#how long is a day in saints row: the third

[warrenwoodhouse]

How long is the Day Cycle and Night Cycle in Saints Row: The Third? (Saints Row: The Third Guide) (Game Guides) (Guides)

Article by @warrenwoodhouse

The day and night cycle work differently in Saints Row The Third than it did in its predecessors in the series. The Sun in Saints Row The Third seems to remain in the exact same place in the sky during daytime cycles and the Moon remains in the same place as well during nighttime cycles.

During Act 1, the in-game time only changes when Missions and Activities are completed. During the rest of the game, the cycles shift from daytime to nighttime by completing Missions, Activities and Dying. The cash flow from the CASH app transfers money via Steelport Bank & Trust every 15 minutes real time while gameplay and free roam is active.

A full day in Steelport lasts 8 hours real time. That means that there is 15 minutes per hour with a slight variation during the nighttime cycle which only lasts every 5 minutes for cash transfer.

[megalony]

No Interruptions

This is another Eddie Diaz request from Anon, I loved writing this so much. My third post of the day, I'm on a writing high right now. Enjoy, thank you all for the constant requests and support.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem @butlegendsneverdie @langdonzvoid @jennyggggrrr @rogmeddows @radiob-l-a-hblah @rogertaylorsbitontheside @chlobo6 @rogertaylors-lipgloss @sj-thefanthefan @omgitsearly @luckytrashgooprebel @scarsout @deaky-with-a-c @killer-queen-ofrhye @bluutac @vousmemanqueez-blog @jonesyaddiction @milanosaurus @httpfandxms @saint-hardy @7-seas-of-fat-bottomed-girls @mrsalwayswritex @rogerina-owns-me  @hellsdragon @im-an-adult-ish @crazylittlethingg @allauraleigh @onceuponadetectivedemigod @ceres27 @avyannadawn  @noonenuts @sleepylunarwolf @coverupps @justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway

Masterlist

Summary: Eddie has some time before his shift and he intends on spending it with his wife early in the morning. His son, however, has other ideas and Eddie starts to get desperate for his wife.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A groan rumbled up Eddie's chest and past his lips when he checked the time on his phone. He turned off the alarm in advance and threw his phone back under the pillow where he left it during the night.

He wasn't looking forward to this. Two days on the trot; four shifts in a row where he could get a few hours of sleep in the bunker in between. God knows how many callouts he was going to see over the next two days.

But it was going to be two days away from Christopher. Two full days away from his wife, and when she looked like this, that felt like a crime.

He wasn't ready for a long shift away, he hadn't done over a fourteen hour shift in over two months and this past month it was starting to feel like he was finally living at home, not the station. Eddie didn't want that balance to shift back to where he worked at the station and visited his house.

He moved his hand that was stuck under the pillow and rubbed his eyes to try and wake himself up and get his mind going. But a smile curved at his lips when he felt (Y/n)'s fingers curl around his arm that had been laid over her chest in his sleep. She pulled his arm tighter around her chest and started to glide her fingers up and down his skin until he was shivering with goosebumps beneath her touch. And when she kissed his arm and peppered a trail up his bicep, he was leaning forward, groaning into her hair.

It was always hit and miss how they would wake up in a morning. Sometimes Eddie would wake up on the edge of the bed with Christopher wedged between them. Other times he had (Y/n) laid directly on top of him and he realised why he dreamed he was drowning because it was hard to breathe but he wouldn't have it any other way.

He liked these mornings the best, where he woke up with her wrapped up in his arms and a while before he had to get up and ready for shift. And when there was no little monster in the bed with them, mornings like this got even better.

"Do you have to go soon?" (Y/n) muttered the words quietly against his arm, her voice laced with sleep but her fingers were still running up and down his arm. And Eddie could feel her shuffling back until her back was moulded against his bare chest as if the minimal space between them was an ocean she wanted to disappear.

"Hm, I've got some time."

(Y/n)'s eyes shot open and a gasp tumbled past her lips when the arm she had been holding onto shot down to her waist and he rolled her over onto her back. She could feel herself laughing quietly when Eddie climbed over her and moved so he was kneeling between her legs. Both his hands planted down on the pillow beside her head and his teeth flashed in a sharp grin that made his eyes crease at the corners.

She brought her hands up to cup his face, smoothing her thumbs over his cheekbones as he leaned down to press a kiss to her lips.

"Afraid this has to go, though." Eddie leaned back and rested his weight on his heels before his hands slowly trailed down her sides until he could grab the hem of her shirt. It clung to her frame tight enough that there was nothing left to the imagination and when (Y/n) bit her lip but obliged and leaned up to let him peel it off, it was like he was taking off a layer of her skin.

He threw the small, flimsy material down on the floor and gave the cover a nudge until it fell off his back and crumpled to the bottom of the bed. He was starting to burn up already, they didn't need any extra layers on covering them.

While he took a moment to admire the view in front of him, (Y/n) took her chance to scrape her nails agonisingly slow over his skin, starting from his abdomen and she worked her way up until her hands were curved around his neck. Her fingers tickled the small hairs at the back of his neck and she sat up to meet him in the middle, moulding her chest against his before she pulled his lips down to hers.

(Y/n) could feel the fever behind his kiss and the way his fingertips dug bruisingly into her hips when she pushed her chest up against him just to irritate him and goad him further.

Her lips curved into a smile against his and when she pulled back (Y/n) sucked his lower lip between her teeth and have a small tug until she could feel the growl deep in his chest, rumbling through into her own.

Her fingertips slid away from the back of his neck and trailed their way back down the middle of his chest, covering every square inch that she would. Her plump lips left Eddie's and moved towards his razor sharp jaw and when she could feel him starting to quiver beneath her, she started to kiss down his neck.

The moment her teeth grazed against his neck about to leave a mark, Eddie grabbed her wrists that were near his abdomen and leaned his weight onto her. He pushed her down into the bed again and fell forward with her until his chest was moulded down against hers and her hands were pinned down to the mattress. He tried to keep some of his weight on his legs and arms so he wasn't fully crushing her beneath him but he could still feel every inch of her pressing into him. Even the curve of her small bump moulded perfectly against his lower abdomen.

"My turn." There was something demanding and authorative in his voice that was not to be messed with and all (Y/n) could do was turn to mush beneath his touch.

She barely had chance to gasp before Eddie smothered her mouth with his and let his tongue explore past her lips.

Wet, panting kisses were peppered along her neck and down the middle of her throat so every time she gasped or swallowed, Eddie could feel each movement. He let go of her hands and moved his fingertips across her sides and down the dips and curves to that special area just above her hips where (Y/n) was ticklish. He loved the way her stomach would pull in and she would jump against his touch when all he had to do was lightly trace the pad of his finger along her skin and it had her gasping and laughing beneath him.

"We won't be needing these any more." He hooked his fingers into the top of her underwear and shuffled back on his knees to remove them when (Y/n) lifted her legs.

She watched him throw the dark red lace onto the floor along with her top and a deep laugh rumbled past his lips when she pressed her feet against his hips and managed to push his boxers down rather easily from where she was laid on her back. If he wasn't going to let her sit up and do it manually, she had to get creative.

"I can't decide whether that's eager or impressive,"

"Make up your mind while you take them off."

(Y/n) quipped back, leaning up on her elbows a little so she could watch him lean up and roll them past his knees so he could kick them on the floor. When they were off, (Y/n) sat up and looped her arms back round his neck, desperate to be as close as possible.

"I'm gonna go with eager, but then again so am I." Eddie's hands groped at her hips, admiring the view in front of him now that there were no layers between them.

"Don't think you can last two days, Eddie?" She knew exactly what kind of reaction she got from using his name and as expected, something burned darker and deeper in his eyes.

She felt his hand move and his arm wrapped like an iron bar around her back just above her bum so he could reel her in and pull her closer. He held her so close and tight that he left her up and she had to move her weight onto her feet and the back of her legs to stay tall and close to him like this. Her hands gripped his shoulders to steady herself but she gasped when his other hand moved to grip the underside of her thigh before he pushed her back.

(Y/n) felt her back hit the headboard and her knees coiled up as Eddie shifted forwards onto her chest and kneeled between her spread legs like he always had and always would belong there.

"Don't think I can last two minutes, let alone two days," He gruffed back before their lips crashed together in a silent but deadly battle. He dug his nails tighter into her thigh and moved her leg to hook it around his hip so he could brace his hand on the wall behind the bed. The last thing Eddie wanted was to put all of his weight onto (Y/n) or give her bruises down her spine from the wooden headboard.

"Fuck, Eddie-"

"Mummy!"

"Shit! Shit, no Chris don't do this to me." Eddie buried his face in the crook of (Y/n)'s neck and sank his teeth down on the soft flesh. Praying Chris would settle himself back down and carry on sleeping just for a bit longer. This was the worst timing Chris had ever had, he couldn't shout out yet.

Not now. Now when Eddie needed (Y/n) too; he needed her badly.

"Mummy, help! Mummy!" Oh God, he was crying. He wasn't going to settle himself back to sleep or occupy himself with his books or games or tv in his room. Not when he was crying, he must have had a nightmare and if that happened he wouldn't settle or go back to sleep. He needed one of his parents in there to console him and make him feel better and calm him down.

"Fuck!" Eddie's hand clenched into a fist against the wall and he moved his head to press his lips against the side of (Y/n)'s head. "Why's he doing this to me? Blocked by my own kid."

"Mummy!"

"Sorry baby. I'm coming sweetheart." (Y/n) tilted her head up to kiss the side of Eddie's jaw when he shuffled back an inch to let her move even though he really didn't want to.

"Don't think I will be today,"

"Eddie!" She batted her hand against his shoulder when she pushed off the bed and scanned the floor quickly for something to wear. She couldn't very well walk into his room wearing nothing at all, that would only unsettle him even more.

The first thing (Y/n) grabbed happened to be one of Eddie's work shirts. A back t-shirt with the fire station logo and number in a circle on the left side of her chest. It barely covered her bum so she had to grab Eddie's boxers and slip them on as well but when she did she heard her husband groan and when she turned around, he was kneeling up in the middle of the bed staring at her.

Why did she have to look that good wearing his clothes? That shirt alone with nothing else on underneath was more than enough to drive Eddie crazy. He could see every ridge and curve of her body beneath it and she didn't even realise how she swayed her hips when she walked.

"That's teasing," He muttered defeatedly with his fingers dragging through his hair in a rigid motion.

(Y/n) could hear his harsh steps following her out of their room and she barely turned her head over her shoulder to see what he was doing before he reached out for her. His hand caught her chin and he tilted her head up so he could give her a searing kiss before he let her go.

"I need to get ready," Eddie spoke more to himself and he turned off into the bathroom when (Y/n) diverted down into Chris's room.

He was so close.

There was no way Eddie was going to last two days away when (Y/n) was stood there like that, burning her image into his eyes and leaving it on his brain. How could he go out on a call and focus when his wife was at home looking that good and he couldn't even touch her?

"Chris, I need to head off now. You be good for me and I'll be back Friday night, okay?" Eddie strapped his watch around his wrist before he crouched down beside the table Chris was sat at. He was still wearing his pyjamas and dressing gown, munching away on his cereal.

"Okay, love you."

"I love you too." With his hand pressed against the back of Chris's head, Eddie kissed his temple and leaned over to hug him before he got to his feet and looked over at (Y/n).

The sight of her stood there like that was enough to make Eddie growl and rethink going into work today.

She was still wearing his shirt and boxers which were glued rather shapely against her bum. And his shirt hung off her left shoulder as if giving him a sneak preview of what he was missing out on but it was the way his shirt was bunched up over her hip that made it hard to stay in control. He wanted to go over there and rip it over her head and drag the boxers down to her ankles.

A shiver rolled down (Y/n)'s spine when a familiar pair of strong arms coiled around her waist and she felt Eddie's chin perch on her shoulder. He pulled her back into his chest and lifted her high enough that she had to push up on her tiptoes to stay balanced against him.

The feeling of him breathing and sucking at her neck had her knees going weak but when she looked at the watch strapped on his wrist, she knew he was going to be late if he stayed. And Christopher was awake now, they couldn't exactly do anything without him hearing or noticing. He was an observant kid.

"You'll be late," She turned her head to look at him and he caught her lips in a kiss instead and she could feel his hands slip beneath her shirt. His palms pressed flat against the curve of her stomach before his fingertips traced lower and dipped into the waistband of his boxers that she was wearing.

Two days was going to feel like two years at this rate.

"Eddie, baby… you," Kiss. "Have to," Kiss. "Go."

Maybe she should walk him to the door to make sure he actually left. It wouldn't do him any favours to be late to work when he had a clean track record so far.

She turned around in his arms and have him a gentle nudge until he was walking backwards, his arms back around her waist with his elbows dug into her hips and his hands now cupping her bum beneath the underwear she wore. Her hands reached up to rub across his chest and she continued to nudge him backwards while he stole kiss after kiss from her lips like it was the last time he was going to see her and he was getting his money's worth.

"Don't wanna go,"

"Two days, baby. Then you're off all weekend and Chris is at his sleepover. No chance of interruptions, you'll be mine all weekend."

"Hm, but I want you now." The weekend felt so far away when Eddie had to leave her right now and stay at the station for the next two days. He had to get his head in gear and rush into uncertain situations with this image of (Y/n) at the forefront of his mind. He had to save people and clean the trucks and take a power nap in the back room of the station, all while (Y/n) danced across his mind and all he could have was her voice on the other end of the phone.

And even then, he knew Chris would steal the phone because he wouldn't go to sleep unless Eddie said goodnight to him over the phone when he was away at work.

"Go to work,"

Eddie moved one arm behind him to unlock the door and grab his keys from the lock. He stepped back over the threshold but when (Y/n) moved out of his arms, he held the doorframe and the door to prevent her from closing the door on him.

He waited until (Y/n) cupped his face in her hands and tugged him down to press a feverish kiss to his lips. She let him swipe his tongue across her lower lip, begging for entrance before she pulled back, mumbling a quiet 'I love you' against his lips before giving him a final nudge out the door.

Two days. Two whole fucking days.

How was he going to survive with that image burned into his mind and the desire bubbling away inside of him?

***

Leaning over the bed, (Y/n) pressed a lasting kiss against the top of Christopher's head and smoothed his curls down before she turned on the night light and moved back. He was that tired tonight that he didn't want to wait up for Eddie to come home from shift, he wanted to go to bed and sleep because he knew when his dad came home, he would come in and kiss him goodnight anyway.

She waited an extra second just to make sure he was asleep and settled before she turned on her heels and headed out of the room.

The door barely closed behind her before (Y/n) jumped back against it and gasped when a figure loomed over her in the dim light coming from the living room.

Eddie.

"Christ Eddie, what are you trying to do to me?" (Y/n) pressed a hand over her chest and grabbed his arm to steady herself. She could feel her heart pounding in her chest and jumping up into her throat while the baby started to move from fright.

"You have no idea how long the last two days have been."

With that, Eddie's arms were around her waist and he was pulling her away from Chris's bedroom so they didn't wake him. He wasn't having anymore interruptions this time around. He had gotten so close the other day only for the plans to be ruined and he had spent the last two days desperate to get back home to his wife and take her to bed.

That was exactly what he was planning to do.

(Y/n) grinned and coiled her arms around his neck when his hands moved to cup the back of her thighs and he lifted her up off her feet. He hoisted her up in his arms and wrapped her legs around his waist so she was sat low on his hips. Able to feel every ridge of part of him and see what her image had done to him these past two days.

"No interruptions this time," It was a statement more than a plea or a request and (Y/n) could only nod in agreement before he was smothering her with his lips.

He kissed every inch of skin he could see and reach. Her neck, down her throat then back up to her lips, her nose, her cheek. He nibbled and then bit down harder on her jaw until she was moaning against his lips and gripping his neck tighter. She barely felt him move until she heard the bedroom door open and realise he was carrying her towards their bed.

"I missed you, Eddie. Can you guess how much?"

Her bum hit the bed with a thud and she took the initiative to lay down on her back and dig her heels into the dip on his lower back to pull him down with her.

"God, you're mine now." He groaned in her ear while he unhooked her legs from his waist so he could pull her underwear down so hard and fast (Y/n) heard a rip in the fabric. Looks like she wouldn't be wearing those ones again anytime soon. And they were his favourite pair too.

"Always."

"Let's try again, shall we?"

[strangersteddierthings]

February 1

rating: G cw: none prompt: Love is letting someone take care of you

It wasn't a lesson Eddie learned easily, or all that willingly. No one had cared for him after his Mama had died. Not for a long time after.

He dad likes to pretend he'd tried. When Eddie was feeling generous, he'd even say he agreed. His parents were so in love it was almost sickening. Losing her must have broken the part of his Dad that knew how to love fully. He didn't turn mean, not like some dads did, but he definitely cared more about his next scheme than he did about the kid that looked too much like his Mama.

Wayne taught him that people who care about you take care of you. They take care of you when you're barely nine and have burned yourself on the stove twice this week, even if you think you should have learned after the first time. They take care of you when you've been caught stealing candy from Melvald's, and skipping school, and flunking senior year (and then doing that again), and even when people accuse you of murder.

Wayne has taught him that people that really, really love you are there when you need them, care for you when you need them.

And Eddie's heart aches that no one seems to have taught Steve that.

Eddie's trying. He steps in to help with "babysitting" duties, especially when Steve looks particularly run down. He started inserting himself into the Platonic Soulmate thing Steve and Robin have going because he wants to be an established replacement Temporary Soulmate while Robin's at college. (Being fair, this was Robin's suggestion. She's worried about how he'll be when she's not around to look after him.)

He's started hanging out with Steve without Robin, too. They get along well, it turns out. Eddie loves to talk and Steve loves to listen. But, more importantly, Eddie's good at getting Steve to talk. As a rule in general, Eddie isn't a good listener, but he could listen to Steve read him the phone book and never be bored. He tries to take an interest in Steve's hobbies. He doesn't have the hand/eye coordination for basketball, or the lungs for swimming laps, but he does have the energy to keep going even when he's bad at those things.

Steve seems to appreciate it, if the soft smiles he gives Eddie is any indication.

And it's not all up hill. Steve's got hangups that seem to crop up when he thinks he's failed at something. He's got a quick temper but it's never physical anger. He's only ever yelled at Eddie twice, and being fair, that first was deserved. Eddie's pushed too far, in his desire to help, not knowing the limit yet.

Eddie gets pissy, too, he's no saint, either.

There's been no fight they haven't gotten through, though.

But the lesson, the thing Wayne was really trying to teach him, comes when Steve gets sick.

No one but Robin has ever seen him sick. She's off at college now and it's just Eddie, fumbling to make soup and not dribble water down Steve's front while he holds the glass Steve is too weak to and Eddie forgot to get some straws at the store.

Steve tried to get him to leave only once. It was the third day in a row Eddie was there.

"You don't have to be here, you know," Steve had whispered, throat still feeling like he ate glass.

Eddie just met his eye and gave a small smile, "I do know."

Steve looks surprised, which is ridiculous, because he had to of known the answer Eddie would give. But then that surprise softens to a new look. Sappier, eyes a bit wetter, and Steve must not want him to see because his whole face scrunches with how quickly he shuts his eyes.

Eddie sets the sleeve of saltines down on the night stand and reached for Steve's hand. Just to give it a squeeze.

He finds he can't take his hand back when Steve tangles their fingers together and drags their joined hands to his face, where Steve rests his feverish forehead against Eddie's hand.

Steve teaches him that, yes, love is caring for someone. But sometimes, it's also letting someone else take care of you.

-

@steddielovemonth @i-less-than-three-you @nburkhardt @afewproblems @skepsiss

[chaos-has-theories]

It's here! My TLT Hemospectrum chart. Turns out I'd even finished the description, it just needed light editing.

One day I said to my roommate "Gideon is just so rustblood coded" and then I said "Harrow is definitely a blue blood" and three days later I had this. I'm… sorry? But don't get me wrong, I am deadly serious. THE BUTTS (colors) MATCH

Blank Hemospectrum chart by Rotommowtom, found here. Explanation/Image ID below.

Let's start from the bottom, shall we?

Gideon Nav: candy-red Images: GtN cover; astrological cancer symbol/Sign of the Signless; the scratched out Ninth on Gideon's chapter skull Text: "incongruously red hair" "mutant blood" "the Signless" Additional lines to Rust Class (for her servitude) and Bronze class (for her specific colors)

And, well. She's lesbian Jesus. Just like Karkat and Kankri. Sth sth Gideon's first act being unlocking her cuffs sth the sign of the signless sth Gideon on that fence vs the Sufferer in his Saint Sebastian getup. Quoth also my roommate: "Gideon wearing glasses and her hood is like Karkat greytyping"

Gideon is incredibly Rustblood-coded. Just look at her eyes and hair and the colors on her book.

But it really is no more than coding. Because very clearly, she's actually mutant candy-red! The Signless. She grows up without a Lusus parents and she is treated as a mutant and an outcast by the Ninth House. She's assumed to be at the bottom of the barrel when really she should be all the way at the top.

Rust Class: Second House Text: "A very common class, often used to serve and protect Highbloods, often has jobs tailored to Janitorial work, sometimes has Psychic Abilities" "Second-styled Cohort all scarlet and white" Title: Ranked Captain

The actual Rustbloods. Have you ever looked through the Dramatis Personae of GtN and noticed that the 2nd have seemingly no inherited title* whatsoever? Yeah. And obviously, their house color is red. Plus, compare how Judith only ever thinks she has any kind of cachet around the rest of the houses, even though her one attempt to pull rank fails miserably. ("A cohort captain don't rank higher than a Third official.")

(*Judith does get adressed as "Lady Judith" by Teacher once. Draw your own conclusions, but I think that might be generic towards a house heir with no other titles.)

Bronze Class: Fifth or Seventh? Text: "Are often Gifted with the Ability to Commune with Animals" "brown, long coated suit" (fifth); "'I agree', said her bronze statue of a cavalier" (seventh)

Gold Class: Eighth House Text: "Very often has Psychic Abilities, Often used as External Power Sources" "soul siphoner" "mustard blood" "mayonnaise uncle"; "Nona's eyes were a deep, warm gold" Title: Master Templar

This one I'm the most unclear on. By House colors, it would have to be the Fifth, but I also have reasons to place them higher up in the chart.

Additionally Protesilaus (non-puppeted version ) gets described as "bronzed and vigorous" and a "bronze statue" three times in row. As we've already seen with Gideon, though, I suspect that necros and their cavs can be placed in different Classes. There's 12 of them, after all, and only 9 Houses. I'm inclined to give this one to Pro, and maybe even Dulcie - she and Tavros have at least the wheelchair in common.

This is the one that struck me with lightning and had me go down this rabbit-hole in earnest. "Often used as external power sources". Did you mean: Soul Siphoning?

And: Gold blood gets derogatorily described as "mustard blood" on multiple occasions. Mayonnaise uncle, anyone?

Note that I'd consider placing Silas higher up on his own, but he patently does not have a noble title. Even Teacher just calls him "Master Octakiseron". Still, I've got a tentative line up to Teal for his "justice of the tome".

Olive Class: The Sixth Text: "Rarely having Psychic abilities. The Middle Class."; "nice normal olive" Title: Master Warden

There's an extra line here, linking Alecto's golden eyes to the idea of an external power source. (And Gideon's, of course. There's a theme about only the cavalier characters being Golden.)

Also, while one of the Third House colors is Gold, I have good reason to keep them further up this pyramid. In any case, it's mostly Corona who gets described as the "golden twin" (in GtN). See also this on the question of whether Corona has been used as Ianthe's power source since birth.

Jade Class: Fifth House? Text: "Oddly a very rare class. Tends to the Mother Grub and assists young grubs" "A strong relationship with both Tettares and Chatur" Title: Lady (and Seneschal) of Koniortos Court

This one was a bit more difficult, but Camilla is described as having "olive skin" twice (those being the only uses of the word in all three books). Also, just vibes-based, I asked around, and this was the result.

More importantly, maybe: "the middle class". You will find that noone below this line has a noble title, while everyone above does. Yes, everyone.

Slightly unclear here, except that Magnus and Abigail have the strongest parent vibes I've ever seen. Their whole house uses those parent vibes as political weapons, okay. Lipsticks, chainsaws, and how the fifth "skinned itself over with such airs of civilization…but they were spirit talkers, and speakers to the dead. And the dead were savage." Relatedly: "Abigail Pent blazed like a flare from a blue and Alien sun…. Abigail was soaking wet, wreathed in hot mistlike shimmers by spirit magic… A reek hit Harrow like a faceful of snow: water, brine, blood." Compare that to Kanaya's shiny rainbow drinker form.

I am also having thoughts about Nona being called a "green thing". Sth sth mother grub, and the ability to repopulate humanity.

Teal Class: Seventh House Text: "Often Legislacerators, and often deals with judicial issues"; "Her dress was a (concoction) of seafoam" Title: Duchess (and Knight) of Rhodes

See also sth sth representation of disabilty as seen in both Dulcie and Terezi, and potentially even how Cytherea causes Gideon's death, while Dulcie tells Harrow that she might still be saved. Compare to Terezi killing and then saving Vriska to save everyone… le shrug, as the kids say.

Colorwise perfectly correct, and a Duchess definitely belongs into the Bluebloods.

I don't know what to think about the "Judicial Issues" - hence the uncertain line connecting to Silas and the "judgement of the tome" - but admittedly Cytherea is at Canaan House to mete out her version of justice.

Cerulean Class: Ninth House Images: HtN cover Text: "Sometimes has the Ability to Mind control others"; "'You can control my body,' she said. 'You can read my thoughts.' 'No. Not remotely.'

Somewhat unclear. But the line about whether or not Harrow can control Gideon was always… hm. Is "borrowing perceptions" really so much different from mind reading? Besides, mind controlling Gideon is like Harrow's #1 activity starting in chapter one, even if she does it through considerable planning. And of course once we get into the permeability of the soul, looking at "your most intimate memories" is the least of your troubles.

Anyway, Harrow is just so blue-coded. It's her cover, her vibes, and listen: Teacher and Aiglamene call her "Your Grace". It's the correct style for a Bishop or Archbishop, but it's also solidly intriguing considering it's also used for Duchesses and Kings (real life) and Lyctors (NtN).

Indigo Class: Fourth House Text: "Often possesses high levels of Physical Strength and Nobility"; "blue hood". Title: Baron (and Knight) of Tisis

The Dreadful Teens wear blue. Strength, Nobility, Fidelity, and the Emperor.

Purple Class: Third House Text: "Highest Landdwelling Caste, keeps lowerbloods in check"; "Ianthe's pallid purple irises" Title: Princess of Ida

Violet Class: Third House Text: "Royal bloods that ensure the safety of the empress"; "deep, liquid violet"; "I won't tell her. You can't do this, doll, not now."; "1950s-style human greaser" Title: (Crown) Princess and Prince of Ida

Things get properly interesting here. Because yeah, blah blah, highest titles of the nobility, "royal bloods" and princesses; and Naberius' connection to pre-scratch Cronus Ampora.

But while Coronabeth's eyes consistently get described as "violet", Ianthe's are only ever "purple". Or occasionally "dying violets". "Violets on dialysis." Definitely not true violet, no matter how much Ianthe tries. Also, Ianthe "Gatekeep" Tridentarius loves to keep lowbloods in check. It's like her favorite thing.

To get our purples mixed up even more, it's the Fuchsias that traditionally fight with tridents in Homestuck. Tridents, Tridentarius, Trident Knife. Though of course -

Fuchsia Class: First House Text: "The Ruling Empress, has the power to enforce and influence all castes"; "Necromancer Divine, King of the Nine Renewals, our Resurrector, the Necrolord Prime" Title: The Emperor

Do I really need to explain that? He's the Emperor. Of course he's at the top of the pyramid. His "Stop" spell thingy is just the cherry on top. What else could there be to say?

…I'm SO glad you asked. Cherub time!

Alecto: Lime Green Images: green cherub spiral Text: "The dominant personality will then completely consume the other, integr8ting it in such a way that only one is left."; "Muse of Space"

John Gaius: Candy Red Text: "I mastered Death, Harrowhark; I wish I'd done the smarter thing and mastered Time."; "Lord of Time"

Aaaand that's it! Thank you most kindly for reading all this, and if you have any questions, ideas, or frustrated noises to make, come scream at me please :D

I've talked about this before, but John and Alecto are absolutely a Lord of Time/Muse of Space duo. Active vs Passive, life vs death, and the process of a cherub maturing is eerily like Lyctorhood.

There's been plenty of theorizing on whether John actually does control time. Personally I don't think so, but it's certainly suggestive! And if John's the metaphorical mutant red, it's exactly what passed on to Gideon ("lipochrome. recessive") while the lime green neatly ties Alecto back to her "green and breathing thing".

[c3stlav1e]

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥ THE COLD WAR RETURNS: ON THE BIGGEST RED CARPET IN THE WORLD.

written by EnVieOus

The Met Gala, taking place the first Monday of May each year, is undoubtedly one of the most watched events of the year in the realm of the filthy rich and those finely attuned in to the lives of celebrities. Celebrated in New York City and hosted by international phenomenon Vogue Magazine, recent years of the event have seen more and more internationally recognized celebrities welcomed to grace the number one red carpet of the fashion world, something that gives us Kpop fans a reason to cheer. While a swath of idols were seen at this year's gala, 3 that never fail to catch my eye were La Vie's Anya, Star, and Mari.

from left to right: Anya Na in custom YSL, Star Shinawatra in custom YSL, Mari Bang in Schiaparelli haute couture '21

Anya and Star both stunned in custom Yves Saint Laurent, unsurprising from the luxury brand's princess and her closest confidant. While this was Star's debut at the Met, this is the third year in a row that Anya has been invited by the designer house.

However, Lovies were left with plenty of questions when the group's maknae Mari arrived later than the former two in a striking yet conflicting outfit by Schiaparelli. Although the three only briefly passed on the carpet, no acknowledgments were shared.

To older fans, this icy greeting is hardly news. Its been recently made clear that tensions between La Vie and their maknae have been raised ever since she first made her solo debut in the American music industry back in 2021. Some fans had bashed the idol for "abandoning" the group to focus on western fame and validation.

Lovies were led to believe that things were on the mend between them all when Mari returned to the group for their most recent comeback celebrating the group's 7th year anniversary, making it the first OT6 comeback in nearly 2 years. The group released a 2 hour long documentary highlighting the group's history and the album's making which had an emotional segment on Mari's absence, how it had effected the group's dynamic, and her intentions to right any wrongs in the hearts of her members and her fans. It was all very touching.

And yet, almost a year later, we are seeing the conflict back in full swing. 4 days before the Gala, La Vie posted a teaser for their newest comeback to all of the group's socials. The teaser very notably only featuring 5 of the members (missing Mari once again), much to the disappointment of hopeful Lovies everywhere.

"Teaser ; White Swan" posted to La Vie socials on May 2, 2024

While this in itself stirred up controversy, nothing would compare to the shitstorm that arose when 2 days later, Mari dropped a teaser for her newest single, set to release only a week after the rest of the group's mini album.

Teaser posted on May 4, 2024 to Mari's Instagram, @ maribang, captioned " ugh, what a b!! SOMETHING NEW COMING TO U JUNE 4TH "

Fans and netizens have conveyed a wide range of emotions the past few days, from outrage to disappointment to jumping for joy, and this most recent interaction (or lack thereof) has only added to the overflowing dramatics of the public's opinion. Calls for Mari's official removal from the group have only increased since her apparent cold shoulder on the carpet. Some are blaming conflict between Rainbow Entertainment and MGM, Mari's record label in America, for the issues, fruitlessly arguing that the girls would never want to treat each other so coldly of their own accord.

After years of this drama, the people are beginning to demand answers, but the radio silence on both ends continues. Was it simply an accident, where one didn't see the other? Or a blatant cold shoulder between former best friends?

Let us know what YOU think here !

Click to read more comments...

ltov6: this is a reachhhh!!!!!! they were on the same part of the carpet for like .2 seconds before star and anya were rushed off. don't put words in their mouth!!

bangbangmarmar: anyway. mari outsold on her own, she doesn't need those washed up bitches🙄🙄

expensiveanya: well my princess was serving as per usual so that's all that matters🤭

lvis6: wait... SHES THE BLACK SWAN!!!! ot6 cb is coming!!!!!!

feelinlikepsychoo: good god can they just kick her out already...... like they clearly do not need her. dragging their name down for no reason.

2sunz: if sol was there she wouldve straightened them out fr. acting like children without their mama

lovelylovie: to everyone saying she probably didn't know... she's literally dressed as a black swan. she knew.

[yellowkitkieran]

Two Minutes (Kieran Tierney)

Masterlist

Word Count: 1.5k

Summary: Kieran isn’t very good with words, which leads to you thinking he doesn’t care, which he very much does. Requested by @oh-saints

Kieran is a man of few words. You learned that very early on when you met him. His actions speak louder anyway; what be can't say with his mouth, he'll let you know through his actions. Well, in most cases that is. 

Before you officially started dating, Kieran was an attentive man. He sent you messages after dates to make sure you got home okay and sent you flowers after your first dinner together. Now that you're officially his girlfriend though, something seems to have shifted. You don't hear from him as often. When you do, it's rarely anything substantial, usually only a quick chat about your days before he's yawning and telling you he needs to rest. 

You lay in bed, staring at your phone. For the third night in a row, you wait up for a text that doesn't come. Kieran's been busy with training for the London derby tomorrow and your schedules haven't lined up to let you see each other for what feels like ages. You miss him, plain and simple. You'd do anything to see him for five minutes. But apparently, Kieran doesn't miss you enough to so much as send you a short message before bed.

It isn't too much to ask for. You message him a few times throughout your day, updating him on the monotonous things in your life like your exam scores and the fact that the kitchen on campus ran out of jam and muffins this morning. He's read them but hasn't replied to a single one, and that's getting on your nerves. 

Three dots appear on your screen and you almost think you're hallucinating until a message pops up. 

Hey, sorry I've been so busy. Are you still coming to the match tomorrow?

You want to leave him on read so he knows how you've felt all day. However that's just not something you can do; you'll take any opportunity you can to hear from him, seeing as you're not sure when you'll get the chance again. 

That's my plan! Are you busy now? We could maybe facetime xx

I really need to get to bed… but I'll see you at the stadium?

Kieran's message pulls the plug on your mental sink, draining your excitement in seconds. Can't he spare two minutes so you can lay eyes on him? At this point you're half convinced he wants nothing to do with you and is just stringing you along. 

Oh, yeah of course. Sleep tight Kieran xx

You don't bother waiting for a response when you know it won't come. He's probably already plugged his phone into the charger and put it face down on his nightstand. He's probably put on his white noise machine playing and is cuddled up under his fuzzy white blanket, waiting for sleep to take him.

The irony is, you know Kieran's pre-matchday routine like the back of your hand, but you doubt he could even tell you how you like your eggs. You could make him a full breakfast just the way he likes, with his fruit in a separate bowl from his oatmeal and everything, and he doesn't even know if you like fruit. 

Overall, you can't shake the feeling that Kieran just doesn't care. Is it irrational? Maybe, but if he cared, he'd try and make time for you, wouldn't he? Even just two minutes, that's all you're asking for. Two minutes of his time. Apparently, that's too high of a cost for Kieran to pay.

**********

You suppose the nice part of being a wag is the fact that you don't need to pay for parking. You're allowed to park in the same lot as the players, which is a treat considering you also don't need to wait in a long, winding line to get inside. 

You're early. Like, really early. When you woke up this morning you decided you were going to see Kieran whether he wanted to or not- so here you sit, scrolling through Instagram on your phone while you wait for Kieran to pull in. And he can't miss you either; you made sure to park in his unassigned assigned spot so he can't claim he didn't see you.

Out of the corner of your eye, you spot a gray Audi. Your heart becomes stuck in your throat as it parks next to you. You force yourself to wait until Kieran knocks on your window to roll it down and look up at his smiling face. 

"Hey, I didn't expect to see you here so early. Wow- you went all out today didn't you?"

You bristle, glancing down at your jeans and Arsenal jersey with Kieran's number in the center of your chest. You barely bothered to do your hair and you only put on a minimal amount of makeup. What's he trying to say, that you don't normally put any effort in?

You shake your head, "I wanted to see you before your match today so I could wish you luck. Seeing as you've barely spoken to me all week."

Kieran's face softens and you almost feel guilty. "Right, I'm sorry about that. I've been busy like I said-" 

"Too busy to text me and say goodnight?"

You don't mean to accuse him so directly before an important game. It just tumbles out of you like rocks down a hillside, and you're powerless to stop it. You can't take the words back once they're spoken, despite the fact that Kieran looks like you've slapped him.

Kieran straightens with a sigh. His hand falls off your door and you begin to panic as he walks away, tears pricking your eyes. That's one way to break up with someone you suppose. You rest your head on the wheel, nearly jumping out of your skin when the passenger door opens and Kieran climbs inside. 

"What are you-"

"I'm not going inside until I've spoken to you about this." Okay, maybe you should stop jumping to conclusions, because Kieran looks as close to tears as you are. He takes a breath, reaching across for your hand. After a week of nothing, his touch does wonders to calm your frayed nerves. You feel your panic ebbing away like the tide, soothed by the way his thumb rubs over your knuckles. 

"Look, I'm terrible at communicating. I'm doing my best but clearly I'm not doing enough, because I don't mean to make you feel like this."

"It feels like you don't care anymore." Your voice is a barely recognizable whisper, heavy with months of pent up emotion. Your throat feels raw, though a weight lifts off your shoulders as you finally lay it out for him, "in the beginning you were so in tune with me? Sweet gestures all the time, messages to check in on me… what's changed Kieran? Is it something I did?"

"No, no, my love, you haven't done anything I promise," Kieran murmurs, quick to soothe you. "We started dating during the off season, remember? I had so much more time then than I do now. I realize that isn't an excuse but most days I come home from training and literally head right to bed after I eat. Getting back in the swing of things has been exhausting. And it doesn't help that I really have no idea what I'm doing here. You're the first proper girlfriend I've had."

"Wait… I am?"

Kieran nods, his cheeks red. "Yeah, you are. So I'm doing what I think I'm supposed to but like I said, I have no idea. I'll message you more, okay? I promise you that. And I'll make more of an effort to see you. Actually, take this."

Kieran digs in his pocket and pulls out his key ring, removing a silver key and placing it in your palm. "You can come to mine whenever you want, okay? I wouldn't mind walking in and having you be the first thing I see when I get home."

"This is your house key."

"Uh huh."

"Like, you're giving me a key to your house."

"Aye sweetheart I am. I hope that's alright?"

You stare at the metal in your hand. Suddenly you feel stupid for doubting him when he clearly has perfectly valid reasons for being distant lately. You have trusted Kieran since the day you met and he hasn't given you a reason to doubt him. Your insecurities simply got the best of you this time, but you're determined not to let it happen again. 

"It's perfect Kieran. Just like you." You smile, grabbing the front of Kieran's shirt and pull him to you for a passionate, heavy kiss that certainly isn't appropriate for your surroundings, not when one of his teammates honks when they drive by. You break apart, both laughing as you try to catch your breath. 

"Go get 'em, Key. Score a goal for me."

"Anything you say sweetheart. I'll meet you at home after, yeah?"

"I'll be waiting."

[all-risejd]

Puppy Heaven [All Doms Go To Heaven]

Warnings: Puppy Play, if you squint it’s an orgy but not really?, subspace, anal, painting people with cum?, Roman and Damian are both doms?, awkward situations, Paul Heyman is a literal saint, and power play. 

Roman Reigns had heard things about how The Judgment Day operated. You didn’t make it this far in pro-wrestling without either realizing how heavily fetishized the subculture was or succumbing to your innermost desires. He also knew well the rumors and startling whispers that circled Damian Priest - so when Paul brought up the tentative partnership Roman hadn’t been sure it was a good idea. They were selling very different versions of the family. But, as always The Wise Man had his points, and so Roman had begrudgingly accepted his logic. Solo massacred Rey Mysterio and the Judgment Day men were doing well against Sami, KO, and Riddle until the LWO got involved - it took too long for the twins and Solo to intercede on behalf of the Judgment Day. But Roman had noticed that Solo was particularly protective of Dom while all four factions were in the ring. 

It had reminded Roman that there was life after the Judgment Day and the youngest two members were nuclear levels of heat. Perhaps they could be his future enforcers. The thought made him smile, even as Paul slid back into the room, dressed in his suit as usual, “My tribal chief, Priest, has requested a change of venue. Something about Dominik not being in a good headspace for public consumption. They’ve asked if we would mind meeting them at their rental house.” That was another thing Roman had noticed, The Judgment Day no longer lived hotel to hotel. They got short term rental properties from city to city. He’d tried to ask Hunter about it but the man had just dismissed him with a ‘Dominik needs them’. Like that explained everything. What was so special about Dominik Mysterio?

Curiosity peaked, Roman hummed, “That sounds agreeable, ask if we need to bring anything with us.” He preferred to be a good house guest even if he was going to somewhere he was sure was a den of sins. Paul typed away at his phone for a few minutes, then hummed, before he looked back up at Roman, “Well?”

“Priest suggest an open mind and that we wear clothing that’s not itchy or… uncomfortable to rub?”

Roman snorted, “Don’t look so freaked out. You know Priest. He’s probably just being a dramatic Dominant. We can wear soft clothes. He has his reasons.” Roman was a bit more curious about those reasons, now. Roman changed into softer shorts and a henley, before he trailed along behind Paul to the rental SUV with the twins, and eventually Solo followed along behind. Roman smiled as he realized that they had all followed Paul’s request to change into ‘softer’ clothes, all of them except Paul in fact looked like they were headed for a cotton-thread themed workout. The rental SUV posed a bit of a question of seating arrangements, but the twins ended up in the third row of seats, with Solo in the middle, one of the seats laid down, and Roman in the front passenger with Paul driving, as Roman connected the GPS.

“Man, I’m a bit curious to see what the hell they rented.” Came from Jey, “Also, the fact they get to rent houses…” He trailed off, a bit of jealousy leaking into his words.

Jimmy elbowed him, “Dude, Priest is Hunter’s favorite new boy.” Roman huffed, because being Hunter’s favorite anything walked the thin line between getting everything you wanted and having to deal with all the bullshit that went with being someone Hunter thought could handle the extra baggage. 

-/-

The house was not what Roman thought it would be like, it was bright and full of sunshine and flowers. The juxtaposition between the deep black silk like pajamas on Damian’s frame as he opened the door to greet them, and the yellow siding was enough to make Roman do a double take, momentarily concerned he’d stepped into some sort of twilight zone. “Welcome, Bloodline, do come in.” He stepped back in the doorway and ushered them all in, “Finn is making lunch, Rhea and Dom Dom will be down in a few minutes.” Roman waited for Jimmy and Jey to settle on the overstuffed loveseat before he slid into the comfortable looking couch, Paul moved to stand by the fireplace, while Solo found a seat in the recliner. 

Finn emerged from the kitchen in his own black shorts, that looked a lot like workout shorts, holding a tray of sandwiches. He settled them on the middle coffee table and headed back to the kitchen to grab the lemonaid, and several cups, before he dropped onto the arm of the chair that Damian had settled into, “Has Rhea not made it down yet?” 

“No, Dom Dom was having… he was struggling, I assume she will make it down at some point.” Damian shrugged, unbothered, then looked at Paul, “I assume this meeting is about our loss but Solo’s victory?”

Paul started to talk, but Roman cut him off, “I would like to apologize, the Usos and Solo had their orders, and opted not to follow them. I did not want you to take the loss, and I feel that it was our fault.” Roman reached forward and poured himself a glass of lemonade, “Thank you for making us sandwiches and offering us drinks.” He gave the boys a look, which prompted Jimmy, Jey and Solo to each grab a drink and sandwich. “We were a bit confused about the venue change.”

“Sometimes, it’s best for Dom Dom to have a safe space.” Damian offered, he held Roman’s gaze, “As you know we in the Judgment Day have a certain… stigma about our… personal lives.” 

Roman raised his eyebrow, “Is this about the fact that you all four have kinks that fall off the normal BDSM scene?” He offered, he kept his eyes locked on Damian’s, the older man bobbed his head slightly, “It’s fine, whatever is going on with Mysterio is going to be fine.” He said evenly, “We won’t judge, but we do need to decide our next moves when it comes to the Draft and to Backlash.”

“I’ll go get Rhea and Dom Dom.” Finn pushed off the chair arm, Damian patted his side, and Roman watched as he climbed the stairs, clearly worried about the turn of events.

“Can we get some sort of warning?” Jimmy asked, Roman recognized the mild concern in his cousin’s voice.

“Warning?” Damian looked perplexed.

“They want to know what to expect.” Paul sounded a bit like he wanted to know, too.

Damian chuckled, “Dom Dom is a good boy, a sweet puppy, very loving.” He offered, his smile widening. 

Roman felt his eyes widen, that was a pointed statement, and if Damian was suggesting what Roman thought, well, he might just have to spend more time with the purple wearing vigilanties. A creak from the top of the stairs revealed Finn making his way back down, behind him was Rhea in an oversized t-shirt with no visible shorts underneath, “Come on, Dom Dom.” Rhea called, lovingly. 

Roman almost flicked his gaze to his cousins, to watch their expressions, but he wanted to see the full reveal for himself. Dominik, afterall, was the son of a legend, and Roman knew for a fact Rey had no idea about this side of his son. Roman preferred to know what no one else did, and more than that - the fact that the Judgment Day was willing to let him see Dominik in any position other than one of power… well, it spoke volumes of how well they were going to partner, if he played his cards right. 

Behind Rhea, from the top of the stairs, Dominik crawled. His purple and black puphood that resembles more of a hound, with long ears on either side of his head, his naturally long hair was fluffier than normal, and looked soft to touch. Dominik was on his hands and knees, a mesh soft looking purple shirt on his frame, it had been cut into a crop top, with tiny leather shorts on his hips, with a long faux black furry tail, that almost drug the floor as he crawled along.

“Such a good boy.” Roman offered as Dominik made it to the landing, standing between both Finn and Rhea, “Isn’t the puppy so cute, boys?” He turned to give Solo, Jey and Jimmy a pointed stare. He assumed Paul had been in the business long enough to accept that some things just happened. Jey was the first to nod his head, before reaching his palm out and whistling, Dominik turned his head upward, looking at Rhea who made an affirmative noise, the boy crawled across the floor to push his leather snout into Jey’s waiting hands. Roman, internally, sighed in relief. At least one of his cousins understood.

“Can I pet him, too?” Jimmy asked, softly, fingertips already extended and inched forward to touch Dominik.

“Sure.” Rhea offered, “He’s really good.” She promised, “I’m going to get his snack, ok?” She looked at Damian who nodded his head, “Uh, just don’t play rough with him, he doesn’t like his ears or tail pulled, and if you're rubbing his side don’t press too hard on the left side his ribs are bruised from Mania.” 

“Of course.” Roman hummed, “We don’t want to hurt your puppy, do we lads?”

“Nope.” Solo offered, as he too moved to pet Dominik. Roman watched as the three ended up largely in the floor petting Dominik gently, Jey still rubbing his long hair, while Jimmy kept his palm largely trailing up and down Dominik’s spine (Roman would be willing to bet that Jimmy had experience with this, Roman had in fact met Naomi and the woman while crazy really liked cheetah print, and being on her knees). “Good boy, Dom.” Solo patted his head, “I’m going to listen to the meeting, ok?” Dom wagged his butt a little to give the illusion of his tail wagging.

Roman chuckled, as he stretched back out, “Come here, puppy.” He called softly, and watched as Dominik turned his head, snout first, long ears hitting him as he moved, to look at Roman, then he flicked his gaze to Damian.

“Go ahead,” Damian chuckled, “Rhea is making your snack, and we both know Roman is on your couch.”

Roman watched Paul reach out and run his fingers down Dominik’s spine as the boy hurriedly crawled toward Roman and then clambered onto the couch. Once Dominik was next to him, Roman adjusted so Dominik could rest his upper body across his lap, Roman immediately started scratching the boys head, letting his fingers tangle gently in Dominik’s hair. Roman cleared his throat, “What are we thinking about for Backlash? I already know where I am going for the Draft and I assume Rhea is aware?”

Rhea returned, to sit next to Roman, almost too close - he could feel the heat of her body against his side, as she smiled, “I know where I’m going, and where my boys are going. The real question is are they splitting you and Solo from the twins? And can I feed Dom his snack on your lap?” She held up a bowl full of strawberries and fresh cut fruit. 

“Go ahead.” Roman offered, and watched Rhea pull the first strawberry up and maneuver it into his mouth. “Alright, so Backlash?” The planning after that was relatively simple - they knew what was going on Backlash wise, and what they thought the Draft was going to be like for the rest of the crew. 

They’d largely wrapped up when Damian cleared his throat, “Dom Dom probably wants to play.” He checked his watch, “If anyone is interested?” He looked over the group, carefully.

Roman grinned, “I would love to watch you and Dom play, personally.” Then he remembered the room he was in, and looked toward the twins, Jimmy and Jey both were pitched forward, clearly interested in the turn of events, Solo looked like he might bolt, Paul, on the other hand, just shrugged his shoulders, unbothered. 

Damian’s smile stretched uncomfortably large, “Rhea, did Dom Dom get all his snacks?”

“He did.” She confirmed, with a huge smile, “Let me get his blanket.” She stood and handed Finn the bowl that she’d been feeding out of, Roman watched as the man headed back for the kitchen, only to return with a bottle of water, with a straw coming out of the top of it, he helped Dominik get a long drink, then backed off. Rhea returned with a large purple overstuffed blanket that looked soft and comfortable. Damian moved from his chair to kneel on the blanket even as Rhea tugged on Dominik’s ear softly. “Are you ready to play, Dom?” He looked up at her and wagged his butt again. 

Damian patted the blanket, “Come here boy,” Dom climbed down, which allowed Roman to move forward, resting his elbows on his knees, to watch closer. He snickered as Paul moved to drop onto the couch next to him. Finn had taken the seat Damian had vacated, Rhea now that Dominik was comfortably on the blanket, moved to sit on Finn’s lap. 

“What are the rules, can we pet him while you play?” Jey asked, breaking the silence that Roman had been reveling in, as Damain carefully positioned Dominik and ran his fingers over the boys’ long hair and down his back, to drag the palm of his hands over Dominik’s ass. 

That’s when it clicked for Roman, this was never the Judgment Day trying to show how much they trusted the Bloodline, this was them playing with power, showing him they knew who he was, they knew his dark secrets. He’d been caught out and had no Earthly idea how they’d figured out what he wanted most. This was the Judgment Day taunting him, and providing a blackmail avenue for themselves. 

Roman and Jey were the only two to move, both dropping into the floor to rub at Dominik’s shoulders and head, both offering encouragement to the pup. Damian, meanwhile, had pressed his large hands over Dominik’s thighs, and was squeezing them, as the boy squirmed in what Roman assumed was eager anticipation. Rhea and Finn moved to join the pile on the floor, with Rhea carefully unlacing the shorts Dominik had been wearing, Roman watched as they fell away, revealing that the tail was actually a plug, Roman licked his lips, he couldn’t help it. 

Damian waited for Finn to hand him something, then motioned for Roman closer, Jey meanwhile had settled in front of Dom, and was scratching at the base of his ears, where his natural hair overlapped the mask. Few men in life had made Roman jealous, but right now he wanted everything Priest was about to have. Damian nudged Dominik’s knees apart slightly, as Roman watched him gently pull on the base of the furry plug. Dominik let out a keening noise that had Rhea smirking as she bent toward Jey, only to kiss Dominik’s snout and whisper, “Be good for your Master, pupper, and I’ll let you have a special treat after.” That made his tail wag again, and by the look Rhea gave Dominik it was probably something Roman would have been more than interested in too.

Damian, meanwhile, was teasing the plug in and out of Dominik’s stretched hole, tantalizingly slow, slow enough that Roman could feel his mouth watering. Jimmy had moved to join his twin and Rhea, all three were rubbing all over Dominik’s back and stomach. “Ready, puppy?” Damian’s voice was honey, sticky sweet, and it made Roman’s spine tingle with want. He’d sort out his confusion over if he wanted to be Dominik or Damian at this moment, later, the show was about to get good. Damian pushed his own silky pajama pants down, revealing his hard cock. “Wanna be breed so bad, don’t you, pupper.” Damian cooed at him, affectionately. 

Roman, for his own sanity, was not going to wax poetic over Damian’s cock, although it was nice, about the same size as his, but thicker, and quite literally pretty. Instead, he was going to salivate over the glorious image that was Damian slowly inching the plug out of Dominik’s tight little hole. Roman would have savored the moment, maybe teased Dominik with his fingers or his tongue, but Damian did neither, instead he lined his cock up and pressed forward, Dominik whimpered, but seemed to press his hips backward toward Damian. 

“Don’t get impatient, pupper, wouldn’t want you to be a brat.” Roman said, evenly, not even realizing he might have over stepped something, Rhea shot him a look he couldn’t read, before she moved to kiss at Dominick's hips where Damian’s fingers were digging into Dominik’s flesh on the right side, while Finn was doing much the same on the left side. Jimmy and Jey were still rubbing at Dominik’s hair and snout, pressing kisses to his snout, and rubbing their hands over his shoulders and down his arms. Solo had pulled away from the group, with wide eyes and an expression of pure curiosity on his face. Roman spared him a second thought - perhaps Solo wasn’t aware that there was more to life than the vanilla world? 

Shrugging it off, he glanced back at Damian whose hips were now completely flush with Dominik’s ass.  Dominik it seemed, was content to be bred as Damian had suggested, Roman trailed his hand along Dominik’s side careful of his discolored skin from his bruised ribs, he had admittedly thought Dominik was cute for sometime - the boy was built different, and looked like someone worth snuggling up in a blanket and keeping safe and sound. It seemed like The Judgment Day had similar ideas about him. Damian slowly drug himself out of Dominik, only to plow back into the boy. Dominik let out a soft keening noise from the back of his throat, clearly pleased with all the attention he was getting. 

Roman was entranced, as he watched Damian - big, powerful, slightly terrifying but one hundred percent alphamale - fuck in and out of Dominik like it was his professional job. Rhea and Finn were both offering words of encouragement, both to Dominik and Damian, Paul had apparently decided to watch them with the expression of someone who had very little interest in the current proceedings. Dominik was exquisite. A thing of beauty really, all soft skin and smooth lines, his back arched just right and his whines turned more feral and desperate as Damian pushed into him harder, thrusting with enough force the younger man was jolted forward with each snap of Damian’s hips. 

“Rhea.” Damian’s voice held power and control, Roman’s own cock was half-hard and begging for his attention as he watched her shuffle forward to bend under Dominik’s body, Roman tilted down to watch her suck Dominik’s red weeping coco head into her mouth, as Finn’s fist coiled around his balls and tugged. Dominik let out a truly beautiful if not pitiful yelp, “Such a good puppy cumming just when told.” Rhea moved back out from under Dom and presented her open mouth to Damian first who smiled then to Roman, who was surprised to see that she hadn’t swallowed Dominik’s cum, instead she met Finn over the younger boys back in a sloppy kiss, to share his release. 

Damian hadn’t slowed his hips down and with the patient way that Dominik was taking the nearly violent thrust, Roman realized just how often this had to happen. “You can cum on him if you want.” Finn offered, his hand already down his shorts jacking himself off, Rhea had backed off a bit and was rubbing her hand over her upper thighs. Clearly waiting for something. Roman flicked his gaze over his cousins, Jimmy and Jey had apparently already been jacking off as both men gave him guilty looks, Solo however was hard in his shorts but sitting on his hands. Processing more than likely, Roman decided, even as he pushed his shorts down to rest under his balls. 

He didn’t expect Finn to catch his wrist and spit on his hand, but he’d take it - lubrication of any kind seemed idea as he moved to fist his dick at the same speed Damian was brutally fucking into Dominik with. Roman came quicker than he expected, his balls drawing up as Damian let out a growl of sorts and stopped his long thrust only to buck his hips once flush against Dominik’s ass in a sort of up-down motion, the boy had drool running down his snout, and his shoulders were shaking with exhaustion. Roman smiled as his cum splattered against the purple mesh and dark bruises on Dominik’s skin. 

Damian’s hips stilled, it took Roman by surprise how much care Damian put into sliding out of Dominik and pushing the tail plug back in place, the boy seemed to collapse onto the rug so Damian pulled his pants back up and bodily life’s Dominik so he could cradle the boy in the chair with him. Rhea and Finn moved to sit on either arm of the chair, all three petting Dominik’s still quivering form. 

Paul gave them a few minutes before he cleared his throat, “My tribal chief, Mr. Priest, sorry to interrupt more of what I am sure would be fantastic team bonding,” He turned to look at Roman, “But you have a afternoon meeting with Mr. Rhodes and I’m sure you would prefer to wear a suit to that.”

“Of course.” Roman agreed as he shakily stood, “Thank you for having us over and thank you for letting us play,” He rubbed Dominik’s head affectionately, “If you ever need a puppy sitter let us know.” He moved to walk away when Damian handed him a small flash drive. Roman raised an eyebrow at him. 

“It’s a helpful list, for people like us.” Damian said unbothered. “Safe places and rental properties.” Roman accepted the offer, a bit irritated. Obviously the Judgment Day had won this round, in a competition that he hadn’t been aware they were having. 

-/-

It always took Dominik a while to come out of either puppy or subspace but once he did there was a house rule that Damian, Rhea and Finn would explain what happened and how. This time he’d sort of drifted back into awareness with his head between Rhea’s spread thighs licking her beautiful cunt like a starving man. He didn’t mind, not really that was probably one of his favorite places to be, but his hazy memories of his drop always seemed to come back in static after his head started to clear. 

The after-Roman conversation. That’s what he’s going to refer to as the horrible discussion he and Damian had to suffer through after the meeting of the two factions, although Dominik is fairly sure they should have covered a lot more of exactly what they were doing in the before conversation. Damian had explained that the Bloodline were coming to visit them, he’d told Dominik how he thought Roman and at least Jey were inclined as they were (he had taken that to mean into kinks most normal people didn’t talk about) and that they were going to discuss the Draft and Backlash. Dominik hadn’t expected to be used as some sort of power play. 

Admittedly he was flattered that he had power over Roman and his boys at least outside of the ring. He spent most of the afternoon pouting until Rhea inched into bed with him, “We wouldn’t have done anything to hurt you, you know that?” He nodded with his head still under the covers, “Damian would never put us in harms way. Not you and me. He might sacrifice Finn but we are his babies.” She patted her approximation of his head, “You did so good, Dominik and you honestly gave us our first leg up on the Bloodline. All those boys are married and the approximation of perfect households.” Rhea hummed, “You know how much fun we have with Damian, it’s an itch we can’t scratch anywhere else. It’s leverage baby.” She promised as he slowly inched out of the blanket to look at her, “You made us all proud today, and Roman? He wanted to be you.” 

That made the twisted upset inside of Dominik subside. Rhea was right. Damian would never let anything happen to him or Rhea that would hurt them in their careers, physically or emotionally. 

[ncytiri]

OC TAG GAME

tagged by: @nuclearstorms, thank you bones!!! 💗 tagging: anyone who has ocs they want to talk about! please tag me if you do because i wanna read about yours!! template by @sehyune / picrew

✦ favorite oc

zafira al-sentinel (skyrim)

all of my ocs are so dear to me but i think if i had to pick one, it would be zafira <3 she is one of my oldest too (i think this year she will be maybeeeee 6 years old?) because i have been playing with variations of her since my junior year of high school so she is like a true day one :') she is such a sweetheart and loves helping people and loves animals!!! she's sort of a reluctant hero and didn't really wanna be dovahkiin but realized she could use her powers for good :')))

✦ newest oc

jang mi-cha (fallout 3)

i recently started playing fallout 3 for the first time since it came out??? because i rmr playing it when i was like 8 and being way too scared by it KSDLFKJS so i figured to give it another shot! so this is ms. mi-cha!! my lone wanderer and for my playthrough, she is half korean, half black (going off of the fact that catherine's game model is black which i never knew until i started going through the fallout wiki!) and she is a lil smartypants <3 and OFC she's bi (she dated amata when they were young teens but realized they were better as friends and they were each others first kisses!!)

✦ oldest oc

refer to the seventh question because i realized mara is in fact my oldest oc but i didn't wanna rewrite that here so yeah! see mara's info down there 🫶

✦ meanest oc

this is crazy i don't actually have a true mean oc... i can't help but make nice characters 😔 he doesn't count since he isn't my oc but i do play around with miraak from skyrim and he is such an asshole but he's my little asshole <3

✦ softest oc

deon cameron (state of decay 2)

MY SWEET BOYYYYY (i say abt a 25 year old man), deon is definitely the softest oc i have so far, he is the second in command, later the leader, of my first community in state of decay 2, the fragments! he took over the position after his best friend (and crush) max's mental health started to decline as a result of stuff he had to do as warlord (a subclass of hero in sod2) :( he is a very kind hearted man, always wanting what is best for the settlement and as a trader hero, he established a trading outpost at their homebase allowing for traders from around the region to come and trade! he also looooves animals and specialized in pathology to help create more plague samples and became one of the settlement's main medics! he is a very busy man but he doesn't care what is thrown his way, as long as it means that the settlement and the valley is safe!!

✦ most aloof/standoffish oc

venus (cyberpunk 2077)

it comes as no surprise as someone who was once embroiled in arasaka's innerworkings and coming from a family who was thoroughly involved in arasaka business would be standoffish but after being backstabbed by a higher up in a botched assassination attempt on another higher up and having everything she had worked so hard to earn taken away in the blink of an eye, it's no wonder that venus is the way she is :/ but don't let her steely expression and sharp words get to you too much, once you crack through her touch outer shell, you will find a woman who wants nothing more than to be loved and trusted :/ she rly does have a heart of gold tho, she kept it quietly but when she was still employed at arasaka, a small chunk of her paycheck went towards a school for inner city kids to help fund their educations and provide teachers with supplies 💗

✦ dumbest (affectionate) oc

mara sanchez (saints row 2)

i mean. if you have seen saints row 2 in any way, either played it or watched a playthrough of it, you will see how much of a dumb (affectionate) game it is 😭 i believe mara is my oldest oc omg... this bitch has been with me for 10+ years?? that's actually so crazy to think abt omg... anywho, mara is the boss of the third street saints and is genuinely one unserious women. she is fashionable as hell and likes to appear a professional, well kept lady but she is anything but 💀 has been caught streaking multiple times on the beach during a night out with her crew, once got stuck hanging out the side of a helicopter during a mission with her underwear on full display, advertises open house free weed "tastings" at the university district apartment, joined a coed curling team at the university when she was younger for the hell of it... just a very unserious woman

✦ smartest oc

xolia vene (star wars) and jang mi-cha (fallout 3)

i already mentioned mi-cha being a smart lady in her section but i felt i would mention her here once more <3 and ms. xolia my beloved... she is a benefactor for the resistance in my sequel trilogy rewrite and i can't decide whether i want her to run a nice nightclub or be like an art gallery curator that is able to shuffle money around without suspicion... but yes! she was orphaned as a young child and taken in by a wealthy family from naboo who later saw their oldest child become the senator of naboo and xolia sort of followed in her sister's footsteps during her teenage years, shadowing her and learning the inner workings of the galactic senate. she is a very attentive and smart woman and i love her dearly 💓

✦ oc you'd be best friends with irl

vernon (cyberpunk 2077)

VERNONNNNN named after vernon from the kpop group seventeen and also inspired by vernon himself! he is a nomad and just such a little comedian, even though he is a pretty quiet guy! like when he is in the right atmosphere, around the right people, he will be the absolute life of the party. he is a major cat lover and is looking to adopt whatever cat he might stumble upon in night city. i think vernon and i would get along super well for all of these reasons but specifically the part abt being cat lovers!

[megafreeman]

So, remember how I mentioned I'll do Saints Row reboot as a sequel to SRTT instead of a full reboot? Well I decided to make a whole list of what leads to the start of SRR. It serves more-so as a sequel to my unfinished fanfic Rose of Stilwater. Putting it under a read more cause its long.

First to establish the epilogue of Rose of Stilwater (which I won't even finish at this point lol). Its spoilers so don't read if you actually wanna hope I finish it one day. SPOILERS: Luchadores end up being selfish, Bloodhounds back off their partnership, Luchadores kill Anabelle, which triggers Bloodhounds allying with the Saints, after the Luchadores are defeated they became pretty much part of the Saints, as Saints ascent into a criminal empire approach similar to the Syndicate (basically Bloodhounds are what Luchadores are to Syndicate). Diesel, being a champion of Stilwater's Fight Club, gets offered by Lina to be Ultor's wrestling champion after they've been pestering her to start a wrestling career cause of the SRTT's Murderbrawl mission, and he moves to Steelport to manage his career from there, and runs Bloodhounds 2 from Saintfied Three Count, while Arron runs Bloodhounds 1 in Stilwater. Fuego betrays the Saints in favor for macho luchadores and ends up getting killed by hardened Rose at the end of the fic after learning how to be a proper ruthless leader. End spoiler.

Actual important details of epilogue: Saints become a criminal empire, getting split into Stilwater Saints and Steelport Saints. Stilwater Saints are led by SR1 Playa/SR2&TT Boss Lina after her return from Steelport adventures (who also runs THE empire, basically Saints Phillipe Loren), while Steelport Saints are lead by Viola after she proved to be trustworthy and capable leader in SRTT. Ryan leaves the Stilwater PD after realizing they don't care about the community and only care about filling reports, and that the Saints benefit the community a lot more.

Now actually stuff related to this AU

In 2016, after successfully stopping Cyrus' terrorist attack, Lina decided to run for President, she leaves the leadership of Stilwater Third Street Saints in Rose's hands after she proved herself in the fanfic.

In 2017, when Lina got inaugurated officially into White House, Rose took over the Saints full time and started running it with no limits.

Saints partnership with Ultor gets rocky as they ran out of stars to push Saints-Ultor Media group with. They wanted to make Rose into a star, but she refuses, breaking the cycle.

As Ultor are desperate trying to find new stars within the Saints, they slowly start becoming Ultor's moneypit as the profits starts stalling and a lot of projects had to be cancelled due to Lina's presidency.

They decide to instead hire Saints for a covert operation, they invite Rose to a meeting and ask her to sneak into their biggest rival's platoon, as they suspect that they have been stealing prototypes from them.

They specifically ask Rose because Ultor has been trying their hardest to stay clear from Santo Ileso after the 2001 union busting "accident". (I feel the need to note that this is an actual SRR canon) They needed an outsider, and nothing catchy for press to make headlines out of.

Ryan comes with Rose. He's bored of guard duty and wanted to see some action. He argues that he'd be great at it because of his experience as the undercover cop.

Ultor gives them fake identities with proper paperwork for them and a job to sneak into Marshall as their grunts. They are applied for their boot camp, which is where the two meet Sebastian and hit off with him.

They're provided housing by Ultor, where they're given an apartment suite in Poseidon's Palace in El Dorado, which is owned by one of Ultor's shell companies. (thought of this because Poseidon's is owned by Ultor in SR2, so this makes it a franchise owned by the same company)

This is where they story starts but here are a few more details. They get hired to work in the museum with Sebastian, but the whole security team gets laid off after the Hummingbird Codex is stolen. During the Networking mission, Sebastian reaches out to Ryan and Rose, who are desperately trying to figure out how to get back in Marshall without reporting their failure to Ultor (Saints-Ultor, and therefore Saints biggest moneymaker was on the line), and asks them to join the Saints. They figured, they could at least destroy the Marshall if anything.

Sebastian, who named Saints after Third Street Saints (massive fanboy), actually doesn't know they're Third Street Saints until mid game plot twist reveals it.

Game ends with Saints being merged into Saints Empire, and becomes Santo Ileso Saints alongside Stilwater Saints and Steelport Saints. Despite this, they have full reign over Saints activity in the west coast.

[jodilin65]

MONDAY, DECEMBER 31, 2012 This is the third or fourth day in a row that I woke up with a scratchy throat that takes hours to go away. What the hell is causing it?

Since what may very well be menopause has set in, diet and exercise haven’t been doing me much good, but I’m going to give it another shot to see if I can get results. If not, then I guess I will just have to accept that my weight is going to stay where it’s at or continue to climb. Really hope it doesn’t keep climbing. Again, I’m doing this for comfort and health reasons and not for appearances. The heavier I am, the less flexible I am.

I used to get a few messages and comments on Facebook a week. Now I get much more than a few in a day. So if I forget to answer them all, don’t think I’m ignoring you!

Well, I think that’s pretty much it for the year, so happy new year everyone!

LMAO!!! Carla had me laughing my ass off so hard when she told me this one. Love the name Snowbelle for a rat, too.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 30, 2012 Tammy left an 8-minute message (I can’t believe it let her ramble that long) telling me stuff I pretty much already know, but nothing bad. She said the girls would like to have an aunt in their lives and reach out to me and all that shit and would like it if I reached out to them little by little like Etta, their other aunt, reached out to them. However, they were a bit hurt over my bashing Bill in my blog. She said they totally understood my ill feelings for him, were old enough to know he was/is no saint, and understood that my journal is a place for expressing myself, etc. However, I don’t have a problem with not mentioning him, and I told all 3 of them this. I’ve already said what I have to say about him anyway.

Although I’ll never forgive Bill, even if he didn’t realize the full extent of the consequences of his actions, I believe what happened was destined to be as sick, wrong, cruel, and as unfair as it was. If it weren’t for Bill, God would have used someone else to take the welfare bums by the hand and lead them to our door. Still… if he does croak of cancer I’ll be sure to keep my delight out of public for a while. I also won’t get involved in current family disputes (with them and Lisa) or take sides cuz that’s how trouble starts. Not that they asked me to or anything like that. I’m sorry they’re not getting along, but it’s got nothing to do with us just like my ill feelings (and I told the girls this) for Bill has nothing to do with them.

Lastly, not to take it personally that tech issues or not I’m just not a phone person. It’s much easier to keep in touch online.

The girls said they understood.

Tammy also mentioned having - I think she said Internet issues and not computer issues - and I was surprised at first. Then it hit me that if she’s out in the boonies too, she may have the same kind of shitty DSL we have. The net was down here for 2½ hours and we didn’t think it was going to come back, so Tom fine-tuned the antennae by throwing it on the roof and switched us to the hotspot. We’d drop AT&T and do the hotspot full-time if it weren’t so expensive. We could afford it, but it would eat into our savings and we don’t want that. The net did come back on, though.

What I didn’t tell her was that I’m indifferent to whether or not she and the girls remain in my life, as there are pros and cons to both. People do come and go throughout our lives and one does get used to it. This doesn’t mean I wouldn’t feel bad, though, if Becky fell down and broke her leg or something.

She hasn’t had time to start her journal yet, she said, and I guess Becky does have to have eye surgery, which sucks.

Strange thinking how Tammy was just a breath away from ultimately ending up as siblingless as she is parentless when Tom and I nearly offed ourselves to save us from the streets. But we were the ones to survive in the end, and now I just hope that God’s giving Mom in the afterlife what she deserves cuz He sure as hell didn’t give it to her here.

Here’s the best news. She talked to Walter and “coincidently,” considering what my vibes and dreams have been telling me as far as getting more than just a few grand goes, she said she really believes I’ll get a good amount of money. Well, anything would help with getting a nicer place, but I still don’t want to assume anything, no matter what my vibes and dreams may say till I actually see anything. Meanwhile, Walter’s wrapping up the final business deals and paperwork and all that stuff.

I’ve been having a feeling of major change coming in April too, but don’t know what kind of change. I’d love to think that’s when we’ll move, but that seems awfully soon.

Tammy’s been kind enough to ID the “dead bodies,” or mostly dead ones in the super old family pics that I uploaded to FB. For now, they’re visible only to her until she finishes identifying everyone for me. I know who most of them are, though.

Seems Nana and Pa got the house next to us sooner than I realized. I thought it was built around the time ours was and that we all moved in at the same time. But there’s a picture of both my grandparents with Mom, Dad, and either baby Larry or Tammy. Well, Papa Joe died before I was born, so they had to have been there since at least the 50s.

Tom’s now thinking he had a stomach bug and that that’s why he puked last night and not because he overate. This makes more sense because while he may get carried away at times, especially on weekends, I’ve never known him to eat too fast and too much till it actually made him puke.

My boobs were sore yesterday and I thought I’d be getting a period, something I’m not entirely against with all the water retention I’ve been experiencing, but now they’re not that sore and I don’t know what to think. Menopause? A fluky month? Something else?

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 28, 2012 Poor Tom. He woke up and had to puke. He said he was so hungry when he got home that he ate so fast that he didn’t realize when he was full.

Let’s see… what can I bitch about? It’s what I do best and I’m damn good at it. Well, It really bothers me to see headlines about searching for missing people of color. Can’t they just search for missing PEOPLE and leave it at that? Why must there always be labels and favoritism? Reverse discrimination isn’t any more okay than discrimination. While people have been so busy favoring those of color they haven’t been able to see how much people are shitting on gays and whites. Or maybe they don’t want to. Maybe it’s just too scary to accept that most of today’s claims of discrimination are fabricated either out of spite or to get ahead.

Yet people will go on looking for these missing people of color without being called the racists that they in a sense truly are, while no one would hesitate for a millisecond to call whites that if the headline said they were looking for missing whites.

Poor Mary. She just got her new Windows computer 4 months ago and already has a nasty virus that destroyed a lot of her stuff. I told her to go Mac and someone else agreed, saying they haven’t had any problems since. Windows is simply made differently than Apple products. Windows has so many security issues and loopholes that allow others to get at your computer and your stuff that Apple is pretty damn good about. Repair people will always bash Macs and say they’re just as susceptible to viruses because they know that the more people that go Mac won’t be coming back to them for service.

I hated it at first as I’m like most people who hate change. After getting used to doing things a certain way for so many years, I fought tooth and nail until my Google blog and Gmail email account were hacked and someone actually got into my computer to do God only knew what. Once you get used to it you will see it’s not that different than Windows. So you close things by clicking a red dot in the upper left corner instead of an x in the upper right corner. A part of me will always miss Windows as that’s all I ever knew for so long, but I love how they don’t need to do updates as often since there are fewer security breaches, can be left on all the time, boot-up time is so much quicker if you do need to restart after installing new software/hardware, and the OS upgrades are cheaper.

I love the new scanner! The software it came with is wonderful, too. Got a couple hundred or so pics scanned already, but have hundreds more to go. I started with the old pics, then my parents and the beautiful place they lived in while I was struggling in the slums. Andy’s been cracking me up with all the funny comments he left.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 27, 2012 It’s weird how Mom, Dad, and Larry died almost on the same day of the months they died, the 22nd, 23rd and 24th. Just like 3 of us were born almost on the same days, 4th, 5th, 6th. Tammy and I will have to watch our backs on the 21st since the dates seem to be going backward.

Still getting backaches in my middle back, but not as much. I don’t think it has to do with the new mattress, though. This is a high-quality mattress and not the right kind of backache that normally comes with bad mattresses. The old mattress used to give me backaches in my very lower back. Besides, it’s been too long. This mattress is actually continuing to amaze me with just how comfortable it is. I just hate the hotness that the memory foam topper brings. At the same time, memory foam is so much more durable than regular foam.

Tom and I were discussing a problem we never thought we’d live to have, trying not to make too much money. He estimates that next year he’s going to make so damn much that he’ll fall into a particular tax bracket that could cause us to lose quite a bit of it. He explained to me that there’s this old, ancient setup that they never fixed where if you spill just over into the next tax bracket you could lose about a grand and it’s like you’re working for nothing at the very end of the year since it all has to go to taxes. So the way around it is to plow more money into the 401K. Our checks will be a little smaller that way, but not significantly. It’s better than losing it to schools we never had any kids attend, roads we’ll never drive on, hospitals we’ll never be in, welfare bums and other countries.

Upon reading back on the hell we went through for months trying to get into the Maricopa house with the way the well driller and so many others kept fucking things up and just all kinds of shit, CLEARLY something did NOT want us living there. I mean, it was just so, so obvious. The signs were there all along and it’s not like I’m only realizing this just now. I knew something up there didn’t want us leaving Phoenix or getting a nice house. It was like it WANTED us to stay with the welfare bums next door and all the chaos that was going on there, and it wanted us to live in old dumps. The Phoenix house wasn’t as dumpy as the house we rented in Oregon, though, and this trailer isn’t as dumpy as the Oregon house.

Just wondering if, in a whole different way, something’s going to be against us owning our own place again and determined to try to stop us and send all kinds of curveballs our way. The house won’t be nearly as nice, though, and its nearest neighbors are going to be a few feet away, not a few hundred.

Well, the God that has hated me since the day I was born can hate me all He wants along with whatever else is up there, and they all may feel this is all we deserve, but we don’t. And we WILL get out of here someday and we WILL live where we want and it will NOT be taken away from us until and if we decide to sell it.

Two friends of mine have complained of nightmares (Andy and Alison) and I’ve been experiencing the same thing. I seem to have nothing but very sad, scary and negative dreams.

Some German guy wanted to rape and kill me, but let me go unharmed when he realized I could speak some of his ugly language.

In another, I didn’t seem to know Tom and my parents were still alive. I took a clutch with me to a club. In the clutch was over a grand in cash meant for the month’s expenses. I placed it down on the counter where I ordered a drink, turned around for a second, and then discovered that the clutch was gone. I woke up in a panic, trying to decide if I should run to my parents for help or just kill myself.

In another dream, Tom and I rented a luxury apartment. We’d never rent an apartment, luxurious or not, but the apartment was so beautiful that I truly loved it. A couple of people who worked at the place were with me, offering to help unpack. I said no thanks, and that Tom could help once he got back from wherever he was. Then I said, “Hey, do you ever sell any of these units? If the neighbors can be civilized and not bang doors, cabinets, stomp, blast music and TVs and all the shit they usually do, I just may be interested in owning one of these places.”

They say we dream of our fears, and the stolen purse is actually kind of common for me. I mostly dream of poverty and being held places against my will.

It’s frustrating when trolls pick on the innocent, but it becomes funny when they pick on each other. I don’t think Molly is picking on Kim since Kim likes to hide, but she sure is picking on Molly, LOL. Kim first pretended to be others on Ask, including “Tia,” and then she was actually herself on MO – OMG! – trying to get Molly to buddy up with her. Same old whiny crap she’d give me – why are you deleting my comments? I’m trying to be nice to you.

So then Kim does go to MO after all. But does she only go to trackless pages there, or is she disabling cookies?

It’s Kim’s refusal to change and lack of concern for others that confirms in my mind that dumping her was the right thing to do. She was/is just too dishonest and too crazy. So much so that I honestly think she’s beyond change. Probably doesn’t even want to change. She is positively devoid of shame, guilt, remorse, empathy, compassion or self-respect. Obviously, she hates herself tremendously. Why else would she pretend to be someone else most of the time? And why else would she pay so much attention to those who don’t like her? Because that’s all she feels she deserves, obviously, or else she’d wipe the slate clean and start afresh by making new friends. Friends that are either just as fucked as she is or that don’t mind her lies, her bullshit, her delusions and her endless banter all about her favorite subject – herself and her dumb-ass stories that make little sense at all. No wonder so many of Kim’s own family members dumped her on Facebook like she once told me they did. They obviously were embarrassed to be associated with her once they realized they were being impersonated or some crazy shit like that.

Can people like Kim ever feel a sense of guilt? How about embarrassment for their behavior? Can they feel that? I don’t know what disgusts and sickens me more, women who get off on abuse, or those who get off on trying to befriend those who don’t want to even talk to them, let alone be friends with them.

Why are my nieces all, “RIP Uncle Larry?” I thought they hated the guy for the shit he supposedly said to their mother. And again, what’s with Sarah’s claim of never having an aunt and with Tammy saying their aunt Etta never cared about them? She seems rather concerned about them from what I can tell.

Later…

I can kind of understand why a woman may sometimes gravitate toward abusive men. But I don’t get one single bit why some people choose to follow those that dislike them. Why would anyone want to surround themselves with people who simply don’t give a shit about them? Kim said the dream I had about her that I shared (although made up) wasn’t funny – and I know it was her – so I just wonder why she tunes in every single day to a blog that isn’t “funny.”

I asked Tom if he thought the spirits of the dead, if they really do exist, could influence the living. Could my mother and brother bring harm my way? Could Anna bring good? He said he wouldn’t worry about my mother or brother doing anything bad, using serial killers as an example. If spirits could do bad things, he said, then the spirits of those they killed would lash out at them before they could get to 10, 11, or 12 killings.

He has a point there. Also, good spirits would have all their loved ones win the lottery or something like that. So I agree with him in that there could be subtle influences, but nothing major. I just hope that not too many negative “subtle influences” start occurring as things like that have a way of adding up.

Finally had some spotting earlier, so maybe I will get a period again after all. I figured I would eventually.

The new scanner and second air cleaner arrived today. I’m looking forward to scanning in tons of pics throughout the night. Gonna ultimately share them on FB and maybe I’ll throw some in my blogs or on Ask here and there as well. I doubt most people would find them very exciting. They’re mostly old family pics.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 26, 2012 I’d just gotten up after working online all night and saw that I had a voice message from Tammy. My first thought was that if she were asking me to call her again, I would simply scream. Tech issues or not, I hate it when people try to get me to do things I’m just not into doing. But then I remembered that I did tell her to decorate my machine with all the VMs she wants since she’s not big on typing.

Anyway, she didn’t call to ask that I call her. Instead, she called to tell me Larry died last Saturday on the 22nd. He would have been 59 next month. I guess Norma called to break the news to Tammy who was a bit hurt that we weren’t mentioned in the obituary, but as I told her, that’s fine with me. I wouldn’t have mentioned him in mine, and siblings aren’t mentioned half the time anyway. It’s usually spouses, parents, kids and grandkids that are mentioned as opposed to siblings, cousins and that sort of thing.

Although I can think of a few instances where my brother really pissed the shit out of me to the point that yes, I did wish he would drop dead a few times, I have spent most of my life rather indifferent toward him or toward what he may have felt for me. I know he never really gave a shit about me. That was no secret. Larry didn’t care about most people. Being 12 years older and two very different people with two very different lives, we basically regarded each other as strangers. He had a good sense of humor but was otherwise a very selfish and insensitive person from what little I did see and know of him. He lived for weed and sex with young girls more than he seemed to live for anything else.

To say there was a curse on his children is an understatement! They lost Sarah a month before she was born when Sandy was in a car accident in 1982, and then his teenage son died when they were on the road together in 1997.

He wasn’t an abusive parent in the way our parents were but I often felt bad for Sandy and Jennifer. First he was always on the road when he was driving, then he made his wife and daughter seem like second best when his son died and then abandoned them altogether for Stefanie, a child-woman with God only knows what kind of daddy issues.

Although undoubtedly poisoned against me, I also feel bad for his wife (yeah, they did get hitched in the end) and newborn Jason. To be widowed at just 21 has got to be rough. And there I was thinking it a shame that the kid probably wouldn’t be out of college when his dad died. Now he won’t even be out of diapers. Instead, he is left with a mother that’s too young and who knows what problems he may’ve inherited from his dead father.

Loss is loss whether it’s assholes you’ve lost or not. Still, Anna’s passing hit me much harder than the others. I hope she will keep them away from us if their spirits could possibly bring any harm our way. I wonder if I’m next, but as Tom said, if we are, you can’t change destiny. We don’t think so, though, as we’re both healthy. My parents and Larry weren’t. Even Andy’s not worried and pointed out that I’m healthy. He talked to Judy too, who said to give her condolences.

If it’s true that we meet up with loved ones in the afterlife, Mom and Dad are going to be in for a real WTF? moment when they find their son has come to join them so soon after they died.

Tom says death happens in threes, though I’ve never heard that. I’ve heard that bad things happen in threes, but not death. It makes me wonder, though. Especially since I did lose 3 grandparents relatively close to each other. One died when I was 17 and the others when I was 19, just 6 months apart.

Anyway, and like I told Tammy, at least she doesn’t have to clean up after him, so to speak, and deal with his send-off. This one’s going in the ground, though, not to the toaster.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 25, 2012 “Tia” returned the account to me since I got bored with her. Even Andy agreed it was this boring persona I’d taken on just for the trolls, which as usual, didn’t end up doing me any good. All it did was make them curious about Tia instead of causing them to lose interest altogether. Besides, I missed being able to be myself.

Tammy and Mark left a nice message wishing us a very merry Christmas and a happy New Year.

I hope Harry, my Italian dad, gets my letter by the end of the week like he should.

Tom set up the hotspot by hanging the antennae by a tree outside, and while it’s way faster, it still cuts in and out like crazy. Maybe someday we will get to have the things that so, so many people take for granted every single day of their lives.

He also replaced the washer on the tub’s hot water faucet which I’m sure will need replacing every other week while we’re still here.

The drain was starting to get a bit sluggish, but when I blasted it with the plunger it was fine.

It’s still hard to believe I can eat painlessly on both sides of my mouth. It is so nice, though! But as I’ve said before, I seem to trade problems rather than just solve them. So now that I’ve fixed my teeth I worry I’ll be in for something new. Fortunately, we’ll be insured this time around even though neither of us needs any new problems. Funny, though, how menopause or whatever it is set in not even a month after getting the new bridge, though that hardly counts as a “problem.”

The rats are so damn funny with the way they run up to me when I enter the living room. They run up to the top level, closest to where I am, in hopes of me petting them and giving them treats.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 24, 2012 I’m a bit worried about Tom right now because he’s been so damn rundown. We first attributed this to all the OT, and of course he’s still getting over a cold and all that, but he agrees he’s got to get tested at some point to see if his iron levels are off. He had other testing upon getting hired on permanently that went well, but I always worry about him anyway. I’ve seen enough unfairness in this world and countless times where evil is blessed while good is cursed. I just worry God will think he’s “too good” to remain healthy or that He’ll want to take His anger for me out on Tom. What better way to get at someone you don’t like than to take it out on their loved ones?

Once I got with Tom there was no looking back and I could never imagine life without him just as many parents say they can’t imagine life without their kids once they’ve had them. So, if he goes, I go, and I don’t care how many offers I may get from those who love me enough not to mind my sleep disorder/schedule and who would feel that my doing the cleaning and laundry would be enough of a payback for giving me food and shelter, along with my love and friendship.

But I am sure my if-he-goes-I-go decision would be over one’s head unless they have truly loved and been loved by someone unconditionally other than a parent or something like that, just like those who have been quick to tell me “Well, this happened to you because of blah, blah, blah…” or “That happened because of this or that,” as if they witnessed the experience through my eyes and lived it right along with me, actually had no idea what the hell they were even talking about. Or at least not all the facts anyway. Nonetheless, I’m Tom’s wife. I’m the one that’s lived with him for nearly 20 years now. So only I can truly understand the bond we have just like we’re the only ones who can know and understand what happened with the Phoenix freeloaders, what it’s really like to have my kind of sleep disorder/birth defect, and what it was like to be a ward of the state with parents like Art & Doe O. I can tell you about it and try to describe feelings and experiences, but just like I recently said as far as researching life in Pakistan goes for my book, research and hearsay can never truly make up for living and experiencing something firsthand.

As for me, I used to bitch I was 80% - 90% PMS and just 10% - 20% period, but now I’m 100% PMS and 0% period. My back aches, I have enough water to fill a swimming pool with, and I worry I’m going to gain an endless amount of weight no matter what I do. Tom gave me a back massage earlier but it’s aching again. I’ll pop an Aleve if it gets that annoying. At least I’ve only had one bad ear spell since my dental bridge was put in on my birthday.

Later…

Really getting sick of Tammy’s “call me!” obsession. Again I had to stress to her when she wanted me to call so she, Mark and the girls could talk to both of us, about why we needed to wait till we move. Besides, with a cell phone, we’d have to keep passing it back and forth. We’ll definitely all chat when we get out of here but even then, as I told her, don’t expect me to gab for an hour or two every few days.

She said she’s got a diary on my-diary, but again she failed to give me a link. When she’s done playing with me she’ll give it to me. Unless she’s using a different name, none of the Tammys I searched for there seem to be her. Gotta laugh at the thought of her giving up on MO. I guess it was just too over her head.

It’s too soon to say how long it will last, but the trolls really seem to think “Tia” is for real. I hate not being able to be myself and I hate having to watch what I ask Andy and how I answer him, but I want to do it a while longer till the trolls HOPEFULLY get sick of hanging around to see if I’ve returned.

I haven’t been into the role-playing thing, and pretending to be someone I’m not, no matter how ordinary and boring the truth may be, for many years now. I miss being able to really get into that sort of thing and a part of me wishes I could really get myself to actually believe I’m whoever I’m pretending to be and whoever I’m pretending to be with, wherever we may be, so long as I could snap back out of it the instant I wanted to.

Got a royalty payment from UK book sales but it doesn’t compare to the mad money Tom’s making with all the OT.

I know I’ve said this a million times already but I am sooo sick of living here and being well-to-do people living like they’re still poor. I can’t wait for the holidays to be done and over with so we can really get a move on trying to move. The plumbing problems, leaks, Internet and phone issues are driving me batshit crazy! The MagicJack phone is sitting here going to waste and I still don’t want to buy minutes for the cell, whether we could afford them or not, to tell people the same things I can tell them online. The cell is just for urgent things.

The shower’s leaking again and this time I worry it’s the hot water side. I don’t care about Jesse’s water, but I care about our propane. Like it or not we may have to get him down to fix things right after the New Year. I guess we were just meant to be the ones to have to deal with him replacing all this old shit so the next people in here can have an easier life.

Sugar is turning out to be the smallest rat we’ve ever had. Not sure why, but he seems healthy. I just went out to see if they wanted to go to the “massage parlor” but they’re sleeping. We have this new thing now where I place my hands in the cage and wiggle my fingers. They then come up and press themselves against my fingers for a massage. Of course Romeo still loves to nip and try to drag my hand across the cage by my finger, LOL.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 23, 2012 I’m totally fucking with the troll’s heads on Ask right now, but so far it’s only Molly that’s responded to it and not Kim.

Andy posted a profile pic there of a sexy guy and all of a sudden he’s getting more questions. The truth is so boring that you gotta stretch the truth a little, he said, and I told him I considered doing that in my blog, but just couldn’t bring myself to deceive people like that.

That’s different, he said, and after thinking about it I realized he’s got a point. There is a difference between blogging and clowning around on Ask and so I let “Tia” go and “borrow” my account for a while, claiming that I was sick of all the glitches there. That much is damn true.

“Why do you post pics of other people?” Molly first asks. And “How could you have met without starting you own blog?” she also asked after I said I was a 26-year-old student with a BF from San Francisco (changed my profile pic too, to a random young black chick). I told her I was browsing the site and found Jodi’s blog, but hadn’t yet started one of my own due to being busy.

Then, sure enough, I get: This is Molly. Do you think Jodi misses me?

I played the dumb card to that one and said I didn’t know who she was since Jodi and I talk about things like writing and music and supernatural experiences as opposed to whom we know. LOL

It’s raining like crazy now. I slept all day, but Tom says it’s rained for most of the day.

Wish I had more to say, but I’m pretty up-to-date at the moment. It was a peaceful, laid-back weekend and it was nice to see Tom get caught up on much-needed sleep. He’s now mostly over his cold.

Couple more weeks and we can really step up the action as far as finding out if we can get out of here anytime soon, or if we already are where we’re meant to be. Well, I’m not plowing 5K - 10K into dressing up someone else’s place that they may decide to turn around and sell if they think we’ve added enough value to it. That much I do know!

My messages to Nane and Alison are appearing as read on Facebook, yet oddly enough I haven’t heard from them. I’m sure it’s just another glitch. No site seems to be able to do without them.

Maybe more than Molly did respond, the more I think about it and study the questions I was asked. Molly spelled my name as Jodi, but someone spelled it as jody. I’ve known Kim to spell it as jodi.

Aly playing games? I noticed one of my messages appeared to be read by her the other day and she said it must’ve been a glitch cuz it was her first time there all day.

Today I noticed that each of the 3 messages I sent her appeared as read shortly after I sent them, and then they switched to unread like she would read them as they came in and then mark them as unread. Damn, if I can’t trust Aly then whom can I trust?

Although… Nane’s messages are also appearing as read. Well, it’s unusual for her to check in on Sundays and not post something and send a quick message while she’s at it, so I don’t know what to think. I can’t look and see if Aly’s online because she says she remains hidden to avoid a friend who likes to chat, and of course Nane’s always hidden, too.

Still can’t help but wonder at times who’s kidding who.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 22, 2012 Sarah posted a poorly written client rant, saying she was their hairstylist and not there to listen to anyone’s sex life. It’s almost scary how much she writes and sounds like her mother. Fortunately, though, neither niece seems to be interested in gabbing with me, so I don’t think either of them will become pests or anything like that, which is good since I still want to be friendly without being friends, so to speak. I don’t know about Becky, but I’m sure Sarah would join her mom in becoming a real online nightmare for me if the DQ and I ever became enemies again. I can totally picture her calling and letting Larry have it just like Tammy said she did, whether he deserved it or not.

Ask is having another wave of tech issues, but as frustrated as Andy and I are over it, we’re reluctant to move to Formspring. It’d be nice to throw some unwanted company off my scent, but Formspring really sucks shit. It’s totally NOT what it used to be.

Tammy said that dealing with our parents dying and having to run back and forth between Florida and Connecticut was the worst 10 months of her life. This inspired me to share my 3 worst experiences in life, though those of you who know me well should know what they are and what order they come in.

If you don’t know me well, you probably think jail ranks #1. Wrong. That’s actually the third-worst time of my life.

Well, then Valleyhead was the worst moment, right? Wrong again. VH is runner-up. It was even worse than jail because it was so damn structured. So as funny as I know it may sound, I had more freedom in jail than in that damn so-called private school, which the FBI FINALLY shut down.

The worst time of my life was when my husband and I were so sure that life would kill us if we didn’t take our lives first. In jail and VH, my sanity may’ve been on the line, but my survival wasn’t.

I still have a lot of anger – a LOT of anger – toward my own country/government for more than that huge scare and for stopping our benefits BEFORE Tom could find a job. To think that my own people could take care of others before taking care of their own makes me absolutely sick to my stomach. I tremble with rage at just how twisted and unfair life can be.

Jesus, just minutes after allowing for anonymous questions (I knew it was too early to do so), I get: What do you do if you want to talk to someone who doesn’t want to talk to you?

Kim obviously wants me to know it’s her, just not from an account I can block. Could’ve been Molly, though it’s obviously one or the other. I answered: I talk to someone who does.

Does it really take a genius to figure out that this would be the solution and the best way to handle that?

Absolutely NO more journal entries for Maliheh unless she asks for them. She obviously doesn’t want to keep in touch just like I’ve been suspecting and I don’t think she’s even reading them anymore. I don’t know if something else is going on in her life that’s caused her to crawl into such a shell or if it’s got to do with me, but unlike Kim and Molly, I’m smart enough to know that I can’t make people want to be more sociable.

Later…

I would love to sprinkle my online blog with blatant lies about Kim just to piss her off and really give her something worth reading, but since Aly reads it too, I won’t waste my time.

Forgot to mention the dreams I had last night. The “dream people” told me where we’re going. Well, they might have anyway. In the dream I asked Tom if we could “turn something into balloons” and he said, “Nah, cuz before you know it we’ll be out of here and over in Lincoln.”

Lincoln is close to where he works, and some guy at work suggested he look there, but locations don’t usually mean anything in the way of a possible dream premonition to be. I need to “see” things. Reasonable things like what I saw before our last two moves – chain-link fences, white picket fences, woods, etc. Not 4000-square-foot barns or 8-story houses.

The second dream was Nane telling me she was going to come visit me in a year and me starting a countdown in my blog. Now that will never happen, LOL.

Received some very flattering and encouraging feedback from my Pakistani friend, so maybe I will resume the story I was working on. I’ll wait till I’m home alone or Tom’s asleep. I work better that way. She has been kind enough to act as a consultant to the book since there’s only so much research one can do on a place they’ve never been to. Research can’t always replace having firsthand experience or consulting with someone who has.

Just when we were delighted not to be disconnected for an hour or two each morning and evening, they go and shut us down. So we switched over to the hotspot, and while it’s wonderfully fast, it’s just not reliable out here. Speed and reliability simply won’t come while we’re still here. I’d like to think the dream was a sign that we’re going to find a great deal on what we want real soon, but I still think we’ll be here for years. Since deciding that we refuse to settle for anything less than what we want, we’re just going to have to wait till we can get it.

We’re now waiting on a second air cleaner or scanner, though. For $125, we ordered both. I’m sure this scanner will be a far cry nicer than the one in our shed that we got in the 90s.

I’m just about a week late for my period now. Sometimes I still feel like I’m going to get it. A part of me wishes I would just to flush all this water off me, but I’d rather never get the damn thing again.

Readplease no longer exists, last.fm no longer allows unlimited song skipping. Yup, all good things really do come to an end.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 21, 2012 Ended up sleeping forever. Had a dream (or was I partially awake?) that my Italian mom told me my weight was down. It was. Then I looked up my Italian dad’s address, now that I’m spelling the name right, and found the same address they’ve been at since I’ve known them. I’m going to be sending a letter to him soon giving my condolences and all that. Still feel so bad for not keeping in touch and not getting to say goodbye to Mom. I just can’t believe that I, someone who is usually good with spelling, spelled their name wrong all these years, but so glad I studied Italian in 2009 so I could finally realize my mistake!

I posted a 1996 entry last night about calling Mom and how she said she had a cold, started half a letter to me that she was going to send along with pictures, and that she expected me to stop by if I was to be in the area. But I never did get that second letter or any pictures. I don’t know what happened, but I eventually stopped calling and writing and they faded into the back of my mind. Still loved, still remembered, but not kept in touch with.

Andy was very touched by Mom’s letter in 1996. It was definitely one of the nicest letters I ever got.

Woke up to find that Sarah sent me a friend request and then I sent one to Becky, Jennifer and Sandy. Becky accepted me, but I don’t expect to be accepted by the others. Sandy might feel awkward about that, and my lovely brother has probably poisoned Jennifer’s mind against me.

How funny life is at times with the way the exact opposite of what we plan or expect to happen can happen. I figured I’d drift from the rest of my family after my parents died. Instead, I am closer to them than ever.

I said I’d discuss the pictures Tammy sent in more detail once I scanned them, and I will, but I will say that looking at the pics of my mother with her mother is so deceptive. Just looking at their smiles and all that can really fool one into believing they were happy, kind individuals, instead of the lying, abusive control freaks that they were.

It was the picture of a birthday cake for their bird that really pissed me off. So that’s how they were spending their money that their daughter and son-in-law could’ve probably used at the time, huh? I’d have loved to have slammed their heads in the cake if I were there! Yeah, happy fucking birthday, little birdie.

I warned Tammy, who started a journal on MO, about Molly, but since Tammy isn’t friends with Aly, she should be ok. Typical Tammy, though, LOL. She offered to harass her if she was harassing me cuz she loves me. I told her that’s ok, she’s been behaving lately. Just playing peekaboo at times along with Kim, who’s way worse than Molly can be. Besides, I don’t want to do anything that would make us look just as bad.

Glad I wasn’t asleep when some insanely loud light green truck was slowly moving back and forth up and down the steep part of Jesse’s drive for a few minutes, probably to level the ruts caused by the rain. What is it with him and every single one of his vehicles having to be so damn loud except for the truck he totaled? I could hear it loud and clear in the shower that I thought he drove down here till I got out and saw the truck up there.

Fortunately for Tom, he has the whole weekend off, but he will have to work next Saturday. He’ll have Tuesday off, of course.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 20, 2012 Had so much to do yesterday that I didn’t get a chance to write about all I wanted to write about.

Forgot to mention that Tammy also sent a couple of mugs we had made up at a mall back in the 90s with our pictures on them. We had sent them one year for Chanukah. Also, a Navy patch from when Dad was in the Navy. As for the pictures, I’d rather wait till they’re all scanned in before I get into describing those in more detail.

How right my sister was in saying we don’t have much in common but then again we do. Yeah, we have nothing and everything in common for damn sure.

I feel bad for her because she is struggling with her emotions right now and is on medication to help her nerves. Damn. Medication. Except for a round of antibiotics for my tooth a couple of years ago, and some over-the-counter stuff for allergies, I haven’t been on medication since the 90s. Regardless, she is so very hurt by many things. As for myself, I was more pissed than hurt, but I feel more at peace now that my parents are gone. There will always be some underlying anger when I remember them and the hell they caused me. As I’ve said many times, some things are just too big to forgive. I could never forgive my parents, the people who sought legal vengeance upon me in Arizona, Tammy’s ex for helping to ensure that it happened even if it was indirectly, or God for allowing it all to happen. I respect the fact that Becky and Sarah love him as he is their father, and while I can never see myself visiting New England – if by some miracle I ever do and I see that cock – I will simply squash it.

“I’m dying of cancer…” yeah, right! And I woke up to find myself a foot taller! But him faking a disease or the severity of it is nothing compared to helping to pave the way for the destruction of my life for nearly 3 years before the truth came out and I was vindicated.

I didn’t shed a single tear when I looked at my parents’ photos, though I felt a sting when I looked at Pa, Mom’s dad. He was a great guy. I wonder just how far back the cycle of abuse goes. I knew and saw enough of Nana to see where she’d have been a shitty mother to my own mother. She was big and stern-looking and I can see where her temper would’ve scared the shit right out of my mom. That’s no excuse to carry it on as two wrongs don’t make a right, and an adult should know right from wrong. Or maybe she did and she just never cared. People know smoking and speeding are wrong yet they do it anyway. It’s like with Kim, someone I quit trying to figure out as far as how she thinks or reasons, even though there aren’t many possibilities with her. She lacks empathy and compassion. Therefore, she either doesn’t realize that contacting those who don’t want to be contacted by her is wrong, or she simply doesn’t care about that or what consequences could befall her for it. The latter of the two is most likely the case since she would run and deactivate fake celebrity accounts as soon as she was confronted. That right there showed that she must’ve known that what she was doing was wrong. Why else would she dump the accounts and act guilty as hell?

Back to Tammy. I was surprised yet pleased to hear I’m just as important to her as her girls. Other than her husband and kids, I’m pretty much all that’s left on her side of the family save for some cousins.

I joked with her about how funny it would be to resurrect Nana and our folks just so we could laugh at knowing they were A, homeless, B, clotheless, C, insuranceless, D, foodless, E, moneyless, and F, without a soul to get even my rats’ asses about it.

Now for the good news. The condo finally sold and it wasn’t in foreclosure after all. I might even get something that will hopefully help with the move, but I won’t hold my breath. I’ve falsely gotten my hopes up for money enough times in my life. If I don’t get anything, we’ll still carry on with our plans. It just may take a little longer. Not much we can do till after these fucking holidays anyway. Really wish Christmas were once every 5 years instead of every year!

Later…

When it comes to the people I write about in my blog, I praise the good and bash the bad. But it’s important I let folks know that it’s not done with the intent of offending anyone. I am simply stating my thoughts, feelings, opinions, beliefs and personal experiences. That’s all. At least I don’t use last names. That’s where I definitely draw the line.

Tammy apologized for letting Mom pin her against me and feels bad for it. That’s ok, LOL, I had ill feelings toward her too for a while. But that is so, so Dureen. She would do something like that and I’m sure the number of people she bashed me to was countless. I don’t know why a mother would do that to any child of hers, but I do know that no matter what she or others may’ve said and continue to say, she never truly loved me. The things she did to me were not love. Anything she ever did do for me was done out of a sense of duty and not love.

Still no sign of my period. Even my chest doesn’t have the usual soreness I often get in advance. I could have Amenorrhea, so I just read, but as long as I don’t get the “serious lower back pain” or bone loss it can cause, it can’t hurt me. I wonder if it could be because I’m kind of athletic, although I don’t under-eat and over-exercise. I overeat and exercise an average amount. I eat about 1500 calories on most days and work out about 40 minutes a day. Could afford to lose 30-40 pounds, but since I usually eat more on weekends, I probably never will.

All this death surrounding me is a bit creepy, though, regardless of how much of it my anger may’ve influenced. I wonder if I’m next, but if it’s me influencing any of it, then I should be fine because we usually don’t get angry with ourselves in the way that we can get angry with others, and it’s usually my anger towards a particular person that triggers the negative effects against them. But I wasn’t angry with my rats and my parents were old and ill. So other than Larry, I don’t get this bizarre trend going on. I’m not even mad at Larry anymore. I’m indifferent toward him. I don’t care if he lives or dies, though the statistics for liver cancer do seem pretty grim. If he really truly does have liver cancer, and I can’t see him lying about that any more than I see how that could be misdiagnosed, he should be gone within a year. Liver cancer isn’t usually detected till it’s pretty advanced.

Odd or not, there have been numerous “coincidences” with people getting ill who have somehow crossed me. I was furious with Larry when I first learned he fathered a child and not because he is too old and his mistress too young. In my family, the grandkids tend to inherit as well, and before I knew that my parents’ “wealth” was just an act, however comfortable they may’ve been through most of their lives, I didn’t want this bimbo and the child that shouldn’t have been created to profit in any way. Well, not unless they were given something I didn’t need or want anyway. Yet these days, even though he’s mostly what I’d describe as a jerk with a decent sense of humor, I couldn’t care less if he lived or died. But do I think I unknowingly and unintentionally influenced his disease with my anger? Hmm… it’s possible. Again, the more this happens, the harder it is to write it off as a coincidence. My husband doesn’t think it’s a coincidence.

In fact, the book I’m reading is rather chilling. It’s about people like me. I realize most people who read it would think it was a work of pure fiction, and so would I if I hadn’t experienced mood influencing myself, but I was like, OMG, they’re almost talking about me! It happened just yesterday when the thought of having a cold pissed me off. I had too much to do! Well, it took me 5 hours, but my determination not to be sick eventually willed my body into rejecting the cold.

Anyway, the book was about an influencer much more dangerous than I could ever be. I’ve never levitated and hurled 200-pound bodies at 100 MPH into walls. In the story, there is a little boy who was severely abused. Murders with a supernatural appearance to them were occurring like crazy and this detective who knew the boy was somehow connected, went to a priest about him. The priest knew the boy and his family before they died in a fire. The priest then insisted that there was no ghost or possession taking place and that it was all stemming from the boy’s intense rage.

I’ve probably had this thing most of my life but it has picked up with intensity with time. So your best bet? Don’t piss me off. I mean really, REALLY pisses me off. :)

Later…

I meant the early 2000s. I said in a previous post I hadn’t been on any prescription medication since the 90s, but I meant the early 2000s. That was the last time I was on prescription inhalers and snot spray.

Really wish Kim would stop contacting Andy on Ask. “hooray for fast computers. any big weekend plans for you?” may be a harmless thing to say, but that’s not the point. The point is that I asked her to leave both me AND my friends alone. The dumbfuck just doesn’t get that you can’t just insert yourself into a group of friends and force yourself into their lives. She’s NOT our friend and we’re NOT her friends. Do I really have to have her local police go to her house and explain this to her? I’d rather not have to resort to that, so I really wish she would just bow out of where she’s not wanted before she ends up wishing she listened to me a long time ago. I’ve got nearly 20 years on her. Shouldn’t she go play with those in her own age group?

In the midst of all this death and other sad/scary thoughts, Tom gave me a scare yesterday but only for about 10 minutes. I started getting nervous when I realized he was late getting home. This was because there was a gas leak. They evacuated people and he was going to wait to get his lunch bag and things like that till he decided it wasn’t worth it.

“So your building could’ve blown up like in Springfield?!” I said.

Not in a warehouse, he told me. Guess there’s no place for the gas to collect there.

They wanted him to stay another two hours today, even with the horrible cold he has, but he put his foot down and said no! 10 hours a day is enough! Especially when it’s 5 days a week PLUS 8 hours on Saturday. He may not have to work this Saturday, though, and will be getting another big bonus this week.

We were laughing earlier at how we’ve been waiting on this and waiting on that and NONE of it is because of money. For the first time, it’s all because of a lack of time. Poor guy now has the cough from hell, though.

We talked about it and thought about it some more and we’re actually skeptical about me possibly influencing Larry’s disease. Making one sick by being angry with them is one thing, killing them is another. I have never killed anyone that I know of just by harboring any rage toward them.

I’m just glad, for the first time ever, that I was never close to my parents or brother because I’d be totally losing it by now.

Christine suggested I’m going through perimenopause. It’s an intermittent thing within those in my age group. I just didn’t think I’d skip periods or that they’d be an on-or-off thing like what might be the case with me. I thought you kept getting periods but they got lighter and lighter till they stopped.

My Italian mom’s been in the ground for two months now and would’ve turned 82 yesterday. It’s still so sad to think she’s gone forever. Reading the letter she sent me in 1996 brought a fresh round of tears to my eyes.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 19, 2012 Sure enough, really early this morning, the troll looked in on me from Harlingen.

Oh my, do I have lots to update on! First, just to get the trivial things out of the way – this is day 4 of being late for my period. I’m beginning to break records! If I were just a little younger and had a husband who could perform normally in bed I’d be getting nervous. By the weekend I’d be shitting bricks. Then again, I wouldn’t be dumb enough not to use protection if I knew I didn’t want kids. I’d like to think menopause is setting in, but this young and this abruptly? I don’t think so.

Got a cold setting in instead. Yeah, the “influencer” can no longer stop her colds, but she can kill people. Not sure I’d exactly classify this one as “trivial,” though, and I don’t know the details or if what Tammy and Mark were told was bullshit or not, but Larry supposedly has liver cancer and looked and acted ill when they last saw each other down in Florida. As most of those that know me know, especially my husband who has witnessed it, bad things tend to befall those that really piss the shit out of me. I seem to be like Drew Barrymore, only I’m the fire starter without the fire. I have little control over it. I never cared for my brother other than his sense of humor, but if it’s true that he’s dying, then wow. Just wow. My dad died in February. Our beloved rat died in April. My mother died in September. My beloved foster mother died in October. My sister’s been sick as hell. Another rat of ours died last month and now my brother may be getting ready to check out of Hotel Earth. This is getting a bit scary.

So is the prospect of Larry’s spirit being a negative influence against me along with our mother’s. I hope my “heart” mom will protect me from them. Just like I figured that if God can bless, He can curse, well, if some spirits can influence us in positive ways (if we were close to them), why not bad ways, too (if they were assholes)?

I will get into Tammy’s package in the next post, but first, we exchanged messages this morning and FB is REALLY pissing the shit out of me. The people running it need to watch THEIR livers, LOL. I could message Becky, but not Sarah. She straightens her hair, which is something I’d like to do without using damaging things like straightening irons. Well, I’d like to know what she uses to do it with.

Had to explain to her yet AGAIN, thanks to some of my messages not going through, that I can’t just take an hour or two to call her every few days or so, and I wouldn’t even if I didn’t have such tech issues to deal with out here in the boonies. Too busy, and well, I’m just not a phone person, though I told her to feel free to leave me as many voice messages as she’d like since she isn’t big on typing. Retrieving messages isn’t the issue; it’s calling out that’s the problem.

The more we exchange messages, the more I see she really has changed a lot as well as hasn’t changed much. She still harbors a lot of hurt and anger and vengeful ways. But she has grown at the same time a lot of her old self shines through. As long as we’re never neighbors we should be ok. Also, even if she did get pissed at me and seek revenge by calling my local pigs with some tall tale on me, it won’t do her any good in the end when they run their routine checks just to discover there’s no warrant on me. The odds of that happening again would be next to none if I lived another 10,000 years. That was a fluky experience for damn sure. One that could only be set up and carried out by a vengeful God who used Tammy and Bill as an instrument to flush me out to the pigs and welfare bums, and again, If God can love, He can hate. He has hated me most of my life.

Tammy wanted to vent about the usual 3 people – Lisa, Larry and Mom. I guess they weren’t very nice to her when she was in Florida. Lisa spent most of the time at the beach while she paid for her food and cigarettes, mom acted like she was never there, and Larry said some mean, hurtful things to her that Sarah called and really laid into him for it. The poor girl’s taking something for the anxiety, something I warned her to be careful with, knowing firsthand how easy it can be to get hooked on the things.

I’ve seen hideous pics of her kids as well as decent ones, but I’m certainly not going to say that in public, LOL. She sent tons of pics, and a few were of her kids. I’ll cover that in the next entry.

Later…

Ok, now that I’m feeling a little better and think I just might’ve influenced the cold away, after all, I can finally cover the wonderful goodies my sister sent! Most of it, as promised, was some stuff she thought I might want to have from our parents’ condo after they died.

The package mostly contained old photos of my mom’s parents and some I had sent our parents over the years. It’s kind of nice to have them back. When I first refused to talk to my parents for the 10 years that I refused to talk to them, I dumped every single one of their pictures. Well, most of them I actually mailed to Tammy. So for many years, I had no pictures of them except for the few they sent me in their last few years of life. Despite how much I came to despise them for their abuse, it was really neat seeing old pictures, some of which I remembered actually seeing at one point or another in my life. There was even a news clipping I was in as a kid.

We are going to get a new scanner and eventually, I will scan the pics in and post them online. I want to ask my sister about some of them anyway because I know she’ll remember more about them since she’s older. This would be the easiest way to do that rather than trying to describe them by phone. I know who most of the people are in the pics, but some I don’t. Most of the pics are old and of bad quality, so I can’t see them very well with my shitty eyes. I will look at them again later with a magnifier. Andy’s going to get a kick out of one pic in particular, hahaha.

It’s also nice to have pics of Charlotte, even if they’re kind of old. I always loved Char. There were group pics of some of the old beach buddies. Leave it to Bea G to be giving the finger in one of them, LOL.

A couple of years ago I won a gift card to an online flower shop and sent my mom the Mother’s Day present she didn’t deserve – flowers in a gorgeous purplish-mirrored vase. Tammy was nice enough to send me the vase, along with a cute bamboo/panda vase. I love bamboo, so I’ll stick one of our smaller ones in it eventually.

She sent a couple of beautiful decorative large dishes with pink, purple and blue flowers and a decorative throw pillow cover.

There were some papers pertaining to Dad’s days as the president of the Mended Hearts organization, a group he founded for those who had open-heart surgery like he had.

Lastly, she enclosed a beautiful, glittery birthday card with cash and IHOP GCs.

I’m sure there’s more that I’m forgetting, but all of it was super appreciated. I never expected to get another package again in my life unless it was something we ordered, LOL.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 18, 2012 I dumped the “Justin” account because I realized that by keeping that up I was being just as bad as Kim by pretending to be someone I’m not. Plus, Aly seems to follow me regularly and the last thing I wanted was to feel like I was deceiving her. She asked if I was behind it and I had to lie and say no because she’s shown she doesn’t always keep my secrets like I thought she did. I don’t think she’s been in touch with Kim for quite a while, but still. I have to be careful with her at least somewhat, and well, the thought of admitting it was me was a bit embarrassing.

Due to Mary joining MyOpera, though she hasn’t done any actual blogging yet, I was quick to warn her about Molly, who not surprisingly, linked to her profile through a comment she left on my own blog. Mary said she doesn’t communicate with many people anyway due to trust issues, so that’s good.

Molly wrote in her blog that she’s waiting to go to the airport (from Austin to southern TX?) and will be home for two weeks. Then she returns to the group home on 12/30, but classes don’t start till 1/7. sighs So I can expect several views a day from her for the next 3 weeks and maybe some comments and questions, too. I am NOT tweaking my settings again! Not for her or anyone else. All I’ll do is hide my friends on Facebook. It goes to show, though, that she hasn’t and never will change. Give it a computer and free time and all it does is play peekaboo. She spent an hour on my blog yesterday.

I couldn’t resist playing with her, though, childish or not. She wished me a great Christmas on Ask as if we were old buddies, and I would reply, then delete. Fucking Ask, though, for not allowing blocked accounts to actually be blocked! I checked and I do have her blocked yet the “question” still went through. She’d have come at me anonymously if she had to, but it’s still frustrating when sites don’t work properly, and of course if I complain to them, they’ll just ignore it. Anyway, once you reply to a non-anonymous question, they get a notice saying you replied. The question also gets sent back to your inbox. So after I would answer and delete the question several times, she would’ve gotten about 5 notices. That’ll no doubt confuse her since she only asked me 1 question.

Someone, that must know at least a little about me, has been asking questions about the rats, what color my nail polish is and questions like that. I always wonder if it’s Kim, but as long as it’s not as obvious as if she were signing her name, I will answer them. I hate to possibly make her think that answering them it makes us buddies in her sick twisted mind, though, cuz she’s the type who would feel and believe we were interacting in such a manner as if I knew it was her.

She must be able to think and figure somewhat since she refuses to contact me out of anonymity. Thank God for this too, because as soon as she throws anonymity to the wind, she could become a real nightmare.

Spent the morning working out and doing some work around here. Unfortunately, Tom has a cold now. I don’t know if it’s something he caught from someone at work or if he’s just overworked, but it is that time of year for that sort of thing.

Tom found that they have countertop dishwashers for around $250, and thought it would be nice to have one. I’d rather just get the fuck out of here and into a nicer, bigger place with one that’s already built-in or that we could install right away. But that’s just not going to happen. No matter how much OT he works and money we save, we’re obviously not meant to move and so we’re not going to do so for many years to come.

But does that mean I want to get a dishwasher and cram it into an already cramped little dive? Hmm… I’m not so sure about that. I’d rather have a full-size washer/dryer but there’s no way in hell we could ever get that in here. I don’t know what I want to do yet, but I do know I agree with him about plowing money into fixing up and expanding someone else’s place. If we did that and Jesse decided to sell out, we’d be fucked out of all our hard work and money. Still, I don’t want to waste time with what isn’t meant to be. This is where we were meant to be, this is our home, and this is where we very well may be meant to stay until Tom retires. So I will only make improvements and adjustments that wouldn’t be of any loss to us if Jesse did decide to either sell out or kick us out cuz some relative who just got a divorce or lost their house in a fire may need a place to live.

Later…

After getting a slew of questions I suspected might be from Kim, mostly asking about the rats, nails, Andy and my weather, I anonymously got: plz don’t post this but it is kim asking you most stuff on here today. don’t encourage her. she thinks you 2 can be friends again. I know Kim and she really misses you she tells me this over and over again.

How the hell can you “really miss” someone you obviously hated all along and still do? Or maybe she once did, feels sorry, and now she just loves me. I don’t know why my friendship is so important to her when she’s got other friends (till she loses them, too) and can make new ones as well. If she could just stop with the lies and impersonations and be herself and herself only, she may be able to make friends that she can actually keep. Meanwhile, and just to set the record straight even though I’ve already done so, I will NEVER be Kim’s friend ever again. There is ZERO chance or hope of our so-called friendship ever being salvaged. It was over half a year ago. Get over it already, I say. If she still can’t get over it that’s her problem because we’ll never ever, under any circumstances, be friends again. If I was dirt poor and she offered to pay me to be her friend, she still couldn’t win me back.

Wish she would turn gorgeous! Then she wouldn’t want a damn thing to do with me after all I’ve had to say about her. Anyone that knows me knows that the crazier and or uglier one is, the more they latch onto me as if I were just as fucked and ugly. It’s just how my shit luck usually goes. As for us ever being buddies again, though? That’s the Kimpossible dream! But she’s welcome to come to my home anytime. That way I could fix things enough to make her a permanently closed chapter of my life not just for me, but for her as well. She’d never have to “miss” me again.

There’s more. Aly had a dream about her she said I could share, but I’m calling her Carla. Well, “Carla” and I were visiting someone who was dark-haired and worked at a daycare where Kim happened to be. Kim was dressed like a little boy with a long Donald Duck jersey, grubby jeans and a backward hat. We entered a room and noticed her talking to a distorted-looking stuffed animal.

We glanced at each other as soon as we realized it was Kim, but it was too late. Before we could leave the room, she spotted us, threw down the stuffed animal, and ran toward us, spit dribbling down her chin.

Carla said that in the dream I had a beautiful silvery-gray and ivory rat with me that Kim saw in my pocket and grabbed before I could stop her. She started singing, “My rat, my rat, look everybody at my rat. It’s not Jodi’s rat, it’s my rat!”

One of us whispered to the other that she was obviously a fruitcake and gently told her that Snowbelle was my rat but that she could continue to pet her as long as she was nice. Kim started laughing and waddled off with the rat who then bit her on the nose and flew out of Kim’s arms and into my hands. Carla said she woke up then, laughing and saying something like “Hooray for flying rats!”

MONDAY, DECEMBER 17, 2012 Loving and hating this rainy weather we’re having! It’s a nice change for variety’s sake, and it keeps Jesse off the Harley and people away from the chainsaws. But I still hate being cold even if it’s better for sleeping and running. Yet that’s how it is half of the year here. It’s either hot and dry or it’s cold and wet.

My sister said it was ok to write about her and her family, so… I’m looking forward to being spoiled all over again with whatever goodies she’s sending tomorrow.

I was surprised she had no idea who Anna and Harry were. Then again, she was in Texas when I was 16. As she said in the comment section, she’d have come for me if she’d known what was going on and wasn’t so fucked up herself from our wonderful mother. Although she feels bad, it wasn’t her fault. She was a victim too, so there really wasn’t anything she could do.

I had to laugh when picturing her, Mark, Becky and Sarah laughing and dancing around the kitchen with Dad’s urn while cooking potato latkes like she said, hahaha. Hey, don’t drop the guy, Mark! He needs to stand guard with a nail-studded bat should his wife try to come and haunt us.

I feel much better today, though I am still saddened over the loss of Anna and my chance to tell her one last time how much I loved her for caring about me the way she did when no one else would. Tammy agreed that any woman who would love me when my own parents wouldn’t had to be wonderful. Well, let’s just say that should my bio mom and my “heart” mom be waiting for me at the Tunnel of Light when I die, it’s my heart mom’s hand I will be taking.

I’m also still wondering just what the hell was up with my sudden thoughts and memories of her a couple of days ago and my need to find her. Was it just a coincidence? My psychic side sensing something was up? Or was it really Anna herself come to say goodbye from the other side? Had she died 5 years ago I’d have been more likely to think it was a coincidence, but when I learned she died two months ago, I didn’t know what to think.

So why am I two days late for my period? No, I can’t be knocked up. Fortunately, I’m too old. I hope this is a sign of menopause setting in, but I doubt it. I’m not that old yet.

Later…

I need to start keeping better notes, as sometimes not even I can understand my own notes. It took me a minute to realize that “blank” was “blanket,” but yeah, that’s one of the things I got at Target yesterday.

The blanket is so much softer than our plain cream-colored blanket and has a rose print with a pink satiny ruffle for trim. It’s a little heavier than I realized. It’s like two blankets in one, and I’m both glad and not so glad I got it. Heavier blankets and comforters aren’t good for beds with memory foam toppers, but it’s pretty and the other comforters are old. One of them is a hideous dark green plaid design my parents sent me. I’ll definitely need something lighter in the summer, though.

I got my lifelike baby doll a pack of onesies in pale pink, pink, purple, orange and green. It makes her look even more realistic because it covers both her shoulder joints and her old faded diaper.

I got a pair of rainbow panties with a zebra print, a headband with pink gems, glitter polish with pink hearts, beeswax lip balm, 6 Champion C9 girls’ large sports bras in assorted colors, and a goldish-colored cross-body purse. It’s great no longer having to carry handbags and to be hands-free when out and about. Now I just have to get the proper glasses so I can see where I’m going.

Curious about their new grocery section we checked it out and I found the biggest green grapes I’ve ever seen in my life. I also got some seafood goodies – bacon-wrapped scallops and crab cakes. Nothing I buy on a regular basis, so it was a real treat.

Got some fruity teas at another store and find the cherry and blueberry to be too tart. The peach is great, though. Haven’t tried the mixed berries or blackberry yet.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 16, 2012 My real mom who wasn’t my real mom. That’s how I would describe Anna Lucia B, now that I know how to spell the damn name right, including her maiden name. I am so, so very heartbroken to learn of my beloved Italian foster mommy’s death exactly two months ago yesterday. She was the mother I never had and I could really kick myself for not staying in touch after leaving Phoenix. I thought about her on and off throughout the years and she always remained dear to me in my heart. The fond memories I have is something I will always cherish. But now it’s too late to say goodbye and I am so, so saddened. Funny how I have cried buckets of tears for this woman while I never shed a tear when I lost my bio mom the previous month.

I’m really glad the year is almost over for there’s been an awful lot of death this year, even if some of those that died won’t be missed. I’m just sorry I couldn’t hug the woman who should’ve been my mom one last time and that I never got to say goodbye.

But maybe she said goodbye to me. Yeah, that’s where it gets weird. I don’t know for sure what happened but something happened that has me not 100% convinced of the afterlife, but that makes me suspect a little more that there really may be one.

Let me back up first and say that as an adult who is much smarter than she was at 16, I can see where some might’ve been deceived by my real parents, who just had to put on a show about just about everything. Including the fact that someone (my high school music teacher? He was the only one I confided in back then and one of the few guys I was totally hot for) reported them for abuse and caused them to lose custody of me. Just wanted to set the record straight before I move on. Knowing my parents, they would’ve covered something like that up big time. If they would want to cover up their finances, they would certainly want to cover up that. Image was everything to them. But no, as much as they loved to ship me off to various places, they didn’t give me up because they thought it would “make things better,” or because they thought it would “do me some good.” They lost me because they couldn’t be decent parents to me. And no, I didn’t see them for a year not because they thought it would be best to “let me get settled first.” It was because they weren’t allowed to see me. Being the naïve kid that I was at the time, though, I bought all their lies, stories and excuses.

Anna, who was also called just Anne, and her husband of what was then 20 years (Harry) owned a group home for physically and mentally challenged adults. They owned 7 large houses in Springfield and a modest home of their own in West Springfield. I lived in the main house which they would occasionally spend nights at, and sometimes I was taken to stay with them in their regular home as well. I was the only minor living there and the only foster child they ever had. Why them, I do not know. I was pretty fucked in the head at the time and I still had suicidal tendencies despite how much happier I was with them. Hey, you can’t fix this kind of stuff overnight and undo the damage caused by years of abuse in just a matter of weeks or even months. So I was probably hard to place and that’s why Anna and Harry were kind enough to take me.

The minute I stepped foot into the place and was greeted with a loving smile by the slightly plump fifty-something woman of average height and short dark hair and eyes, I felt right at home. Harry, who was always an easy-going teddy bear in my eyes, contrasted in looks with his light eyes and gray hair.

They loved me unconditionally and accepted me as a whole. They never tried to put any kind of restrictive chains on me that made me feel imprisoned in any way. At Valleyhead if you so much as dared step outside for a breath of fresh air, that was automatic restriction.

With the passage of so much time, I remember only bits and pieces of my much too brief time with the Italian couple that truly loved me. It was 30 years ago, after all. I know they tried to gain custody of me, and that it was even a done deal at one point because I specifically remember being all excited and saying to Anna, “You mean I get to stay with you till I’m 18?” Anna grinned ear to ear and nodded her head happily.

I used to love to help serve dinner to the 50 or 60 people who came to the main house each night. Made me feel oh so grown up, LOL. Then I would eat with them and a few other relatives of theirs in the big kitchen in back, sharing occasional scraps with Max, the large German shepherd that was their guard dog, after Anna’s mother Kate, who had started the business, was maced and robbed one day, not long before she died.

Days were spent helping out around the house, nights were spent relaxing to music in my room above “Mom and Dad’s” on the third floor. It was late spring, so the weather was gorgeous. I would be invited to mom and dad’s regular home for swimming and barbecues every so often as well.

And then one day it all came to an end like a car screeching to a halt and I have no idea why. I can only guess my parents got in the way. Or maybe it was my own stupidity since I was still cutting myself, and then one night I called them from the office phone, something I wasn’t supposed to do.

Next thing I know I’m in the state psych ward for a week of hell where old ladies loved to beat me over the head in the bathroom with their handbags, and younger ones liked to sit in bed in their cubicles and masturbate, while the staff was just as crazy as the patients. I wished all they liked to do was weave baskets and sit and smile and twiddle their thumbs and toes like Napoleon’s song says.

After a week of surviving that jungle, it was off to a black woman and her highly scary friend where I wouldn’t be fed very much or very often. I left there a month or two later at just 85 pounds, bound for two years of hell at Valleyhead. I suffered severe depression there and even tried to take my life.

I saw Anna and Harry a few more times both as a kid and as an adult, then we exchanged a few calls and letters from Arizona. I was around 30 when we were last in touch. Like I said, I don’t know why we didn’t keep in touch. Maybe I felt they were too busy or just not into it or something, though I know they truly loved me and that I was like the daughter they never had. Anna once said she’d have had 6 kids had she not needed a hysterectomy after her one child, a son, was born. They loved me as one of their own, but they never tried to replace my real parents. They even hoped things would get better between my real parents and me.

I wonder if they’d be impressed with all the Italian I’ve learned, LOL. I don’t think they spoke it. At least I don’t remember them speaking it, though Anna sure was proud to be Italian.

It was about a week or two ago when she popped into mind and the urge to contact them before it was too late came over me. I never stopped thinking of them from time to time, but now I wanted to make contact. Too many years had gone by as it was. But it was like they fell off the face of the earth and never existed. I couldn’t find the business or any phone numbers or obituaries or anything. I even checked listings and obits in Florida knowing that many New Englanders retire there, though it never struck me as anything she would do.

I thought she would now be about 85 and that Harry would be a bit older and that they could very well be gone or not have much time to go if I didn’t hurry up and find them. As silly as it may sound, at 47 years of age I wished I could run to my Italian foster mom for one last hug. Everybody loved her. She was a hard-working, caring, compassionate soul who didn’t take any shit from anyone but who wasn’t the negative, domineering control freak my bio mom was either. For some reason, my sister was the only one who ever expressed any ill feelings for her and Harry. I assume it had to do with them wanting custody of me. It’s ok, whatever it is, but I’ll have to ask her sometime just out of curiosity.

Unable to find them, I let it go until yesterday, which was when things got slightly strange. Like I said, I don’t know what, if anything, really happened, but it kind of made me wonder. Anna came storming into my mind like a gush of wind from a hurricane and she would just not leave it. Random memories of the few months we spent together paraded through my mind like movie clips and I suddenly burst into tears, missing the hell out of her. She, Harry, their long-dead dog Max, and myself, were running through a field in some of the images that played through my mind. It was a beautiful, warm summer day and I ran ahead of them, giggling like a kid again without a care in the world. Max chased me playfully and then we would stop and let Mom and Dad catch up to us before we would run off again.

Now I just had to know where she was. Still unable to find her, I went to bed still in tears. I prayed to God for help in finding her, dead or alive, something I don’t usually do.

In the midst of past memories, several possibilities came to mind. Maybe all this thinking about her all of a sudden and the strong desire to find her was just because I missed her. Or maybe she was thinking of me quite a bit all of a sudden and I was just picking up on the thought vibrations. Maybe the obit site was messed up or maybe she was still alive and I wasn’t REALLY sensing her presence and that she now had a better understanding of what I’d gone through in life as I lay there in the dark. After all, I hadn’t sensed my own parents since they died. And so “Peanuts,” as she often called me, fell asleep with thoughts of her Italian mother spilling over into her dreams. I don’t remember the dreams, though.

Having studied Italian, I thought about the way I had been spelling the name of the business when I woke up and realized it made no sense. It was just all wrong. Maybe the same went for Mom’s name. So I got up the next morning, made my coffee, tried a few spelling variations on the name, and then I found her obit. pauses to wipe tears I burst into another round of tears. My eyes are redder and more swollen than when my real dad died and I feel like someone threw sand in them. What stunned me was learning that she was 81, only a year older than my real mom. She would be turning 82 in a few days if she were still alive. She smoked for a long time, so maybe cancer killed her, but I have no idea what it actually was.

I’m also shocked to learn that Harry’s still alive. If I’m as devastated as I am, I can just imagine how Harry and the rest of the family must feel. I’m so, sorry it’s too late and that I never got the chance to say goodbye, but was happy to read she passed peacefully in her sleep at home, surrounded by friends and family.

As sad as I feel, we carried on with things as planned, though Tom offered to take me for my belated birthday shopping spree some other time. I knew getting out would help perk me up and take my mind off things if only for a while, so we went to Target. I’ll write about that some other time.

Another weird thing this morning was the rat. I picked Romeo up for his usual hug and kiss. He sat in my arms very calmly. Then all of a sudden he completely freaked out on me. I don’t know what the hell it was but something must’ve terrified him cuz he leaped out of my arms and hid behind the blinds for a few minutes before he would approach me. I hate to ask, but did he see a ghost or something? And were last night’s feelings, thoughts, memories and dreams of the loving woman, who ironically died just 60 days ago, just a coincidence? Or was it her way of grabbing my attention so she could say goodbye? I guess I’ll never know. Meanwhile, I left my condolences.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 15, 2012 Tammy picked up my message to her but didn’t answer my questions about when she’s going to Mass General or if she likes MO better than MD. Does she just not feel like answering for some reason, or does she not want me to know these things, especially about the blogs? She hasn’t shown up on my report lately, which makes me think I was right in suspecting she doesn’t want to be tracked and is, therefore, sticking to MD. Then again, who knows how often she even goes there? Maybe she only goes once or twice a month if even that.

Part of me wishes she’d give me a reason to dump her before we move to an address we’ll be at for at least a decade. An even bigger part hopes she’ll return from the doctor with “deadly” news, but I know I couldn’t get that lucky.

Damn, nearly 30 people were killed in a school shooting in Connecticut! And at an elementary school?! Usually, it’s colleges and high schools, but now they’re taking this shit to elementary schools?! It just reaffirms what a sad twisted world we live in along with my hatred for a God that could sit back and allow this shit to happen.

Too bad a certain someone in that state couldn’t have taken one of the bullets. Instead, she’s allowed to play online all day, harassing people at the taxpayer’s expense. Sooner or later, however, the street laws will catch up to the cyber laws and start dealing with these brainless, jobless, hopeless happy little losers who do nothing but have loads of fun wasting space on earth and being a nuisance to anyone who has the misfortune of crossing their paths. I decided, though, that I’m not going to let them control me into tweaking settings and spoiling my fun. I hate letting them make me feel like I can only “partially” use a site. So I will re-allow anonymous questions on Ask and just keep saving the years and years of unwanted and unanswered contact for future laws that will hopefully scare these sickos straight.

Unlike Molly, who likes me to know when she comes around, Kim still prefers to hide in anonymity.

Some of the modern single-wides are pretty amazing compared to this old single-wide. In the 60s they weren’t allowed to make them wider than 10’. Then it became 12’ in the 70s. These days they have 2-bed, 2-bath, 14’-wide singles, fully loaded with all the modern appliances. They’re about 800 square feet and would be plenty sufficient enough for us. They even have pitched roofs. My main preference is still a doublewide that’s between 1000-1500 square feet, but a modern single is still appealing if the price and location are right.

Sure hope the old man in my dream last night is a good sign, cuz right now I feel like we’re a million years ago from moving. I don’t expect to be out of here before 2014-2015 with our change of plans and shaky credit.

In the dream, I was jogging down a street and knew I was in a senior community. An old man was sitting on his front porch when he asked, “Are you old enough to live here?”

“No,” I said with a polite smile, “but my husband is.”

Poor Tom is sooo tired of all the OT despite the mad money he’s making (nearly a grand a week) and it sucks cuz no one else is complaining. That’s because they want the extra money for the holidays, and they also don’t make nearly as much as he does. What’s scary is that this is their SLOW time. So what happens in January? Does he have to work 66 hours a week then instead of 56? We’re never going to get anything done around here at that rate! We still haven’t even fully set up the hotspot yet but are hoping to do so this weekend. At least he’s not only making great money and providing us with great benefits, but he’s now got over a week’s worth of vacation time, and we’re both looking forward to shopping tomorrow with the two $50 Target cards they gave him.

I made the comment to Tom this morning about it being shockingly quiet yesterday, but he said the dogs went off around 6pm (I was already in bed) for 15 minutes that he knows of until he too, went to bed. If he said it was between 7pm – 8pm I’d worry the nighttime weekend outings were back on again for the Jes pest, but at that hour he was probably just bringing his kid home. Besides, I haven’t heard anything since getting up at 1am. When he would take off between 7pm – 8am for the whole night, the dogs would bark consistently till around midnight. Then they’d taper off to scattered fits till around 3am – 4am, but I haven’t heard anything.

Later…

Thought I was done journaling for the day but I’m too pissed off not to be even though I knew damn well that this would happen. I “saw” it years ago. Partly thanks to the bastard above that just loves to not only protect my perps but also see to it that I don’t get shit from them, my parents’ fucking condo has gone into foreclosure.

Congratulations, God. You managed to add insult to injury one more time. Oh, this may not be nearly as infuriating and humiliating as being dragged through the legal system by my own perps, perps of a different kind, but it’s just one more slap in the face from God, as far as I’m concerned. AND my parents, particularly my mother. After all, God may’ve allowed her to do what she did and even “guided” her into doing it so as to cheat me out of getting anything in the end from the woman who happily kicked, slapped, threatened, cut me down and made my life miserable for years, but that’s just our twisted God for you. If He was any good, 26 innocent people wouldn’t have lost their lives in Connecticut the other day.

What my crazy, mean bitch of a mother did was spend and spend and spend as if money were flying out of her ass as often as she breathed. I don’t know if she even knew what the hell she was doing, especially in the end, but I do believe Tammy when she says that Dad was kept in the dark. She was supposedly taking out loans and maxing out credit cards like crazy behind his back. I miss my dad at times despite his enabling, look-the-other-way ways, but I REALLY hope that bitch is rotting in hell.

Meanwhile, it’s even more obvious that the bastard doesn’t want us getting any breaks in life just by the fact that the exact same condo across the fucking street from theirs sold for 120K.

I didn’t put this much in public even though she probably wouldn’t mind, but Tammy has Fibromyalgia and Fibrosis, and Lisa’s been ordered never to contact her again. Oh, and Becky and Sarah supposedly say that even if she got help, they would never forgive her. Again, I don’t know what happened but it must be pretty bad.

I appreciate Tammy for understanding that if her ex suddenly materialized in this room I would rip the shit out of him limb by limb. And I’m not afraid or ashamed to say so! This applies to a few others as well. Tammy says she and Mark have caught him in so many lies. The latest was his saying he doesn’t have much longer to live, yet he looked fine when they saw him.

I knew it. I just knew that bastard was faking the cancer or at least seriously playing it up.

With or without my sister involved, and right or wrong on my part, had he just done the adult thing and let me go off on his machine about abusing my sister and her kid like I did then deleted the fucking message instead of running like a spoiled, vindictive little boy to the cops, the warrant out for my arrest for my other perps that no one knew about would’ve remained unknown to us (we had no mail services where we were at the time), and I wouldn’t have lost half a year of my life and thousands of dollars, not to mention all the emotional stress and anguish I experienced. The warrant would have eventually expired due to the type of warrant it was and if it didn’t I wouldn’t have had any other reason to have police contact. Therefore I wouldn’t have had to be victimized all over again by old neighbors only this time through the law.

Ask me who I could never forgive and the answer will always be the same – her ex, the people involved in legally railroading me, and God for letting it happen. No amount of writing, therapy, soothing music, bubble baths or chocolate can ever change that. Sorry, but that’s just the way it is. Some things we can forgive, some we can’t. They should at least be thankful I’m not using full names even though I don’t owe them even that much and am not obligated to do so.

I appreciate the hell out of Tammy for letting me vent. She has never tried to tell me I’m wrong for the way I feel or for what I believe and I appreciate that. She was saying how we have a bond cuz of our parents, and regardless of any past problems or the things that make us different from each other, not even I can deny that.

While it’s great for her that her condition is not fatal, God hates me so much that I’m almost amazed it isn’t cuz then we wouldn’t have anyone to run to if He feels He just has to beat us over the head with money again. I suppose He could pick on us in other ways.

When I saw a group of cops hugging on Facebook after witnessing all the innocent children killed in the latest massacre, even I was touched. So many of them are nothing but corrupt, power-hungry bastards without a care in the world for anyone but themselves. They often seem to fail to keep in mind that it’s OUR tax dollars that pay their salaries. And it’s supposed to be for them to protect and serve, not bully and manipulate. Everything with them is macho this, macho that. They walk and talk with their all-mighty, tough little attitude that they might as well wear signs saying: I’m better than you, I’m the one in control, and I’m the one that’s going to win.

Yeah, it’s often about control with them, sadly, as opposed to justice. I have no respect for anyone in the system, let alone much faith in it to begin with, but the picture was undeniably touching. Not even I could deny that much. It’s too bad that it takes such an atrocity to bring out their human side no matter how “detached” they may be trained to be, and no matter what anger issues they may harbor that made them want to take a job as an authority figure in the first place so that they could act out some of their aggression and whatever else that may motivate them.

Like it or not, every nightmare has its blessing. Those poor little kids will never have to grow up to learn just how fucked up this world truly is. And just like I won’t get shit from my parents, neither will my nieces.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 14, 2012 How could I forget to mention that as soon as I created the Justin account on Ask to try to pull Molly’s attention away from me, Kim immediately began impersonating Molly, and then claimed to be “Janice.” Kim’s too obvious, though, so I could tell it was her. Wonder who she’s impersonated me to? There’s really no end to who she’ll pretend to be and she obviously wants to be anybody but herself. When Molly came out, non-anonymously, and insisted she hadn’t messaged “Justin” and that it was Kim pretending to be her, it was the first time I actually believed something the loon said. Regardless, I’m sick of Justin so I’m giving him a break for a while. I’m sure they’ll be checking regularly, though, to see if he’s back, LOL, so at least I’ve given them somewhat of a diversion.

Andy said what I figured he’d say – that Tammy should be ashamed of herself for wanting to get revenge on her own kid. Also, if she could hurt her own kid, she could hurt me again. He said he wouldn’t burn the bridge, but would also let her do the contacting. That way she’ll see I’m not into the “relationship” much and will eventually fade away. That’s just the problem, though. She’d never just fade away. Tammy doesn’t fade. You’re pretty much either in her life or you’re not, and if you are, it’s either in a positive way or in a way you won’t like at all. I’m just glad our parents are gone so I don’t have to deal with them getting caught up in the middle of things and taking sides should any future shit come down.

I totally agree, though, that if she could hurt Lisa, she could hurt me. Getting on her bad side would certainly cause me an awful lot of headaches I simply don’t need. Tammy isn’t one to let you ignore her that easily. So I’ll keep it friendly unless she gives me a good reason to make her inevitable cyberbullying worth it. Unfortunately, though, unlike Kim and Molly, she has 2 of our 3 phone numbers and our address. We no longer have a setup that would cost us money to have to go in and delete any unwanted calls, but I’m not sure I’m comfortable with her having all this info. She’s the type that would call my local cops and say I threatened her if she were pissed enough. Even if I didn’t do anything she could legally get me with in the end, who needs the hassles of the pigs coming to my door and me having to explain to them that she’s just a vengeful bitch, just ignore her and pay no attention to her hogwash, etc.?

When I first became rather sociable online, dealing with and observing vengeful, vindictive, spiteful, immature people hell-bent on revenge and stalking, as if they were still in high school or something, wasn’t part of the plan. I’m both saddened and appalled by all the so-called adults out there who feel they have nothing better to do than “get” people who have pissed them off. Unless someone does something huge to them – and I mean HUGE – why is it so damn hard for people to just let go of and ignore others if they’re not getting along or they don’t like each other? There’s a difference between revenge and justice, and unless you’ve got a guilty conscience, please don’t automatically assume I’m talking about any one person specifically. I’m talking about people in general that I have observed on a regular basis.

I may not know it all, nor do I know every detail of every situation, but spiting someone for saying something you didn’t want to hear is revenge. Having someone arrested and tried for burning your house down or trying to kill you is justice. The system may often be unjust, but I would certainly recommend giving it a try and hoping for the best IF something big was done to you.

Yet I see 60-year-olds wanting to spite others for petty shit and I am literally embarrassed as hell for them. I am mostly a silent observer for a few reasons. I don’t like to get involved in other people’s problems that don’t concern or pertain to me in any way, and I also find following blogs regularly rather frustrating because the few people that have actually been interesting enough to hook my interest (yes, I’m hard to please and impress) don’t seem to stick with it for long or they change accounts. So I don’t always see all that goes on and am not always up to date on matters.

What I have seen is a prime reminder of how much low self-esteem and a lack of self-respect are out there. That one would waste time following and harassing those that can’t stand them and that they supposedly dislike as well, goes to show just how little they must value themselves.

It’s ok to be angry and to write about your feelings, even if it’s in a public blog. But it’s not ok to act like a high school kid and stalk, follow and seek revenge on others all the while you try to drag others into it. Sweat the big things, folks, not the little things, for it’s only going to make you look small, weak, childish and dumb in the eyes of others. And when we spend so much energy sweating every little thing we don’t like or agree with, we find we don’t have the energy left for the positive things worth focusing on in life.

Right or wrong, I’m sure people will continue to spite themselves and make themselves look bad while trying to get at others. I may not be perfect myself, but it still sickens me to see so much of this shit going on. It’s not always easy to ignore those you don’t like cuz sometimes they just don’t want to let us have the luxury of ignoring them, but you don’t have to lower yourself to their level either.

Years ago I used to be a very vengeful person myself and was a very miserable and immature person. As I said, I’m not perfect, but upon growing up and gaining maturity and self-respect, I see just how silly and childish I truly was when I look back on my old self. I try not to judge other people and their ways, but some things are just plain wrong by any normal, reasonable set of standards. But just like I’m not going to suddenly believe God is good just because one may want me to or tell me to, you can’t “talk” someone into being a better person. I know that. Only they can do that IF they want to.

Someone once asked if I’d bash a cyber friend of mine I’ve been super close with (not Nane) for years if our friendship ended. No, I wouldn’t because if our friendship ever ended (and I sure hope it doesn’t and highly doubt it will, though people have tried to come between us) she’s much too intelligent and mature to resort to the kind of kiddy crap drama Kim has resorted to which would be the only reason I’d have anything bad to say about her. Although she may be bummed out about it, I’m sure she would simply accept that our friendship was over and focus her attention on positive things and those who are still in her life in a positive way. So the furthest I would go would be to simply say that our friendship ended and I may or may not say why.

However, as soon as you’ve crossed the line into cyberbullying like Kim has, then I have no qualms about hurting your feelings or angering you with something I may have to say about you. How you take it is up to you and I’m not going to care anymore at that point.

As for me personally, I don’t care if someone wrote in their blog that I was a mass murderer and used my full name because words cannot hurt me. Remember the old adage: Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words can never hurt me.

Well, for the most part, that’s true! Throw sticks and stones my way, however, and then you’ve taken things to a whole new level. I won’t let myself be afraid to fight back like I used to be and I won’t care how “high up” in society you may be or what your status, title or friends are like.

Information is knowledge, and with knowledge comes potential trouble for those of us who may not deserve it. Therefore, I’m picky about what sensitive info I give to those who have abused it in the past or that I don’t feel has changed or that I can trust. Yeah, folks, sometimes the people who are supposed to love or at least care for us the most will be the first to throw us to the wolves if we piss them off.

Not sure how much longer I’ll disallow anonymous questions on Ask. I blocked them due to the troll’s same old lame shit, but I feel controlled this way and I miss the fun of anonymous questions other than those from the same damn two crazy chicks that just can’t seem to get enough of me. But in allowing for anonymous comments I then give THEM the control. So… I think I’ll keep things the way they are for a while.

Later…

Why does everyone want me to call them all of a sudden??? I love my friends and family but I am NOT a phone person. Can you get that? Please quit trying to make me something I’m not and to get me to do something I have no desire to do when it’s so much more convenient to keep in touch online. You’re welcome to leave me voice messages, but I’m a little too busy (even if I was a phone person) to take an hour or two out of my hectic schedule every few days to chat.

I’ll catch up on calls if my poor husband can ever get enough free time to set up our hotspot so I can use the MagicJack. Meanwhile, whether one has money or not, it’s foolish to spend money on minutes for the cell when I can just use my computer phone once we get it up to speed which only costs just $20 a year. Really, folks, if it’s not an emergency, why would I want to burn up minutes just to discuss the same things that can be discussed online? Even for free it’s pretty pointless unless you have a ton of stuff to say.

Speaking of friends and family, I had a dream that a friend was teaching me self-defense, only I never got the chance for any “defense,” LOL. I don’t think she’d want me to mention the other dreams, with or without her name mentioned.

I had what classifies as a total nightmare when I dreamt of having to go live with my sister, hahaha. That would have to mean Tom and I were broker than broke. Plus my sister and I are still too different. Our personalities and interests differ to the point that we’d probably clash like hell. The strange part was that she was calling one of her kids Melanie.

Why all the wet dreams lately, some of which are with characters from past books of mine? I got it on with an Italian hottie a few nights ago, and last night it was a Latina hottie.

I’m doing laundry now (the hose just needed to be tightened) and enjoying the peace until Jesse or his mutts steal it.

Tom and I are amazed at how much more effective a Waterpik is compared to flossing. We were skeptical at first but even on lower pressure settings it’s kicking out shit from between our teeth we didn’t even know was there. Tom said it was disgusting, LOL, to learn he had all that stuff in his mouth when he didn’t even feel like he had anything there. He did know that he had a build-up of tartar on his lower teeth, however, and says even that’s been getting knocked off little by little.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 13, 2012 When someone views my blog for 49 minutes through a proxy I can’t help but wonder if it’s someone I know. There were also some IP#s said to be reported as spam forums when I ran the numbers.

Now for something that kind of disturbs and even worries me. This will have to be kept private for sure, but it’s about Tammy. She wants me to help her spite Lisa and I absolutely refuse to get involved or take sides. She didn’t literally ask me to get involved or take sides, but as I’ve mentioned, the two things she loves to bitch about when we talk on or offline are her health issues and all the problems Lisa’s supposedly causing the family. This time she went a step further, asking if I could find out what nursing home she works at in Mystic, CT. She and the others want to get her in trouble. Something about her taking a picture of herself showing off her new heels after getting worker’s comp for a bad back. People that cheat the system piss me off too, and there are people that genuinely need things like welfare, worker’s comp and disability and the cheaters help ruin it for them, but this is her DAUGHTER for God’s sake! Am I missing something here or is it just plain wrong for a mother to seek what seems like a form of revenge on her own daughter AND pit her other kids and husband against her as well? Is there really no end to whom she will spite when crossed by them? Or at least when she thinks she’s been crossed by them?

I’ll be the first to admit I don’t know the whole story (she said she’d tell me if I called), and I got a taste of Lisa’s craziness myself a few years ago when we were all bickering. So I know for a fact that Lisa’s unbalanced. She’s lied to me, she’s made false accusations against me, and I saw a lot of Molly in her in just those few messages we exchanged. But how much of her craziness is Tammy influenced? And Bill, and maybe Mark, too.

Again, I don’t know the whole story, but what she said to me and what I saw on Becky’s wall shows that her vindictiveness still lives on, She spited me in 2000 and then again in 2009 with her vengeful evilness and apparently, she hasn’t changed a bit. Piss her off and she’ll do everything she can to make you miserable whether you deserve it or not.

All Tammy would say was that the last 4 days have been terrible with Lisa’s threats and harassment. Also, Sarah was especially hurt cuz she stuck by her when no one else would and they’ve come to the end of the road with her. She asked if we were Facebook friends, but we’re not and we never will be.

Again, I don’t know the whole story, but when I saw Tammy, Sarah and Becky openly bashing her on Becky’s public wall, it again made me wonder who I was associating with and if it was worth the risk to have her as a backup for the next poor spell.

I had decided to dump her as soon as both parents were gone, but then I hung onto her because she had been nice enough to deal with wrapping up Mom and Dad’s lives mostly by herself, all the while keeping me up to date on what was going on. Then she offered to send us some stuff and told me not to hesitate to call for help if we ever needed money. I’ll admit I didn’t want to burn that bridge too quickly. Not many people would help a little let alone to the degree she would and that wasn’t something I just wanted to throw away. She’d send us tickets and put us up in the basement apartment they had made for Becky till she and Sarah got an apartment together and give Tom a job working with Mark. How many people would do that much for us even if they could? Not many! So I’ll be the first to admit I was hesitant to just throw that kind of backup away, even if the LAST thing we’d ever want to do is run to Tammy of all people. Remember, she helped get me in jail, however indirectly it may’ve been, by exposing me to the welfare bums and corrupt pig that were after me. If she hadn’t defended her abusive husband, I never would’ve known there was a warrant out for me in the first place, but thanks to her flushing me out like that when they came to talk to me about threatening Bill (and I was truly guilty of that much), they routinely checked and discovered the bench warrant. No, she didn’t know about the warrant any more than we did, but that doesn’t change the fact that she still helped me lose 6 months of freedom and thousands of dollars, and put me through an untold amount of stress, depression, and anger. And don’t forget my husband. He too was affected by all the spite, legal or not. In seeking legal revenge upon me, they hurt my husband, too. I’m all for seeking justice but not revenge, and clearly what she and the bums/cop did was nothing other than revenge with a capital R. Going after someone who beat you up, burned your place down or stole your car, is totally different.

So… I’m not against getting justice, but I am against getting revenge. I know they don’t always let us, but we should really just try to ignore those we don’t like or have a problem with. Is it just me or does anyone else I share this with agree that a mother trying to get her daughter in trouble (even if she really doesn’t have a bad back), and openly condemning her on FB is just plain wrong? Lisa may not have been able to see it, though, if they all have her blocked. Still, aren’t mothers supposed to not take sides?

If I pulled back and looked at Tammy as just Tammy and not my sister, then asked myself if I would be friends with her, the answer would be no. She’s not my type to buddy with. We don’t have much in common at all. Never have. But unless things get worse, I’m afraid to dump her cuz not only will we have burned a possible safety net, it will then be my turn, once again, to be harassed by her, and God knows what she may do next time. If I do ever feel I have reason enough to dump her I won’t hesitate to do so as there’s only so much shit I’ll take from people, but I’ll bow out silently and not go off on her on my way out, cuz that’d really fuel her fire. I will admit a part of me is amused at the idea of simply going dumb on her.

Her: Where have you been? Why don’t you answer my calls and messages anymore?

Me: I don’t know who you are. You must have me mixed up with someone else.

Her: It’s Tammy, your sister, goddamnit!

Me: Who? I don’t have a sister. I’m an only child.

LOL, well, my blogs sure do say otherwise, but it’s still a funny thought. Right now, though, dealing with Kim and Molly is enough, and being annoying isn’t reason enough to get rid of the drama queen. There’s only so much I’d take from anyone, though, so if bad things start happening…bye-bye I go even if that means throwing our life jackets to the wolves, and there really isn’t anything to say we’ll never be poor again. What can happen once can happen twice, though it has happened thrice. Oh yeah, God loves to make bums out of us, but I promise Him and myself, I won’t always live like a bum. Regardless of what we have for money, someday we WILL have a decent home.

It’s true, though. Poverty can happen to anyone, anytime, including us. He could get laid off right now. In about 7-8 months we would run out of money if he were unable to find a job by then, and then we could be right back in the same boat we were in last year. My optimistic side says, “God doesn’t hate you guys that much.” My realistic side says, “The hell He doesn’t!” Seriously, if this happened, God would NOT be looking out for us.

Back on topic. I told Tammy that I wouldn’t know where to begin to find out the information she wants on Lisa (it’s true). I also told her I felt it best not to get involved for obvious reasons.

I don’t know just how messed up Lisa is, but I remember a part of me felt bad for Molly’s parents (until I realized just what enablers they are) after the way Molly wrote in an old blog of hers how she dreamed of stabbing them in their sleep and how she was funny farmed (even though her mother could’ve had her arrested), for threatening suicide and attacking them. Well, I don’t know if she just threatened to kill them or if she actually made an attempt to attack them, but I know her father had to subdue her, so to speak. She wrote of him pinning her down in a chair when she was supposedly out of control one night.

Well, just how out of control is Lisa??? She can’t be too crazy if she can hold a job and a long-term relationship like she is said to be doing. sighs I think the whole family’s just fucked up. It’s as simple as that. I’m the only one that came out so fluky but oh so normal at the same time, LOL.

I told her about the dream I had of her dying last June, but that I wouldn’t worry much about it since I also dreamed Alison died yet she never did.

Thinking of how these sisters have been fighting doesn’t surprise me. Lisa had told me she was close to them before going off on me a few years ago, and even Mom said that, too. Yet I remember thinking to myself that this might change in time. I got that one right, all right. Regardless, God didn’t love me enough to give me a good family, but he sure gave me a great husband and friends. :) That helps make up for it.

Later…

Had a busy morning, along with the usual annoyances from up at Jesse’s place. The loud truck, some barking, and who knows what else is to come. It’s still prime Jes pest time, so we’ll see. Maybe the motorcycle? I’m kind of surprised I haven’t heard it already.

Right now I’m bloated to hell and I have a bit of a backache, too. Can’t wait to trade these periods in for hot flashes. Especially when it’s in the 30s and 40s out there. It’s not even January and I miss the summer already, even though the cold is so much better for sleeping and working out.

Romeo, being the little devil that he is, likes to push some of the bedding out and make a mess on the floor around the cage. I don’t know what the reason for this is. Is he trying to build some kind of privacy wall? If he wants privacy, what’s wrong with the wooden burrow or the tube? He does spend most of his sleeping time in the tube while Sugar prefers the burrow, so who knows why he does the silly things he does.

Sick of cleaning up after him I added the wire mesh flooring that goes just above the bottom rim of the cage. That way they can’t actually reach the bedding. While I was doing this, the only place I could think of to put the two of them while still being able to keep an eye on them was in the kitchen pail, LOL. I removed the trash bag from it first, of course, but this way they were contained in something too high to jump out of.

I assured them I’d work as quickly as I could, peeking in on them from time to time. One time Romeo was looking up curiously at me as if to say, “What’s going on?” It was so cute! Of course they had to piss and shit the pail up, but it was due for a good rinsing anyway.

When I first sent them back home I had yet to add the burrow and food bowl. Sugar looked back at me as if to say, “Hey, where’s all my stuff, bitch?” hahaha, it was so cute.

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 12, 2012 Got our new Waterpik and had it unpacked and set up before Tom got up. It’s pretty simple to use. This is going to be a wonderful alternative to flossing.

Having money spoils you. I suppose it would do that to anyone. Even so, I have to remind myself not to get carried away with the extra luxuries just because I can. I used a Swiffer duster sheet instead of the dusting wand so I didn’t have to keep running outside to shake the dust out of it, and while it’s more expensive this way, it sure gets a lot of dirt, dust and grime that the other duster can’t get. I was amazed at how filthy the thing was when I was done. The other duster is flimsy and can’t get into small spaces as well and is best for things like ceiling fans and large open surfaces.

FB now has this thing - the highlights of 2012. I clicked on it and a bunch of rat pics flashed through, LOL. Yeah, big highlights of 2012 (besides Tom getting hired on), two dead parents and two live rats. :)

While this may be cool, FB is also pissing me off again not only with new changes, but now they’re spamming the newsfeeds and it’s getting pretty old pretty fast. This is part of why I dumped Twitter. Again, I suppose this would annoy anyone.

Sometimes I think of how I could just shut down my online life and be done with all the trolls, spam, scams and other nuisances. But the fun and convenience of it all is something I would greatly miss if I did.

Never thought I’d come to love my Romeo so much. Sugar’s a good guy, but Romeo has really weaseled his way into my heart. He started off extremely timid and is one of our dumber rats, but he’s catching on and now the rat that once ran and hid from me when I’d approach him runs up to me in hopes of me picking him up and giving him treats when I walk by his cage. Like most rats, he’s not big on cuddling but is becoming more playful. Instead of just exploring on his own when I let him out, he comes and “visits” me, too.

It’s hard for a rat to climb straight down and so I easily trained our last rat to step onto my head, which I would bring level with the roof of his cage when he’d climb up onto it. I would then lower myself face down to the floor and he would climb down my neck, down my back, then jump off. Sometimes you gotta literally walk a rat through the steps, so I placed my head even with the roof as usual and pulled him off of it and onto my head to show him how it’s done. Of course, this time I had Sugar, who thought it was a game, trying to playfully grab and nip my nose from inside the cage, LOL. So I gotta be careful when training Romeo to use me as a ladder!

So much for thinking a rainy day would keep the Jes pest away. It’s running something kind of loud up there. Him and his fucking loud engines and machinery! It’s not loud enough to be the bulldozer, though. Could be some type of water pump. Maybe his garage got flooded or something, though it didn’t rain that much today, and most of it was last night.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 11, 2012 Fucking Andy! We agreed he wouldn’t answer questions with my name, yet he answered with “What secrets?” when Molly asked him what secrets he and I were keeping since she couldn’t question me directly. I played the dumb card cuz I don’t want to give Molly the satisfaction of knowing I know it’s her.

So screw “Justin.” I’ll just use his account as an instrument of torture. I was thinking I’d have him ask me questions about Molly and if I’ve been harassed or not, and have him be from the group home she’s in, etc.

Exchanged messages yesterday with Nane and Tammy. Nane got me laughing about all the snow she’s getting, but Tammy got me anything but laughing.

Poor Becky has to have eye surgery because she’s going to be losing an eye. That’s just horrible! Being born blind in one eye is one thing, but losing an eye after you had both for something like 25 years must be just awful.

As for Tammy, she tried to go back to work but was unable to. They bumped her Mass General appointment up a couple of weeks. God only knows what’s wrong with her. I just know she wishes she could catch a break for once and I don’t blame her.

She mailed our package yesterday which I let her know we’re looking forward to, and I suppose I shouldn’t say anything more about her or her kids. After all, it’s their own business and they can start their own blog if they want to share it with the public. But since I haven’t said anything bad about them, I guess this much is ok.

I also got a gorgeous glittery card from Mary.

MONDAY, DECEMBER 10, 2012 For 4 days now Molly has peeked in on my blog and I have a feeling the why-am-I-so-mean-to-dogs and last night’s rude “question” about my sex life were both from her. They don’t seem Kim’s style, though in some ways they’re also a little well-written and above Molly. Could be Molly’s mother, but still, I’d be willing to bet on either Molly or her mother. Every time I think Molly’s gone for good, back she comes, and Kim seems to pester me every week or two.

Deciding I’d had enough of them and that they were just not going to go away, I created a whole new account as a young man in England. I hate being someone I’m not, but if I do this for a while, maybe – just maybe – they’ll get sick of me. I’ve led them to believe Andy and I are now keeping in touch on Formspring, and will only share the link to “Justin’s” account with about half a dozen of my closest friends.

While Andy’s dealing with his computer issues I’ll take the time to build the account a bit so it looks legit. I asked myself some anonymous questions but don’t want to use the account too much at first with Andy so it doesn’t become too obvious who Justin really is. Just the changing of background pics would be obvious enough, so I’ll eventually be sure to say I noticed that Andy changes pics regularly and maybe I should start doing that too, or something like that. Because some of my pics are kind of feminine, I guess I should be gay, hahaha.

I’ll have to remember not to mention names and topics that could give me away but in a way that Andy will understand what I’m talking about. The trolls are bound to watch him closer now, and maybe even pester him, in search of clues as to what’s going on with me. I told him to just say that we’re keeping in touch on Formspring. I was sure to mention that anonymously on his wall too, knowing they’ll see it.

I know I could’ve disallowed anonymous questions and blocked any accounts they came at me through, but that wouldn’t be much fun. I did, however, disallow them before suddenly being unable to log in. Still, if ignoring them is really going to do the trick like Andy said, well, I don’t exactly feel like I’m totally ignoring them even if I don’t answer them because they know damn well I’m seeing their so-called questions. As long as they can get to me in a convenient, non-anonymous way, they will. But I don’t want to dump such an established account either, so I’ll just abandon it for a while. The thing is that with my shit luck, even if I didn’t use it for years, they’d still check it every now and then.

Another thing that got old for me was having to ignore them. I’d prefer not to hear from them at all because I don’t like them, but I always want to answer with one of my crazy answers and it’s such a struggle to resist the temptation of wanting to really play with their minds. I know, though, that just like Andy said, this would only fuel their fire. So with Justin, I don’t have to be tempted to fuck with them, and they get to sit and stew in frustration of not having an easy connection to me. Gotta laugh when I think of them searching and searching for us on Formspring and I know they will.

Watch, Molly will disappear for another month now and not know I supposedly can’t log in. Better than her being around every day, though.

Heard from cousin Phil. He updated his past and present locations and said he doesn’t log in much and that he loves and misses me. I love and miss the hell out of him, too! So glad I finally found him after all these years. In many ways, he was like the big brother I never had.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 9, 2012 Wish I had more to say other than that I like Rihanna’s new song You Da One, but I don’t. I got tired of missing out on music and knew there’d be fresh stuff waiting for me so I visited my stations on last.fm. Kinda pissed to see that now you can only skip 6 songs an hour, but anyway, the connection is still so slow that music still cuts in and out. I had to look up the song on YouTube and let it buffer in before I could play it straight through.

By the time Tom’s one day off comes around he’s so tired that all he wants to do is nap. So he didn’t get around to setting up the hotspot’s antennae just yet or making any calls to the travel agency. I offered to call them for him and he said he’d think about it cuz I do so much as it is. I don’t feel like I do much compared to him, LOL.

Andy’s computer caught a virus, I exchanged messages with Maliheh, and Tammy did visit my blog after all. I just didn’t know she’d come up as being in Richardson, TX, but I learned this when she opened the email I sent her. It’s an AT&T email account, so if one doesn’t set up their profile, they’ll appear to be where the company is based, just like Gmail accounts that aren’t profiled show up as being in Mountain View, CA.

What I don’t get is why she doesn’t always respond to simple little questions like if she had any idea when we can expect the packages she keeps saying she’s sending. She better not be fucking with me. It doesn’t seem like anything she’d make up. I guess that when one is always busy and sick, they just don’t have much time.

It seems like Kim has backed off for a week or two, but Molly may be the one who asked why I’m so “mean” to dogs (by wishing they’d drop dead when they bark, though it’s been quiet enough lately). She’s viewed my blog 3 days in a row now, always sure to check comments no doubt in hopes of one of them being left by Alison.

Looks like the washer’s hose was just loose. I’ll find out next time I do laundry.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 8, 2012 Ok, now for Part 2 of the What Happened Last Year saga involving old enemies who screwed me through the law 13 years ago just to return to haunt me in a whole new way.

I will admit that I did something kind of dumb during the summer and fall of 2010, and so in some ways, it was my fault, not that I’m responsible for other people’s actions. But still, I should’ve known better. What happened may or may not have happened if I hadn’t taken advantage of one of Blogger’s features and that’s this little auto-sender thing they have where you can insert one’s email address and have the entries automatically mailed to them. Not just the link to the entries, but the entries themselves as well.

The therapist I had years ago on account of their legal vengeance suggested I write about my feelings about what was done to me, saying it was very therapeutic. I agreed. It was very therapeutic. But why not share some of these thoughts directly with the source? I figured back then. It was legal, so why not? The worst she could do was ignore them, delete them or mark them as spam. I’d actually known about her email address for quite some time at that point. I’d found it, free of charge, on one of those people-info sites.

Around the time she and her rogue cop raked my ass over hot coals in court, she moved to a city outside of Phoenix which she also began working for. Nonetheless, I shared my thoughts, feelings and opinions and “dropped” her a copy of them. This includes the trouble she herself got into. Hey, it was a matter of public information anyway. I mentioned how she got sued by an apartment complex and then again by a daycare center, and of course I couldn’t leave out what she got away with – abuse of the welfare system, perjury in court, prank calls to my husband and I, and the times she and her cronies left sexually explicit notes in our mail slot which was a federal offense right there. Yes, it was what she did get away with that was pretty damn amazing as opposed to what she didn’t get away with.

Once, she visited my blog from work, according to my tracker, by clicking through one of the emails and into the blog itself. Blogger had shit security and a joke of a privacy policy, but TIP worked the best on that particular blog for some reason, providing me with the best info. Well, it was more detailed anyway.

I probably should’ve said this earlier, but to jump back to 2007 when I was entering sweeps regularly and living up in Oregon, I entered a sweep presented by a company with a very familiar name. And then I saw a very family face and location to go with that name. No, not her – him! As in Mr. Corrupto himself turned real estate man working for his family’s real estate business after getting booted from the piggy force. Tom didn’t think it was him at first, saying cops weren’t allowed to show their faces online like that unless it was related to a case they were working on.

But he was supposed to be an EX-cop, right? So after hitting him with an email giving him a piece of my mind – again, nothing racial or threatening – but just enough to make me feel at least a little better and like I finally got to really say something about what was done to me even though it could never be undone, I visited ratemycop.com and was both shocked and furious to find his name on the list. Nonetheless, I “rated” him, alright.

Then I later learned that just because a cop may’ve been fired doesn’t mean they still don’t keep a list of everyone that’s worked for the department or that they update it regularly. Various sources confirmed that he is almost certainly not on the force. But I knew he’d still probably learn of my feedback either way and that he wouldn’t be the least bit happy about it either.

For years I was terrified of them and the thought of what they may try to do to me for anything I’ve said to them or in my blogs, but I promised myself I would never let myself be scared silent by these losers, for that would be letting them win and take even more from me after they’d already taken enough years ago from both my husband and I – time, money, freedom and peace of mind. A part of me even hoped they would try to violate my rights, falsify evidence, withhold information from me that I had a right to know, or feed me false information so I could sue the shit out of them, not that I wanted to go through the headaches and hassles. I’d already lost enough sanity to these people both through and not through the law. But I was naïve to the law 13 years ago and they knew it. That’s part of why they took advantage of me, in the name of hate and revenge. And oh, how they hated me as opposed to Tom, who made it clear to the courts that it was he who sent the city letter and not me. But I was the hated one because I was not only the one who screamed at them to shut up from time to time when asking politely failed to work, but I was the Jewish one, too. And yes, I know they knew I was Jewish and that they disliked whites, and especially Jews. But that’s a whole ‘nother story I won’t get into now. The point was still the same; I promised myself that despite what they did to me if I had something to say I was going to say it. And I did.

If what happened to me could happen to me, it could happen to anyone. Even you. So if sharing my story, even though I’m going to initially do it with just friends, can help just one person, then that is satisfaction in itself. Reverse discrimination really does exist and so do corrupt cops who help their friends spite those that they feel have crossed them. Who wouldn’t feel “crossed” by a letter of complaint to the city, which the welfare bum claimed resulted in her eviction, even if they’d truly done wrong and deserved to be complained on? Still, this doesn’t excuse what was done to me, and again, if my story helps just one person I would be thrilled, for knowledge is everything. One need not go to law school to help protect themselves and their rights, but what we don’t know really can hurt us.

Around August 2011, my email account was hacked, supposedly by someone in Malaysia. I changed PWs, but all was supposedly fine after that. This was the email connected to Blogger. I also received pop-ups on my blog saying “suspicious activity detected” but I really didn’t think much of it at the time.

Then one day Tom was alarmed at the bandwidth usage going on and he was able to tell that someone had been on my computer doing God only knew what, for that much, we couldn’t tell. This was when he pulled me out of Windows and into Mac’s OSX which is much safer. In the year that I’ve been using OSX, I’ve encountered no hackings, viruses, Trojans or worms and have only crashed 2-3 times. I hate it and love it. It’s trickier to navigate, but as they say, once you go Mac you never go back. Its upgrades are a fraction of Window’s upgrades, and I totally believe without a doubt that Windows is a highly potentially dangerous operating system. I won’t touch it ever again as overpriced as most things Apple-related can be.

Time to cut to the chase. In October of 2011, I received an email at both the Gmail account I used to have for sweeping and one I had created for Paula to use because she couldn’t create one herself. Once I saw she wasn’t going to use it, I took it over but never used it since the addy had her name in it. Regardless, the email said the PD in the sick bitch’s city had subpoenaed Google for info. I was alarmed but not worried, for I knew I hadn’t done anything other than say things she didn’t want to hear.

The months passed and I tried not to worry about them hunting me down and shooting me or anything, even though I’ve known this was always a very real possibility. They are that full of hate and that obsessive. Trust me when I say that what they did to me took a lot of time, money, legwork and determination to the point of obsession. At the same time, it was NOTHING compared to how it affected me. A lot of people don’t realize or even give a shit about the severity in which their actions can impact others, or for how long.

The real scare came in January of 2012 when I received an email saying a case had been made against me and to please call the PD listed at my earliest convenience. I went into immediate freak-out mode. My heart started pounding, I could barely breathe, and I had the runs like crazy. In a panic I called Tom at work who calmed me down, assuring me everything would be fine.

“Don’t let them win,” I told myself, taking deep breaths and willing myself to calm down. “Don’t let them control your emotions, and by God don’t walk into any kind of legal trap like you did in 2000 by answering to them in any way. You can’t stop the cops from busting in here and arresting you, but you don’t have to go to them. Don’t let them win again!”

Instead, I quietly shut down all my accounts connected to Google, one by one, and did something I rarely do. I prayed to God. I felt a bit silly about it since He let them have me once, so why would He protect me this time around?

And so I waited… and I waited… and I waited. But no one came to cart me off in cuffs and shackles back down to Arizona. No one even came to so much as talk to me.

After a few months, I stopped dead in my tracks and said, “Whoa, whoa, wait a minute here! Why am I the one running if I haven’t done anything wrong?” Nothing I did was illegal. Nothing. Tom first worried they were trying to get me for spam, if it was in fact a real cop that sent the email, but according to our research, a few dozen or so messages don’t constitute spam. They mostly go after businesses that send thousands of emails. Besides, no one does much about the thousands of fake lotto scams and other emails sent each and every day where people actually do make their attempts at illegal activity.

It was with a sickening dread that I then began to realize they may’ve altered one of the posts to make me really look bad and wondered if my computer being hacked had anything to do with it. But if it were “really bad,” wouldn’t they have come after me despite possible jurisdiction issues? I didn’t know what to think at the time, I was just glad that God had protected ME for once!

Or had He? Was there really anything to ever need to protect me from?

I studied and thought of the email messages, analyzing them like crazy.

And then I saw it.

I felt like the biggest idiot on earth! Still do for that matter. By the time I got done tackling each and every word, I came up with many things that all screamed, “BULLSHIT!”

Although the general PD info seemed correct, something anyone could look up, one of the things that made me automatically assume it was for real was that it was sent to 3 of my then-current email addresses and one I had down in Arizona. But as I would come to realize, anyone could get that information if they were willing to pay for it on some site like Intellius, and if they had been a cop at one point or another, they’d be likely to still have friends in high enough places who could dig up all kinds of goodies for them. If they really wanted to know the last time I farted, they could find out.

But that was another thing right there; it wasn’t just me the email was sent to. It was also sent to an address I didn’t recognize as well as one to Mr. Corrupto himself. There was also an address that didn’t make sense. It was like it wasn’t even a real email address. Now why would any legit cop with a real “case” email a notice about it to other people as well?

There was also the fact that it was from a “cop” with a very generic name. Too generic. Also, there are some types of business you simply don’t conduct online. If it were a real cop with a real case they could’ve gotten our phone numbers and even our physical address, even though the internet, like all the utilities here, is in Jesse’s name.

Another sign of it being a scam was that after several months passed, I failed to find any default warrant on me. As I once learned the hard way, even if they can’t actually serve you with a summons, a case can still be brought to court and processed with or without your knowledge. If you don’t show up – and you wouldn’t if you were never served and didn’t know you were supposed to appear in the first place – a bench warrant is automatically issued for your arrest for failing to appear. Yet there was absolutely nothing out there on me.

Ever since that day, I have not heard from the sick bitch or anyone connected to her, and while I’m 99% sure it wasn’t a real cop that messaged me with a “case” made against me, I treat it as if it were very real indeed and am very careful of what I say or do, always keeping up to date on blogger’s rights, etc. I’m kind of surprised they went silent on me as I expected to be harassed online had it been real (until I sued the PD for harassment), but this is just additional proof that it wasn’t real because Arizona’s not the kind of state to just let things go. I still don’t doubt that it was connected to the bitch just by the content of the email and the location given, but what was their point? Just to scare me, I guess. After all, if most people’s evil deeds were exposed in someone’s blog – deeds they’d prefer to keep hidden – those people would be bound to be pissed off.

The lesson I’ve learned from this little scare? Don’t be afraid to speak your mind, but let people come to your blog. Don’t bring it to them.

The lesson they should hope never to have to learn? I’m a lot smarter than I was in 2000. Fuck with me and I’ll sue you right out of the potty you piss in!

Later…

Heard from Maliheh just when I was beginning to think I never would. I feel bad for assuming the worst like I did.

She says she’s got 600 messages in her box and hasn’t felt like going through them, then she said she was sorry she missed my birthday and hoped I had a good day.

Then, according to TIP, she checked her mail again not long afterward presumably to see if I’d sent a reply, but I was too busy to reply till a little while ago. I teased her about needing to hire me as her secretary.

So I guess Tom’s theory was right in that she didn’t dump me but is just getting to be more and more of a recluse with age.

One of the cool things I discovered about Hotmail is that it hides my TIP code. Still, I’ll mostly use Hotmail to communicate with Andy unless there are ever additional problems with mail.com.

Molly peeked in on me again too, this time for a few minutes.

The fucking washer hose is leaking. I knew that thing was going to break any minute now. I said to myself, if we don’t get the fuck out, that washer’s gonna be a problem. The hose, however, does say to replace it every 5 years and it’s been 4 1/2. Why can’t we ever have anything that doesn’t leak?!?!?! Maybe it just needs to be tightened. I can still wash clothes, I just have to lay a towel around the washer on the floor. Fucking 20-year-olds have full-size washers and dryers while we have this tiny thing that now leaks, and we have to hang clothes from wall to wall like true bums at heart! But I know it’s going to be a very long time before we move so I just have to deal with it. At least the Jes pest’s late-night weekend outings have stopped, making it more peaceful around here at that time.

It’s continuing to be a rather warm winter. We haven’t even hit freezing yet at night.

FRIDAY, DECEMBER 7, 2012 Some of you may remember that last year I deleted the blog I had on Blogger and stopped using my other blogs for a while. During this time I mostly shared entries on Facebook. This might’ve actually been at the end of 2010. I told you it was because of security issues and this was 100% true. My Gmail account, blog included since Google powers them both, was indeed hacked. But there was more to it that I didn’t share in my blog. This was because I wanted to wait till I had more information and knew what the hell was going on, besides the fact that I was scared shitless. Fortunately, it wasn’t long before I calmed down enough to examine all the telltale signs that assured me there was a 99% chance it was just a hoax. Nonetheless, I was very shaken up and so that’s why I laid low for a while.

It was a tough subject for me to write about while I was busy fearing for my safety and the safety of my husband as well. Actually, it wasn’t that I couldn’t bring myself to write about it so much as I couldn’t bring myself to share it. See, it involves a black person and everyone is so quick to side with non-whites these days that I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with the doubt, the accusations, and the animosity that might’ve come with it. I can only share the facts, folks. What people choose to do with those facts is a whole ‘nother issue. So one of these days soon enough, I will share what happened and you the reader can decide what to do with that information. It’s like giving someone a shirt for Christmas. You can give them the shirt, but you can’t guarantee where that shirt will end up. I will tell you what happened. What you do with that info is out of my control, but I’m not going to worry about who may not be able to handle it for much longer.

I can’t say when I’ll be ready to share the whole story because that’s not one of those things you can exactly put a time frame on. When I get around to writing about it in a way that the public can understand (regardless of who they want to believe and side with in the end) I will do so.

I will at least give you a little prelude to the story, but in order to do so I must jump back to the mid-90s in Phoenix, Arizona. We had a small tract house in Phoenix when the city seized the house next to us. Tom and I moved in in 1993 and were married the next year. From 1996-1999, which was when we moved, we had welfare bums living next to us that drove us crazy, particularly me, because I was home more than Tom was. Loud music, wild parties, screaming kids, barking dogs, fights, drug sales, vandalism, trash… all within just a matter of feet from our place. A black woman and her child lived there for 3 years and then a Mexican family lived with us for our last 4 months there. They also had other people living there that weren’t supposed to.

My husband sent letters to the city complaining of the chaos. What we didn’t know at the time was that the black woman had a friend on the police force. He is no longer a member of the force but in the family real estate business instead, thanks to his misconduct and abuse of authority. I do not know who else this guy victimized but common sense tells me that several complaints had to finally add up to get him booted and that this type of person doesn’t usually pick on just one person. What he did to “pick” on me was add a threatening letter to some journal excerpts I shared with them through the mail as a way of giving them a piece of my mind. The excerpts may’ve been perceived as bordering on threatening, but they weren’t actually threatening by any means. As far as I knew, I was well within my legal right, but again, I had no idea about the corrupt cop friend at the time and what he had in mind for me.

It was now early 2000. We had just moved when I was rudely awakened, yanked out of my house by a fucking swat team, and dragged 45 minutes back into Phoenix to be asked questions I could’ve been asked at home. Well, they photographed and fingerprinted me as well. Then the cop thrusts a threatening letter chock full of racial slurs and asks if I knew anything about it. I didn’t. But it didn’t matter, for he got what he wanted – my prints on the damn thing.

After being told that it was “over,” I had to play court till the fall of that year. Just minutes before sentencing we were shown “evidence” we’d never seen before. The public pretender mostly flashed the evidence in my face for just seconds before yanking it away. It seemed to consist mostly of racially motivated comics that were anything but funny. It also wasn’t until sentencing day that we learned the “victim” was tight with the “cop,” mostly based on how they carried on in court and by how obvious it was that she was coaxed in her so-called statement. It wasn’t until after sentencing that I learned I had been charged and convicted of the letter, NOT the journals.

It was then that I got to really learn not only how much Arizona favors minorities, but also just how barbaric its laws and sentences can be. Guilty or not, a “crime” like this is considered a misdemeanor in most states rather than a felony as it is, after all, mere words on paper and not actions. I never once laid a finger on anyone. Why they didn’t simply not read the journals if they didn’t want to hear it and just discard them was beyond me. But again, I had yet to realize the impact of this “letter” and how that was the focal point of the “case” as opposed to the journals.

As for who really wrote the letter, I don’t know. Possibly the cop himself in order to help his little buddy build a case against me, or maybe the “victim” received it from someone else. I simply don’t know and I probably never will. The author of that letter certainly isn’t going to come forward and claim credit for it. The only other things from me were a card with little bits of confetti in it that I knew would spill all over the place when they opened it, and a bottle I tossed over the dividing block wall one night due to getting fed up with the stress and anger they caused me for raising hell for hours and hours at a time. Right or wrong, I couldn’t even hear myself think half of the time.

Both inmates and detention officers in the jail I had to spend half a year in agreed that the sentence certainly didn’t fit the crime even if I’d written the damn thing myself. After being released in May of 2001 I was supposed to remain on probation till the fall of 2003, but 6 months before that I was finally vindicated.

The courts and media were quick to label me a stalker and a racist (though I was not charged with a hate crime) and for a while, I became the latter part of that label that was affixed upon me. In reality, it never was about their race to begin with. It was about their behavior. All we wanted was to just live in peace. That’s all we wanted.

After getting my life back and out of their hands, I was able to realize there’s good and bad in all kinds. No, I may not like certain groups as a whole, but that doesn’t mean I hate every single person as an individual within that group. Not all blacks are bad just like not all whites are good. I’m smart enough to know this. But I am truly horrified by all the reverse discrimination going on these days and the favoring of certain groups. Yet people don’t want to hear it when it involves whites, gays or Jews getting shit on. I don’t understand why this is. Do they not believe that blacks aren’t the only ones who deal with discrimination? Is it just too scary for people to face and address this issue? Well, the problem isn’t going to go away on its own. Gays still can’t marry wherever they want to, and whites can’t have an all-white beauty pageant without being called racists.

I knew that those involved would be highly furious about my vindication and that was part of why we left Arizona. I felt too much like a sitting duck. If I had to live in either my native state of Massachusetts or Arizona, I’d choose Massachusetts in a heartbeat even though I would HATE the climate. Arizona’s a beautiful state, but the laws, system and so many other things are so twisted there that I know I could never so much as stand to visit the place let alone ever live there again.

So what happened last year? That will be discussed in a future entry.

THURSDAY, DECEMBER 6, 2012 Maliheh’s second to last email is appearing as not picked up. Why am I not surprised? And why do I think it never will be? I think she’s either going to ignore it or disable cookies when she goes to retrieve it.

That’s ok. Unless she was abducted by aliens and she can prove it, we’re done.

Lost 1.2 of the 3 pounds I gained for my birthday on all that Chinese food. I probably had 3000 calories that day, something I probably only do once every other year. I ate and I ate and I ate, but it was sooo good!

Got a voice message from Tammy and just as I started to get annoyed with my phone fanatic of a dear sister telling me to call to verify our address for packages she’s sending, she said I could leave the info on FB if I wanted to. I definitely prefer that to phones. It’s not only easier, but why use minutes on the cell and risk the call being dropped on the other phone when it’s sooo much easier to do it on FB, and at no additional cost? Besides, we always end up chatting for like forever, and next thing I know I’ve neglected whatever I had planned to do. I’ll call her in 6 months to a year, LOL. With the convenience of online communications that’s all I really need phone-wise these days anyway.

I’m looking forward to whatever it is she’s sending and am sure I’ll love it all! So will Tom.

Later…

Well, well, I was wrong. Maliheh picked up my shame-on-you-for-forgetting-my-birthday message 2 hours ago. But of course I haven’t gotten any reply. Went and changed her pro pic and cover pic on FB, too. Oh, but she doesn’t use FB, right? Seems she once told me she only uses it to see who’s died. She must expect an awful lot of people to be dying then.

Molly’s back. She viewed my blog, but no time registered on my tracker and I don’t think she asked any of the questions I was asked anonymously on Ask. She’s still at Marbridge, though.

Been getting hit with spam like crazy. I still can’t figure out where it’s coming from or who’s doing it. Hopefully, they’ll realize soon enough that they aren’t going to get anything from me and will back off.

Tom ordered the Waterpik which should be a much easier solution to flossing.

Life is going tremendously well for us, but since it’s in my nature to be a complainer no matter what’s going on, let me say that it really annoys me when people say something like, “Your life is going well. Thank God, huh?”

Ok, so I know that “thank God” is a commonly used figure of speech. I use it too, at times. But some people seem to take that quite literally, and while this doesn’t offend me, it does annoy me. They’re thanking the wrong person if that’s what they think. Let’s give credit where it’s due, folks. God’s not the one who gets up at 4am to slave his ass off for 10 hours each day. My husband is. God may’ve influenced the job his way and the good pay and benefits and all that since it’s only reasonable to assume that if He can curse us, He can bless us, and vice versa, but it’s my husband who actually does the work, folks.

Also, my online jobs are done by me. Not God. God doesn’t throw me on my treadmill and scissor my little legs back and forth for a half-hour at a time. I do. He doesn’t clean our kitchen or wash our laundry either. Get what I’m saying, folks? It took a long time to get to where we are today, but it’s us who worked hard to achieve the goals we have already achieved and will continue to achieve.

I’m really worried about Alison. First it was her cancer and now it’s depression and money issues. That girl just can’t seem to get a break in life. Now she might be breaking up with Dustin. It’s sad that she blames herself for everything. Dustin and others can’t be perfect, can they? And can she really be all that bad? I don’t think so. It’s just sad to see such a nice, smart person be so miserable. This is the type of misery crazy assholes like Kim deserve. Who knows, maybe she is miserable deep down. Isn’t that why she wants to be anybody but herself?

WEDNESDAY, DECEMBER 5, 2012 I’m so fucking pissed right now, so you might not want to read this if you can’t handle foul moods very well. It’s like something up there is determined to punish me for having such a good day yesterday.

I was hoping I could go one week – just one lousy week – pain-free. But now my ear is acting up again. It’s like God decided years ago I must, must, MUST live most of my life in pain. Why can’t I just be as crazy as Kim and have MPD instead? Crazy doesn’t hurt. Then I could have fun being all these different people and do it without the pain.

First it’s my ear acting up again, then it’s Kim, then email issues. Tom suspects Hotmail may’ve blocked mail.com on account of spam. This wouldn’t surprise me since they do get kind of spammy. Believe me, it’s frustrating being spammed by your own email provider! So I created a Hotmail account, which I’ll use to send stuff to Andy. I couldn’t even send one from mail.com to my new Hotmail account.

So I still have to deal with my ear, get new glasses, and I feel like we’re NEVER going to get out of here. If I have to keep going to all these doctors it could really eat up our savings. Most things are covered by our insurance, but still, things add up. We’ve already had to get a lot of shit we needed, and then there were the dental expenses. This was enough of a setback as it is. I’m back to thinking our best bet is to just settle for an old expando which will give us 200-300 more square feet and an extra half-bath, rather than wait till we can get a newer doublewide. Again, life isn’t about getting what you want. It’s about making the best of what you can get. I just don’t want to be here another year or two and I know the bastard above is going to see to it that I don’t get shit from my parents!

The new antennae will be here soon so we can use the hotspot when they disconnect us at night and early in the morning like they won’t stop doing.

Then I check in on Ask and get: You recently added me on Facebook, can I ask your advice on something?

Even though the “question” reeked of Kim I thought I’d go and check my friend list just in case it wasn’t to see who I recently added. Sure enough, the skitzo is on my friend list!!! I quickly went from annoyed to seriously creeped out. I did NOT add her. Then I became angry to think that she had full-fledged access to my profile for God knows how long, including my friends. I tried to remember the last time I viewed my friend list. It wasn’t too long ago, but not too recent either. That was when I realized that she probably reactivated an old account she had deactivated to keep an eye on me. This is someone who’s created dozens of accounts both in her name and in the names of the celebrities she impersonates. Thank you, Alter So and So, for being dumb enough to tip me off like that! It was probably an alter that also tried to tell me about a week ago that she created an account to spy on me and how Kim is such a bad person and all that. So the nutjob has this alter that tries to protect me from her real self, and well, it’s crazy. Just crazy. I looked up her name and deleted any suspicious accounts I found, including one that was created 19 hours ago.

I also found other friends I’d long since deleted. Some of them anyway, and I wonder if a Facebook glitch could be involved as well. I’m so sick of issues with Facebook that if it weren’t for Nane I’d shut down in a heartbeat. In fact, I’m thinking of shutting it down, then recreating a new account that can’t be looked up. Then I could just re-add my top friends. I try to keep my friend count down there so that’d be easy enough to do if the account was ever hacked, and it also makes sharing posts easier. It’s easier to sort through a list of 50 friends as opposed to 150 friends if I post something I don’t want to share with everybody. She’s still on a mutual friend’s list, though, from what I know. So if I re-friend that friend from a new account, the troll will see me on her friend list. I’d have to create one with a bogus name and I hate the idea of that. I really don’t want to be anyone other than who I am.

I was remembering back on how a friend and I would get so annoyed when Kim would ask us the same damn questions on Ask that we knew had already been asked and answered. Back then I took it for her not caring enough to pay attention. Now I wonder if it were in fact her alters that would ask the questions, and then she, the real Kim, would fail to remember it.

“But how could you be all these different people and not remember them?” I had asked Tom. “It isn’t an act or them just pretending?”

“No, it’s a mental disease,” Tom told me, and when I think about it – really think about it – no actress is that good. Especially one who seems as dumb as Kim.

Kim’s behavior highly suggests she has MPD, but I’m no expert and I never met the nut in person. I have no idea what her childhood was even like, though I’ve read that MPD is often the result of childhood sexual abuse. This doesn’t excuse her behavior, though. She needs serious help. But what’s scary is that I don’t think there’s anyone to take charge and put a stop to her behavior like there was in Molly’s case. Yes, Molly’s parents were enablers for a while, but they also have custody of her even though she’s an adult, and finally realized she needed more than just a few days in the funny farm. But who’s got custody of Kim? No one, I don’t think. Therefore, there’s no one to control her actions as far as I know. Kim and her many alters are free to harass anyone they want, whenever they want… until her “innocent” questions become actual threats.

I’ll be waiting when they do, Kim, Janet, Millie, or whoever the hell you are right now when you read this.

I slept forever. Something like 13 hours, though I woke up several times along the way, once to go pee. I needed it, though. I was pretty exhausted. Then I get up to find yesterday’s Chinese feast put me up not 1, not 2, but 3 pounds! It’s scary to think I could gain 20 pounds a week if I ate like that every day of my life, but I will lose it over the week. I’ve decided that losing a lot of weight isn’t worth giving up my Sunday pig-out sprees, so like Tom said, I was never that big anyway. I’ll stay where I am. Then if I find those sports bras I love so much at Target, I won’t have to turn around and get a smaller size 6 months to a year later. So I shall eat on weekends, run it off during the week, and back and forth.

Nane apologized and left a nice photo on my wall wishing me a nice day. I told her I forgave her cuz I knew she was busy cleaning up the soup I spilled, hahahaha.

TUESDAY, DECEMBER 4, 2012 It’s been a fun birthday. A little strange knowing that my parents aren’t going to call, assholes or not, but I had a fun day and got lots of nice birthday wishes on my Facebook wall. I’m a little surprised Nane forgot, but she did leave a message saying she was sorry about Julien. He was the only rat she ever liked cuz she thought he was so cute, LOL. Nothing from Maliheh so far today either. Gee, what a surprise, huh? It pretty much tells me who my real friends are.

Back when we used to chat regularly she said she hated people bugging her if they hadn’t heard from her in months. I remember wondering at the time if she knew she planned on doing just that and taking off for months at a time. Just a feeling I had. Yet she would always insist that just because I didn’t hear from her for a while didn’t mean she wasn’t still my friend. Despite what she’d say, I’d always feel like the quiet spells were deliberate. Like she was teasing me by having me wait on her and hoping I’d be wondering if she’d dumped me or something. Then she would email me and promise not to stay away so long the next time even though she sometimes would. Well, I’m sorry but while her words said one thing her actions said otherwise, and actions speak louder than words, don’t they? If my gut is telling me she’s either playing games or her heart simply isn’t in our “friendship,” can I really be that off? She may not be a social butterfly anymore than I am or into chatting for hours every single day and all that, but I just don’t feel like she’s much of a friend anymore. I just thought that if she didn’t want to be friends anymore, she’d at least have the decency to say why.

What I’m not sure about is how much of it was just an act on her part. I would think that at least a little part of her started off being somewhat into the friendship, but I still think she befriended me under false pretenses, for the most part, to keep her name out of my book.

She’d have some excuse or reason why I didn’t hear from her for so long that seemed believable, then she’d make me feel special when we talked and like she was really into our friendship, promising to write more often and all that, but then we’d go right back to the long stretches of silence.

Game’s over, hun. I’m not 25 anymore. That means I have more self-respect and less tolerance. I’m not interested in anyone who isn’t interested in me. I don’t have any hard feelings, though, and I’m glad for the time we had, but I’m not about to try to make someone be my friend who obviously doesn’t want my friendship. It’s a matter of respecting myself. If I’m not good enough for you, you’re not good enough for me. There are too many other people out there who actually want to keep in touch with me more than just a few times a year. I just can’t get into the idea of caring about those that don’t care about me. She never even gave a shit when my mother died, and I know she opened my emails.

Got up nearly two hours before I originally planned, so I wasn’t tired or anything. Cementing in the new bridge took no time at all and I’m already used to it. It almost felt kind of full in that area, but after an hour or so it was like I had my old tooth back again! It looks exactly like a real tooth! She said it will last 15-20 years or longer and I can eat anything as usual. There was no 24-hour waiting period or anything.

From what Tom read, we were wrong in how they’re made. We thought she was drilling little holes in the sides of the surrounding teeth to hook the bridge too, but she was actually grinding the teeth down like they do with actresses who get their teeth capped. No wonder the drilling took so damn long the last time and I was like, come on, lady! How long can it take to drill a couple of tiny holes? No wonder she never mentioned doing something about the little black dot of decay on the side of one tooth. She knew she was going to grind it away. Anyway, the bridge is “capped” over the teeth at the sides. I was amazed that it only took seconds to cement it in and then to cure it. I never knew they could just put a fake tooth in place of one that was lost!

As promised, I gave her a printed copy of my win list and she was pretty wowed by it.

I don’t have to start the last of the work (cleaning and a few fillings) till next year. We had to pay $500 of the $2100 the bridge cost because we maxed out the benefits for the year. So far I’ve had about 4K in much-needed and much overdue dental work, but we’ve paid less than a grand so far in total. It is SO nice to be able to eat and drink without pain. No more hot and cold foods/drinks stinging like hell! The relief and gratitude I feel toward ending 8 years of dental misery are beyond belief! Once they’re cleaned and whitened, I’ll take pics. I’m just so, so grateful to Tom and his great benefits and to the wonderful lady who ended my pain. That in itself is a WONDERFUL birthday present. I can eat crunchy foods now too, with no pain! Oh, I’m practically in tears of joy! Life is so good and I’m so happy. For the longest time after a workout, I’d want an ice-cold drink, but would have to drink room-temperature beverages because it simply hurt too much. But old habits take time to die. It’s going to take some getting used to the idea of being able to eat on the right side again. Yes, yes, it really is safe to do that now! It won’t hurt. Even rice was a no-no for a while because the pieces would get lodged within the cavities. Just so, so grateful that the potentially dangerous – even fatal – busted up ugly, greenish-black stub of a tooth is gone forever!

We forgot to ask if I could use a Waterpik instead of having to floss. Tom read they have some for those with bridges. He’s going to call and ask tomorrow and give them the new cell number.

It’s my birthday yet here I am going on and on about my teeth, LOL. Well, not even God is going to stop me from keeping up on them and taking care of them regularly from now on. He’ll have to go find a new whipping boy cuz even my ear has been better. :)

Kim is one crazy, brazen fuck that simply does NOT get it. She’s asking both Andy and I “questions” and I can’t believe she hasn’t read the message I left on MD saying: This is your final warning from me, Jodi S, demanding that you leave me alone. I don’t want to hear from you on any site in any manner or for any reason. Not as Kim, not as “Janet,” not as “Millie,” not as “Cady,” not as anyone. Neither do my friends.

If you continue to contact me online, I will ignore you but the police won’t. They will be monitoring and documenting any and all contact I may receive from you. If you do not stop with the unwanted contact, you WILL eventually be charged and prosecuted. Ask yourself this, Kim - is that what you want?

Nothing’s going to scare this sick bitch off. Nothing. I’m sick of her trying to insert herself into mine and Andy’s lives. Next thing you know she’ll be contacting me on other sites and coming at me from bogus accounts. Or will she? So far she seems to only do things in anonymity. But I know the birthday wishes and questions about if I ever feel worthless or give good advice came from her. She asked Andy the advice question too, along with one about his imaginary tour.

After the dentist, Tom took me to a Chinese restaurant here in Auburn we’d never been to before. I opted for takeout so I could feast off my goodies for the rest of the day and night and so I got shrimp fried rice, cheese-filled crab puffs, and barbecued spareribs. Tom’s not big on Chinese, but he did enjoy some ribs. I was never into chow mein or eggrolls, but I love almost anything else that isn’t spicy. The food was excellent. There were HUGE pieces of shrimp in the rice, which I’m glad to say doesn’t include many carrots, and the rib meat was so tender, too. The rats love nibbling on the bones and munching on fortune cookies. They even enclosed a teabag. It was well worth the $20 or so it all cost.

Even the propane turned out to be a good deal today because it’s pretty cheap for this time of year. About $200 for 100 gallons instead of close to $300. This is due to it being warmer and gas being cheaper. You know you’re in a warmer climate when you see little flies and gnats in December! We left the money order under the tank’s cap and they refilled us while we were out. We could tell they were here when we pulled back in cuz of the tire tracks left in the mud. So that’s one less thing I have to worry about disturbing my sleep (it’s going to be so nice not having to struggle to get to sleep or get up at a set time for a while). I said to Tom, “You know propane is cheaper cuz we’re doing well. If we were broke it’d be freezing out and cost us much more.” Life does seem to work that way. You get breaks when you least need them, though we still appreciate them anyway.

Tom got another $50 Target GC and insists on spoiling me with the now $100 worth of Target cards he got for bonuses at work. We decided to bump the shopping spree up to real early this weekend when the stores will be less crowded.

Also, I’m not going to keep sharing blog entries on FB cuz it’s such a pain. I was quite touched by the feedback someone left saying my writing was very “mature” and “interesting” and that I should publish it in the form of a book as well as a journal, LOL. They also asked for ways to get their writing like mine. Again, this is very flattering, but I have had NO formal training whatsoever. There are tips and pointers available online, but I’ve never taken any writing classes. Not yet anyway. I learned most of what I know through the examples set by other authors. Still wish I could improve, though.

Still can’t get an email through to Andy. It appears his email provider has blocked mine. I could get one through from MO, but I really don’t like their email setup, so we’re going to stick to FB. If that gets to be a pain he’ll just have to go to my blog.

Gotta get to the mail place soon to pick up our mail. Not much else going on other than moving the rats to one of the bigger cages. They love the extra space!

MONDAY, DECEMBER 3, 2012 I have been asked to share copies of my blog posts on FB, so I’ll share some of them.

I still can’t decide if I want to continue updating my MD blog and disallow anonymous questions on Ask or not. I don’t want to give my crazy, stalking troll any more avenues in which to contact me than she already has, but I also don’t want to feel like she’s controlling me either. The only thing I will do for sure that I have no doubts about whatsoever is keep my friend list hidden and my posts for friends only. Her picking on me is one thing, but reaching out to my friends and harassing me through harassing them is another. So I will definitely do all I can to protect them! Fortunately, it doesn’t bother Andy that she’s latched onto him on Ask, but it bothers me. It’s just one more way for her to try to force her existence upon me and rub her presence in my face, and I don’t like it one bit. But no matter what I say, nothing seems to get rid of her. She’ll disappear for a week or two and then it’s right back to the usual shit. I’ve tried everything I can think of. Asking her nicely to please leave me alone, bashing her, scaring her, laughing at her, ridiculing her…but she just won’t go away. She’s so crazy that there’s just no reasoning with her, and I don’t know how much awareness of right from wrong the nut even has. She must have at least some sense and not be totally stupid because she avoids my blogs that are tracked.

The only thing that’s changed is that instead of asking mean, rude questions on Ask, now it’s simple things like, “How are you?” and “Sorry your rat died” and “I’ll miss your my-diary updates” and “I’m sorry for everything” and stuff like that as if we were old buddies and all was just peachy. If it weren’t for Aly I’d never know that “Janet” was her asking how I was and all that. I guess Janet and Millie are the nut’s top two alters.

I am thinking of sharing copies once again on LJ. I thought it was a glitch on their part and that that was why some of the graphics disappeared there. Then it hit me that I had hot-linked them in from MO, then deleted them on MO. So of course they’d disappear!

Been getting scattered views from Freehold, NJ. Isn’t that where Polly is?

People are already starting to wish me a happy birthday which is nice. Now let’s see if Maliheh and Nane remember.

SUNDAY, DECEMBER 2, 2012 Getting backed up in my writing so I guess I better catch up!

Got a new white rat with very faint markings today, and the pet store was kind enough to give Sugar to us free of charge. We gave them Julien’s receipt and papers and explained what happened. They only had two rats left and I wanted one with contrasting colors to King Romeo’s dark shiny fur. The vanilla and chocolate duo complement each other nicely, and of course Romeo was thrilled to have a new roommate. Already he was beginning to get depressed being by himself.

Sugar is absolutely amazing and I mean amazing! Very calm and friendly. We already got some good shots of him. Most rats are nervous on their first day in a new home and don’t want to eat or drink much, much less socialize and explore. But he never runs from us and has been all over the cage, eating, drinking and playing with his older buddy. You would think he’s been here for weeks, LOL.

Tom also got bonus cash at work so that’s what he used to get the new electronics. The tablet, iPod, cell and hotspot. The net is tremendously faster with the hotspot. I could watch a YouTube video in one tab while playing another music video in another. I couldn’t even get just one to stream without it having to stop and buffer every other second. But due to how expensive it is we can’t use it as a replacement. We could afford it just fine, but it would slow down our savings. It will be mostly as a backup for when our regular connection cuts out or we want to do something that requires speed. sighs Really wish we were out of here already and back on cable.

So why are there so many immature people these days? Really, I’m almost embarrassed for some of these 60-year-olds I see responding to people’s posts online! Young at heart is one thing, being immature and childish is another.

3 of 4 messages I sent to Andy bounced, but his email account doesn’t seem to have been compromised like I feared it might’ve been, so I don’t know what’s going on.

SATURDAY, DECEMBER 1, 2012 Decided to be a little more private for now. I let my Facebook friends know that if for some reason they are absolutely 100% adamantly against going to MyOpera, tell me so on Facebook and I will personally message them copies of my journal entries there if they’d like.

I’m also doing it to piss Kim off. She’ll have her “sources” go to my other blog or have to remember to disable cookies, but I’m sure she won’t appreciate the inconvenience. Someone asked how Nane was doing yesterday on Ask and I wonder if it was her. Who else would ask that?

Later…

Beat the alarm by 10 minutes yesterday, but today I not only didn’t beat it but was tired as well. That’s because I lost an hour of sleep along the way. One of the side effects of melatonin is that it can cause you to wake up often, sometimes for more than just a few minutes. And I’m pretty sure it is melatonin that’s in this Neuro Sleep drink. I only had a third of the bottle, too. Had to get up and pee and then take a few more swallows to eventually get back to sleep. Tonight, if I don’t fall asleep at a reasonable hour, since I’ll probably perk up around 6pm, I’ll go with Benadryl instead. Fortunately, I only have a few more days of this.

I thought I’d be too tired to work out, but I managed after I compromised with myself and cut the strength training out and just stuck to the cardio. I was a little hungry today too, due to losing more weight, so I had to have my main meal earlier than usual.

Nothing really exciting as far as dreams go. Just that I was living alone down in L.A. which was weird.

Lotta folks got a kick out of the dream I recently had of me visiting Nane and screwing up everything when she took me to assist her at work. LOL, it was funny. My dream self was horrified with embarrassment at how badly I kept fucking things up. Andy said I should throw it in a story. It would make for a funny scene. Maybe I should’ve thrown it in A Rainbow in Munich. Then Rainbow could’ve really rung Nadja through the wringer.

Andy really threw me for a loop with his reaction to my telling him Tom lost 50 pounds. He was all shocked and saying how skinny he was and all that and I’m thinking to myself, 238 isn’t that skinny, and that’s when I realized my typos, hahaha.

I’m too tired to write anymore right now. I’d like to at least go lie down for a while. Maybe I’ll do another post later.

Got an “I’m sorry for everything” that no doubt came from Kim. Again, it’s like she’s trying to impersonate Molly, who seems to have dropped off the face of the earth. If this were really Molly, Aly and I would see/hear from her on other sites as well. It’s just Kim and her bullshit games. She’s NOT sorry for shit. She’ll be back to pestering me soon enough. Just like Molly would when she would apologize.

Later…

Poor Julien. He died earlier tonight. He had trouble breathing in the pet store but we thought that once we got him home he’d be ok. He seemed to start getting better, though he wasn’t growing or eating much. We began to wonder if maybe he was taken from his mother too soon and his lungs hadn’t had a chance to fully develop.

Yesterday we both handled him and he seemed like a changed rat all of a sudden cuz as soon as I put him back in his house, he wanted to come back out. Romeo, of course, being the jealous, mischievous little fella that he is, would nudge my hand away and nip at me playfully, trying to steal the attention. Cute albeit annoying at times.

Tonight he started acting weird as hell. Most rats won’t simply sit and cuddle with you. They’re just too animated and high-strung. They like to explore, play and be active. But Julien kept biting the bars of the cage like he was desperate to try to chew his way out. He even tried to squeeze through the feed hole. So I kept taking him out and he would sit calmly in my arms, and then resume his desperate attempts to escape when I’d place him back in his cage. I’d offer him food, but he wouldn’t take it.

Then he started convulsing right in front of us and was dead in just seconds. It was the weirdest thing. Tom looked online and found that what likely happened was that he had a bacterial infection of some kind in his lungs and it caused a blood clot to the brain or heart. Once that happens to an animal or a person, it’s over in minutes, if even that.

It was so sad, cuz even though we’d only had him for just a week, Romeo loved having a roommate after living alone for 3 weeks, and he was turning out to be such a sweetie. Where Romeo is rambunctious, Julien was mellow.

It was sweet of Mary to grieve the little furball with me and for her wall posts. She’s a very compassionate soul. I heard from Andy and Sharyn, too. Meanwhile, baby Julien will be buried in the morning next to Tinkerboy before I get up at 10am. I suggested Tom not put him in anything like with Tinkerboy so he “goes away” faster, making it less likely that the fucking mutts will dig him up. He’ll put some large rocks on the grave, too.

In the afternoon we’ll look for a new roommate for Romeo so he doesn’t get depressed.

I have other things to write about, but I’m pretty beat so I’m going to call it a night.

[pastortomsteers]

The Eleventh Sunday after Pentecost

August 4, 2024

Pastor Tom Steers

Christ the Saviour Lutheran Church, Toronto

Divine Service Setting III (Pages 184 – 202)

Lutheran Service Book

We begin our service with the Invocation:

In the name of the Father and of the + Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.

Confession and Absolution   Page 184-185

Introit (read by the Pastor)

Psalm: 78:23-25; antiphon: Psalm 78:72

 

72 With upright heart he shepherded them     and guided them with his skillful hand.

23 Yet he commanded the skies above     and opened the doors of heaven, 24 and he rained down on them manna to eat     and gave them the grain of heaven. 25 Man ate of the bread of the angels;     he sent them food in abundance.

Glory be to the Father and to the Son

and to the Holy Spirit;

as it was in the beginning,

is now, and will be forever. Amen.

72 With upright heart he shepherded them     and guided them with his skillful hand.

 

The Kyrie  (Lord Have Mercy)

Congregation:

Lord have mercy upon us.

Christ have mercy upon us.

Lord have mercy upon us.

The Salutation:

Pastor:  The Lord be with you.

Congregation:  And with thy spirit.

Our Collect Prayer:

Merciful Father, You gave Your son Jesus as the heavenly bread of life. Grant us faith to feast on the Him in Your Word and Sacraments that we may be nourished into life everlasting; through the same Jesus Christ, our Lord, who lives and reigns with you and the Holy Spirit, one God, now and forever. Amen.

Our Opening Hymn is: “The Church’s One Foundation”

Lutheran Service Book, 644 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XxdX3wgNSu0

Our Bible readings this Sunday:

Old Testament – Exodus 16:2-15

Psalm 145:10-21

Epistle – Ephesians 4:1-16

Gospel – John 6:22-35

The Apostles’ Creed –

I believe in God, the Father almighty,

maker of heaven and earth,

And in Jesus Christ, his only Son, our Lord,

who was conceived by the Holy Spirit,

born of the Virgin Mary,

suffered under Pontius Pilate,

was crucified, died and was buried.

He descended into hell.

The third day he rose again from the dead.

He ascended into heaven

and sits at the right hand of God

the Father almighty.

From there he will come to judge the living and the dead.

I believe in the Holy Spirit,

the holy Christian Church,

the communion of saints,

the forgiveness of sins,

the resurrection of the body,

and the life everlasting. Amen.

Our Hymn of the Day is: “O Living Bread from Heaven”

Lutheran Service Book, 642 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UqUpkoTBGSU

The Sermon

“I Am the Bread of Life” –

It had been a long time without any rest for Jesus and His disciples.

Christ spent the previous day ministering to people in the wilderness.

He even multiplied a boy’s lunch of bread and fish to feed 5,000 men and their families.

Then the twelve spent all night trying to row across the sea against a strong head wind.

They weren’t able to cross until Christ walked to them over the water.

As the day dawned, they arrived at the other side of Lake Galilee.

People ran from all over the countryside to bring the sick and injured to Jesus for healing.

There was no stop … no letup.

The crowd that Jesus left on the far side of the lake showed up for breakfast, but quickly figured out He was no longer there.

When more boats came along, they also crossed the waters, and found Jesus.

When they reached Him on the other side of the sea, they asked, “Rabbi, when did you come here?” (John 6:25)

They were trying to understand how Jesus got across the water and back to Capernaum.

He hadn’t left with the disciples, and hadn’t taken a boat from shore.

It seems like a fairly innocent question.

Never the less, Jesus looks at the heart.

He understood that the motive of the crowd wasn’t as innocent as it might seem.

Jesus answers:

“Truly, truly, I say to you, you are seeking me, not because you saw signs, but because you ate your fill of the loaves. Do not work for the food that perishes, but for the food that endures to eternal life, which the Son of Man will give to you. For on him God the Father has set his seal.” (John 6:26–27)

Jesus understood they were just interested in another free meal.

They didn’t understand that Christ came to give eternal life, not just a complimentary breakfast or lunch.

The question-and-answer session they have with Jesus clearly demonstrates they don’t get it.

Eventually the crowd asked a question revealing their unbelief.

“Then what sign do you do, that we may see and believe you? What work do you perform? Our fathers ate the manna in the wilderness; as it is written, ‘He gave them bread from heaven to eat.’” (John 6:30–31)

Our Lord replied, “Truly, truly, I say to you, it was not Moses who gave you the bread from heaven, but my Father gives you the true bread from heaven. For the bread of God is he who comes down from heaven and gives life to the world.” (John 6:32-33)

The crowd asks, “Sir, give us this bread always.”

Jesus replies, “I am the bread of life; whoever comes to me shall not hunger, and whoever believes in me shall never thirst.” (John 6:35)

Jesus had been healing the sick, curing the lame, causing the deaf to hear and the blind to see.

He cast out demons and raised people from the dead.

This very crowd had eaten bread and fish miraculously multiplied from His hand, yet they ask for a sign.

The stubborn, unbelieving heart is never satisfied.

It will always ask for more proof.

The same is true today.

Jesus is the bread of life.

Many have read and heard those Biblical words, but do we take them into our hearts?

Without food we die.

Without Christ we die spiritually, eternally separated from God.

Jesus is that important, because ultimately, we are dying – physical life in this world has a 100 percent mortality rate.

We can exercise, avoid risks, take vitamins, but death is inescapable.

The death of our physical bodies though isn’t the half of it.

The bad news for atheists and agnostics is that death isn’t the end.

The irony for those who want nothing to do with Christ in this life is that they will get their wish in eternity.

Science offers no hope in the matter, it doesn’t even acknowledge there is a spiritual world because it can’t find an instrument to measure it.

If Christ is real life, what hope do we have of connecting to Him?

He lived, died and rose up to Heaven some time ago.

We live in a secular, even anti-Christian culture that either ignores or mocks our faith.

We hunger for the things of God while living in God-less times.

Where do we find hope, sustenance?

The Good News is that Jesus truly is the bread of life – He’s come to save this world because it is dying.

My death isn’t an obstacle for Him.

He raises dead people. It’s His job description.

The promise He makes is that His gift is not only for this life and day, but for eternity.

We aren’t phantoms, briefly seen, but beloved children of God, precious to the eternal Lord of Heaven and earth, and He’s worked mightily, effecting salvation for believers.

This isn’t a salvation we earn with our ‘good works,’ it isn’t about what we do.

The Prophet Isaiah made clear that before God those deeds are filthy rags. (Isaiah 64:6)

It’s about Christ, the sinless Son of God, and His ultimate good work, what He’s done for us on the cross in paying for our sins.

The Apostle John wrote: “Then they said to him, “What must we do, to be doing the works of God?” Jesus answered them, “This is the work of God, that you believe in him whom he has sent.” (John 6:28-29)

Faith is worked in our hearts by the Holy Spirit, the Third Person of the Trinity, through God’s Word and the Sacraments of Baptism and the Lord’s Supper.

Of course we’re broken, it’s the way we were born, but Christ is not broken.

The same Jesus who fed the multitudes and rose from the dead has joined Himself to us in the waters of our Baptism, come to us time and again in His Word, and given us His very body and blood in the Lord’s Supper.

He does this out of love for you and me, and carries us in the day of heartache, loss, and despair.

He loves to work through the broken and weak things of this world.

He died a slavish death on a cross, cruelly treated by people He created.

Don’t look for His strength in displays of worldly power, but in other-worldly love and compassion.

Look for the Lord’s power to be shown to us in His mercy, through the crucified and resurrected Christ.

For some that opens a door for doubt, He knows it.

Yet He doesn’t tell fearful disciples as He walks across the sea that He’s done with knuckleheads, and that He’ll be replacing them with more ‘spiritual’ sorts of people.

He doesn’t look at our brokenness, our repeated sins and say, ‘I’m out of here.’

He comes down from Heaven, and on His way to the cross speaks words of hope and salvation, offering a starving world the true bread from Heaven – Himself.

The crowds that look for a sign are patiently taught, and many hearts and minds transformed.

Peter, who will deny the Lord and yet go on to die a martyr’s death for Him in faith, will say, “Lord, to whom shall we go? You have the words of eternal life.”

Amen.

PRAYERS OF THE CHURCH

SERVICE OF THE SACRAMENT  Page 194

THE LORD’S PRAYER  Page 196                                               

THE WORDS OF OUR LORD  Page 197

Pax Domini                                                                                                                                 Pastor: The peace of the Lord be with you always.                                                                              Congregation: Amen.

THE DISTRIBUTION

Post Communion Collect (Left-hand column)  Page 201                                                                                                    Salutation and Benedicamus  Page 201-202                                                                                                               Benediction   Page 202

The Benediction –

The Lord bless you and keep you.

The Lord make His face shine upon you and be gracious to you.

The Lord lift up His countenance upon you and + give you peace.

Amen.

Our Closing Hymn is: “Guide Me, O Thou Great Redeemer”

Lutheran Service Book, 918 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3fk8iY7do4A

[dontreadthisgamereview]

My Top Games of All Time List

This is my Top Games Experiences of All Time List. The rating of this is based on memories. I know some of these were in different orders on my lists for the previous years, but this list is based on how I feel about them today, which may change again in the future.

I've put a "thought" next to each. Some of these you can click on. Some of these you could play someday. I'd recommend trying any!

The Tops

Assassin’s Creed: Odyssey

My best game experience. I live in Michigan, so the waters of the Greek Isles? Like nothing I've experienced, but this game helps me imagine it. Then, place a great game in this world? Like, So Much game too? Great. Just great.

Saints Row the Third

My original experience with is what I chase in every video game I played. It was just… fun. Stupid, but exciting fun. It's wacky in story and style, you collect stuff, and you the skill tree is addicting. All about this.

Read Dead Redemption

This game impressed the heck out of me on first playthrough. It was so epic. The different biomes and acts to the game and different cities. It was not only sprawling in space, but in story and scope.

Control

To me, this game was all about the details. In the effects, in the environment, in the lore. Also, gameplay was slick and mood was awesome.

Horizon Zero Dawn

Nothing like this story. It felt like a prestige TV series, but not a boring something to watch but an exciting thing to play.

Batman: Arkham Knight

This is my pick to represent the entire series. This is not everyone's favorite, but it really grabbed me some reason. I love the city, the shooting, the "refresh" of the action gameplay, and it was one of the first Photo Modes I played with - which blew my mind.

Far Cry 6

Not only best of the series, but best FPS-Open-World period.

Max Payne 2: The Fall of Max Payne

Thick with style, short, impactful.

Bioshock

Great graphics, style, and in-game storytelling.

Fallout 3

My intro to open world games. Massive game.

Duke Nukem 3D

My intro to what FPSs could do.

Doom II

My intro to FPSs.

Sonic 2

Perhaps the first full game I beat. I was really proud. Replaying enough to get this one "programed" this soundtrack into my head…

Resident Evil 4 (Gamecube)

Playing back in the day at a friends was just simply a good time.

Resident Evil Village VR

Wacky, weird, and great in VR.

Tomb Raider (1)

Formative.

Sam & Max Hit The Road

Formative.

Tom Clancy's The Division

One of the best open-world (modern-city) games in my opinion. This one in a quarantined New York City. No cars, so all walking on foot. The cover based shooting felt really "professional." Super slick.

Dead Rising 2: Off The Record

The benefits of the sequel tech, but also an unprecedently "redo" with a redirection to wild fun. Super great.

Watch Dogs 2

The best open-world (modern-city) games in my opinion. A solid story with great style and so much to see. Lots of great touches and unique things to the series. Far better than the original. Just try it!

The Evil Within 2

This was the only game that made me feel kind of sick in my throat from some of the horror elements. So, definitely impactful to me.

Dragon Quest Builders 2

I thought this series was great. Some parts felt too long, but that's what also gave it the feel of accomplishment after you spent so much time in a world and completed it. The best "building" game in my mind.

Ultimate Spider-man

The first of the Spider-man games that really clicked for me. This was a great experience for me at the time. I played several times. I loved the style.

Resident Evil 2 (remake)

The best remake of anything I played. Genius.

Super

The Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim

Best in this series so far. Flawed, yes, but the experience at the time was unparalleled.

Prey

It takes a lot from other games, but it does it well!

Akiba's Trip

I like the cut of this games' gib.

Marvel's Midnight Suns

By far the best of the "series" of isometric Marvel strategy games.

Star Trek: Resurgence

Best Star Trek game, and one of the best sci-fi Adventure Games I've played.

Bully: Scholarship Edition

I loved the world and how it opened up, the seasons, the stories, the "classes minigames," etc. It didn't have the "highs" of some other games, but there really weren't any "lows" in this game in my memory!

TRON 2.0

Better than the movies to me. It just made a lot of sense, and also played darn well.

Banjo Kazooie: Nuts and Bolts

The best vehicle builder game in my opinion.

Metal Gear Solid V

Other than Death Stranding, this is the only Kojima game I've played all the way through. And I’m putting this one on the list instead just because it got me just as much or more weirdness, but faster.

Tomb Raider (reboot)

This really shocked me in how "cool" a reboot could be. Many things from this game I won't forget. Best in this series in my mind.

Astro's Playroom

Slick as heck.

Luigi's Mansion 3

The only one of the series I've played, but I'm guessing the best. This is just really great.

Freedom Fighters

I've been playing recently even.

GTA San Andreas

The best one in my mind. There was nothing like the Act change where you had to go into exile. It made you do new gameplay, explore new areas, all these things in the same game.

The Crew

Some people rip on this game as not being exactly a street to street rebuild of the United States, but that would be terrible. THIS is the best version of a real coast-to-coast driving game thus far. Technically, The Crew 2 has better graphics, but that's not even a game. THIS is a game. It's not just a tech demo like the sequel.

Super Mario Odyssey

Perfect game.

Middle-earth: Shadow of Mordor

See our podcast episode about this: link

LEGO Marvel Super Heroes 2

The best LEGO game in my mind. Fully of characters and places and styles and jokes and it's completely beatable.

Zombie Army 4: Dead War

This series is wild. This is the most advanced in this series thus far.

Hitman: Absolution

The best in the series in my mind. This was the last before a reboot.

Katamari

Of course.

No One Lives Forever 2: A Spy in H.A.R.M.'s Way

Back in the day, this was packed full of gameplay and style.

Prince of Persia: The Sands of Time

Back in the day, this was slick.

Ratchet & Clank - A Rift Apart

The best of this series. Looks like a Pixar movie and plays great too.

Rocksmith

I learned some bass using this.

Blood and Truth

The first VR game I played that was a "real game." Not to mention, unique in being a fast paced shooter.

Sniper Elite 5

I liked this entire series, so this is the most advanced version thus far.

South Park: The Fractured but Whole

This game literally surprised me in how actually funny it was. Best South Park thing, better than the show.

Sunset Overdrive

Some people rip on this one online, but I love the weird and wacky style, and the gameplay is fast and unique.

Sacred 3

A game I played long after its release, but it was just a fun and fast paced game.

The Godfather: The Game

A strange game I played on PC. Some pretty unique ideas, lol

Uncharted 2

One of the best in the series in my mind.

X-Men Origins: Wolverine

It was the best game I played that summer, when I was really lonely at my internship in Ohio.

Star Wars: X-Wing Alliance

The best of the series in my mind. I really liked how slow the story started, from your family owned business to being part of the Rebels.

Resident Evil Revelations 2

This game was a weird one, but when I played the collection of the episodes - it was a like playing a "hidden" game no one knew about. Oddly, one of my top RE games.

Guacamelee 2

One of the few "hard" games I've played all the way through. But, it was all doable!

Void Bastards

A viable rougelike. And now that I think back, a Boomer Shooter too?

Dead or Alive 4

What can I say? Good gameplay, wacky style, and the FPS on Dreamcast was wild.

Great

Ghostwire: Tokyo

Great style. Nothing like it in an FPS.

HUNTDOWN

Unique retro style game with slick, die and repeat gameplay.

The Medium

One of the few "real horror" games I've played. But it got me really engaged and I enjoyed from start to finish.

Prototype 2

Best of this series. This game is extremely playable.

Dance Central 2

I first played this series at a friend's, then I bought the whole setup. I don't know where my Kinect got to…

Shovel Knight

This one really surprised me. I hadn't played a lot of "hard" games like this one, but it played SO well.

Fallout 2

I played a lot.

Bulletstorm

'tude

FEAR 2

A good one in the series. Story is all out of whack, but allows for a great game "world."

Titan Quest

I never did the Diablo thing, but this one grabbed me for some reason. I played through several times.

Alien: Isolation

Superb style and pacing.

Alien Shooter: Vengeance

I played back on PC in the old days. I really never played anything like it before, or since.

Crackdown 3

I liked the series, and this one is the most polished.

da blob 2

I don't think about often, but I remember fondly.

Dishonored 2

The best of the series for me. Like the original, but amped up.

Star Wars: Dark Forces 2: Jedi Knight

The best star Wars game I played for a long time. A great mix of the FPS, the lightsaber, characters, and even FMV stuff!

Star Wars: Tie Fighter

I still remember flying with Vader, and really hoping he would approve of me.

Trover Saves the Universe

A groundbreaking VR game, but also game. It was subversive to what a game "should be" like. This game usually goes left when it's supposed to go right.

The Talos Principle: Deluxe Edition

One of the few puzzle games I completed. The style and world was trippy/cool.

Dragon Age: Inquisition

The best of the series in my memory.

Dying Light

Not a lot from this games sister series grabbed me really, but this one did. I felt like it just all came together "right."

Freedom Force

One of the first games with a deep style I played. Then I found out who John Kirby was later.

Hitman (1)

I had some good memories with this one.

The Witcher 3

Iconic.

Sackboy Adventures

The only Playstation platformer that rivals Nintendo ones.

Assassin's Creed Syndicate

I loved the style on this one. I think I near 100%'d it.

Mirror's Edge Catalyst

I liked the original, and this one made it playable. No other gameplay like it that I know of.

Portal 2

The original is slick, but this one is a full game.

Red Faction: Armageddon

In this game, you really can destroy everything in it. Even walkways you need to continue on. Thus, they have a "nanotech" tool to rebuild stuff. It's the only way a game can really let you destroy everything in the space.

Remember Me

A unique sci-fi game with super cool ideas. Great style too.

Life is Strange

I never got much into sequels or other "emo" games, but this one hit me at the right time. Love the soundtrack.

Tom Clancy's Rainbow Six: Vegas: 2

I played this one way back. Best of the series in my memory.

Uncharted: The Lost Legacy

The best of the series for me. It uses the top tech, and it's short.

Titanfall 2

Best pilot/mech gameplay I've had.

Outlast II

Some scary memories from this one. Very dark, as in almost no light in some scenes. It's an experience.

Steam World Dig 2

All these Steam World games are quality, but this one grabbed me and was easy and short enough to finish.

Detroit: Become Human

This game seems to be made fun of by a lot of people online, but I started, was engaged, and finished. The best David Cage game I've played.

Ace Combat 7: Skies Unknown

The only fighter jet game I've ever started and finished. So, in my mind, the best one.

Wolfenstein: Youngblood

Gameplay wise, my favorite of the new series.

Cat Quest

A unique hack and slash game where you mostly play on the "map" screen. Good sense of humor and fun.

Journey to the Savage Planet

FPS Roguelike with a great sense of humor.

Honorable Mentions

Mass Effect 2

Best in the series.

The Saboteur

One of the first games I felt like I wanted to "get everything on the map."

Deus Ex: Human Revolution

The entire series was interesting, but this was the best playing for me.

Dead Space 2

The better of the two

Monkey Island 3: The Curse of Monkey Island

Encapsulates a certain sense of humor. Made me wish for warm climates.

Majin and the Forbidden Kingdom

Interesting puzzle game.

FF9

The first half was solid.

50 Cent: Blood on the Sand

Actually… a good Cover-Based-Shooter for the time.

Alice: The Madness Returns

Took the idea of the original, but made it look and play good!

Shadow Complex

A PS Now discovery. Quite fun.

Slayers X

A perfect homage.

Amped 3

I remember using my digital camera to take some videos of my screen of replays of my best runs.

SSX (reboot)

Introduced me to some great music.

Bayonetta

You can't deny the style, but I never got into the gameplay.

Beyond Good & Evil

Could have been greater, if they were only a bit more focused.

Binary Domain

Uniquely experimental. I enjoyed playing with friends.

Nights of Azure

Unapologetically alternative

Black & White

Interesting attempt, if nothing else.

James Bond 007: Blood Stone

I didn't like this series of the movies, but I liked this.

Captain America: Super Soldier

At the time, this was alright.

Castlevania: Aria of Sorrow

Not many of these grabbed me, but this one did perfectly.

The Chronicles of Riddick: Escape from Butcher Bay

Had a lot of fun sci fi ideas. A good looking game for it's time.

Conan

Okay. It looked good. It had topless women in it on PS3.

Condemned: Criminal Origins

Dark game with mix of investigation and grimy violence.

Dark Void

The best "jet pack" game I've played. Activating it indoors had a 90% chance to kill you, just like you'd expect!

Dante's Inferno

The goth, metal, emo, dark, in your face style was unique and not really done to this extent again. It went all in on style, with only tolerable gameplay.

The Darkness II

I was considering putting the first one on here because of its innovations, but this one was better to play.

Deadpool

One of the most humor based games I've played. And gameplay is o.k.

Fable

Great sense of humor and style. Better than all the sequels in my mind.

Far Cry 2

I just remember having to keep getting these very hard to find malaria pills to stay alive. Not many games have your character just die if they can't find an actually tough to find item.

Folklore

Felt like an indie comic somehow. Odd style.

Freelancer

Early "open world" stuff.

Tearaway: Unfolded

Full of gimmicks and weirdness. Hard to forget some of the strange things they tried.

Might & Magic: Clash of Heroes

Simple and unique gameplay. Would make a good, modern mobile app.

Lollipop Chainsaw

Trash. But, like, as in "Trash Cinema." As in, good.

Lost Planet 3

I'll never forget the feeling of being a lone contractor on this hostile ice planet. It was one of the first games with a "vibe" I remember

Metro Exodus

I always wanted to like this series, and the is the one that allowed me

Murdered Soul Suspect

Never seen an adventure game with this kind of plot before, or since

Oni

Very unique, experimental gameplay. No one did this control scheme again, but it was a unique idea for the time.

Overlord

Great sense of humor and unique (gameplay)

Soul Reaver: Legacy of Kain

I remember trying to wrap my head around the plot/mechanics of this. Both might have been beyond me at the time

Splatterhouse (PS3)

Tough to play now, but parts were striking upon release

Gal*Gun 2

Nothing like it (except for Gal Gun 1)

School Girl Zombie Hunter

Very unique

[jcmarchi]

Embracer Reportedly Might Close Free Radical Design, Its Reformed TimeSplitters Team

New Post has been published on https://thedigitalinsider.com/embracer-reportedly-might-close-free-radical-design-its-reformed-timesplitters-team/

Embracer Reportedly Might Close Free Radical Design, Its Reformed TimeSplitters Team

Publisher Deep Silver, which is owned by Embracer Group, announced in 2021 that it was reforming TimeSplitters developer Free Radical Design to begin development on a new entry in the series. Now, a new report from VideoGamesChronicle says this reformed Free Radical Design could be facing a complete shutdown, adding to Embracer’s continued restructuring that has resulted in the closure of studios like Saints Row developer Volition Games. 

Yesterday, Embracer COO Egil Strunke announced that he had resigned from the position to launch a new game company, as reported by PC Gamer, amidst Embracer’s rough year. Today, VGC reports that people familar with the matters of Free Radical Design say the studio has been part of an evaluation within Embracer and that the studio could close as a result. The publication writes that Plaion, which is the Embracer division that runs Free Radical Design, must consult employees at least 30 days in advance before layoffs per U.K. law. That law is likely how Free Radical Design employees have learned about a potential closure. 

[embedded content]

VGC notes that on LinkedIn and social media, at least 15 Free Radical Design employee have said they’re looking for new employment within the last 24 hours. Game Informer has reached out to Embracer to ask for confirmation and more details surrounding Free Radical Design’s potential closure, and will update this story if more information is learned. 

As noted by VGC, while the studio could close, that’s not yet guaranteed. It could be acquired by a third-party interested in the team, or simply kept open with a change of mind by Embracer.

Embracer-owned publisher Deep Silver, who also published this year’s Dead Island 2, announced in 2021 that it had reformed the original TimeSplitters developer, Free Radical Design, to create a new TimeSplitters game. This new version of Free Radical Design features key members of the original team, including founders Steve Ellis and David Doak, both of whom worked on games like GoldenEye 007 and Perfect Dark while previously employed at Rare.

[embedded content]

The first iteration of Free Radical Design was purchased by Crytek in 2009 and then rebranded as Crytek UK. However, it was shutdown in 2014, with much of the staff moving to Dead Island 2 developer Deep Silver Dambuster Studio, which also developed Homefront: The Revolution. 

Deep Silver owners Koch Media purchased the TimeSplitters IP in 2018, officially making Free Radical Design a Deep Silver studio in the process, all of which are now under the Embracer Group umbrella after Embracer purchased Koch Media in 2018. 

Free Radical Design was set to develop the fourth TimeSplitters game in the series, but now its future as a studio remains unclear. 

The potential Free Radical Design closure joins an unfortunately ever-growing list of layoffs affecting studios this year. Yesterday, Ubisoft laid off more than 100 employees, and last week, roughly 100 employees were laid off at Destiny 2 developer Bungie. 

In January, Microsoft laid off 10,000 employees amidst its ongoing $69 billion acquisition of Activision Blizzard, which it completed last month. 

In August, Striking Distance Studios, the team behind last year’s The Callisto Protocol, laid off more than 30 employees, and that same month, Mass Effect and Dragon Age developer BioWare laid off 50 employees, including long-time studio veterans. The following month, in September, Immortals of Aveum developer Ascendant Studios laid off roughly 45% of its staff. 

Just last month month, The Last of Us developer Naughty Dog has laid off at least 25 employees, and Telltale Games has gone through layoffs as well, although an actual number of laid-off employees has not yet been revealed.  And in late October, Dreams developer Media Molecule laid off 20 employees. 

The hearts of the Game Informer staff are with everyone affected by these layoffs and those at Free Radical Design. 

[Source: VideoGamesChronicle]

[deathbyvalentine]

DuD Prompts

Coming Aboard

Moving quarters was not new to him. Having two sets might be though. He did love a good 'first' and he supposed this certainly was one. He dropped his bag at the door and surveyed the room with a critical eye. Good desk. Bed was slightly but definitely at an angle, which meant he had months of bruised shins in his future. Bigger than the Chaser, unsurprisingly. He never really knew what to do with all the space. He didn't actually own very much, not that he carried. He'd been in service too long. The bedroom on Durovera was filled with a child's belongings and he hadn't been back in... too long.

He thoroughly believed in the importance of bedding in however. Who cares if you got reassigned in two weeks? You had to think of the ship you were on as home. That way, you fought to the teeth for it. What could he do in here without taking stuff from the Chaser? Pin up some more pictures of Astrid. Hang up some of his old dog-tags. See how likely he was to get away with painting a lightning symbol somewhere. On the plus, he probably got some new weapons out of it and setting up their maintenance here would be a joy.

The top drawer of the desk was always dedicated to actual work, plans and correspondence. Into the second draw of the desk, he dropped some brushes, some polish, a few rags. In the third drawer, he placed what looked like an odd collection of cogs, gears and wires. Random to onlookers but clearly of great import to him. Out of interest, after this, he placed his bottle of water on the desk and drops to eye level to watch the vibrations. He couldn't help but grin, affectionately place a palm to the floor. "Strong old gal, aren't you?" He patted the floor and stood back up.

His next move was to hang up the uniform, the spare flightsuit (the one he always couldn't help but think of as his funeral suit because he'll be damned if he's interred in the Durovera tomb wearing anything else.) After that... Nothing.

He should sleep. He knows he should sleep. It had been a frantic day or so (was it a day? everything had blended into one). But - and this was key - he had not in fact been ordered to. And so, time for one of his favourite parts of a new assignment... exploration. Especially before anyone got to think of him as important yet. You got away with so much more before anyone knew your rank. Or, rather, had processed and absorbed what rank you actually were. This went for surnames too, one being much like the other if you were him.

He wondered how deep Astrid was already in the vents. As she went to her home territory, he would start from the bottom of the ship and work his way up. He crouched to tie his boots up tighter. This was going to be a hike and a half and he was so excited.

______________________________________________________________ Flight Deck

It's not like coming home. It is coming home. Lance, the last person in the sector who could be accused of sentimentality, found himself pausing in the entrance, the hum of activity and smell of oil hitting him with a wave of comfort and nostalgia so strong it almost robbed the breath from him. He recovered quickly, regaining his stride and following a small gaggle of junior medicae and their clipboards.

His eyes, inevitably, were pulled up to the intricate paintings. And - he couldn't help it - there was the small, fierce swell of noble pride that it was his ancestor that fronted the crusade, that made history. There would be something bright and virtuous in launching from a bay watched on by this set of saints and knowing that legacy was his to honour.

He turned his attention to the neat row of shrines. Lance, like all pilots, was superstitious which was really another way of saying devout, right? This meant that he would be compelled, before every flight, to press his fingers to a saint, whisper a prayer. Every time, even if he was running, even if there was no time to spare. He hadn't missed one yet, provided shrines were available and not under conditions such as 'maybe a bit on fire'.

Delaying his gratification further, he raised his eyes up the neat blocks, one of which would contain his office. Let's face it, not particularly important considering he spent as little time as possible in it and had been known to do particularly boring paperwork in the cockpit. More exciting were the workshops, practically crying for him to go an irritate the priests by asking a hundred questions about everything they were doing and generally getting underfoot. The gymnasia too, very crucial for bonding and if needed, brutally putting someone back in their place via judicious application of force and bad sportsmanship.

Finally, he let himself look, turning on his heel. The fighters. The bays. The rumble underfoot with movement and power. Already he was picturing his Baby here, finally where she belonged, ready to show some of these fuckers what exactly a Lightning could do. But also, new machines to make his acquaintance with, to look after and love, to pair with other pilots that would also fall head over heels. That was one of the best parts of being in command - introducing new, green recruits to the greatest addiction and love affair they would ever know. Saving them as it had saved him. And god, fighting with others again, formations and manoeuvres and the trust that builds, speed and the endless blanket of stars spread out before them all -

He felt his heart rate literally jump up a notch and he laughed at his own ridiculousness. Maybe he was a little sentimental after all. Mawkish even. But he couldn't help it. He hadn't realised he had missed this. But he had, oh he had. And he was going to be good at this.

_____________________________________________________________

Night Out

They plunged deeper into the station, his breath caught in his chest, one hand entwined with Astrid's, Saffy and Purge only a step behind. Everything shimmered at the edges, lights blurring and fracturing into smaller and smaller pieces. There was no way to tell if the fierce joy that burned in his chest was chemical or not - did it really matter? Knowing the Inquisition meant knowing that your next day off might be years away. You had to seize the moment, when it came.

The club he finds them is bathed in blue, cheap sheets of plastic covering the station units lights. The floor is slightly tacky against their boots. No matter. There's a press of bodies and that's what matters. Not all of them are entirely human but at least there weren't any xenos rubbing shoulders with the humans. Small mercies. He could at least keep a veneer of respectability. Nothing he had to pretend to feel guilty about later.

He dove into the sea of people, pulling Astrid with him. It was loud. He could feel the music through his feet, deep bass that coiled at the base of his metal spine. He ramped the sensitivity right up. If he was feeling something, best feel it utterly. Best drown yourself in the sensation until the real world melted away. He closed his eyes. Within minutes he was lost. He could always recognise Astrid's touch, would know it at the end of the universe, but the other hands, other bodies and breath could be anyone's. He didn't want to open them and ruin the surprise.

Another of Saffy's magic pills that were probably some deep inquisitorial experiment. Whatever. Let them be. Right now he could forget he was in the Inquisition at all, could be a teenager again. With Astrid and Saffy here and with the quality of the dive club, it was scarcely any different. Well, perhaps the quality was a bit lower than the joints he hit up with Saffy but close enough.

Tomorrow he would do better. He'd wash his face and get sober again. Maybe this time was different. Maybe now, all grown up, he could just do it once. He could have nights out that didn't spiral out into strung out weeks. He could stop when he wanted to and go no further down this well trodden path.

Maybe, even, any of that was true.

______________________________________________________________

Pilot Death One

He rested the pen against his bottom lip, frowning a little. It was a rare expression on his face and looked somewhat out of place, incongruent against his somewhat boyish looks. He tapped the pen a few times, sighed. No matter how many of these he wrote, it never seemed to become instinctive. He means sure, he could make a boilerplate copy and paste kind of job, regret and faux-grief rolled into a professional package, but that didn't feel right somehow. He almost smiled at that revelation - let those who said he had no heart eat their words. He didn't want to hurt those who suddenly found they had a gaping wound in their life any further than they had been.

And so he thought about Magnus, what little time they'd had together. What his impressions were, what phrases stuck. Magnus had an uncanny ability to arrive precisely one second before the change alarm finishing ringing and so was never technically late. Magnus hated his first name with a passion and had once been on a charge for lamping someone who called him Archie. Magnus who had one front tooth slightly chipped from the sudden impact of a poor landing when he was back in basic training.

Magnus who had died clawing at his own throat as they translated out of the Warp. They had found him too late, believed him when he said he'd be back in a minute, he'd just forgotten something. Lance tried to instil a fucking buddy system when at Warp but people slip up. They aren't perfect, no matter how much he strives for them to be. It was nobody's fault, not really. Except he was the officer. So it was his. And that was fair.

He wrote a few lines, commending Magnus's fierce spirit and tenacity. A polite way of saying he was a pain in the arse sometimes. Lance hoped his family would know that, would know that beneath the officer's distance there was real and profound affection there. He wouldn't deliver the letter itself - he'd delegate that. Not from any emotional cowardice on his part as people crying didn't really stir any negative emotion in him itself, but because people didn't want to cry at an officer of a certain rank. It was uncomfortable for them and they didn't need that additional stress in one of the worst moments of their life. He glanced down at the next-of-kin list. Two partners onboard, a father planetside. Not as bad as it could be. No dependents.

He glanced at the forms next to him for the cremation, the schedule for family to be sent his personal effects from his locker and bunk space, such as they were. He had already doublechecked his last wishes, made certain there was some sort of will (not that he had much to give that he hadn't already shared with his family mind, good lad). All the minutia and detail that didn't just make up a life, but made up a death. There were details to root out and act on, things other people could forget but not him.

Speaking of, he almost forgot - pastoral care. He scrawled down a note on his dataslate to schedule in some extra chaplaincy from the duty priest. More than a couple of poor fuckers had seen what was left of Magnus. They were going to need some moral bolstering and then some. When he had see the body, he had felt the hard thump deep in his stomach, the drop that wasn't surprise as such but more like a long dropped shoe finally meeting its destination. You were always waiting for the next.

He signed his name, the flourish looking out of place with the cold, impersonal typeface. The name was important here. People wanted to know their loved ones had been thought of, memory preserved, in the mind of someone important. That they had felt some measure of pain, of sorrow.

Was Lance sad? Yes, he realised. Magnus was a cheering presence, promising. He wouldn't miss him, he never missed anyone but Astrid and his mother but for a while he would keep feeling the lack, like the tongue running over the space where a tooth once was.

Tell you what though, only one of his lost on that warp translation? Fething lucky.

______________________________________________________________

Engine Tertius

The first chance he got, Lance went down to the engines and made a nuisance of himself. As he wandered down (allowing himself to get liberally lost on the way, gotta learn the ship somehow), he slipped a pair of earplugs in. He didn't need to fuck up his hearing any more than a lifetime of machine bothering already had. You learnt after the first time that some of the safety notices meant business. You could tell when you were going the right way by the strength of the vibrations coming up from the floor. People unused to void travel would sometimes complain about how their muscles felt afterwards but Lance found it deeply soothing. He hip bumped the door open and took a deep breath, the smell of oil and hot metal rushing to meet him.

His eyes went to the moving parts first, giant pistons, great fans stretching up and out of sight. Steam hissed from great pipes, snaking in every direction. He walked out onto the gangway and looked down to see the other bridges and viewing platforms, tech priests moving this way and that, data slates or tools in hand. When he snapped back to himself properly, he realised two lay-mechanicus, had frozen like rabbits in headlights. He had not warned them he would be visiting. Where would be the fun in that? He didn't want to see the clean, shiny parts of the work here. He wanted the dirt and sweat and hard work. He introduced himself cheerfully, asked their designations, their specialities until he saw their prehensile tentacles relax a little. He could not, however, convince them to let him roam alone so one of them scurried off to find a more senior tech priest to give him the tour.

While it did that, Lance found the nearest shrine and dipped his fingers in the engine oil, repeated a prayer in binaric code. He always found the Omnissiah easier to reach in some ways, grounded as They were in nuts and bolts, tangible machines that promised life or death. You followed the rules and you got results. If something went wrong it was because you had broken a rule. Easy. When he stood up from his prayer the senior tech priest had arrived and was looking on approvingly. A good impression he didn't even intend to make. Five more minutes and they would be cooing over his spine, mark his words.

They walked to the edge of the gangway together and Lance got that rush of vertigo that was more like an urge to jump when he peered over. Gears ground together, pistons fired. One could get philosophical, thinking of the simplicity of being a cog. But machines were his escape from philosophy and he refused to indulge it.

The tour took the better part of two hours and by the end of it his feet were protesting mightily. He didn't care. He had that fizz and energy about him, that light in his eyes. And he couldn't be stopped when he insisted on helping, rolling up the sleeves of his boiler suit and borrowing some tools from a very squeaky and meek enginseer. With an air of great resignation, the senior mech assigned him to a troubleshooting team, muttering something about making himself useful.

Which, to their surprise, he did. And he was therefore a little more welcome down on the engine decks, as long as he pitched in. An audience they had no use for but an eager semi-mechanic. That they could work with.

_____________________________________________________________

Mischief on the Flight Decks/Asleep in a Cupboard

Sometimes being an officer was hard. Not for the long hours, impossible choices or backbreaking work. No, the greatest trial of an officer was when your ratings got ideas in their head. Sometimes you could knock it out of them with a stern word or two. Sometimes no force on this sector could and changing their nature was akin to changing the course of a raging river.

Which was why, right now, he was wedged in-between the box of spare flight suits and the machine waxer in the flight deck cupboard, knees up by his chest and head resting against the back wall. He had brought a ratpack in with him, as well as a thermos of recaff. Who knew when it would be safe to go out. He had resigned himself to living here for foreseeable. Outside there was the unmistakable sound of a scuffle. Lance winced and sent a message on his dataslate to warn Med.

It had started innocently enough. Scramble drills. Streamlining the process as much as possible. He'd wanted to shave three seconds off their current time. So he had stood with a stop watch and a whistle, blowing it at every interval they should be changing tasks. The problem had started when in some slight exasperation, he said they should be able to do it backwards and blindfolded. In hindsight, he definitely shouldn't have said that the most efficient could have his ration of cocoa for the day. The element of competition to pilots was like blood in the water. He was the same when he was their age. And just like them, he also would have started sabotaging his opponents. He made a deal with himself that if it sounded like anyone was drawing blood he would emerge from the cupboard. Other than that, he settled himself in for the long haul.

He was in there for exactly seven and a half minutes when he heard the crisp sound of the boots he doesn't usually hear on the flight deck floors. He froze. Held his breath. Hoped that the noise had been some sort of terror based hallucination. But there was no mistaking the final step or indeed the silence that followed. He closed his eyes. The steps came closed and then there was a polite rap on the door.

"D'ya hear there Flight?"

He let out his breath, unfolding his limbs and resigning himself utterly. "Yes sir."

______________________________________________________________ Bridge Crew

There was just something intensely satisfying about the walk up to the bridge. He had to stop himself grinning on most walks up there. He took stairs two at a time, swung on bannisters at the bottom. It sort of felt like he had made it. That all the stupid work, all the endless hours, all the sleepless shifts had actually led to where he wanted to be. And he had done it. Not his last name, not his connections. But because he was damn good at his job. Bridge and Nic would not have promoted him otherwise. They had shown that they didn't give out favours, didn't deal in pity. Is this what actual achievement felt like? He hadn't felt it since his last, actual promotion before the Inquisition had happened to him and sucked all normalcy and joy out of the work.

He was welcome here. There was a place for him here.

With that realisation came the clear weight of responsibility - but not the type he shied away from or rejected. This was the responsibility of rank. He had to become the image of the best officer he could imagine. He had to set an example in his manner and presentation, not just in his decisions or actions. No more fucking about, no more picking fights or insolence (though truly, he had been out of that phase for a good long while, this was simply the culmination of those efforts). Just the work.

The ship under his feet thrummed more noticeably than the Chaser, reminding him of all the Countless naval ships he had walked on before. None of them had ever felt like home, until now.

He scans his pass and the door opens into the Bridge. "Right, what have we got today?"

______________________________________________________________ Repairs (flight deck 2)

Flight deck two had taken a hell of a beating. He stood, hands on hips, looking over it. The tech-priests had been hard at work to at least get it void-sealed, no longer quite the gaping wound it was and unlikely to kill anyone just by standing in it. This had, to say the least, taken some doing. Even now there were priests skuttling up and down the walls like mechanical spiders.

The upshot was, that while it would of course be returned to original spec, there was a little room for personalisation. Or at least, for things to be where he preferred them. Though this may look like an absolutely fucked flight deck, it was really a blank canvas. Call him an optimist.

He glanced at his timepiece. He technically had an hour before his next immediate task, give or take. He lived life by a schedule generally, it kept his nose clean and stopped him from the biggest enemy a person like him could have; empty time. Repairs weren't strictly in his job description. But going above and beyond was the sign of a good officer. Nobody could hold him doing more work against him.

He rummaged in his kit for his rebreather and goggles. For all that he fucked about, he did not fuck about when soldering. Not least because the tech priests he used to bother incessantly to teach him lessons refused to unless he was elbow deep in PPE. And the cogs here would trust him more if he didn't act like an idiot. If he showed he revered the holy teachings just as much as they did.

In another life he would have been a tech priest. And he would have been both bloody good at it and damn happy. One of many ways being a Durovera had screwed up his chances at life long satisfaction and happiness. He could add it to the books.

Soon he was set up in a corner, reenforcing some of the hull panels. The air smelt of hot metal and the noise of sizzling was a balm to his overwrought soul. It was also a good way to get to know the ship. Syncing with the manifold was one thing sure, but the physical bit was important too. Walking the sections was a good start but you also had to feel. Put your palms on the metal, know the noise it makes when it's hammered, know exactly what makes up each section. If he was going to be using the flight decks, he wanted to know exactly what it was made out of.

And maybe, just a little, knowing he had helped heal part of her would endear her to him. He even resisted the urge to add his signature.

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

Hangover

He groaned. His head pounded in time to his heartbeat and he could swear he felt his pulse in his feet. He felt bruised all over. He opened one eye warily, immediately squinting at the white hive light filtering in from the corridor. His mouth tasted like ashes. Every muscle made their complaints known as he pushed himself into a sitting position, having to stay very very still once upright in order not to vomit on his feet. He was about now he became faintly aware of the body next to him. And a few moments after that, the other sleeping forms in the room.

He was still wearing his trousers so there was a solid chance he hadn't slept with any of them, though you could never really be entirely sure. It was Astrid asleep beside him though, blonde hair slightly tousled, her brow furrowed even in her sleep. Who's flat even was this? He wondered, untangling himself with the same approach as if he was dodging a laser maze. Oh, it's a club back room. He realised belatedly, looking in vain for a sock or shoe, ideally his though beggars could not be choosers. At least some common sense had made him keep his damn shirt on - nobody needed to see the state the carved decagram was in.

The raivans must have, wisely, buggered off, so it was Charity and a few other hangers on passed out. None of them were Pyke from a glance, which was good. Though now he thought about it, he did have a distinct ache in his jaw that suggested some violence. Faintly, the memory of a doorman bubbled up to the top. He closed his eyes at the recollection of exactly what he said. "I'm Lance fucking Durovera." He thought he had grown out of that phase but apparently whatever was in the red dust he had been throwing back like shots brought it out on him.

One night. He told himself sternly. And they weren't even like, proper drugs. You got it out of your system and now never again, got it? But he was already missing the soft buffer of chemical fog between him and the real world, even if they were a bit juvenile for his tastes.

But it had, evidently, been a fun night. Drinks, dancing, actually blowing off some fucking steam, celebrating Esme doing the moral thing and removing herself from his concerns forever. He had the bone deep satisfaction of a hedonist who had indulged some vices. The nice ones, the shiny allowed ones. Nobody could blame him for needing some off time.

He put his foot on the floor and immediately onto a shard of sharp glass. He stumbled into a sitting position, wincing as he pulled out the shard, holding it up in the light to see how much slick red blood it had drawn. More than nothing but hardly serious. If a cut foot was the only consequence of this evening, well, he had little to worry about.

______________________________________________________________

Burnt at the Stake AU

Their knees were shredded from when they stumbled and their captors kept walking. They tried to keep their footing, underarms aching from the tight grip keeping them up, but it was hard when you couldn't see. The blindfold around their blue eyes was tight and left them in utter darkness. It at least stopped the sweat dripping into their eyes - the day was unusually hot and the sun was merciless. Cal could feel the back of their neck starting to burn. Their lips were cracked and dry. Cal wondered if they passed out, would the captors just carry their body, dragging it behind them? Probably. But that wasn't how they were going to face their death. They would face it on their feet, God Emperor help them.

The burning and the heat didn't bother them as much as it might have. The sun only served to remind them of their Love. They tilted their face up, a small smile appearing as they felt the fierce burning of devotion they held in their chest mirrored on their skin. How else does one prove one's love but by enduring?

Though they could not see, they could certainly hear. It had layers. Below everything else, the whispering. Concerned citizens leaning in close, telling tales about the dangerous witch. Then, the talk. Concerned parents, gossiping neighbours, arbites telling people to move back out the path, don't worry, everyone will be able to see. Then the shouts. The jeers. The village children shrieking with imagined fear or courage as they pass.

It was hard to stay brave. Despite everything, they were still a person. They still bled when a stone thrown by a child caught the back of their leg, sharp. They swung wildly between fierce pride, the joy of defiance, the joy of absolute certainty. And then the small part of them that shied from this hated. That didn't want to die and especially didn't want to die alone.

The soundscape changed a little and the dust underneath their feet changed to cobbles. They were in the town square. They took a little savage pleasure in knowing their bleeding feet would leave ruddy streaks on their pristine stones. One thing they had learnt while travelling the sector - take your wins where you can. If they ruined so much of one of this crowd's day, they'd consider today a success.

They tried to comfort themselves with other things too. That being killed meant they were a threat. That killing them like this would spread knowledge of who they were more than a year of preaching. That the Chaser crew, wherever they were, would remember them. Maybe even fondly, if Cal didn't get their ego in check and allowed themselves to hope. Even now there were points of light in the darkness that surrounded them all. You just had to look with new eyes.

They were steered up some steps that left splinters in their feet. Then they weren't on steps at all, a wooden platform with - ah. So it was going to be at the stake then. They had hoped for hanging, a gunshot. They tried to keep their chin high, back straight. But their hands, tied behind them trembled as if it were winter. And now, there, the inevitable stake and being lashed to it as if they were on a sailing ship and the sirens were calling -

Then, deliverance. Because the Emperor was kind and loved them very, very much. Deliverance did not come in the form of being spared, rain or everyone condemning them falling down dead. It came with a warm hand brushing their own, a fellow prisoner about to share their fate.

"Good of you to join me Cal, even if you are running rather late, old chap." Cal took a sharp intake of breath, scrabbling and twisting their hand until they could hold it tight in their own. Close by, the crackle of purifying flame began. And for the first time all day, Cal smiled.

______________________________________________________________

Medbay

He lay in the medbay bed, breathing erratic, eyes closed, dark freckles stark against the paleness of his skin. From the inside of his wrist, vines grew out and curled around his fingers, some moss crept up his throat. The bright blue sack of opia hung beside the bed, nestled between a multitude of monitors and tubing. Occasionally his eyelids would flutter, as if dreaming. The first order from Med after all the work had been done and rounded up had been for him to sleep, after seeing the dangerous sway in his walk once they were back aboard the Despite proper. If he was being honest with himself, the quiet of the bay and the crisp whiteness of his sheets had comforted him more than he would like to admit, and as soon as the immediate treatment was over, he had barely time to put his head on the pillow before he was asleep.

When he woke back up, the bay was on its night cycle, the lights dimmed and any voices from the medicaes hushed. His fingers twitched under the pillow for his pistol before he relaxed, remembering where he was. He groaned a little as he shifted, though it felt as if he was somehow feeling the pain from a great distance away, where he could dismiss it as unimportant. He also knew exactly what caused that feeling and quite how bad it was, but he dismissed that thought too. He had died. He got a few days off from thinking about that.

He turned his head. In the seat next to the bed, Astrid sat, asleep. Her blonde hair was escaping the tie, the top button of her tunic was undone. He watched her chest rise and fall, lit by the eerie light of the monitors. She looked tired. He reached to his side table and retrieved his time piece, blinking at it. Ah. He had roughly been asleep two days. That explained some of the half-dreams he had had, of Recce slipping needles into his skin under the supervision of Med, her changing the saline bags. He assumed it was wishful thinking, his brain seeing what it wanted to see. But no, he shouldn't have doubted. Of course she was here. He shifted again and couldn't help a small smile when his fingers brushed something laid beside him. The sealskin. He pulled it up to bury his face in it. It smelt of salt and the sea, so therefore Lewick, therefore Astrid.

The movement must have woken her as when he surfaced, her eyes were open and resting on him. "Hi." "Hi." She reached out her hand to him and he shook his head, moving onto his side and across the bed, leaving a gap for her to climb into. In a small flurry of boots and arms, they were ensconced next to each other, foreheads resting together. The opia made him a little clumsy so Astrid untangled the various wires and tubes before settling completely. He had a thousand things he wanted to say, but it was Astrid, so one glance and he had said all of it. He relaxed, his hair being ran through Astrid's fingers. He was sure he was moments away from sleep again. The thought didn't inspire him in the buzzing annoyance that sleep was interrupting his day. It felt alright. He let himself fall again.

______________________________________________________________

Extreme Measures

"Sir, Lance isn't breathing - "

Lance's body arches before slamming back down into the medbay table hard enough to rattle his teeth and he hears a distant keening sound that he realised a moment later was him. His nerves feel like they're on fire, worse than when they haywire, worse than when he's jacked in and the Lightning is hit. He's sobbing too, begging for it to stop, begging to a god he knows is not listening. He can't even beg the other being that restored him to life - rejected by that too. Not Nic or Bridge either, they're not here. Why weren't they here? His heart twisted a little at their absence before - unimportant, Astrid was here so he could call on the only two things he could rely on; him and her. Then Med arrived, blessed angel that they were and listened to him when he said he wanted drugs. Flooded his system with opia. Felt the blissful quieting of his body and mind he hadn't felt in eight years. Bit by ragged bit, he got himself under control, managing the juddering pain, trying to find the satisfaction he sometimes felt when he hurt himself. It didn't really work but it worked enough that he could open his eyes.

The raivens were close and they had given him a knife and they had not let him die. They had guarded his body and even if they did not know it, guarded his soul. He reached out his hand to grasp whichever was closest, unable to form words of gratitude just yet. The contact made was momentary though as a second later he had been wrenched up into Astrid's arms. He hadn't seen her like this in a long, long time. She was shaking all over, pale, undone. Her embrace rattled his bones, everything aching and burning still, but no force in this sector could make him push her away.

A little while ago, he was alone in the dark, being offered a deal. Then had been dragged back to this brightness, this theatre set of a world and the gratitude was almost as vivid as the pain coursing through him. He didn't know what he would have answered - no, that's a lie, he did. Did he even have any other option when Astrid was here? He made a promise to her he intended to always keep. If he didn't come back under his own steam, you could bet she'd be marching into hell to drag him back out.

______________________________________________________________

Clean-Up

Personally Lance thought there was a lot to be said for rounding up all the planetary nobility and firing them into the nearest sun available. They irritated him. They were not proper nobles and seemed to be under the impression being cruel made them so. Made all the more ironic by the fact they were amateurs in the cruelty olympics as far as nobles went. Try playing chess on a sector wide level and then you got to sit at the adults table.

Nic was going to make some recommendation to Conclave about ways to shore up the stability of the planet, something clever and socio-politically complex, pulling in Gearwrights and all sorts. If he was a better person, Lance might have felt some vague obligation to stay and see it through. But fundamentally he still hated this backwater place and would cheerfully chew off his arm rather than stay another day in the land where tech comes to die.

He hoped the servants had resisted the best efforts of agents to recruit them. You'd think that civilians were stray pets with the obsession some people got about keeping them. He wasn't sure they had considered the inherent cruelty that joining the Inquisition necessitated. Aside from the lifestyle and the physical dangers of the job (of which there were many), by joining they were of a heightened risk for corruption, been given more opportunities to have their soul eroded. Better to give their minds a wipe and set them back on the boring, safe path through life until they died and went home to the God Emperor. Or whatever.

But maybe this was part of being the Inquisition too, if you weren't careful. Slowly you start considering yourself the type of person that got to make the choice over someone's fate. That for a joke or some pleasant company, you got to tell some innocent the secrets of the universe. Nobody could tell you no, after all. You were the Inquisition. Lance, a man known for treating people as things, found this idea unsavoury. It was the careless nature with which it was done. If you harmed someone, at least have the good grace to do it on purpose.

____________________________________________________________

Angles of a House

They were all going to die and it was his fault. He had made a bad call. The first real mistake in his Inquisition career so far? He wasn't sure. All he knew was that a yawning chasm had opened in his stomach. His hands gripped the bannister, knuckles white while the rest of him went perfectly, dangerously still. Lance counted his breaths and watched Nic on the vox, co-ordinating with Recce. A thousand calculations ran through his mind, a hundred actions he could take. He wouldn't arrange another rescue mission for fear of it being a recursive problem. He would, however, as soon as Recce stopped replying on the vox, go in by himself and rescue her.

He understood that other people's minds hurt when they were in the Mirror-House. That the angles and doors cut into their vision, formed patterns that made no sense. Except they did make sense to him. He could move within it and his brain didn't stutter over how impossible it all was. This was ultimately unsurprising, but it didn't stop him finding the entire thing distasteful. But maybe he could use it for the better, find things quicker. They should have done that in the first damn place.

He felt an odd sort of resentment towards those he set out to rescue who had pulled, let's be clear, some bullshit in order to get out. Without having the good grace to let him know or appearing somewhere he could notice them in time. Frankly bloody rude. Next time he won't bother getting a rescue and they could continue being eaten by void fish at their leisure. He was projecting. He knew he was projecting. But the tight knot in his stomach would not disappear until he saw Astrid, whole and alive, and so he would keep waiting.

______________________________________________________________

Noblesse Oblige

You have a duty to those lesser than you. Lesser in power, status, rank. If you were in a command chain with them, that chain shackled you tight to responsibility. Generally it manifested for Lance in the relationships with his subordinates, his pilots. He did not order them around frivolously or cruelly, he did not use them as cover for his own mistakes, he did not take pleasure in punishing them. He had, in the past, been assigned under officers that did not share this philosophy. He had the scars on his back and the chip on his shoulder to prove it.

Servants counted. You treated them like people. You said please and thank you. You asked how they were, didn't ask them to do things that would get them into trouble, defended them if a mistake was made performing a task for you. Lance would be the first to admit he was an utter brat to his tutors and nannies growing up, but he had firstly never crossed certain lines and secondly had grown out of it. He'd even written some apologies when he crossed paths with poor Mr Templeton and Mistress Radcliffe.

The way the nobles were acting here was wrong. Not just morally, but socially. Torturing those under your power showed nothing strong about your character. It made Lance think of little boys with magnifying glasses and ant hills. He kept his face carefully calm and dispassionate when he saw a brother strike a maid across the face, even as his blood jumped inside his chest, telling him to go over and show him what real cruelty could be. The image of taking the dagger and sinking it into his chest - no, better, wrapping the maid's hand around the dagger and guiding it into his gut was delicious.

He shook his head to clear the thought, kept his hands firmly behind his back. He would make up for his appalling lack of intervention in other ways. He comforted a few servants over mistakes, gave others biscuits, checked on Heather when she was falling asleep where she sat. Servants were your people. Part of the pack and you protected them. And if the so called nobles of this 'house' would not, Lance would.

He knew what recommendations he would make for next steps when this was all over. Personally he thought they should ask the servants what they wanted to do with their torturers. The thought made him smile.

______________________________________________________________

Guard Duty

He was not naturally suited to guard duty. He fizzed with impatience, always wanting to be where the action was, wanting newness and excitement. Standing in front of someone for a couple of hours was not it. His attention seemed to be pulled away every two seconds, by intense conversations or sudden bouts of violence.

There were worse people to be guarding though. Lady Georgina was nothing like her daughter, except perhaps for the general expectation she would be catered to and for. Which was fair enough in her own house. Lance had dealt with a lot of nobles in his life and she was by no means the worst. Not even the worst in her family. Not even top ten, unless she turned out to be a secret psyker, which wasn't outside the realm of possibility considering George.

Though Lady Georgina felt afraid, Lance also reckoned if they stuck a knife in her hand she would still be more than capable of fucking up any assailant that tried it. She was not helpless, nor did she give the impression of being fragile or precious. One of the reasons he liked her, he supposed. He had no time for those who waited to be rescued rather than climbing out the hole themselves. He wasn't willing to die for Lady Georgina but he was ready to get stabbed for her and would bodily protect her. The thought almost made him sigh in resignation. What a stupid job this was.

Later though, there was the genius idea of assigned his bodyguards to Lady Georgina. At first he thought it was genius because it meant he could wander around, but once he saw them with her, flanking and professional (shades resting on their noses delicately, of course), he realised it was genius because they had a far better chance of protecting the Lady of the House than he did. It was important to know your strengths and apparently protection was theirs.

______________________________________________________________

Sword

It was raining sporadically, but the rain wasn't cold. It fell thick and warm and Lance realised that it wasn't water that was falling from the towering, roiling warp sky, but blood. The smell of it pervaded everything, along with that sweet rotten honey scent that you found nowhere else but here. Behind him the Red Saint was roaring and he swore he could feel the ground move underneath his knees.

Because he was on his knees beside Zaphiel, ignoring the pounding in his head and heart, ignoring the chanting and wailing of the cultists that surrounded them. He wasn't afraid. Not really. How could he be? What he felt instead was a rising sense of panic - panic that not everyone would be coming back with them, panic that he could be left here forever, panic that Zaphiel, the person who was meant to be defeating this monstrosity was on the ground and bleeding. He brushes blood-slick hair from his eyes and then realises Zaphiel is screaming at him.

"Cut it off, get it off!"

For a moment, he has no idea what she's talking about. Then he notices how there's a shimmer around her sword arm, like gold mist in the air. He doesn't like how quickly he grabs her sword once he realises what she's asking.

It takes two cuts. Just two. The first to get through the flesh to the bone. The second to break through the bone and out the other side. Later, Zaphiel would say it was done with surgical precision. He was good with blades and she had kept hers sharp. With some leverage, it cut through her like butter. No bile rose to his throat, no shudders of horror went through him. One moment her arm was attached to her and the next it was not.

He was sent back on his heels as she rose like a dread creature, remaining hand thrusting out to demand that what was hers by right, the sanctified axe. Someone handed it to her, he wasn't sure who, his eyes were blinded by darkness and blood. It wasn't his. He hadn't been hit once. He stood, chest heaving, as he watched her re-enter the fray. There was screaming and he wasn't sure from who. He went back down to one knee to aim another pointless shot with his pistols. Then there was the sound of something tearing -

They were back in the Stanford House. The sudden lights blinded him for a moment, his chest tightening as it readjusted to being in real space. When his eyes refocused, he saw Zaphiel victorious, bleeding and on the ground next to what no longer looked like a warp monster children would have nightmares about, but rather a mutated human in agony. He barely had time to move aside as Pilotspear surged forward. He couldn't stop looking at the wound he had left until Zaphiel had been taken away by medics. He barely heard the 'thank you'. Only then could he focus on what the XO was doing next to the Red Saint.

______________________________________________________________

Foreign Object

Lance felt sick. He was standing by the open manor door, trying to cool himself down. There was cold sweat upon his brow and he knew something was wrong. He wasn't sure what but something. He could feel it in his bones. His blood. Things moved past him slowly, sound distorting. It felt like time was a long string being spooled out but ready to snap any second. This was not how his body felt - his heart was hammering inside his chest, beating so quickly it felt more like a continuous hum than a beat. Every few moments a shiver would go through him, no matter how he tried to suppress it. Under his ribs, the wound Astrid had sewn up pulsed. Long tendrils of pain crackled from it, each breath feeling like it did a little bit more damage. As though from a great distance away, as if watching a pict screen, he noted passively that a black border was beginning to creep into his vision.

It was then that he hit the floor.

If he was properly awake, he would have panicked. Because he didn't get sick. He got injured, got patched up, got right back to it. He didn't just drop, no cause, no explanation. It had not even occurred to him that perhaps something was wrong with the wound Astrid had seen to. Now he was shivering uncontrollably, his breath stopping and starting erratically. He could hear someone screaming for supplies. He realised after a moment it was Astrid. Which was wrong. Because Astrid didn't scream. He must be hallucinating because of whatever was wrong with him. He tried to move his arm to put around her but his body had stopped listening to him completely. He realised he couldn't see at all now, actually. He could hear his rushing, pounding blood roaring like the engine of a fighter.

Something pricked the inside of his arm and then it felt like his blood was on fire, burning through every nerve and vein. There was noise again and he couldn't tell who was shouting. Was it him? It might be him. He tried to stop himself and bit his tongue so hard it bled, though the copper tang was welcome as a sensory input that wasn't agonising. He wished for the shivers and fever back, if it would stop whatever this was.

But slowly (so slowly it felt like an eternity, like each second held a thousand years), the pain abated. The water pulled back from the shore. He felt a heft as someone picked him up, murmurs of voices. He was about to open his eyes when someone was apologising to him. He had about three seconds to feel a grim sense of impending dude and then Med was cutting into his (very new! very new and very sore!) wound. He didn't bother even trying not to yell. That ship had sailed whenever someone injected whatever it was into him. Something was tugged out of his flesh and though it was agony, the hot, tight feeling that had been behind his ribs vanished too. A knot of muscles in his shoulders relaxed, just a little.

When he opened his eyes, there was sweat pooled in the small of his back, bright lights above him and Astrid crying. Only one of those felt currently important. Ignore the screaming in your ribs, the stomach that very much would like to throw up and comfort her, you wanker. Who cares if you just nearly died? So did she. And so clumsily, with poor grace and a lot of headrush, he reached for her.

_____________________________________________________________

Transfusion

He settled himself down, putting his feet up on the chair in front. A blood transfusion was as good an excuse as any to stay still for fifteen minutes while having a cup of recaff. He looked over at Astrid, laid out on the table, still too-pale, still a little delirious. He hadn't let anybody else do this. It was more than them having the same blood type - in his head, they had the same blood (convenient, considering by the end of the day they will have all but swapped blood). It was lucky that neither of them were squeamish. He watches the blood pulse down the tubing, from his arm into hers.

Fresh blood was always so much redder than people expected it to be, he found. He remembers a fight he was in when he was about ten, the way that after he had headbutted the other boy, he had brought a hand to his nose, staring at Lance and then his bloody fingers as if Lance had performed some arcane magic. Violence was a type of magic, he guessed. Cause and effect in pretty much it's purest form.

It hadn't been his first fight or even his last. His life would be littered with them, sometimes so closely together you couldn't see the trees for the forest. He'd grow to love them, appreciate them beyond a simple expression of rage or self-defence. Here's the secret nobody wanted you to know: violence could be fun.

Not here though. Not when it happened to Astrid by someone other than him. He put his hand in hers, stroking small circles on her palm. He rested his head on his other hand, watching her carefully, eyes flickering to the door every time somebody walked in. When one of them was downed, the other kept watch. That was the rule for almost as long as they had known each other. Nobody and nothing else would do. Surrounded by enemies, they became the shield of the other. And knife, too.

______________________________________________________________

Keeping Order

He sat down carefully, pushing his protective glasses up off his face. Absently he rubbed the bridge of his nose with a thumb, soothing the soft red mark left there. When the world got too loud and too confusing, and he couldn't retreat into the blissful quiet of the Lightning cockpit, he could at least do this.

He opened his tool box that was also his medkit, much to the distress of both engineers and medics everywhere. He folded out the drawers, not so much as a squeak out of them. To anyone looking over his shoulder, it looked like chaos. Small vials jostling against tubs of oil, syringes rubbing shoulders with miniscule pistons, plastic tubing that may have belonged to either category... But to him, it made sense. He didn't just throw things in. Much, anyway.

He snapped on some gloves, pulling them down with his teeth. Once secured, he dipped into the largest compartment of the box and fished out a coolant fan. The blades had been twisted by something, making them catch when they span in their frame. He retrieved the set of pliers that lived permanently in his back pocket and with indescribable care began untwisting each single piece of metal. There's an unusual singularity to the focus he has now, his eyes on the piece of machinery and not flickering around the room, his body utterly still instead of a foot tapping or leg shaking. People come and go in the room and he pays them no mind, giving out neither greeting nor insult.

After a few moments, he straightens a little, looking at the item this way and that in the pale merwaldian morning light. He parts his lips and blows on it gently, watches the blades spin without any friction. There was a quiet satisfaction in making something work just right. And there was no ambiguity here, no hard choices. Just the subtle movements that meant something was fixed or it wasn't. That simple.

He carefully places the fan back into the box, flashes a quick sign of the Omnissiah, a quick ave. The next item is a small rotary with a grill over the top. He fishes out a toothbrush, the best tool to clean shrapnel out of flesh or dust out of metal. Not for the first time, it flickered through his mind; the alternate life he would have lead if he were allowed to become an engineseer, as he had always wanted. He knew now it would have been impossible on five different axis, but he wished it regardless. He wondered if he'd still be as sociopathic as he was now and decided he would be, it would have just been much less of a problem. He picks up the bottle of sealant, pours a few drops onto his working cloth.

After a few moments, he heard the unmistakable sound of glass shattering and pistols firing. He heaved an almighty sigh, recapping the small bottle and taking care to fold the little piece of tech in the scrap of cloth Isto gave him. Once carefully in place, he clicked the compartments back, shut the lid and locked it tight. Then he stood, weary joints (the ones that hadn't been replaced yet) popping in protest. He rolled his shoulders back, clicked his neck either side, then picked up his dual pistols, leaving the room at a leisurely pace to go and murder some heretics.

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Exhaustion

His spine keeps him up. A bit of a tweak he had done himself with a mirror, an extra long set of tweezers and a scalpel. It's technically exploiting a back end mechanism but it isn't a glitch so he's pretty sure it's not heresy. It keeps his top half flush against the wall, no matter how much his shoulders wish for him to sink down. His hips are only marginally less traitorous but the other heroes are his knees. They don't buckle or slip, regardless of how organic they have the misfortune to be.

He too relies on his augmetic sensors. With this many unknown agents he would hesitate over blinking too long, let alone closing his eyes on purpose. But with his reactions, someone could launch a punch at him when he was dead asleep and he was 86% certain he could dodge and their fist would meet the wall. And anyway, he isn't dead asleep. Just resting. His trigger finger rests away from the guard.

Close by he can hear Pilotspear and Zaphiel whispering conspiratorially on the stairs. He feels it as much as hears it, through the soles of his feet. His atmospheric sensitivity is tuned up right to the max. He can feel Astrid close by, though he doesn't need his sensors for that. Nic and Bridge are (with an excitement that was actually adorable) discussing the ins and outs of bat parentage. All in all, it was relaxing. Nothing calmed him more than a shot of adrenaline and mild fear for his life.

He closes his eyes, slows his breathing. Something in his shoulders unclenches. But he doesn't drop his gun and he doesn't stop standing up. Let it never be said that Lance didn't do his share of guard duty. Even if he had to do it unconscious.

______________________________________________________________

Efficiency (pre-Merewald)

For the most part, he was able to keep his temper in check. It took constant work, sure, but he was able to do it. It was a skill like any other. It wasn't that he never got angry - in fact, his irritation and ire was easy to earn. It was that his anger was something to be controlled, used or pushed down. You couldn't particularly earn the respect and trust of your collegues if you fly off the handle every time something went wrong.

But, as there always was, there were exceptions. He had very little tolerance for cowardice or moping. But the true enemies were inefficiency, stupidity and incompetence, often found gathered as a group. In his past, commanders who showed even one of this unholy trifecta instantly found themselves held in his contempt with little chance for recovery.

Is there a more annoying feeling than watching a clusterfuck unfold before your eyes, thinking all the while about how you could have performed it better? Lance's head was always full of blueprints and plans as a default, but watching a command falter sent it into overdrive. His eternal frustration that people could not be simply be moved by chess pieces. He knew exactly who was putting that thought in his head but it wasn't like he could stop thinking it.

He wouldn't accept it on his deck. He drilled his pilots over and over until they could recite flight patterns in their sleep, dreaming of star charts all the while. His standards were punishingly high but he would help every single one of them to meet them. Their failures were his failures after all. He would make the Despite deck something to be envied fleets over or die from disappointment. You know, so proportionate expectations.

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Disappeared

It happened every time without fail. Despite the fact she was always alright, despite the fact she had returned back to him every single time. That heady few seconds after a mission, his heart stopped. He would count, he would search the (inevitably inconveniently gathered) crowd until he saw her. Then his breath would return back to his chest and his heartbeat would be allowed to resume. He was fairly sure he would never grow out of it. If this much time in the Inquisition hadn't, he saw no reason why any more time would.

It wasn't that he didn't trust in her or her capabilities. Quite the opposite - it was far more likely she would come back to base than he would on any given day. It was more that he didn't trust in the unfeeling, ironic universe they had found themselves in. People he loved died or disappeared - no melodrama, just cold fact. Acolytes and sailors died even more often. The odds were just not in their favour.

Back on Merewald, the endless hallways had snatched her and he had felt with some animal part of his brain that she needed help. And so in he went, giving away some part of himself in order to get her (and to a lesser extent, several others) out alive. It was a worthy trade. He'd do it again. No hesitation.

When Bridge and Nic talked about hard decisions, he supposed this was exactly what they were talking about. The eternal balance of duty versus love, logic versus emotion. For everyone else he knew, Lance's sense of duty and logic would win out every time. He did his work and he did it well, putting his feelings into a box to be ignored until eventually a time came where he could air them. If it came down to Astrid versus the Entire Sector, he knew exactly what he would choose.

_____________________________________________________________

Scalpel

Lance was starting to feel like he was terminally unlucky. He hadn't quite gotten to that point previously, despite the myriad of indicators (metaphysical and otherwise) that told him so. But now he was lying on the med bay gurney for the fourth time in as many hours, he had some sort of inkling that maybe the universe was against him. The nerves in his arm hissed and fizzed, refusing to respond to his demands to move fingers or bend at the elbow. This fucking arm. He swore an oath to himself he would take it off personally.

He wasn't a stoic patient. He screamed and bucked and shuddered. Even the not-insignificant part of him that enjoyed pain couldn't ignore his body's survival responses, the involuntary reactions that were encoded in every part of him. Usually it was Astrid pinning him down, keeping him still but it had been Nic, Gwyn and one or two other poor sods. It was a thankless job, as the bitemark on Gwyn's shoulder attested. He wasn't sure if it was the sort of thing you could get better at, but he supposed with the rate of his injuries, he would soon find out.

The scalpel split his skin. He felt the warm, vibrant trickle of blood slide down the inside of his wrist. It came in low pulses as his heart beat. Part of him wanted to put his mouth to it, like when you got a paper cut. Part of him wondered if you could see right down to the bone. His teeth were clenched so hard it hurt his jaw. Funny no matter how much pain you felt, there was always room for more, other places to put it. His fingers twitched, involuntarily as Med pressed against something.

He found it easier to picture what was happening if he thought of his arm like a machine. Veins as tubes carrying fuel and coolant. The pistons in his joint, pushing and pulling. Nerves carrying motive force - well that bit was pretty much the same. Except machines were better. Machines were sensible enough not to bother with pain sensors. Humans were very badly designed. He wanted a word with the creator.

Whatever Med was doing was over. The sharp, bright slices of pain had blurred into a steady, dull pulse. Luckily it was early enough in the day they didn't need to resort to stitches yet. They could afford to use the spray. The thing was though, this healing wasn't magic. It wasn't like what biomancers could do, blending away wounds so it was like they never even happened, your mind the only memory the body had left of the injury. It would still be present, unable to be forgotten completely.

He sat up on the med table, ignoring the headrush, determined to vacate the space so the next needy soul could be carved up. Space was at a premium. There was always someone waiting to be seen. No gentle recoveries here. Back on your feet, back to work, before the blood had even dried.

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Drowning

It wasn't the impact that knocked the air from his lungs - that was the cold. It invaded every inch of him, robbing him of all sensation that wasn't the thousand pinpricks of ice driving into his skin, his nose, his throat. The next thing he managed to register was pressure, the weight of the water on top of him, around him, below him, pressing as hard as it could. Even when he closed his eyes, the pale blue light pressed through his eyelids.

The second attempted breath was more painful than the first. He was sure he could feel it in his spine. In the thousand thousand deadened and dying nerves spread across him. Some of them will never be the same. He kicks to try and make his way to the surface, but the cold has leeched strength as well as warmth. He can barely feel his legs moving, certainly thinks he's kicking harder than he is, he's telling his brain to go as hard as he can so he must be. He wonders when the peace kicks in. People always said drowning was peaceful.

His muscles didn't feel peaceful. Nor his robbed breath, his rapidly fogging mind. But he supposed the darkness edging into his vision, blotting out the pure and beautiful light that had been making his head ache was peaceful. He reached out for it, fingertips brushing it and finding it soft and welcoming.

That was when everything stopped.

Eight minutes of nothing. No thought. No heartbeat. No breath. Just a small, cold body, lips blue and eyes closed. When it was wrenched from the water, eyelashes stuck together with ice, everybody assumed the worst. And they were right. Lance Durovera was, for all intents and purposes, dead.

It took electricity, warmth and oxygen to wake him back into life. Some small part of his consciousness had refused to shift, waiting for the body to become a suitable home again. He woke up in a bed, hooked up to wires and tubes and monitors. A miracle not called a miracle because it was called medicine instead. It was a wonder what engineering could do for his damaged nerves, lungs. A few weeks in the medbay and it would be as if he had never died at all.

Falling asleep felt like drowning for a while, if he didn't dream. Tumbling down into blackness where no thought can exist. The pause button of reality. It was frightening, not that he ever would admit such. He didn't even admit being afraid of his nightmares. Fear was something he just had to tuck away. Fear was a secret you kept with yourself.

Afterwards, years afterwards, as he ran his burnt hand under cold water, he thought that he would still rather die by ice than fire.

_____________________________________________________________

No Justice

Who the fuck did she think she was? Did she think that she was the only one who had ever been betrayed? Who had been lied to? Who gave her an exclusive patent on heartbeak? Fuck that. If he wasn't allowed to reap his much deserved vengence, no other fucker got to either. If he had to control himself to work in the service of the Emperor, to bring glory to Her Throne and act as agents of her will, so did everyone else. An unfamilar form of anger built up in him like a tower - the burning anger of the righteous. It was not generally accessible to him. That was for Nic. But now he felt it and felt it with a proud fierceness.

He wasn't even aware he was about to speak until the words tumbled out of his mouth, electric and bold: "No justice but the Emperor's justice."

He felt the weight of a hand on his shoulder, for once not tapping him out of despair or to yank him back from a situation, but one that squeezed in encouragement. He said it again. And again, louder. What was a whisper became something more. It got louder again and he thought that maybe he had started shouting but no, it was something completely unexpected.

People were saying it with him. One by one by one. It became a wave. Crashing over them, each speaker bolstered just a little bit by it. The first time he had offered even a little bit of spiritual strength on purpose. It didn't feel good, not exactly, but there was a satisfaction to it right to his back teeth. A small burning. Maybe if he couldn't always lean on faith, he could lean on this. The belief. The practical. The right words and the right action at the right time. The fairness. Where he couldn't find it, he could at least try and make it.

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Sparrow & 35

She actually sang a lot.

Back home there was a lot of singing. Voices raising up out of the fields during the harvest, hymns from the pews during each morning service, lullabies to sleepy children at night. You could almost tell the hour by the song being sung.

Hives didn't work like that. There were always people on shift, no real sense of day and night. Music pumped through many areas but they bore no resemblance to what she was used to. Even the hymns sounded different through a tinny sound system. Even the drinking songs that rang out when the navy lot came down on shore leave were foreign to her too. Transplanted to a new world so entirely, not a single sound felt the same.

She thought Gunner was out on a food run. She had been on a major research binge for two days now and even she had to admit she needed a proper meal, probably some sleep and definitely to get out of her work clothes. She had waited until Gunner had headed out to finally cease working, knowing they would be pleased if they came back and didn't have to coax her out of the paper nest her room had become.

She managed a shower, managed to get into her 'at home' clothes which mostly meant less starch in her shirt. The door to her room hung open. She combed out her long long hair, separating it into two perfectly equal halves. It was so rare it was ever loose. It felt a little like being naked. Already her fingers were working deftly to plait and weave them back into her pigtails.

And as she did so, without even thinking, she sang.

"Your Hay it is Mow'd, and your Corn is Reap'd; Your Barns will be full, and your Hovels heap'd -"

Who knew who had taught her? A mother she only remembered like a warm touch? One of the carers in the orphanage, her plaits one of many to be done each morning? Or was it something that was in her blood, growing and blooming as soon as it was given air?

She didn't hear Gunner come in as her voice drifted across the tiny apartment. They paused in the doorway, stopped in the threshold, listening for a minute more before they shut the door, the snap of the metal cutting the flat into instant silence. Sparrow sung a lot but never in front of anybody. Always alone.

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A Monologue (creative writing assignment)

Lance: I’m not sure when I first knew. Maybe there wasn’t any one moment. Maybe it was like… slow. Gradual. Bit by bit and inch by inch I realised I wasn’t good. Great thing for an eight year old to think about himself, right? But I did. I felt like maybe there was something in my bones. Some rot or some disease maybe. Something that you couldn’t just scratch off. It was in too deep. Fuck, I sound maudlin. I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. I wasn’t like a sad kid or anything. Quite the opposite, by all accounts. A little joyous terror. Probably could have done with being a bit grimmer, for my nanny’s sanity at least. But sometimes it… Being bad gives you freedom. No rules. No listening to people stupider than me, which as it turns out, by the way, is most people. It would explain certain things too. Sorry, me being bad, not me being clever. Things like why mum left. Why dad seemed a little afraid of me, at times. Why I couldn’t sleep at night or why I fucked everything up even when I wasn’t trying to. Pointless to be sad about it though. It’s not like I can change it. Even if I wanted to. Which I don’t, obviously. I’m perfect. Better than even. And modest too, as my best friend Astrid would say. Let me tell you about Astrid. She is the bullet to my gun, meat to my abattoir, my only solace in this fucked up experience we call life. We’re the same, her and me. Soulmates. But not that cutesy disney shit. This is the real deal and it isn’t always pretty. Sometimes I think I’m going to kill her or her kill me or some mutually assured destruction type deal. That’s what love is, real love. The power of life and death, all wrapped up in another person.

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[nxthingtxwn]

//Greatly expanded the playlist

Songs Fixed:

Tales of Souls

Vital

Songs Added:

Say It Proud by Kayla Dixon (from Fortnite)

Join Us For A Bite Remix by The Living Tombstone (FNAF fan song, originally by JT Music)

Pretty Heroes by Dabu (from Goodbye Volcano High)

Barrel of a Gun by Little V and Black Pestilence (Cyberpunk fan song)

Who's Ready For Tomorrow by Rat Boy (from Cyberpunk 2077)

Zavodila but only Ruv by Mike Geno (from FNF: Mid-Fight Masses)

Get Jinxed by the Riot Games Music Team (from League of Legends)

Holding Out For A Hero by Bonnie Tyler (from Shrek 2, Saints Row The Third and Masters of the Universe: Revelation)

I Can't Fix You by The Living Tombstone (FNAF fan song)

It's Been So Long by The Living Tombstone (FNAF fan song)

Idol (Splatoon AI Cover) by DanFourts (originally by YOASOBI)

Calamari Inkantation by Squid Sisters (from Splatoon)

Nasty Majesty by Off the Hook (from Splatoon 2: Octo Expansion)

Anarchy Rainbow by Deep Cut (from Splatoon 3)

Ambiguous by GARNiDELiA (from Kill la Kill)

STAY by The Kid Laroi and Justin Bieber (from Fortnite. Yes, that's my justification for putting it here, shut up)

Fresh (Boyfriend Remix) by Kawai Sprite (from Friday Night Funkin')

High (Future Funk Remix) by Orenji and The Musical Ghost (originally by Kawai Sprite)

Red and Black by GGalactigal (from HoloFunk: Hololive Funkin')

Opening Credits by Jared Emerson-Johnson (from The Wolf Among Us)

Light Up The Night by The Protomen (from The Wolf Among Us 2)

Shinzou wo Sasageyo! by Linked Horizon (from Attack on Titan)

Guren no Yumiya by Linked Horizon (from Attack on Titan)

Jiyuu no Tsubasa by Linked Horizon (from Attack on Titan)

Chippin' In by SAMURAI (from Cyberpunk 2077)

Snow Halation by Mu's (from Love Live! School Idol Project)

LOVE CRAZY by Sumire Uesaka (from Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro)

MY SADISTIC ADOLESCENCE by Sumire Uesaka (from Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro)

Colorful Canvas by Sumire Uesaka (from Don't Toy With Me, Miss Nagatoro)

This Is War by 30 Seconds To Mars (look, Voltron has nothing, okay? Lemme just add an AMV song and call it a day)

Just the Two of Us are Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger than You by scibot9000 (Mashup featuring Stronger Than You from Steven Universe)

All Star by Smash Mouth (from Shrek. Also RIP Steve Harwell 😢)

Monster by Reckless Love (nothing really, I just like it)

Doki Doki by Nikki Kaelar (from Doki Doki Literature Club)

Zelda by The Rabbit Joint (Legend of Zelda fan song. NOT by System of a Down.)

Short Change Hero by The Heavy (from Borderlands 2)

How You Like Me Now by The Heavy (from Borderlands 2)

Betrayal by Lita Ford (from Brutal Legend)

Painkiller by Judas Priest (from Brutal Legend)

What's Up People!? by Maximum the Hormone (from Death Note)

[nelapanela94]

Look at me! Look at me! Look at me!

Your mind shouts what your mouth would never spit.

Because before you spill it, you'd rather rip out your tongue or sew your lips together with jute twine.

What you hate most is that he's anchored to the dock of your thoughts.

Stupid midget.

Your fingers fall from the glass. Drops of vinegar and water solution blur his figure, and you wipe away the marks your fingertips stamped on the window. By Levi's mandate–and thanks to his ridiculous obsession–every other day the scouts are obliged to dedicate their heart precious time to the general and exhaustive cleanup of the Headquarters.

Before noon, the entire building must be spotless and immaculate so his majesty, Captain Shorty, doesn't spend the rest of the day flaunting his ass face, shooting death glares to anyone who comes his way.

Y/N is too loud and obnoxious, and her trembling hands are so clumsy.

That’s what he blurted out to Hange a few days after you dropped his favorite mug.

The cloth screeches against the crystal.

From the third floor, the corridor overlooking the stables grants you the perfect angle for your eyes to trace the silhouette of his profile. To draw him again and again; to follow his nimble hands as he grooms his horse.

Is it just coincidence or is it fate's schemes to play with you?

Whoever oversees the scheduling assigns you to a place that offers you a front row view.

If you’re in the kitchen, he’s in the orchard.

If you’re in the east corridor of the fourth floor, he is in the training grounds.

If you are in the bathrooms, he is in the main yard.

It must be someone who gets their kicks out of manipulating the threads of fate as they please, because if it were up to Levi, he'd post you at the farthest point.

It was an accident. No. It was his fault for butting in while you were doing your job oblivious to the power his mere presence wields over you. The chaos he unleashes within you.

That afternoon you were in the lab transcribing the results of an experiment, and he, having nothing better to do, decided to spend the afternoon nuzzled in Hange's books. He stomped in without saying anything, put his drink on the table where you were sitting, very close to the edge, and positioned the rolling ladder in front of the history books section.

In fact, you were never a saint of his devotion, and after that fateful accident in which his cup fell victim, he pinned your face behind a bright red cross under the cheery headline ‘Banned’. Not that it would have been so dire to warrant such egregious punishment.

Still perched on the steps of the ladder, he craned his head over his shoulder. “Oi”

Your eyes scoot from the reports to him as your forefinger stabbed the middle of your chest.

“Who else can I be talking to?” He scoffed, rolling the eyes, his grating tone making your eyebrows plummet into a frown.

“What do you want?” you rasped back, summoning ridges between his brows, his lips pursed together into a thin line. His nostrils flaring like a dragon about to spit fire.

And that was the problem, that with Levi you couldn't act normal, you either became a fluster mess or you used your scornful facade to belie the feelings you secretly hoarded for him.

He swallowed the vexation and sucked in a long breath. “Help me with these.” He nudged his chin to the gold-embossed books before him.

And it was there and then, as you got up from the table, that your body betrayed you. Instead of shifting the chair back, you pushed the table forward with enough force to make the whole thing topple over. And in a slow chain of images, you saw how the cup tumbled and shattered into dozens of pieces that ended up trapped in a puddle of tea.

You slapped your hands over your mouth as Levi’s popped out eyes darted from the mess to you, back to his precious mug.

He’s chest was rising and falling, fighting to smother the flames. A deep shape of red crept across his cheeks. His lips twitched uncontrollably.

He jumped off the step and trampled to the door, his fists clenched by his side. “Clean this mess.” He huffed without looking at you and slammed the door close, the entire building rumbled.

You sighed and rubbed down a hand over your face. You had to start over again.

The glass is crystal clear, but before you slip to the next window, an intrusive arm besieges you. They loom their head to you. “A beguiling view, isn’t it?”

“Hange!” You lurch and a teasing smile rises on their lips.

“When will you tell him?” They continue pushing, a leery glint flashing in their eyes.

You clear your throat, scratching an itch on your head. “Tell him what?” Your voice quaver.

“That you like him.”

“Me? Like him?” You frown, hurling their arm off, and cross your arms over your chest. “Yeah, right. I feel my breakfast sloshing back just by looking at him.”

They scan the floor, then look back at you. “You would have emptied your stomach by now because you have been watching him for a good while.”

You nibble on your lower lip, your eyes scooting in every direction. Face glazed with sweat. Your gazes meet again. “I was just arduously cleaning. Besides, I don't intend to go blind.” Your cheeks sizzle with red.

The brunette wheezes out a sigh, smacking a fist on their forehead. “You guys are hopeless.” They mutter audible enough, raising their shoulders, palms facing the ceiling.

“What do you mean? Why are you talking in plural?” You bellow, but they just ignore you and continue their way.

“Short guys are not my type!!!” Your raging voice caroms from wall to wall.

A harrumph catches you out of guard. Your head hangs forward as you rake your fingers through your hair, and spin around, your eyes ensnaring with his.

“What now?” You growl.

He bites his cheek and sweeps away some messy strands of hair from his forehead. You can’t decipher the look on his face. He’s not fuming; he’s not scowling. Truth is, he seems kind of... off. Uneasy. Diffident. You tip your head to the side, lifting one brow.

“Is it true?” He gulps, leather-clad foot scuffing on the floor, cheeks slathering with pink. “What you just said?” He staggers.

And here begins the war without quarter.

You pluck out the pin from the grenade, and without reckoning, you throw it.

“And what do you care who I rather shag?!!”

You stuff your hands in your pockets before your fingers give you away. They can’t stop shaking when he’s around. No matter how many times you pray that you hate him, that you can't stand him, the truth is that you can't get him out of your head. As if he had planted roots. He’s worse than weeds.

Seething, he emerges unscathed from the shockwave.

His eyebrows twitch, hands curled into fists quivering at his sides, a throbbing vein threads to explode on his flushed forehead. All his irritation sink into controlled puffs of air spewing from his lips.

But you’re not yielding. No.

Though he fires before you bring out the rest of the artillery.

“I can’t stand you!” his bullet scratches your cheek. “You are the most annoying person. You can't even imagine how much your crowing voice and pig laugh irritates me!” He shoots you in the shoulder, but you stand.

“I'm glad the feeling is mutual.” You take your aim. “With that shitty attitude and that fisty face, and your ridiculous OCD, you're going to die a virgin!”

"You're so clumsy, I don't know how you haven't ended up like titan food!"

The shot pierces your thigh, but limping you still aim.

"It's your fault, you idiot. Or haven't you noticed?"

"How the fuck is it my fault?"

"You make me nervous." You shoot yourself in the foot. "You...you..."

Levi’s grimace totters, overtaken by a puzzled look. But he immediately reloads the gun.

“The fuck you talking about?” He takes a step closer

“Nevermind.” You set your jaw so tight threatening to crack your teeth. You loom closer too and jab a finger on his chest. “Because of you I now say stupid things.”

“Now everything is my fault!”

“It is, like your shitty mug!”

A resonant grunt roars in his throat. With a menacing fist, he clutches your shirt and tows you to him. His eyes stab daggers in you. “How was it my fault?”

His voice a throaty rasp seeping through gritted teeth. His breath is laced with mint.

"Why didn't you stay in your office shoving your tea up your ass? Uh?” You splay your palms on his chest and try to push him away. “What the hell did you have to do in the lab?"

He doesn’t budge.

“And since when is the information in that burrow confidential?”

"You just insist on nagging me. You always look at me with that face of constipation!"

And your quarrel goes on, and you don’t notice the two heads peering at the edge of the hallway.

“Haven't they kissed yet?” Mike queries in a whisper, his head stuck out above theirs.

Hange shrugs. "I've been modifying the cleaning schedule for a month now. It seems I underestimated their idiocy."

“Do you have a lump of manure for brain?” Your brows knit together. "You drive me crazy. You're a real pain in the ass! You're so annoying that I can't even get you out of my mind!"

"And that's why I watch you all the time, so I don't have to think about you!"

Little by little the turbulent waters calm down. Both red, but not with rage.

“Do you have plans for Saturday afternoon?” You scratch a spot beneath your ear.

“Five bells.” His grip loosens.

“Main entrance.”

“I pick the place.”

“Wear a blue shirt that matches my dress.”

“And you the perfume that smells like jasmine.”

"And don't even think about combing your hair back. I don't want to walk next to someone who looks like they've been licked by a horse."

“Let your hair down and put on red lipstick.”

"I like chocolates."

"I'll bring you flowers."

Without looking him in the eyes, and with red-hot cheeks, you reach out first. “Deal!”

"Good!" He grabs your hand and gives you a firm shake, as if you've closed the deal of the century.

On the battlefield, the chasm between the two closed.