warmth should be worth it, as long as we’re not next to what we had in Phoenix. We checked the satellite map and they appear to have rural places close enough to places he could work. The question is, would we be able to afford to rent something like that? Or would we be forced yet again to live wedged tightly in with others and their damn dogs and kids? The dogs down there are going to be kept outside 24/7 by most dog owners and that’s about 90% of the population.

After I heard the dog and they went back inside, I stomped around for a few minutes, hoping she’ll be like, well, you know, it’s awfully soon for me to start racking up complaints here, so maybe I’ll take the dog out in front.

I’m not only sick of dogs and kids, but I’m also sick of this home-all-the-time bullshit! Why can’t we ever be next to someone who works? And why can’t they come up with some real spyware? The kind that not only lets you see the basic design of a city or neighborhood but also detail, too. That way, if there was a place we were thinking of renting, we could see what the neighbors were up to and get to know things like if they had dogs, kids, and massive amounts of visitors.

So I did what I thought I was supposed to be able to stop doing in ’99, and I rearranged the sound machine to help ensure my sleep. I propped it up so that the sound shoots straight on my pillow, rather than upwards. I’ll never be able to sleep without both the fan and sound machine during the daytime. Never. And if I’m wrong about that, then certainly it’s years away from now.

She seems to be mostly a morning person. That’s when I hear more scattered little bumps and bangs, but nothing unusual for being attached to someone. She did laundry at just after 7:30 this morning but didn’t hang anything out. It would’ve gotten rained on anyway.

She also seems to go to bed around 10:00 on weekdays and 11:30 on weekends, though I don’t know why she’d stay up later on weekends when every day is the weekend for her and every day is the weekday.

I’m a little apprehensive about what weekends may bring, along with Memorial Day, and what company may have to be my company, too.

We got a priority mail package delivered here in the name of Dorothy C. We’ve gotten mail for her before. I thought it was the last person in here, but then when we opened the package, which was mailed from Hawaii, we found a Mother’s Day card from her granddaughter. From what Beverly told me, no one who was in here before us was a grandmother, so we’re assuming it was whoever was in here before the last people. If you don’t know that your grandmother moved over what would be a year ago, then you deserve to have the package you sent her opened by someone else! At first Tom was paranoid about it because priority mail is marked as delivered. After I pointed out that the PO’s not going to kick down the door and demand to search the place for it, and that all he had to do if asked was say he brought it to the PO since the box was too big for a mailbox and since the PO doesn’t have cameras like banks to prove/disprove someone was there, we opened it and found souvenirs along with the card. The first thing we pulled out was a boring canvas with individual pockets for mail, bills and coupons. The second thing was a pair of wooden magnet sandals which was kind of cute, so we kept those. I didn’t expect anything too exciting for free, but they’re cool.

Tom thinks that out of every 500-600 sweepstakes entries, be it one-time entries or daily entries, I should hit something. We’ll soon see. If I don’t hit anything in 3-6 months, then I’m not going to bother doing all this work for nothing. For now, I have a sweepstakes system where I do all the daily sweeps until they expire, then I check out the new ones for the previous day. They don’t all come out at once. They come out throughout the day, so that’s why I wait until the next day. At midnight I’ll check yesterday’s sweeps after I do the daily ones. I wish there was a program that would sign me up for every sweepstake out there that I’m eligible for, and as often as each one allows entries.

I decided not to bother saving/spending $40 a month. I just want to get out of this duplex and then out of this state! Until then, I’ll mostly just get oils. Smells are my #1 thing right now anyway, and I’m now plenty used to not getting much in the way of dolls other than an occasional Barbie which would only take up more room when we pack to move.

THURSDAY, MAY 5, 2005 We’ve had lots of rain. The apple trees look really cool now with their blossoms.

I was just waking up when I heard a faint bark, followed by a louder bark that probably would’ve woken me up, so once again and even though we rarely hear the dog or the lady over there, we’re on for giving notice on the 1st. More than likely, she opened the door to let it out to do its thing, then it went up to the door when it was done and barked to be let in. It’s clearly an indoor dog, thank God!

Tomorrow we’ll be mailing off a $20 money order for 6 1-oz. bottles of Caramel, Pecan Pie, Jasmine, Hugo Boss, Magnolia and Angel oils. Hopefully, nothing will be out of stock, and putting them in the mail and mailing them to me won’t be such a challenge for them. They should ship by next Friday and I should receive them by the Friday after that, but I’m sure I’m going to have to fight for them. If not the PO will screw up.

WEDNESDAY, MAY 4, 2005 Tom’s building up to riding his bike to and from work nicely. His legs are rock-hard. It’s a good thing those things don’t turn me on or else I’d be in trouble. I’d be on my own for sure if that were the case. A few people offered to drive him home, including his boss, because it was raining. He turned them down, though, because it was just a little drizzle. It’s good to know that he could get rides if he had to. There’s a guy that lives just up the hill and drives by here all the time.

The new neighbor continues to be quiet, but it’s too soon to say if she’ll stay this way. I wish I were psychic enough to know if it would be quiet here until September of ’06, which is when he thinks we’ll be able to go to California if we save $50 a month and only take $40 a month for ourselves. I’m definitely going to wait and get the mannequin down there. Getting it here would only delay the move and it might break along the way, let alone hog up space in the trailer. We want to get a little U-Haul or something to pull behind the truck.

I hope we only have to suffer through just one more winter here and that it’s a mild one. According to what they’re saying, we came right at the start of summer last year. So, 6 more weeks of shivering. It’s 5-10 degrees warmer in MA, and they don’t get so cold at night like we do.

It was so wonderfully weird discussing the budget/savings plan to move to California. That was only done in my fantasies before, but this time it was for real!

I’m still sweeping away at the sweepstakes. Hopefully, I’ll know in a few months if all this work is going to pay off. I wish they had a program that automatically entered you in all sweepstakes available, and continued to enter you as often as they ran them. Some are daily, weekly, monthly, quarterly, and of course, some are just a one-time deal. I had to pull a few pranks like I did at the celebrity sightings site. Never did it say anything about penalties for fabricating sightings. It doesn’t reward you for your supposed sighting, but still, I couldn’t resist coming up with a tall tale about my meeting Kate and having a one-nighter with her, so here’s the story:

I was 28 years old in 1995 when I met Kate Jackson, then around 45 years of age herself. I am a lesbian who had just had a fight with her girlfriend one summer evening. I was in tears and so I went to my favorite place to be when feeling down – the beach. There wasn’t much activity on the beach, which was a bit odd for June, though it was also after 10 PM. I sat crying with my face in my hands. Suddenly, a woman asked me if I was alright. I looked up and recognized Kate Jackson right away. I couldn’t believe it at first, but it was her, alright. She was dressed casually in jeans and a T-shirt. I looked around me, expecting her to be in the company of others what with her being a star and all, but she was alone. I guess because she was getting older, she felt more comfortable venturing out alone. I briefly told her what happened and she asked me if I was “just friends” with this woman. I assured her we were more than that. That’s when she said, “Well, maybe a night of fun is all you need. Maybe you just need to come up for a fresh breath of air with no strings attached.” I always suspected Kate was either a lesbian or bisexual, and this night would more than confirm that!

I won’t get into the nitty-gritty details because I don’t know if that’s allowed, so I’ll just say I had quite a night, alright! One I’ll never forget. I was nervous at first, but ended up having a great time. She wined and dined me in a quaint, cozy little cottage on the beach which she said was a friend’s, and then we got rather intimate there for a few hours, mixed in with pleasant chatter and mellow music.

When it was over she told me to forget that place forever. Okay, I told her, but I’ll never forget you, and I never have! I’ve only told a few close people about this night, and one of them doesn’t even believe me, but hey, it really, really, did happen!!! It’s no joke. So you could say I had more than a sighting, but quite an encounter instead!

MONDAY, MAY 2, 2005 It’s May and I’m still cold! Especially at night. Oh, I can’t wait to go to Sacramento!

So far so good with “Pam” next door, even though she does have a dog. It’s a fat, older medium-size dog, but it hasn’t been a problem. At least not yet anyway. We’re dubbing her Pam because she looks like her. When I got a better look at her I could see that she really is about 50 and her hair is all gray. Sure enough, she doesn’t work. Yesterday she had company twice before I got up, but all Tom said he heard was the front door and some hammering. He did hear the dog bark once too, probably at the company. All day today, I never heard a peep out of her or her dog, though I didn’t get up till 2 PM.

Tom enjoyed biking to and from work but says it was rough getting up the hill coming home. He should be used to it in a week or so.

I’m signing up for tons of sweepstakes. I must’ve signed up for over 300 already! All this work better pay off!