#i just think it would be so cool if mel the people reader got a look

[my-youth-hannah]

What we can't avoid "Bob" Robert Reynolds x f! reader

Summary: In which anyone can freely enter the void and see more of Bob’s shame rooms / past memories he cannot even recall. Thunderbolts kept him in the headquarters while is undergoing therapy so only few will know whenever he is having episodes that could open the void. "Bob" Robert Reynolds x f! reader

Warnings: trauma / schizophrenic 

Word Count: 2.6k

Disclaimer: Writing style may be different from other writers on this platform since I was used to writing stories in different ways back when I was in my early teenage years. Just wanted to turn the scenarios in my head into words. Hope y’all enjoy it.

Quite not sure with how Russian words

༒︎

Y/N introduced herself as someone who used to work for Valentina along with Mel, but since all of them had an agreement they work together, she was assigned to stay with the team. Win win situation it is, now she was assigned by Valentina to assist Thunderbolts or what she calls New Avengers in anything they need in exchange of not testifying for her impeachment.

“Why Thunderbolts?” She asked

“West Chesapeake Bay Thunder-” Alexie got cut off by Yelena when she inserted bread into his mouth.

“It’s nothing, plus the government calling us New Avengers whatever now so.” Yelena.

“Mishka~” Alexie while chewing.

Bucky was asking Ava to tour me around but pointed out other members to do the work instead. “Why don’t you ask John instead” but Walker instantly declines it and passes it to Yelena again and tosses it to other members. 

“Are they always like this?” She whispered to myself.

“Yes, they are, you’ll get used to it.” Then a cool looking guy who looks in late 20s appears on my side wearing some comfy clothes unlike the rest of the team who is fully geared. “I am Bob by the way” smiles but not looking at her. “My name is…” She offered her hands to shake but all of them caught it at the right moment and stopped her and made her completely clueless.

Ava gave her a tour around the HQ, showing everything from essential facilities to pointless rooms—even the bathrooms. Yet, there was one area that stood out. It appeared newly constructed but heavily used, with numerous scratches and visible signs of frequent use. “Never mind it, it's nothing.” answer from Ava.

She was instructed by her that all of them will be going to a mission for a week days from now, she was allowed to go anywhere but not near Bob since he has ‘contagious disease’ that they are looking for a cure at the moment. Normal conversation was allowed but no personal questions shall be entertained by Bob. 

༒︎

“Hi uhmm lemon?” Bob offered. She woke up one morning with no one else but Bob, looks like the team left earlier than what is planned. “No, thanks.” Days staying in the HQ she got a chance to know all of them, attitudes and routines- basically observe them. Valentina would like to know if there’s something they are planning to do against her. “Seems like harmless…… even defenseless.” Bob smiled like the usual does. “Am I? I have no idea haha” pure innocence is visible in him. “But seriously, what is with that room? the dungeon like one” He stopped for a minute trying to think “t-the dungeon, haven’t been there.” whispers to himself that she got used to it even after a few days of staying.  

Reading books, doing yoga, light workouts, and washing dishes became part of his routine whenever he stepped out of his room. Since it was just the two of them, Bob agreed to help him with the dishes, though he was careful to avoid any direct contact. “Relax, we’re just washing dishes,” she said, but Bob still kept his distance. “Y-yeah,” he replied nervously. It was probably a good thing they were both wearing gloves. Bob hadn’t realized washing dishes could be this fun; the last time he did it with someone was with John but didn’t enjoy it since he’s only telling stories how he saved people during the time he was serving the country as a military. “Hey, I’ve got a joke,” he said. “Why don’t dishwashers ever get lonely? They always have a full load.” She paused for a moment while removing her gloves, trying to get the joke. “Oh, come on, it’s funny!” Bob complained. She finally laughed and playfully hit him on the bare arm. “You—you’re the funny one.” He laughed along with her for a minute before realizing that she was in direct contact with him. 

༒︎

He panicked and promptly asked her how she was feeling which made her confused when she looked completely fine. “I am fine, Bob. Can you settle here on the couch?” but he didn’t listen and kept walking around while talking to himself about being cured and healed. She is on the edge of contacting Bucky to ask for help since she didn’t see this coming and wasn’t even oriented. Hours after, the team arrives from their mission. Even looking exhausted they first check on Bob, while he welcomes them like a kid missing his father. 

“Okay, Bobby, we can’t understand if you are rapping.” John.

“Breathe first, Bob.” Bucky said, “So what happened now?”

“W-we- We touched.” Bob.

“Oh little Bob, You are a man now. I am so proud of you.” Alexie. 

“That is not what he is talking about, old man!” Ava. Yelena directly went to check on her. “Are you okay? What did you see?”

“I am fine, why you all overthink?” Based on their reaction, they didn’t expect her answer.

༒︎

The team discussed the possibility of Bob being healed or if the Void already did vanish. Bob has never been so at peace even though they haven’t confirmed it yet. “We should still test it when he is already, Let’s give him another week of rest. Testing it would be stressful for all of us.” Bucky discussed which all of them agreed with.

In the other room, She was kept to be monitored for any symptoms of ‘contagious disease’ they said to her, but freed before the evening.

༒︎

At dawn, she heard her name being called by a calm, soothing voice, compelling her to follow it. Feeling lightheaded, she obeyed, wandering through the halls in her pajamas. The voice led her to a dungeon-like room, where only darkness awaited. “Who are you?” she asked, standing barefoot at the entrance, unafraid.

“I am... nothing. But come closer if you want to know better,” a no emotion voice replied.

Her mind felt blank as her body moved forward on its own, stepping into the darkness turning her into a shadow and consuming her entirely. John and Yelena witnessed it, having been drawn to the eerie, familiar sound—Void.

“Bob?” First thing she saw was him in an attic of a house where she was directed. Bob paused for a minute but not surprised anymore, he knew he’s not cured and the Void was still in him. “H-hi”

“Where are we?” 

“My world haha, Welcome anyways, I haven’t prepared any warming gift for newbies here.” He joked while playing rubik's cube. Bob gave a brief explanation of what is happening and where they are.

༒︎

Outside the void, John and Yelena are arguing on who is going inside the void and who will stay. “I know I’ve been there infinite time, that’s why it's your turn. Are you afrai-”

“I am not!”

“You’ve been there like 2-3 times, what’s the big deal in saving our friend?!”

“Fine! Fine! I got into a room where he is touching himself, happy now?”

“Oh goshhh Walker, Every adult did that! Just ignore it. You must understand that, you even made your own baby!” Yelena.

“Still!” John.

Yelena left no choice but to enter the void while John waited outside for the others. As she stepped in, she was directed to her shame room- bathroom where she was lying drunk. “Not again.” but none of it was moving. A familiar presence she felt from her back going towards her “Lena tsk tsk…. I can’t let you intrude but only to watch.” Void himself.

༒︎

“You are supposed to have your own shame room actually, no idea why the Void decides to direct us to my shame room. I even have no episodes these days. He's so unpredictable.” Bob explained to her. Now she understands why thunderbolts are so possessive of him. Now they are just waiting for any doors to open to lead them to other rooms till they exit the void. Bob was already used to it as he knows what to do in every room they’ve been in. “Glad you don't feel heavy here.” Bob said

“Maybe I am used to episodes? Not so new to me.” She replied. Bob knows she is different, she does have a shame room, no episode in direct contact with him and doesn’t feel a burden in his void. “May I ask, what were you doing before you came here? You said you're working for Valentina, right?” Bob asked.

“Valentina, who’s that?” She asked.

༒︎

Meanwhile, Void made Yelena watch every room they are passing by through the mirror of her shame room. “What now?”

“Don’t be impatient, Lena. You are lucky I didn’t make you join the maze and just let you watch here. Also maybe you should know.” with a blink of an eye, the mirror went bigger and showed outside the void with two John. “I am improving… I can now let anyone go outside the void as an illusion.”

“Mel, yes, hello? Remember the intern you sent here, She went inside the void. Don’t let Valentina know about this-” Bucky made a quick call to Mel to advise her and to check any records they can have about her past. “Bucky, it’s 2am. What are you talking about? We have no intern sent there.”

“What did you say?” Bucky looked at Alexie with full of confusion.

༒︎

“It doesn't usually have this kind of count of rooms, It looks like Void is bringing up other traumas we’ve been, even to the smallest anxious times.” Bob explained, their hands were comfortably intertwined to each other without noticing- seems like used of it- or more on does in usual. “Are we just going to run and run?” She asked as she noticed that he wasn’t paying attention to the rooms and only running to escape it. “This is how we do this thing, just follow.” Bob's response.

“Aren’t you tired of it?”

“Of course, I do. But this is how I manage it”

“Running away?”

“.....”

“Bob…. this is not the answer. You should face it.” that made him stop when he’s about to open another door. Bob knew that would be a great help for this issue with Void but he was too weak to control and overcome it. “You don’t know him”

“I know you, I know him.” Echoing in the empty hospital hallway.

༒︎

Yelena was forced to watch John along with Ava to fight with Void John who was wearing a military uniform. “Fine! You proved yourself, You can now unleash the void version of ourselves, you can manipulate it not only inside the void. Can you stop the Void John?” Void actually enjoys kicking John and Ava’s ass since he’s still questioning why Bob cares over John when he is an asshole. “Fine” sighed and snapped which made void John stop and walk back to the void entry.

“You are no fun, Lena, tsk tsk. Let us just watch Bob again, shall we?”

༒︎

“I can’t recall this place. If I am going to face Void, I should know what room I go to.” Bob said while keeping her on his back. They’ve been wandering in the hallways and rooms of the hospital like it is infinite and no end. There were only a few staff but some screams could be heard from the end of the hallways. 

After almost an hour running through the hallways and passing the rooms, they were able to find Bob in this shame room. They were trying to open the door, but Bob was peacefully standing in the center of the room. “Are you dancing alone?” She asked.

“I don't know how to dance, and I don’t even know this place.” He replies as he was trying to open the glassdoor. The other Bob inside the room, which they thought is the Void, continues to slow dance and reveal someone hugging with. “B-bob.. Why am I here?” It was her.

“Beautiful, aren’t they?” Void asked Yelena who was confused with what they were watching. “W-why? Who really she is?”

“Watch, just watch, Lena.”

“I don’t know, I don’t really know.” Bob cannot believe what they just saw. They were both slow dancing in hospital gowns. So peaceful, so quiet, yet, the affection is visible as how Bob handles her. It was love in an unexpected place. He kissed her forehead and placed his chin on top of her head while continuously slow dancing with no music on.

“You should go now, Bob.”

“No, I’ll be staying here, wth you”

“We have talked about this, Bob, Please…”

“But, I just can’t let go of the most beautiful thing that happened in this miserable life I have. This is.. like ending my life too.”

༒︎

“She….. She was supposed to be the Sentry Project and I was just a test subject.” Void started without leaving eyes in the mirror watching Bob and her. “She had this plan to escape from the facility after taking the serum but I need to go first, and there’s no assurance if she can really take it or not. They only know how her blood was.”

“Does it mean that all this time, what we had was an illusion from the void?” Yelena asked.

Void chuckled. “I just want all of you to meet her, but I enjoyed that too much I guess. Too bad, can’t keep her too much outside the void either.”

༒︎

“Bob?”

“Please don’t ask me questions, I really don't know. This is also exhausting for me.” He was on the edge of losing his shits when he felt a gentle cold touch on his face. As he opened his eyes, he saw her standing in front of him in the first room where they saw themselves. His hands on her waist, while her arms wrapped around his torso.

She looked into his eyes,“You should go now, Bob.” With that, his lost memory flashes on his mind, he now recalls her, the love of his life, the only person he considered as his other half, the woman who gave his life meaning, his everything. “No, no no- don’t say that. I’ll be staying here, wth you, my beautiful”

“We have talked about this, Bob, Please…”

“But, I just can’t let go the most beaut-” Without completing his sentence they were tossed to another room where he was laying down in a hospital bed, and she was busy getting medical tools that she needed to transfer her blood to him. “I know this, I know this- Please no! Don’t! Please!” He screamed out. He can now recall every minute of that day, on how they were supposed to escape but ended up transferring her blood to him to pass the inactivated Sentry serum. 

“Please, Void! No! Not here on the rooftop.” He pleaded, but it was too late and everything was supposed to happen. The door opened and she was running to him to activate the Sentry Serum in his body. Gunshots are fired and her body catches it from her back.

“Bob…” She managed to take out the activator and injected it right to his veins. She looked at his eyes for the last time. “This ending was only meant for me, not for you. Go and fly. Look for the purpose, My Bob.”

Void Bob appeared with Yelena in the scene while Bob was quietly sobbing. Yelena immediately comforts Bob while Void Bob watches the body of her consumed by darkness. 

“So long, my love.”

[vaguelyaperson]

melvika but mel deciding she needs to utilize sevika's strength and/or connections in some way, so she immediately looks to figure out sevika's angle, how to approach her enticingly enough, make it worth her while... and thus becomes one of the first people to figure out that sevika's more than just some scary hired thug. that moment she first encounters the woman she's been told is/was silco's hired muscle and immediately sees how calculated sevika's entire hedonistic intimidation act is, but at the same time not even mel can see exactly what's behind the act. maybe cause for a long time, not even sevika knows. maybe cause to be a zaunite and survive is to become what sevika is presenting - she's just better at keeping it put together than most.

[jaythes1mp]

5070 words, 29086 characters, 239 sentences, 116 paragraphs, 20.3 pages. Tag list: @zero-s-tea @chemicalsandghosts @yandere-enthusiast @starsdotalk @small-mushroom-fae @wpdarlingpan @dhanyasri @tojislvrr @phoenixgurl030 @mel-star636 @lilyalone @lavender-moony

Your secrets are ours, kid

Yandere BatFam x Reader — CH10 -> CH9 -> CH8 -> CH7 -> CH6 -> CH5 -> CH4 -> CH3 -> CH2 -> CH1

Please send me requests. I love writing but I can only do it with actual ideas to motivate me🙏

On your late-night journey home, you're cornered by one of the numerous street criminals prowling the streets of this cursed city. Getting mugged in Gotham isn't anything out of the ordinary, but even still, you can't help but feel surprised. It seemed that strangely enough, the past four years, thugs had begun to avoid you like the plague.

This was a situation you hadn't found yourself in since you were just a fifteen-year-old kid, still struggling to find your footing in the grimy underbelly of Gotham.

The street thug pinned you against the wall, holding you in place while her accomplice jabbed the cold barrel of a gun against your head.

Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, fear and panic clawing their way up your spine. Your breath hitched in your throat, a cold sweat pricking at your skin as you instinctively raised your hands in surrender.

As the cold metal of the gun was pressed harshly against your temple, you fought to tamp down the tremors shaking your body. You knew that any wrong move could spell disaster, so you forced yourself to remain still, praying that the thugs would be merciful enough to let you free.

Your mind raced as thoughts of the worst-case scenarios flickered through your mind. The thug with the gun pressed against your head sneered, her grip on your shoulder growing tighter as she spat out a threat.

The sheer terror you felt in that moment was overwhelming, threatening to swallow you whole. The harsh reality of the situation settled on your shoulders like a crushing weight. You were all too aware that you had no experience in dealing with situations like this, leaving you feeling vulnerable and powerless. Your eyes squeezed closed, a lump forming in your throat.

The rough brick of the wall dug into your chest, the cool air of the night doing nothing to soothe the panicked frenzy of your heart. The thug's hand on your shoulder was a vice-like grip, their fingers digging deep into your flesh.

In times like these, you regretted ever turning down the self-defense classes that your old employer had offered. The weight of that decision settled heavily on your shoulders as you longed to have the skills to protect yourself from the imminent danger.

You silently berated yourself for your naivety and carelessness. It had been foolish to believe that just because the villains had avoided you for the past few years, you would be safe from any harm. Yet, here you were, pressed against a wall, a gun held to your head by street thugs.

As your thoughts ran wild, your mind spiraled into a whirlpool of grim possibilities. The thought of your friends' reactions to your potential death played through your mind - the pain and grief they would feel upon losing you. You wondered if Damian would be upset about his sketchbook, the most constant connection you had to him. If Jason would be filled with anger at the inconvenience of tidying up your belongings, if your... no. She’d probably find relief in your absence... You wondered if Tim would shed tears in sadness. The image of him crying, tears streaming down his face, left a bitter taste in your mouth. Then you thought of Bruce. Would he be disappointed you never got to accept his offer? Your thoughts spiralled as you got increasingly more upset. Who was going to feed your pet turtle...? Would she think you abandoned her?

The weight of those unanswered questions gnawed at your thoughts, the possible reactions of your friends, pet, and the people who had offered you a place to call home. Your mind latched onto the image of them crying, the thought of any of their tears causing a pang of anguish to settle deep within your chest. You didn't want to imagine your friends' pain upon your loss, but the what-ifs haunted your mind like a relentless ghost.

The rough bricks of the wall dug into your chest, the sharp edges of the broken and uneven surface biting into your vulnerable flesh. The cold, unforgiving metal of the gun against your skull pressed further against your skin, an imminent threat hanging in the air. You clenched your teeth together, fighting to hold back a whimper that threatened to escape from the back of your throat.

Damian's heart raced in his chest, thumping out a rapid rhythm against his ribcage. Disbelief and anger twisted his features into a fierce scowl. From his stealthy perch on a nearby rooftop, he had silently tracked your movements throughout the night, his gaze never straying far from your form. But now, as he watched intently as you were cornered by a bunch of worthless thugs, his protective instincts surged through his veins. How dare these lowly criminals think they had the right to touch you?! Especially after all the efforts he had expended to ensure your safety. You were his sibling.

The sight of you in danger ignited a fire within him, burning hot with both rage and protectiveness. He clenched his jaw, his mind racing with a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. How could he have let this happen? He had been so careful, making sure to keep watch over you from a distance, and yet here you were, at the mercy of criminals who were nothing but scum. His fingers dug into the edge of the rooftop, the urge to leap down and intervene overpowering his self-control. He didn’t have to think twice before swinging into action.

Damian swiftly made his way toward you, propelled by the rooftops with practiced ease. The cool night air kissed his face as he bounded between buildings, his agility and precision a testament to his years of training. He remained hidden from view, his black, yellow and grey costume blending into the shadows, allowing him to quietly approach the scene unnoticed.

As he drew nearer, he could hear the thug's threats, the cold barrel of the gun pressing closer to your head. His temper flared, a dangerous heat building in his chest. These worthless lowlifes were going to pay for putting you in danger.

Robin, perched high above, kept a vigilant eye on the unfolding scene. Every word from the thug's mouth only fueled his anger. He assessed the area, taking in every detail with a cold, calculated gaze. The street was eerily silent, devoid of any other souls. No potential witnesses or interruptions to hinder his intervention. This moment was perfect. A chance to make these pathetic thugs pay for their audacity. They dared to touch what was his.

Each breath Damian took was measured and steady, his heart drumming steadily in his chest. He knew he had to act swiftly and with precision. He couldn't afford any mistakes. You were his responsibility – his blood. No one was allowed to touch you. No one.

Robin’s muscles coiled, ready to spring into action at the slightest hint of danger. His eyes flickered between the thugs and their guns, mentally calculating the best course of action. His instincts were on high alert, every fibre of his being focused on the mission: protecting you.

He’ll make a mental note to have you under tighter security starting in the immediate future.

With a final, calculated assessment, Robin silently prepared himself for the inevitable confrontation. He would protect you at all costs. The thought of you getting hurt, because of his carelessness, was unacceptable. He would eliminate these fools before they could even think to touch you again.

The woman holding you, pinned your arms behind your back in a rough and painful grip. Their hold was unyielding, causing your arms to bend in an unnatural and uncomfortable position. You couldn't help but let out a small, pained whimper, the sharpness of the maneuver making you wince.

Your eyes pinched shut, and you forced yourself to take deep, measured breaths. It was your attempt to steady yourself, to hold back the wave of panic and fear that was overtaking you.

Your chest heaved with the force of each breath, trying to regulate your racing heart. A small shiver ran through your body, the fear and helplessness of the situation gnawing at the edges of your mind. The pressure of the woman's grip on your arms made you want to squirm and struggle, but you steeled yourself against the natural inclination.

Robin, like a silent wraith, leaped into action. His katanas moved in a blur, swiping the gun away from the goons' grasps before they could even register the movement. His presence was both dangerous and deadly, every muscle tensed and coiled like a predator ready to pounce. His sharp, grey eyes fixated on the thugs, a silent warning in their depths.

A sharp gasp slipped past your lips as the cold metal of the gun abruptly lifted away from your head. The sound of it banging loudly against the gritty, dirtied concrete ground echoed through the air, the sudden absence releasing a tiny bit of the tension that had been coiling painfully in your chest.

You stayed still, barely breathing, your body locked in the woman's tight and cruel grasp. Her hold on you was unrelenting, an indication that any wrong move would result in snapped bones. You couldn't turn your head to see what was happening, fear and pain keeping you rooted in place.

The woman's grip on your arms tightened, a painful reminder of the danger of any movement. You were trapped, unable to see what was happening behind you. Every instinct screamed at you to fight, to struggle and get away, but the fear of severe injury made you hold yourself perfectly still. The only thing you could do was remain in this terrifying, vulnerable position.

Robin's mouth curled into a snarl, his anger flaring as he saw you trapped in the woman's grasp. Your small gasp of relief at the gun being removed from your face only fueled his rage. How dare these pathetic humans touch you, his sibling, his family, without any regard for your safety and wellbeing. The thought alone filled him with anger he had trouble controlling. He had failed you.

As Robin stood before the thugs, his katanas held at the ready, he locked his gaze with the woman holding you in her iron grip. His eyes darkened with a fierce intensity, a silent challenge in their depths.

Robin's gaze, burning with righteous anger, fixated on the woman who held you captive. The air around him crackled with a dangerous aura, his muscles coiled tensely as he held himself back from pouncing on the pitiful excuse for a human being in front of him.

The woman holding you in an iron grip was clearly an amateur, her sloppy and harsh moves betraying her lack of experience. She seemed to rely on brute strength, rather than skill, to overpower her victims.

Her careless and overly aggressive approach was a stark contrast to Robin's years of training and discipline. He took in every detail, every movement and expression, noting the flaws in her techniques. She was like a novice facing a seasoned warrior. It was downright pitiful.

To Robin, the woman's every move stank of amateurishness. Her clumsy and brute force tactics were as subtle as a bull in a china shop. It was clear that she had never received any formal combat training; relying solely on the ability to intimidate and overpower her victims. In comparison, Robin was a paragon of discipline, control, and skill. The difference in their approaches could not be more stark. She was insulting you for even thinking someone like her could ever be in your presence.

The woman's lack of finesse and skill made Robin's blood boil. She was like a pathetic child playing at being a thug, an insult to the name of criminals everywhere. He clenched his jaw, the muscles in his neck taut with restrained anger. He could see her flaws from a mile away, her amateur tactics screaming for correction. His eyes narrowed as he assessed the situation, his mind racing with possible ways to take her down without harming you further.

Robin's intense gaze continued to pierce through the woman holding you. He was like a coiled spring, his muscles tense and taut, ready to pounce at the very next moment. He couldn't help but feel a sense of revulsion as he observed her sloppy moves. This is the type of amateur who would get themselves killed in Gotham in the blink of an eye. His anger flared further as he saw how carelessly she was handling you, her fingers digging into your flesh in a painfully tight grip.

For a brief moment, he considered just knocking the woman unconscious and freeing you from her grip. But then, with a cruel and calculated grin, a different thought occurred to him. He wanted to teach her a lesson. Maybe if she was truly frightened, she might actually learn something.

With a subtle flick of his wrist, Robin tossed one of his throwing stars at the ground, the sharp and sudden movement drawing the woman's attention. Startled by the sound, she turned her head to look at the star, her grip on you loosening just a fraction.

Robin seized the opportunity, and in the blink of an eye, he moved behind her, his footsteps so silent that they made no sound.

The woman's eyes widened as she realized Robin's presence behind her, but before she could turn to face him, he had her by the throat, his hand encircling her airway in a firm grip.

As Robin observed your trembling form, your eyes still squeezed tightly closed, his heart clenched in his chest. He could see the fear and helplessness your body was radiating and it infuriated him. You looked like a terrified animal caught in a trap, desperately trying to hide from your captor. The thought of how scared you must be only served to fuel his obsession. You needed their protection.

Robin's grip on the woman's throat tightened as he drew her closer to him, his face inches from her ear. His voice was low and filled with a dangerous edge as he snarled, "You dare lay a hand on MY family and think you'll get away with it? You're a pathetic excuse for a thug."

The ringing in your ears and the shortness of your breath is all you can focus on, having not heard the boy’s words. Luckily for him.

Seeing that you were still too scared to open your eyes or listen, Robin tightened his grip even further on the woman, his eyes narrowing as he leaned his head closer to her ear. "You thought you could get away with this? Pathetic."

As the woman began to struggle in his grip, her eyes widened as she realized the severity of the situation. Fear and panic filled her gaze, and her chest began to heave with labored breaths. Robin took a sadistic pleasure in seeing her fearful reaction. He smirked, his grip unwavering.

He was enjoying this. Teaching this low-life a lesson was like music to his ears. He wanted her to be terrified, to feel the same fear she had inflicted on you. You were his family. His.

As the woman gasped for air, her attempts to break free growing more frantic, Robin leaned in even closer, his lips almost touching her ear. The smirk on his face only grew wider. "Not so strong now, are you?" he whispered, his voice dripping with mockery.

As the woman's grip on you suddenly loosened in panic, it caused you to lose your balance and fall unceremoniously onto your knees with a thump. The sudden movement startled you, freezing you in fright. Your limbs locked up in response to the sudden movement, leaving you vulnerable and exposed as you knelt on the dirtied ground.

Robin's heart stopped as he saw you fall to the ground with a thump. His eyes widened briefly, his grip on the woman loosening slightly in shock. He watched as you knelt on the ground, frozen in fear and vulnerability.

His protective instincts flared up, and he had to suppress the urge to immediately rush to your side. Instead, he forced himself to remain focused, keeping the woman pinned in his grip.

Robin's sharp gaze snapped from the woman to you as he heard the thud of you falling to your knees. Concern immediately replaced his previous satisfaction. He could see the terror freezing up your body, rendering you frozen and vulnerable.

He gritted his teeth, feeling a mixture of anger and worry. He needed to get you out of this situation, preferably without causing you further stress or harm. His grip on the woman tightened again, cutting off her panicked gasps as he held her at bay.

With a quick, sharp jerk, he slammed her against the wall, the force knocking the breath out of her lungs. "Stay still," he commanded, his voice harsh and authoritative.

He then turned his attention to you, quickly crossing the distance between you. He crouched down in front of you, his eyes flicking over your form, assessing for any signs of injury.

"Are you alright?" he asked quietly, his voice a stark contrast to the harshness of moments ago. He reached out a hand, gently touching your shoulder as he tried to coax you out of your frozen state.

You looked up, your eyes wide with surprise and wonder, as you took in the sight of the young vigilante towering above you. Your throat closed up for a brief moment, your mind struggling to fully believe that it was indeed Robin, the Robin, standing before you.

You managed to force out a meek whisper, the word barely audible. "Robin...?"

In your current frightened and bewildered state, there are a million questions and thoughts running through your mind. In a normally clear state of mind, you would have jumped at the chance to ask the youngest vigilante for an interview. In this moment, however, the only thing you manage to let out is a hesitant whisper, his name. Your mind trying to piece together the reality of the situation.

Robin knelt down in front of you, watching as realisation flooded your eyes. He could almost see the thoughts spinning through your mind like a whirlwind. For a brief moment, he was thankful for your stunned silence. It gave him a chance to assess the situation without being bombarded by a thousand questions.

He watched you take in his presence, your gaze wide and filled with wonder and disbelief. The word 'Robin' escapes your lips in a barely audible whisper.

He nods slowly, acknowledging your tentative recognition, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

He could see the questions brimming behind your lips, but to his surprise, you remain silent. It seemed your fear had rendered you speechless, and for a moment, he found himself relieved. It gave him a few precious seconds to focus on the task at hand: getting you out of danger safely. He gave your shoulder a firm, gentle squeeze, his voice remaining hushed as to not startle you further.

"I'm here, you're safe." He tried to keep his tone calm.

Robin swiftly scooped you up, pulling you against his chest in an easy movement. For a brief moment, he allowed himself to pause, relishing the feeling of having you so close to him. His heart beat fast and loud in his chest, an undercurrent of fierce protectiveness and possessiveness rushing through him. The thugs already forgotten, as he now focused solely on getting you to safety.

As he quickly leaped from one roof to the next, never slowing his pace, he spoke, his voice low and even. "Where do you live?" He’s already running in the direction.

He kept a firm but gentle grip on you, making sure that you were held safe and secure in his arms as he ran. The wind whipped around you, cool and exhilarating, as Robin navigated the Gotham rooftops with practiced ease. He repeated his question, his tone now slightly more demanding, as he continued traversing through the city.

You tried your best to gather yourself, blinking against the cool night air buffeting your face as Robin held you against his chest. Your voice was soft and slightly shaky as you spoke, the wind attempting to carry your words away.

"Just... just around the corner.."

Robin nodded, accepting the information without question. His strides didn't slow as he continued moving, the muscles in his legs propelling him forward with trained speed.

The city lights flashed by as Robin swiftly carried you through the maze-like labyrinth of Gotham's rooftops. His strides were long and purposeful, his movements fluid and precise. His arms held you firmly, one hand tucked under your legs and the other looped around your back.

Despite the circumstances and the speed at which you were moving, he took great care not to jostle you any more than necessary. It was clear that you were in pain and scared, and he wanted to minimize any further distress.

“... thank you.”

As you murmured your thanks, Robin's heart clenched in his chest. The pure gratitude in your voice was a stark contrast to the vulnerability and fear he could feel in your trembling form. He wanted so badly to respond, to tell you how much you meant to him, how much he was willing to do to protect you, but he remained quiet. He had to stick to their plan. Right now, he was solely focused on getting you home, where you would be safe from harm. His arms wrap tighter around you. He gives a simple nod in response.

You lifted your hand slightly, carefully pointing in the direction of your apartment balcony. The gesture was small, but it was enough for Robin to understand your meaning.

Without a word, he altered his course, angling his body to head towards the balcony you had indicated. Each leap and bound over the city skyline brought him closer to your apartment, the destination in sight.

Despite his casual demeanor, Robin was fully aware of the path they were taking. Years of patrol and countless hours of study had etched the city's layout into his memory, a map constantly present in the recesses of his mind.

He could flawlessly navigate the maze of Gotham's buildings, his muscles and movements guided solely by pure instinct. Every twist and turn was memorized, a testament to his extensive knowledge and dedication.

As they approached your apartment, he adjusted his hold on you, preparing to make the final leap onto the balcony.

With a final powerful bound, Robin lands on the balcony gently, steadying you against his chest. He carefully lowers you to the ground, his hands lingering on your body for a moment longer than necessary, as if ensuring you were truly safe and sound.

He takes a moment to glance around the vicinity, his eyes scanning the area for any potential threats. The Gotham night is relatively quiet, the sounds of the city reduced to a hushed hum in the background.

Once satisfied that the area is clear, he turns his attention back to you. He takes a step back, giving you a moment of space. His eyes watch you closely, searching for any signs of distress or injury.

He lifts a hand, reaching out to gently touch your cheek. His touch is gentle, but his voice is firm. Emerald eyes searching your form. "Are you alright? Did they hurt you?"

Despite his mask concealing his face, the concern in his voice is palpable. He takes a step closer to you, his hands moving to your shoulders as he steadies you against him. His gaze remains fixed on you.

You gently shook your head, a small, reassuring grin playing at your lips. Despite your earlier fear, you were clearly feeling somewhat better. Perhaps it was the adrenaline rushing through you, or the simple fact that you were safe now.

Robin noticed the shift in your expression, a slight furrow forming between his eyebrows as he looked down at you. He could feel the tension slowly draining out of your body.

Robin observed the small smile on your face, his eyes studying you closely. The brief moment of relief he felt at your reassurance was quickly replaced by a sense of caution. He could see the adrenaline still coursing through you, but he knew from experience that it was a temporary high. The fear would return sooner or later.

He nodded, accepting your answer but still feeling a small pang of unease. "Are you sure you’re okay?" he repeated, his hands still on your shoulders.

Your brows raise in slight disheveled amusement. This was the infamous arrogant vigilante? You call bull.

“Yeah, I’m alright now. Thank you.”

Robin's eyes narrow slightly at the amusement in your tone. Despite your gratitude, he can sense your slightly disbelieving and slightly amused. For a moment, he wonders if you are treating him like a kid playing dress-up.

He straightens up, his grip on your shoulders tightening ever so slightly. He cocks his head to the side, his voice a mix of annoyance and determination.

"What's so funny?" he asks, the slightest hint of defensiveness in his tone.

Despite the irritation in his voice, there's a hint of vulnerability. He's not used to being questioned, especially not by someone he feels responsible for. He wants to be taken seriously, to be seen as more than just a young boy playing at being a hero.

He takes a step closer to you, his gaze never leaving your face. "I'm serious. You could’ve been seriously hurt," he says, his voice stern. He's not used to expressing his emotions openly, but the thought of you in danger is making his typically controlled facade start to crumble.

You bite your tongue, holding back the sarcastic remarks and jokes that usually come so easily to you. You were well aware of how close you had come to serious danger, and the severity of the situation.

Robin can see the restrained smirk, the flicker of a joke on your lips, and it irks him more than the actual sarcasm. He's used to dealing with sarcastic criminals and sarcastic bats, but the thought of you making light of your own safety is frustrating. He clenches his jaw, trying to keep his annoyance under control.

"This is no joke," he finally says, his voice firm. "What you did was stupid. Walking alone in Gotham at night."

Robin's eyes held a mixture of emotions, anger and frustration and worry and protectiveness. But beneath it all, he was most angry and frustrated with himself. He should have been there sooner, he should have been able to stop those thugs before they even got close to you. This event was only proving to him what he already knew - you were not safe in the city, not without someone to protect you. They needed to speed up with their plan before he goes insane.

He withdrew his hand from your cheek, the loss of his touch leaving a cold emptiness in its wake. He fidgeted with his utility belt, a nervous habit.

"I have to go." He murmured, his voice low and laced with a hint of reluctance. His eyes scanned over you one more time, mentally committing your features to memory. It was as if he were trying to memorize every detail, every curve and contour of your face.

"Be sure not to walk alone at night. Or ever." The last words came out as more of a command than a warning, a hint of desperation laced in his tone.

Before you could even think of a response or express your gratitude, Robin had already vanished into the night, leaving you standing alone on your balcony.

Despite the circumstances, a soft, almost wistful grin crept across your lips as you replayed the events of the night in your mind. Despite the danger and the near brush with violence, you couldn't shake the thrill of meeting the young vigilante, the Batman’s associate himself.

Even though you didn't get to ask all the questions you wanted, the encounter was still something exciting.

You silently crept into your room, taking care to be as quiet as possible so as not to wake Jason who was probably asleep in his room down the hall. You shrugged off your bag and jacket, discarding them to the side before crawling into the safety and warmth of your bed. You bring your hand out to tap softly against the glass of your turtles enclosure as a silent good night, cuddling further under the blankets.

Feeling the comfortable weight of the sheets surrounding you, you let out a soft sigh, already feeling the exhaustion starting to pull at your eyelids. Unaware of the chaos that was brewing at Wayne Manor, nor the many sets of watchful eyes observing you through the carefully placed cameras that dotted the room.

The cameras strategically placed throughout your room recorded every subtle movement as you got yourself settled into bed. Every blink and every shift was captured in sharp, high-definition video, the images streaming directly to the computer screens at Wayne Manor.

In the depths of the batcave, the video feeds played on several large screens, each one displaying a different angle of your room.

Multiple figures looking over the room full of monitors, displaying your every breath, every toss and turn as you drifted off to sleep. Watching each and every twitch, each flutter of your eyelashes.

The silence in the batcave was heavy, only disrupted by the soft hum of the computer equipment and the occasional murmur between the group of figures huddled in front of the bank of monitors.

Each screen showed a different angle of your room, the camera feeds streaming smoothly, giving an intimate view of your every movement. Every breath, every twitch, was recorded, observed and analyzed by the watchful eyes monitoring you. Every inch of your room was on display, the cameras capturing even the tiniest detail.

Even in your sleep, you were still being watched.

No use of y/n, no descriptive features for reader, no mention of gender.

Does anyone have any ideas for the name of your pet turtle?

[pawnshopbleus]

These Are the Days Seven - Paper Bag

Abby Anderson x Fem!Reader High School AU

For the summary, warnings, and more please visit here.

Previous Chapter.

The library was unusually empty. Normally there would be six or seven students sprinkled throughout the two-story building, but today, you and Abby were the only unlucky souls stuck in the library. 

The last time you had seen Abby, she was arguing with her boyfriend in the middle of traffic, tears running down her rosy cheeks and a string of curses leaving her mouth. She had successfully avoided everyone in your little friend group the entire week. That was until she remembered that she had tutoring. Now, Abby sits across from you with her free hand resting on her bouncing leg. 

Your forehead creases in concern. You had seen Abby do nervous ticks before but never to this extent. She was chewing her lip raw and if she bounced her leg any more then it was surely going to fall off. 

You two had been studying for a long time. Maybe it was time to pack up and head home but then you weighed the options in your head. This was something to keep Abby occupied but at the same time, It was also doing nothing for her racing mind. 

“Abby, are you okay?”

She looks up at you, almost as if you had asked her to kill the President of the United States. “What do you think?” she snapped in a tone that made your heart feel like a dozen knives were stabbing it. 

You can tell immediately that she’s sorry by the way her nostrils flare and she stares at you with wide eyes. She’s taken aback by her tone just as much as you are. 

“Sorry,” she huffs. “It’s just that everybody has been asking me that stupid question. I don’t know how I feel right now.”

The librarian narrows her drooping eyes at the two of you and makes her way over. Without the front desk blocking the view of her lover half, the librarian is hilariously short. She saunters over to your table and places her hands on her hip. She speaks in a high-pitched voice that resembles a dolphin.

“I have had to shush you ladies over three times. I think it’s best if you two leave and continue your shouting else where.”

You pack up your things as fast as you can and head for the door. The cool autumn breeze greets you as you exit through the back door of the library. Mountains of multi-colored leaves block the sidewalk as you walk.

Your bike is still missing, as well as the posters that you put up all around town. People have been tearing down your 'missing bike' posters in droves. Someone must like your bike to keep it this long. So, you walk down the sidewalk with your perfectly functioning legs, kicking rocks and anything that comes in your way. 

Then, as you walk, your mind drifts off to Abby. Despite everything she seems to be taking it pretty well. If this were you, you would break up with Owen and never show up to school ever again. But this isn’t up to you. This is between Owen, Abby, and Mel. 

There’s a certain look in Abby’s eyes that you’re familiar with. The look in her eyes that says “I’m not giving up on this.” She wore it during your first tutoring session and continues to wear it. You just know that deep down, she’s conflicted. On one hand, Owen cheated on her and got that person pregnant. On the other, they’ve been dating for so long and she isn’t ready to get rid of that. 

All you want to do is help her but she isn’t letting anyone in. She can’t go through this alone or else she might do or say something she’ll regret. 

Like every night, you make it home to a quiet house. You drop your backpack by the front door and drag yourself to the couch. You flop facedown and groan as your joints rejoice in being able to rest. You’re too lazy to reach for the remote on the coffee table so you lay down on the couch, basking in the essence of being home alone. 

You’re awoken by the doorbell ringing a few hours later. You must have fallen asleep. You get up from the couch, drag your feet to the door, and open it without a care. You should have looked through the peephole first to make sure there weren’t ten burglars on the other side of the door, but you’re glad you didn’t. Abby stands there with a blank expression and two fast food bags. You step aside, letting her in. 

“Can you do me a favor?” She asks, setting down the bags on the dining room table. “Can we talk about anything but Owen tonight? I might throw up if I think about him any more.

You put your hand on her shoulder and she doesn’t flinch this time. 

"It would be my honor.”

You take her hand and drag her upstairs to your room. A night like this calls for something less formal than your ten thousand dollar dining room table. 

Her skin is soft in a way that it shouldn’t. Years of softball should have roughened her up a bit, but as you grasp her hand, your skin nearly jumps at the softness. 

This is the first time someone who isn’t you is in your room. You aren’t a messy person but your room wouldn’t reflect that. You quickly throw the mountains of clothes on the floor into your closet and quickly throw some trash away while Abby just stares at you. 

You are the only person Abby trusts enough with this. Yes, Ellie’s her best friend but Ellie’s with Dina. If Abby tells Ellie, Ellie will tell Dina. Abby loves Dina but she has a problem with keeping secrets and right now Abby needs someone who’ll just keep her company rather than try to fix this situation. In reality, there’s no way to “fix this.” This isn’t some softball problem, this is life and Abby isn’t so good at this game. 

“You can come in now!” 

Abby opens the door slowly and smiles. This room is unapologetically you. With stuffed animals lining your bed and posters of your favorite artists and bands covering your walls. Your room makes Abby’s look minimalistic. 

Abby sees the window. The beautiful window where she first saw you all those weeks ago. It feels like that Abby is lost. She’s lived a million lives since then. 

Abby puts the bags of fast food on your desk and thanks you for doing this. She would have been more than fine with eating in silence at the dining table or chatting on the couch while watching a movie, but this feels a lot better. It makes her feel as if she was a normal girl hanging out with her friend after a hard day at school. It almost makes her forget that her boyfriend cheated on her and got a girl pregnant. 

You pat the spot next to you on your bed and Abby joins you. It’s quiet for a moment, the two of you just basking in each other's presence. Abby’s the first one to say anything. 

“She’s keeping it.”

“I thought you said you didn’t want to talk about it?”

Abby sighs and puts her head on your shoulder. Her hair falls in soft golden waves and you have the urge to pet her head. Your fingers itch to feel her hair under your skin. To make her feel better, even if it’s just for a moment.

“I know. I just need to talk about it with someone. Someone I trust.”

Someone I trust. Those three words ring inside of your head. Abby trust you out of all people. You’ve only known each other for a few weeks and it already feels like you’ve known each other for a lifetime. You’ve never had a connection like this. Not even with your childhood friends back in California. 

She continues, “I know there’s nothing I can do to change her mind. Mel’s liked Owen for ages and she’s hated me for even longer. Knowing Owen, he’ll choose her and he’ll leave me. That’s how his family is. They’re very traditional and they’ll make him marry Mel. His entire life is fucked up just because he couldn’t keep it in his pants.” 

You sit there and listen to Abby rant, your fingers digging into the skin of your palm. You’ve never liked Owen but hearing Abby talk like this makes you despise him. 

“Abby, I’ll be completely honest with you, I never liked Owen but I tolerated him for you. At this point, there’s nothing you can do besides making sure that you’re okay. You are the innocent party in all of this. You can do whatever you want.” 

You cannot stress this enough. Abby’s been so worried about what Mel’s going to do or how fucked up Owen’s life is going to get that she hasn’t been putting herself first. 

“Right now, all I want to do is eat good food with a good girl,” Abby cringes slightly when she says that. She shakes her head, retracting her statement, “Sorry, that was…weird.” 

You let out a dry laugh and roll your eyes. “It’s fine. Let’s eat!” 

Abby crawls to the edge of your bed and snatches the bags of food from your desk. She flops down back next to you and hands you your bag of greasy food. The two of you eat while you talk about anything other than Owen and Mel. 

As the night goes on, you feel like you’ve somehow gotten closer to Abby than anyone at Lakeview. Dina and Jesse were your first friends but Abby trusts you with anything. That’s something you’ll never get over. 

Abby leaves around twelve in the morning. You told her that it was too late to drive and that she could spend the night with you but she just shook her head and thanked you for the night. As you watched Abby pull out of your driveway, you noticed something glimmering in the distance. The familiar silvery handles of your bike sit on the bushes of your front yard. 

“My bike!” 

Abby pulls off, smiling at your reaction. She had an inkling that Owen paid someone to steal your bike after the party and that feeling was true. Some poor football freshman kept the bike at his house for the past few weeks and it took some coercion to finally get it out of Owen. 

You’ve helped Abby in so many ways that you don’t know. Getting your bike back is a small gift compared to all the big ones you’ve given her.

Next Chapter.

Tag list: @soupycloud

Thanks for reading!

[jeridandridge]

“You don’t remember anything, do you?” “No…? What are you talking about?” “Nothing. Nothing.”

Would you mind a melissa x reader? But like fluffy if you're feeling it? Or angst to fluff? Lol

Drunk Confessions

“Girl just do it. It’s better than sittin around here moping all the time.”

You groan bringing your head down to rest on the cool kitchen table. Being drunk didn’t happen too often for you, but when it did you always made sure you had friends around. Tonight, Ava was the one that brought over drinks and junk food to drown your sorrows in.

Melissa accepted a date with Gary the vending machine guy the day before and you weren’t handling it well at all. Having a crush, no, being in love with the woman but too afraid to say anything was the best yet excruciating experience of your life.

“You’re right. You’re right!” You lift your head hitting the table with your hand. “Where’s my-phone?” You ask through a hiccup.

Ava rolls her eyes pointing to the device right in front of you.

“Oh.” You giggle picking it up.

“This is gonna be messy,” Ava smiles sitting back with her frosted glass.

Blinking a couple times at the bright screen you tap away until you find Melissa’s contact, a silly picture of you two from the zoo field trip as her icon. Bringing the phone to your ear it rings and rings, eventually giving you a beep for the voicemail.

“Hey,Mel. It’s late I didn’t realize it.” You giggle. “I was sitting here drinking- I mean thinking and I wanted to say I’m happy for you. If you’re happy with vending machine guy that’s great and I’ll swallow my feelings for you. It’s gonna suck, but I’ll do it just because it’s you and I love you. I’m in love with you,” You sigh, “But if he ever hurts you, well I got a guy too. I’m word vomiting now. If this is weird we can pretend it never happened. Bye.”

You set the phone down bringing a hand over to cover your mouth. “I can’t believe i did that!” You laugh.

Ava looks at you shocked, mouth gaping. “Girl you did that.”

“I did that!” You laugh. Feeling giddy and excited, hours later you forget what you’ve done. After Ava gets an Uber home you clean up as best you can while drunk, passing out on the couch with a bag of pretzels.

The sound of banging on your apartment door shocks you awake, the sound making the throbbing in your head worse. “I’m coming I’m coming.” You groan grabbing your sunglasses on the way to the door. It was just too bright. Unlocking the heavy door you look up to see Melissa, completely confused.

“Hey, Mel. What’s up?”

“Don’t ‘Hey Mel’ me, y/n. What the hell is this?!” She barrels in holding her phone out.

“What’s going on?” You ask closing the door, confused until you see her screen. wanting to melt away into the air when you see the voicemail you drop your head slowly remembering what you did. “Shit.”

“You can’t tell me you’re in love with me just because you’re jealous or have some crush!” She tells you, moving her hands around like she always does.

“Mel, I was drunk. This doesn’t need to be a thing.” Shaking your head.

“That’s what you said in the message!” She lets out hitting play.

When you hear your own voice you cringe, it could be a lot worse, but it was still bad. Taking your sunglasses off you toss them on the kitchen counter bringing your fingers to the bridge of your nose, trying to process the message you’re hearing.

Melissa reaches out tipping your chin up to meet her eyes. When you do you could cry right there. She was so beautiful.

“You could at least look at me after admitting something like that in a voicemail of all things.” Her voice was so soft, a voice not many people got to hear from her especially at work.

“I’m sorry, Mel. Really I am.”

The redhead looks at you biting her lip, her hand gently moving to your cheek. “Ya know I wouldn’t have said yes to Gary if I knew you felt the same way.”

“Wait,” you shake your head, “felt the same way? Meaning you like me back?” You try to work it out taking the new information in.

Melissa smiles at you, a real, bright smile as she strokes your cheek. “Yeah dummy, I thought it was obvious.”

“No!” You laugh reaching out to pull her flush against you. “I thought all my pining was a lost cause after Gary asked you out.”

Giving you a soft smile Melissa wraps her arms around your neck, her fingers playing with your hair.

“He’s not you, hon.”

Looking into her eyes you see nothing but pure love and happiness.

“I’d kiss you but I really need to brush my teeth.”

Melissa laughs gently pulling away playfully swatting your butt.

“Go on, I’ll make you breakfast.”

[no-shxme]

not a talonpost but bc its my blog here's my unnecessarily long review of the ambessa novel. there WILL be spoilers, however I'm gonna divide it by type. (including no spoilers)

this post is gonna be long so im putting it under the cut. i'll even use mostly good grammar. (crazy)

Overview: (this zone is spoiler-free)

Obligatory note of: this is just my opinion feel free to disagree. Right off the bat let me just say that this book was hard to get through. Noxus is my favorite region but I don't care much about Ambessa, didn't care much about her in Arcane either. Mel is cool but that's all. This would be remedied if the writing was better but it's also just--not. I took a break from reading other books to read this one (I didn't hold to this by the way, I read two other books while I was reading this one. that's why it took so long.) and the difference is... pronounced. This isn't to say that the writing is all bad. It's more middle of the road for me, mostly. There's definitely some tasty lines in there. There's a line notably that goes: "Every breath was agony. There was not enough air in the whole world." I really like that one. That's the single gem from the prologue, which is single-handedly the worst part of the book.

The prologue is only spoilers if you haven't seen that one blood sweat and tears video as it's literally that, play by play with just a little more background context. And it's so bad. When I got through the prologue I was prepared to be brutally disappointed by the rest of it. It feels like something that a higher-up gave to the writer like 'put that in asap.' Dunno if that's actually the case but it reads like that, so either way, not good.

My opinion is that this book is pretty mid, I think they made poor writing choices and I just didn't believe a lot of it. It reads very much as a 'video game book,' with pacing meant to keep people locked in. I think it doesn't help from a subject matter standpoint that they picked Ambessa in the past, so the stakes are automatically lower because she can't die yet, and neither can Mel, or Rell. I'm not saying this like I was hoping characters would die. I think a lot of writers slap character death into stories (or a lot of readers expect it) when what they really want is for characters to change. (And someone dying is a very easy way to do that.)

The Change: (broad thematic spoilers??)

Ambessa has none. She is a strong fighter making hard choices at the beginning and by the end she is a strong fighter making hard choices still. Throughout the book she continually makes hard choices, strength of the wolf and all that. Mel changes a teeny bit in the beginning (we learn how she gets her tattoos) but then she's the same. To be fair, Mel's not as important of a character in the novel so that's at least more excusable. Anyway, I found Ambessa boring because of it. Her 'character growth' is more or less reaffirming what she already knows, and she reacts to stuff that happens to her but she doesn't really change.

The Characters: (general character spoilers)

There are a lot of non-champ characters introduced. In my opinion many of them uhh a little too fast. LOTS of new names are thrown around and I kept having to flip back. This goes for locations too. There's a map at the front of the book that I kept going back to look at. Could be a skill issue though to be fair. :')

As far as new characters go, the most important is probably Ta'Fik, the primary antagonist, and Rudo, Mel's father. I didn't... reallyyyyy care about either of them. We meet Kino too, Mel's brother, but uhhh. Yeah I mean he's nice but he just didn't leave much an impression to me personally, mainly because he's barely focused on, so I can't blame him.

Rell is also involved as a principle character (spoilers for Rell b plot) and she's like, super bisexual (though I suppose it reads more as lesbian bc she's only showing interest in this girl, but whatever! We know she's bi.) In the story she has like, this budding relationship with this other character, Tora, and honestly like.... I hate it. To me it feels really shoehorned, especially when combined with the pacing. A lot of time is covered in the book. Journeys take months. Totally fine of course, but we don't really experience the bulk of that journey except for some scattered scenes, so it becomes harder (in my opinion) to believe their interest in each other. It's really weird, personally how Ambessa brings it up to begin with. Like when Tora is first introduced Rell sees her and just insta blushes and then she's described as a heart breaker and Ambessa tells her off a little like 'hey don't break her heart' or whatever it was she said. It did serve a dual purpose but it just felt too quick and like, weird. There's also another scene where Rell and Ambessa are shopping in the Immortal Bastion and at one point Ambessa starts to talk to her and Rell's like: oh omg my bad I thought you were going to give me The Talk.

AND IM HUHHHH

I don't know. I'm aro so I dont vibe with romance in a lot of cases, but I can respect it in context. But this just felt really weird and random. It felt like a plot device to say look how happy I get to be before the Black Rose kidnaps me and turns my life to shit. It seems very juxtaposition-serving and I wish it was done differently. Additionally, because of all of the journeying that happens mostly out of view, some conversations happen that I think could have happened much sooner, considering the length of their journeys. We don't even learn a ton about Tora so it feels-half baked. I understand that Ambessa is the main character but if we're going to switch povs and focus on different characters I would like to see more meat there.

A quick tangent about the POV. (no real spoilers) I thought it would be Ambessa's pov only, but the POV actually changes to a bunch of different characters and I understand for storytelling (and the fact that Ambessa has no change in character) why they did it but I wish they'd really pushed it. This is definitely more of a personal writing gripe though. I don't think every switch was necessary or particularly strengthened the book. I think it needed more flavor.

Also, a lot of the writing to me felt like it lacked the necessary emotional dig to make something as compelling as it could be. We dig into some emotions, but not enough imo. I really wish they would have pushed everything a little further. I think I would've liked every character more. Instead it kinda feels like we're being hustled from scene to scene. The story lacks emotional complexity. I don't necessarily think it's the author's fault, though I haven't read anything else she's written.

The Lore: (spoiler heavy)

What disappointing me about this book is how it emphasizes (to me) how little Riot has planned ahead. Rell's not even that old but already her lore is getting reworked. Technically her book lore now fits into her bio lore, but if you read the bio you wouldn't think that, because there's no mention, so it seems unplanned, something they just came up with. And if we're going by this new lore that puts Rell in like what, her 30's? She'd be older then Mel right so... idk. Well into adulthood at the time of 'current cannon,' so it's not even like, the identity that people signed up for. Rell is a teenage girl going on a rampage and its weird to suddenly make her an adult. It's like putting Annie in a story so that her 'canon' age is 45. It's like--weird. It wouldn't be as bad if they'd just planned it in advance but it doesn't read like they did, so (imo) they should just abandon the idea of a shared unified canon. Because it just doesn't work with a champion roster this big. Now there's technically two Rells. The sixteen year old Rell with no mention of Ambessa, and the other Rell who is well into adulthood (if she even lived that long). So what's going to happen with the MMO then? Are we going to get teenage Rell with 11 year old Mel? Or are we going to get Adult Mel with Adult Rell? It's cooked.

Noxian lore in general was the main reason I read this book. (That and for a talon/du couteau mention) and there was a good amount of Noxian lore, though not as much about the Immortal Bastion, rather northern Shuriman settlements. Which is fine, it's just my interest is located in a more Talonish direction lol. Either way, it's nice. There was a surprising amount of drakehound lore, and we do visit the Immortal Bastion once, which is cool. I will consolidate the lore tidbits into a different post later for anyone who doesn't want to read the book lol.

As cameos we do get a paragraph a piece for Swain and Marcus Du Couteau but I'm going to be honest, while the fanservice is cool it reaallyyyy cheapens the book. An Arcane viewer won't necessarily be familiar with either of those characters, so a random paragraph dedicated to them reads as very out of place. When I first read the section I thought to myself: 'thats cool but if they never bring up Swain or Marcus again then this is going to read as shit.' And uhh... yeah. There's actually two du Couteau mentions by the way, but one is only mentioned like 'even a Du Couteau showed up' or whatever, I can't remember the exact line I'll have to look at my notes. And then the paragraph on Marcus. I don't really believe in fanservice, I think even a book based on an existing property should be able to stand alone, (unless its a sequel) so I think the inclusion of bigger sections on characters that are LITERALLY never mentioned again is a terrible writing choice and shows a lack of restraint. AbsoLUTELY would've written that differently.

On the topic of magic, the way magic is written is like.. floaty. I know Riot is using more of a softer system, the rules are not clearly defined. But man I wish we'd at least give it a bit more definition. A lot of runes/sigils are involved in the book and I just--don't fully know what a rune/sigil is in the context of this book. Like I DO. but i also DON'T. It's floaty. They're like, drawing them and putting them on people and I'm just--how are they coming up with them? I wish it was dug into a little more. Agh. Also magic is described pretty loosely and I wish it just had a bit more realness to it. By realness I mean something to ground it more. It felt vague. I would also say that Rell mastered her magic awful fast but at the same time, Mel did pretty similarly I think in Arcane so I'm assuming that's just how it goes you just pop the magic cherry and suddenly it all comes flooding in.

This review is way too long but I have one more like, major grievance:

Leblanc: (spoilers.)

IS SHE INCOMPETENT???? IS SHE INCOMPETENT?? IS SHE SLAYFUL BUT USELESS???

So at the end of the novel Ambessa is visited by Leblanc who says "omg you're so pathetic but you've somehow managed to ruin years of planning AND kill two of my BEST mages. anyway you're intriguing i'm gonna let you live bye."

AND ITS HUHHHHHHHHHHH

AH YES. THE CLASSIC 'YOU INTRIGUE ME, I AM SOOO POWERFUL BUT I'LL SPARE YOU,' SCHTICK. love that. so much. never been done before. It'd be at least more believable if LB HADN'T JUST SAID HOW SHE RUINED SO MUCH FOR HER. I don't know it's kinda crazy. leblanc is painted as this big schemer with eyes everywhere and centuries of plans but here she just seems incompetent not killing ambessa. we know why ofc. If ambessa dies then she won't show up in arcane, but like. DAMN. it just sucks. and it makes me wonder about her other antics. like how in the hell does kayn manage to steel a darkin weapon from NOXUS, if leblanc is clearly interested in a darkin weapon. it's just so ridiculous i think she might be a girlfailure. (and it highlights the lack of planning on riot's part but) idk the book made me respect her far less. don't get me wrong, i like her, but she's also a flop. if there's some power limiter on her that the reader doesn't know about then.... i would like... to know a little bit.... a hint. an inkling. because otherwise she's just a girlfailure...

Minor Nitpicks:

There's one section of the book that uses the word Dancer so many times in a short period that it pissed me off so bad.

Reiterating: there are some good lines but some of the prose is SOO clumsy that I don't know why they didn't change it.

There's lots of explaining things through talking, and lots of summary, including summary of stuff that's already happened.

A yordle gets mentioned.

I think some of the names for the warbands/ops are pretty dog. But that's just my personal opinion. 'The Scar's Rangers' 'The Bloody Thunders,' 'The Shadow Hunters.' Really not a naming style I enjoy. To compare I think of Achilles' Myrmidons which sounds much cooler to me. I wish they could've added at least a lil more variety in terms of naming convection, even throwing in some Shuriman word or something, that'd be cool.

The way they handled language in general disappointed me, but it could've been much worse so it's whatever.

After all that, I dub this book mid. It wasn't the worst, but I didn't care for it much. I won't reread except for lore. I don't think it's a waste of a book or anything I just wish things had been done differently. I'm gonna be totally bold and say that I almost wish we had a totally different character as the only protagonist. I think Kino would have been an excellent choice to focus on both his sister AND his mother, and would have allowed for a unique perspective, provided the plot of the book delved beyond its original scope. Like a tragedy ending with Kino's death would have been really good I think, considering we still don't know how he died. That being said it'd probably have sold like shit or smth because no champ pov. Whatever. 5/10. If you've read the novel I'd love to hear your thoughts, even if you disagree or whatever. All opinions are welcome. Thanks if you indulged me and read the whole thing.

[lady-bess]

Hiii!!! I just wanted to quickly hop into your asks to say that I totally binged your Jack Daniels/Agent Whisky (not anymore ig, lol) series, "Fallout" and holy shit, it's so SO GOOD.

I really liked those first chapters of sort of world building, trying to establish where we were in comparison to canon. I loved the way you wrote Ginger, there are very few moments of her and Whisky interacting in the film, and you took that and expanded it a billion times more. There are hints of a loving relationship between them in the movie, but you made it so evident, and it absolutely broke my heart how worried and involved she was in getting Jack back.

Your Tequila is another character that I love immensely, he's so funny and his southern charm jumps out of the words. I cannot stress enough how good of a job you've done in taking an already existing world and adapting it into this wonderful story that you've made. Every choice, every OC fits perfectly in the crazy world that is that of Kingsman, and it is amazing to witness as a reader. (#1 Eve fan, right here)

Don't even get me started on Jack. Dude. Seriously. I love him. You destroyed him and build him back up again, without losing his essence. It's been so interesting to see him change and evolve throughout the story. Mimosa (or Whisky, now ig) is absolutely incredible too, she's funny and strong and smart, but also stubborn and hot headed, that's what makes her so cool to read, and what makes her fit with our wonderful Jack (tho tbh that also has the potential to blow things up).

Sorry if this got too long or if it makes no sense, there are just a lot of thoughts in my head rn and needed to scream into your ask box!!!!!

Anyway, tl;dr I've loved your fic so so much and I cannot wait to see where it goes next 🫶🏼🫶🏼.

Oh, and PD: I will reblog every chapter with my thoughts soon enough.

I hope you have the most wonderful day!! 💗💗

My dear, sweet, reader...🥰

It's been a couple of weeks since you sent this beautiful ask in, and I won't lie it's taken me a while to put into words just how touched I've been by your words. I won't lie, it made me tear up a little bit the first time I read it! 💖

So first of all, THANK YOU for not only supporting this series, but for taking the time to leave such wonderful feedback ✨ I've seen your reblogs too, and it makes me smile immensely to watch a reader piece things together and ask questions as a plot unfolds!

Secondly, I am SO glad that you are enjoying Fallout! It's been a little brain worm of mine since September 2023 and it took a long time for me to get pen to paper (or fingers to keyboard, I guess...), BUT I am so glad I did and that it's a story people resonate with 🥳

I'm so touched that you think I've done justice by this existing world. It is through hours of watching Kingsman that I had hoped I nailed it, haha! But I am so glad that this comes across. I've always said I write for myself, and while this is true it is so heartwarming when someone takes time out their day to say "hey, you. I see what you wrote. Good job!". ❤

And lastly, the OCs! I'm glad you're loving them, but I can't take all the credit for Eve - she has been generously donated by my dear friend @avastrasposts! I fell in love with her Eve, and we joked saying that her and my reader would get along well, especially in a Kingsman universe. So, she's hopped across into this fic for now 🤭💖 Thanks again Mel for letting me nab her!

It's been a while since my last chapter, but I'm hoping to have something out soon - the goal is a couple more chapters before the New Year, so stay tuned for updates!

Thank you again for leaving such wonderful comments, which have had me smiling any time I remembered them 💕

Much love,

Bess xxx

[starbeltconstellation]

omg hiiiiii! i’ve been loving your fic since forever, and melanie is one of my favorite characters. i’ve always been curious about where you got the inspiration for her. every time i re-read the fic, i find something new that makes me fall in love with her even more.

i really appreciate how you don’t make her a mary sue, which is something i’ve sadly come across a lot in this fandom. her flaws feel very human, and she behaves in a way that most of us would. yet, you write her in a way that she doesn’t seem like just another fragile character. she has depth and strength that make her stand out. 💕💕💕

Hello! 😊💕❤️👋

Ahhhh, thank you so very much for the ask, dear anon! 😭❤️❤️❤️🥹 It’s soooo sweet. I always have wished more readers would hop on over to leave their thoughts. Maybe it would give me a little bit more of that sweet dopamine motivation. 😩😂 Lol.

As always when I hear this, I’m SOOOO happy that you love Melanie so much. 😭💕😁 It literally means the WORLD to me that so many people relate to a character I’ve written. It makes me feel all warm and fuzzy inside, and then I think: “huh, maybe my writing isn’t half bad. 😌” 😂

It’s sooo cool to know you reread my fic often! 😭💕💕❤️❤️💕❤️ I’d love to read a comment whenever you do, just so I can go “agshsvhwbshvs!!! 😭” as a thank you for your kindness to read my little old work. Haha.

I’ll put the rest of my answer under a read more:

I’m so happy Mel doesn’t come across as a Mary Sue! ❤️ That was one of my worst fears, so it was REALLY important to me to try and flesh her out and give her an arc separate from Anakin. And the biggest part of that is The Shopkeeper, because it means Melanie has her OWN antagonist to deal with, just as Palpatine is Anakin’s antagonist. This was important because—just as I didn’t want Anakin to take away from MELANIE’S character arc—I in turn also didn’t want Melanie to take away from ANAKIN’S character arc. He IS still The Chosen One, after all.

That fact is really important, as Mel kind of brings up if you’ve read my latest chapter. 👀 Because it’s SO important to acknowledge how important Anakin is to the narrative and in the fate of the galaxy—specifically BECAUSE that gives him agency in his choices. Yes, there are factors such as his horrible past as a slave which fucks up his mind, but still: at the end of the day, Anakin wasn’t mind controlled. HE made those choices, and the galaxy all suffered for years because of it—because he was too selfish to change. Until Luke came along, that is. And while it’s a bittersweet feeling to say you can always change your mind, I WILL be exploring some in this fic how Anakin’s choice at the end of ROTJ is basically… selfless/selfish all at once. 😭🫣😬 (the Anakin stans gonna get me for this one. Lol. 😂).

Basically, his choice to save Luke is selfless, because he saves Luke knowing that he’ll die doing it, and won’t be around to spend time with his son. He has no clue Obi-Wan is gonna hop in last minute and speed run teaching Anakin how to become a Force ghost in the final seconds before eternal nothingness. And yet—at the same TIME—the action is selfish, specifically BECAUSE Anakin would ONLY do this for Luke. His SON. His BLOOD. But would he do it for anyone else? Like—idk—Han Solo? 😭🤷‍♀️ HELL no.

And honestly… I fr don’t know if he’d do it for Leia either. 😬🥶🫣 Low key, I truly think half the reason Luke got through to Anakin was through his sheer blind faith/loyalty in him that his father would turn it around at the last moment (and hey! He WAS right. 🤷‍♀️). But LEIA wasn’t sunshine incarnate like Luke. Leia HATED Anakin as Darth Vader. Anakin also TORTURED Leia canonically and also held her back while Tarkin blew up her planet and basically shrugged his shoulders like—“what can ya do, ya know? 🤷‍♀️🤪🤪”, so I’m FAIRLY certain Leia wouldn’t be begging Anakin to change/have such blind faith in him like Luke did. So—switch it around where Leia is the one being killed with lightning—and SHE doesn’t call out for her father. Because SHE truly doesn’t BELIEVE he can change like Luke could.

Can you TRULY see Anakin still making the same choice he did with Luke in ROTJ? 😬 Because, honestly? I can’t. 🥶🤷‍♀️

But anyway! 😂 This is becoming a little bit of a meta post, so I’ll try to move things back to your original ask.

But yes, it was SO important to me that Melanie had a realistic response to being in the SW universe, because with all the fics I’ve read—NONE of the OC’s actually react in a realistic manner. 😭🤦‍♀️ And so it was important for me to show her disbelief at first, INCLUDING her fear of Anakin. Because yessss, yessss, I know Anakin is fandoms little serial killer blorbo 🙄 (and I respect that! He’s mine too. 😏💓), but Anakin also isn’t REAL to the fans, and can be written any way they want. But for MELANIE, Anakin is now a flesh and blood person who can make his own decisions now… and considering his decisions end up being VERY bad… I do think her terror of him makes sense. 😭🤷‍♀️😂❤️

And it was REALLY important to me that Mel wasn’t just connected to the SW universe through Anakin. SO many OC’s are written without an arc because the whole fic is just about the romance, but when you do that—the OC becomes flat! Ya know? 🤷‍♀️😭 So it was important to me Mel gained other friends in the SW universe, like Ahsoka and the clones and even Yoda and Todo. All of this relates with Mel’s choice with The Shopkeeper 👀 (that I won’t spoil for any new readers who come across this post), because it means that Melanie has grown to care about the people in the SW universe, including what happens to them in the end. 💔😖

And I’m so glad you see the depth and strength to her! 😭❤️💕💕💕 That means a lot. It was certainly a struggle at first, because I obviously wanted her to start out weak and grow stronger and more confident as time passes on—but at the same time—I wanted to show that she has a backbone and a strong moral foundation; ie; she’s can’t turn her back on people she KNOWS she has the power to help (an interesting comparison to Anakin, isn’t it? 👀👀).

As for my inspiration for Melanie? Well, I think I’ve mentioned this before to some of my online friends, but when I first started the process of outlining this story, I just had the thought of—“If I landed in the SW universe, and met Anakin (AKA: Darth fucking Vader 🥶), how would I REALISTICALLY react?”

And ta da! 😁✨💕❤️ There you have it. That’s how Melanie Bains was born. Hehe.

I feel like that’s why so many people love her and relate to her—I first based a lot of Melanie’s reactions on myself and how I thought I’d act in the SW universe—but it honestly makes a lot of sense that everyone else relates to her so much, because Melanie IS basically a stand in for every fan in the SW universe (at least, the general audience fans 😂). When she curses in her head or grumbles at the clones’s antics or cannot shoot a blaster shot in a straight line (at least at first) to save her LIFE—the audience laughs and thinks, “Pfffft, that’s SO me. 😌✨😂”

And I think that’s what makes Melanie’s character so appealing. 😊❤️💕 And I’m VERY excited to show you all her journey on becoming tougher as time in the Clone Wars continues on. 😁❤️

Thank you so very much for the ask, dear anon! 🥺❤️ It truly makes my day. Hehe. 😊❤️✨💕

-

To any new readers that stumble across this and are curious enough to check out my fic:

Tags:

@ensomniaa

@heartfairy

@fangirlteallie

@readersunite

@shoniwake

[olderjodijournals]

MONDAY, MARCH 1, 1999

It was pretty warm out there today! Bordering on hot. We just hit March and it’s summertime already. The yellow jackets are already out and it looks like it’s gonna be like last year. There are a ton of them. I hope moving outside of the city brings less of these fuckers! I’d think it would, cuz there are certainly not as many flowers and things for them to feed off of outside the city where most things are left in their natural state.

We got a complaint about our weeds in front. I knew it. I just knew we’d get a complaint on that eventually, although I think the city’s rules on weeds are wrong. If people don’t want to do their yards, they shouldn’t have to. The thing said that “they got a complaint,” but Tom thinks it was the water meter reader that did the complaining. He doesn’t think it’s the freeloaders cuz as he said, they don’t seem bright enough to know you can do that, they probably wouldn’t wait this long to complain if they did know you can do that, and they seem more of the yell-and-scream type than the take-action type. I think they’re both. The bitch yelled and screamed alright, but she also spent around $40 to try to have me served, so that’s a little action. I’ll bet she paid more than it’ll cost me for the paper and ink used for their wonderful reading material!

Anyway, whoever did the complaining, I’m not mad at them. It needed to be done and sometimes you have to really kick Tom in the ass to get him to do things like that. Like I said, he’s great with the things we absolutely need, but not with keeping up with the yard work. Tom says he’s more productive when he’s pressured into having to do something, rather than when it’s not urgent and demanded of him. Yeah, as long as it isn’t me doing it. Back when I’d urge, pressure, and demand that he cum regularly, look where that got me.

I washed the clothes and sneakers Tom wore while hacking the weeds which he vacuumed up, and now I’ve got the sneakers drying out in the sun and heat.

Last night I took a Benadryl at midnight and was fortunate enough to be off to sleep by 2:00. I slept well enough till Tom woke me with coffee at 10:30.

On our way out to the dentist, we poured a drain opener down the tub to unclog hairs. This is the shit that smells like rotten eggs. He also bleached some of the mildew we’ve got in there, and we aired the place out really well. By then it was 80º inside the house and I had to cool the place down after shutting off the evaporative cooler’s vent.

Had my teeth cleaned today and do I have any cavities? Of course! This time, I have two, and he showed them to me in a hurry to prove he wasn’t scamming me. They’re for real alright. I saw the holes in the teeth myself. No matter how hard I try to keep up on my teeth, I always have cavities, although having braces does make it tough. Maybe I’ll have better luck once they’re off and I can clean my teeth better and easier. They didn’t take X-rays this time since the holes were that obvious.

I thought I’d be in for some pain when Mel went to tighten me up, but nope. Just when she went to pop the bracket off the tooth that was impacted so she could move it. It’s hard to believe that tooth, which looks so normal now, was once just a little spec at the roof of my mouth! Anyway, they just pull the bracket right off that’s cemented on. Not that it won’t be worth it, but it’s not gonna tickle getting all these brackets off. Then every damn tooth will be sore. The tooth she rebracketed is now sore, but if she didn’t have to rebracket it, none of my teeth would be sore. Not till they get ready to move again. I wish that one on the bottom that was the farthest away from where it should be and the only one left to need to be positioned would hurry up and get sore. Then I’d know that it’d move some more within the next day or two. Anyway, when I told Tom how brackets are removed, he cringed just thinking about it. It hurts like hell for about 20 seconds. They just pull it and break it right off. It feels like they’re about to pull your tooth, and when that sucker pops, it sounds like your tooth was broken in two. Wait till they yank them all off! After the bracket’s pulled off, they do something to clean away the cement under it. Then they recement me and place the new bracket in place with tweezers. There are three parts to my braces. There are the brackets that are glued to the tooth, the plastic bands that connect to the brackets and the wire, and the wire. The bands are what they tighten and what do the pulling. These come in different colors. I got pink this time, my favorite color.

I got the wrong idea by thinking I would be done with the braces and with Melanie around July. I’ll be done with the braces around that time, but I do have to have a retainer for a while. I thought I’d be getting out of that, but nope. The braces move the teeth into place, but the retainer trains them to stay there. This makes sense cuz when Mel takes off the wire/bands that pull the teeth outward, the teeth automatically start pushing inward as soon as the pressure is released from them. It’s like they gotta hurry up and run the other way while they’re free!

Saw a Navajo Indian woman at Walgreens (where we went to pick up snacks and my inhaler) whose hair made mine look short. Hers was below her knees!

Tom did a great job of trimming the palm trees that are by the back gate.

I asked Tom when he went out to dump the weeds in the dumpster if they had taken the stuff he put out back yet. He said no, but someone took the three chairs we put out there. Who’d take beat-up chairs like that? The freeloaders? I wouldn’t doubt it.

It looks like Bill picked the bitch up today, then took it out somewhere for about an hour and yes, the bitch did cut her hair. Either that or she just made it appear to be up to her shoulders.

Later...

AOL’s on its busy spree again. I’m typing while it keeps trying to get online so I can get my Evie messages. She can be a real pain at times. I had four messages from her the other day. They were all jokes, which would be fine if most of them weren’t so stupid.

Later...

I got onto AOL, but the system was so sluggish. Then it crashed. So, I’ll go on some other time. It’s best to go on during the weekdays when most people are working, or late at night. Too many people are still up and online right now.

I called Paula at 7:45 my time. She answered and said she’d call back in half an hour, but I haven’t heard from her. That’s OK. We just talked recently, and as I told her, I don’t want to be calling long distance so much, and I don’t like phones much these days.

TUESDAY, MARCH 2, 1999

I set up the VCR to record The Medical Detectives and The FBI Case Files that are on tonight. Tomorrow night, I’ll be taping The Doll Cottage, one of the new doll shows to premiere in March. I’m sure it’s just like the other two doll shows I’ve seen, with the same old dolls.

We haven’t had to run the heat in the last couple of days. Without any heat or cooling, it gets a little warm in the living room towards late afternoon, but it’s pleasant throughout the evening and night. The bedroom stays cool, though. That room is kind of cool in the winter and kind of warm in the summer.

The address label company sent me a catalog again, and this time, I’m gonna save it till we move. There are some cute sets I want to order when we move. I like the sets of cats, dogs, tropical scenes, flowers, and little girls playing.

Andy left me a cool message. It’s cool for him, anyway. Up till now, talking to Barbara Nicks was the closest he ever came to Stevie. Well, it turns out that Barbara gave Stevie a tape Andy made with Michelle’s artwork decorating the case, of demos no one’s heard before. Barbara gave it to Stevie and she liked it.

Despite the fact that it’s hard to imagine this house selling in about a month’s time, I have wonderful moving vibes for June or July. The closer I look into September, the less I see us here. I even thought I got a vision of potential buyers of our house. They’re non-aggressive, yuppie-type people, who are family and career-oriented. I think they both work and I see something related to sales, advertising, and accounting. Probably around 20 years old. Well, that’s what I first thought, since I saw that they just had or are about to have a kid, and ages 15-20 are the most common ages to have kids (besides the early 40s), but they seem a little too mature for being just 20. Maybe they’re closer to 30. The kid they just had or are about to have is an accident. They do want kids, but they wanted to wait. This is normal, though, since many kids are accidents. It’s when you plan them that they don’t come unless one’s just not in your destiny regardless of what you plan. They try to do the right thing, so to speak, and are the direct opposites of the rude, selfish assholes next door. They don’t smoke or do drugs. They rarely drink, but all they drink is wine.

The guy is about 5‘10” with thick dark brown wavy hair. He’s of average weight and he and his wife may be of Italian descent. The woman’s about 5’ 4” with short straight brown hair and is also of average weight. Maybe slightly plump. They both have brown eyes. Both are plain-looking.

At one point, I was sitting in the living room typing, when I turned around and saw a big Christmas tree in the living room. We don’t do Christmas trees so it isn’t us, and the party and people looked a little too modern to be apparitions of past residents. I really think this is a vision of a Christmas party that the new people will have - Christmas of 99. I saw the woman’s mother visit. She’s in her 50s. Her hair is dyed light brown and it’s in a bun. She’s religious. They have something large in the back room. A pool table? A ping pong table? Don’t know for sure. They have a small, tan, cocker spaniel puppy. They each have cars, but I can’t make out the make of the cars. Just that they’re fairly nice.

Later...

Katie and Ashley are definitely not having babies. In two days from now, they’d have to have reached the maximum time they could be pregnant since they were last possibly exposed to males, and they sure as hell aren’t gonna be dropping babies in two days. Oh well. Better luck next time. Tom thinks the other mouse they were in with was a female too and not a male.

Later...

Tom says I ought to try using less KY jelly. He said I may be using too much, and that may be why I get so much irritation; cuz he ends up flying in there instead of going in gently and slowly. Maybe if we could just find the time and desire to have sex once a week, that’d help too. As far as time goes, I thought about it, and to tell you the truth - his ma’s not hogging up that much of our time since she’s moved into Mary’s. Tom only spends about 2-3 hours a week over there visiting her. Before, he was spending more than that a day over at the house from the time Dad got sick to when she moved. I just wish God would take her to his kingdom and to be with Dad and let us move on. Ma can repay the money she’s taken from us, but she can never repay the time she’s stolen from us. All she can do is move on and let us have that time. It’d also help if his job wasn’t so demanding of overtime, but it’s not like I never see my husband. I guess I wouldn’t want to see him 24/7, even though he’s the only one I could do that with and not end up hating or going crazy, but having a little less time together than the average couple only makes our time together more special. Same with the sex. Personally, I’d like to have sex once a month. Thanks to my finicky crotch, though, that can’t be.

It smells beautiful out now. It’s that time of year when the orange blossoms smell pretty. They never smelled of orange, though, and they don’t this year either, but they do smell different. More like grape this year.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 3, 1999

I forgot who Tom said he heard it from, but whoever told him, was right when they said that putting soapy in the microwave before you went to clean it helps loosen shit up. I put a bowl of soapy water in for two minutes before I cleaned it and it did make it easier.

Paula or Andy is calling right now. At this hour, I’d say it’s Paula. Well, I’m not calling her back. She has to learn that I can’t play phone with her this much.

Last night at around this time I picked up on one of our regular sales calls and slowly, but firmly said stop calling. In response, the woman gave me a slow, firm no. I’m not even gonna bother picking up on them anymore, cuz that’ll just make them all the more determined.

Later...

I was wrong. It was Andy. He left an unusually short message. All he said was that he’s evicted Laura for good this time, he’s not gonna let her move back in ever again, their friendship is over, he’s changing his locks, he’ll struggle more, but he’ll be happier. I went to call him back, knowing how much he likes to bitch to people about his problems with other people, but as I figured, he was on the phone. He’s probably calling everyone he knows one by one till he gets someone he can bitch to like he’d bitch to Brenda, Bonnie, or whoever, about his fights with me.

Anyway, as long as Andy’s not willing to be a little less selfish, and is not willing to change his type of friends, or at least avoid his typical type of friends if he can’t change his type of friends, this is the shit he’s gonna get with people. All he wants is drugged-up losers, so how can he not expect to have problems with them? How can he expect people to not have problems with him? Andy’s changed a lot for the better, but still, think we could get along as well if I saw him as much as I used to or if we lived together? Think again! He’s not easy to spend a lot of time around.

Got my period today, but no Giselle. I really think that most things you order from these people come later than they tell you they will.

My allergies went off last night and Tom said I shouldn’t be out at night smelling the pretty orange blossoms. He said that’s bad for allergies.

Last night I found some pictures I like of Gloria on the web, but they were just thumbnails. The person who put the pictures out claims that they’ll give you the full size of these pictures if you email them. Well, I did email this person with the pictures I requested, but I’ll bet you anything that I won’t get a reply and if I do, there’ll be a catch. They’ll probably demand money for them.

Later...

I told Andy that I’d be watching a movie (it turned out I couldn’t get into it) so he could call me at 10:00 if he still wanted to talk. Just a few minutes ago, I saw a private call and I know it was him, even though he left no message. It’s just his way of saying, “You said call at 10:00, so I’m gonna do the opposite and call before 10:00.”

What makes some people so obsessed with rebelling?

THURSDAY, MARCH 4, 1999

A private call just came in and I figured it was Andy by the type of ring (long-distance rings are different) but if it was him, he left no message. He left a message earlier and said he’d call again later. Yeah, I’m sure he will! Anyway, in his message, he told me he nearly beat the shit out of Laura and that they agreed to part as friends since they each know they can fuck each other over. She can fuck with his property and he can fuck with her family by telling her family her dirty little secrets, so to speak. Why not just part on good terms? Why continue the friendship? Why can’t he let go of these kinds of immature, destructive people? Is this all he feels he deserves? Have some self-respect, Andy! And just like I knew he would, he mentions how God’s blessed him so much with getting through all his stress. Well Andy, if you’re so blessed by God, how come you’re in the same boat year after year? Don’t you think you’re giving God a little too much credit? Think maybe you’re fooling yourself about God?

Got a message from Paula today, too. I knew it’d be just a matter of a few days before I heard from her again. I wonder how school went for her. She never says much on my machine. She’s the opposite of Andy. Andy usually uses the full 3 minutes allotted, but Paula just says, “Hi. It’s me. Call me.” Then she said something about being up since 4 AM, cuz a big storm they had woke her up.

Later...

I’m kind of tired today. Guess I didn’t sleep as long as I usually do. Going hungry is gonna make me a bit tired too, but seeing that I woke up at 112 pounds, I need to really really back off of food. In fact, I’m just gonna go ahead and see if I can starve off the remaining 12 pounds I want to lose and get to 100 pounds. That way, all I’ll have to do is just maintain my weight, and although that’s hard for me now, it’s a hell of a lot easier than trying to lose weight. It’s so hard to believe that I once could hold onto the same weight effortlessly, without even trying, no matter how much I ate. But now, trying to hold onto the same weight is like trying to hold onto a bar with one hand. It’s a constant struggle. These few pounds I gained were cuz of three lousy days of eating just 1500 calories a day. Less than your average person consumes daily, which is 2000 daily. For the last ten years, I haven’t minded being short. Now I don’t know about that. If I were even just 2-3 inches taller, maybe I could have 1500 calories a day instead of 1000. Do you know how fast 1000 calories go?! It’s like trying to cut down from smoking 25 cigarettes a day to 5 a day. Food that’s filling and that has any real substance at all to it is loaded with calories. You have to live on air or stuff like scraps of lettuce in order to lose weight, but you’ll be starving! Since God only helps those he feels like helping, and since I’m not usually one of them, I have to put my all into helping my own self here.

Tom trimmed the palm tree by the back gate and it looks great! Before, it was a pain in the ass and in the way when coming and going through that gate, but now it’s out of the way.

Later...

What a weird society we live in! Not just rude and selfish, but weird. Really weird! Two Spanish women were standing at the end of our driveway an hour ago with six kids swarming around them. Half of them were in our driveway. One was teaching one of them to ride a bike which kind of crashed into our garage door. I know being on the corner makes it easier to hang out in our driveway, but what is it with these little trespassers doing their thing in other people’s driveways/yards? What’s wrong with their own? Anyway, I didn’t go out and ask them to leave because they didn’t hurt anything and were only there for a few minutes. I kept an eye on them till one woman and half the kids went up the street, and the other woman and the other half of the kids went down the street. So what do these mothers do nowadays? Sit and decide with their friends whose driveway they’ll hang out in? And whose driveway they’ll teach their kids to ride bikes in? They even had a toy gun in the driveway too. It fell, and then one of the little animals picked it up. I know the women saw me looking out the window at them, but they acted like they didn’t see me and that they weren’t on anyone’s property but their own.

Paula called and I answered this time. We had a good talk that didn’t last too long. As I knew would be the case, she didn’t make it to school. She says she’ll try again in May. Yeah, right! She says she didn’t make it to school cuz of her whore of a boyfriend. He was supposed to drive her to school, but he stood her up two days in a row. In one breath, she says she’s pissed off at this guy, but then in the next breath, she wants him to move in with her. Paula’s life, just like Andy’s, is still the same old, same old, that’s for sure! She’s getting it on with this guy who’s already got a girlfriend, while she’s also getting it on with this AIDS guy. She’s kind of just as slutty as the guys are. She said she sucked him off unprotected, but that they screwed with a rubber. Her sucking the guy off unprotected was a dumb thing to do. Meanwhile, these guys are typical of what Paula gets. They have no respect for her whatsoever. All these air-headed, immature, irresponsible, stupid things want, is sex, sex, sex.

I checked out the premiere of the new doll show last night and it was pretty good. Again, they spend way too much time showing the same doll and should show more than 15 dolls in two hours, but it was still interesting enough. They didn’t show as many dolls I’d already seen as I thought they would. They had some dolls between 33” - 38” for between $220-$250 with nice dresses, but boring faces. One’s hair was too short. One’s face was actually sort of nice. I’m hoping to get a 30-something-inch doll when we move.

They had a 12” doll for just $10! They also had a 10” doll for $20 that I’d actually take if it were as easy as handing them the $20 for the doll in a split second. That’s because it was a Rapunzel doll. There are different variations on her, I guess. The Rapunzel I have is 20” tall with wavy hair that falls to her ankles. The one on TV was half that height and had straight hair trailing on the floor. At first I decided I’d get her when I could, but then changed my mind and decided to get another vibrator instead and try making my own Rapunzel someday. Anyway, I had this vibrator before. It’s not as good quality-wise as the ones I’ve got are, but this one felt better.

Later...

Again a private call with no message. Guess it could be anyone, but I wouldn’t be surprised if it were Andy just leaving his “calling card,” so to speak to say, “I’m here. I’m gonna make you get up and check and see who’s calling. That way I know I got to you by making you have to notice me. I’m doing the opposite of what you asked too, by calling constantly.”

A little while ago I was in the music room doing a puzzle on the vanity when I heard a ton of door slamming. I told myself it wasn’t the right hour to be coming from next door, but then I realized that no one else around here would slam doors eight times in a row like that. So I upped and looked and sure enough, one of the white cars was there. At that hour on a weekday? Guess they must be making up for lost time since both white cars and their basketball-playing animals disappeared for a while, but the white car didn’t stay long tonight.

Porky hasn’t gone outside the cage lately. Guess he’s gotten too big to squeeze through the bars.

FRIDAY, MARCH 5, 1999

And here we are at another weekend with assholes 3’ away from us and God only knows what else in this city. I’ll be on nights throughout the weekend, but I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if the white car and a few ball games were part of the weekend next door. With my luck, God will hold off ballgames till right when I get up in the late afternoon.

What is it with people not only doing the opposite of what you ask but not doing things they say they’ll do? Just ask if you want a full-size picture of these thumbnails, yeah right!

Tom got me a cute puzzle at the grocery store today. Good, cuz I just finished one and I love to do puzzles. I put together a whole 500-piece last night.

My strong vibes saying Giselle would be late (as long as she wasn’t misdelivered) are proving to be right so far. If she doesn’t come by tomorrow, she’ll be late, and I don’t see her coming tomorrow. I really think she’ll be here toward the end of next week.

After only having two bags of popcorn and a TV dinner yesterday, I’m down to a record-breaking 106½. Naturally, the catch for it is that I’m stuck.

Later...

Miss Bitch was out in the white car somewhere tonight. They just got back. I wish I could say that the person in the white car was sick of the bitch and that she did not want to see her tomorrow and Sunday too, but I know the white car will be here this weekend. And so will its ball-playing animals.

Saw a doll show tonight. They had a 38” doll and a 42” doll with awesome dresses. They said the number one favorite color is blue. That explains why most dolls seem to be wearing blue.

Later...

Just gave a teddy bear to the mistake next door. I had a teddy bear for years that’s nice, but a bit dirty and boring looking if you ask me, so I threw it over the wall for the mistake. I threw it where our walls and the alley meet so it looks like it was thrown from the alley. So now the poor mistake can have a nice teddy bear to add to its toys, cuz it was just a serious dust collector that I don’t need taking up space in the new place. It wasn’t worth it cuz the thing just isn’t as cute and pretty as the one I have in the bedroom wearing the pansy dress.

SUNDAY, MARCH 7, 1999

I have a shitload of news to update on. First of all, I’m 105 pounds! Yeah, and it’s quite a coincidence that the day I hit a record low of 105 pounds, the freeloaders return to their old shit and worse. The cock and his sick pal in some goldish beige car I’ve never seen before woke me up after about five hours of sleep with the loudest, longest bass outburst since December 1997. It lasted about ten minutes and have you any idea how lucky these cocks are that I was too tired and felt like my heart was gonna explode that I couldn’t go out and beat the shit out of them?! Do they?! Once I was more awake and got my heart slowed down, I’d have gladly gone out and pummeled the shit out of them, but by then they took off. Today, though, is to be a different story. I promised myself that one more outburst and they were to get a double dose of treatment from me, and that’s exactly what they’re gonna get. Tomorrow they’ll be facing my fists as soon as he bangs in, and come Monday, out goes my final city letter. I’m not as stressed out or as furious with these sick fucks as I would be if we weren’t moving and if I didn’t know that I could write letters to the city, but still, these fuckaroos have pushed me to the max. I’m gonna show them just what happens to freeloaders that fuck with the wrong people.

I left Tom a message about their latest antics before taking Benadryl and going back to bed. He ended up crashing before I got up, and he left me a message saying that he’s sorry our inconsiderate neighbors woke me and that it’s amazing how much strength I have (that I didn’t beat the snot out of them). He said that if I had beaten her up, she’d have just had her friends come out and say that nothing was going on, and I wouldn’t stand a chance, knowing how courts are. I’m not gonna beat her ass, I’m gonna beat his ass, and yes, I do stand a chance because no man that size is gonna admit/report a woman my size kicked his ass. No judge would even believe him, even without my fine acting involved. All I’d have to worry about, if I beat his ass, would be either bunches of them coming after me or someone from over there shooting me, but I’m too mad to care. It’s more important that I do what I gotta do to get these sick fucks off my ass and not worry so much about what-ifs. These assholes are deliberately, knowingly, and intentionally harassing me. Tom’s right about me beating her, though. That would be a very stupid thing to do unless she threatened or struck at me first. If I denied beating her up, no judge would believe me, then I would be in trouble.

My initial reaction was that in my city letter, I’d push for eviction, but I’d still prefer for them to read all about just how fucked up they are, and there’s an innocent child involved here who needs a place to live, despite all its sick mom’s cronies that’d take them in if they were suddenly homeless. It’s also not easy to evict a city/state moocher. I should know. So I said the same thing in this letter as he and I did in our previous letters and that we were looking to move. I told them that I wasn’t asking for her to be evicted or lose her subsidy or that all the kids be stopped from coming to play here on weekends or that she be stopped from her slew of weekend company (I lied and stuck in “parties” even though they have indeed partied) but that all we ask is that the car stereos be eliminated. I said that asking them ourselves to can the music has gotten us nowhere and threatened (at least the nowhere part is the truth). This bitch is lucky we don’t plan to stay here indefinitely, cuz if we did, I’d do everything to get her out of here!

I told Tom I’d try not to use racial slurs and names he doesn’t like but that it’s my way of venting sometimes, within the privacy of my own home. I think I’ve done a good job of not calling him names, which is much more important than what I call these scumbags.

Anyway, I crashed around 11:00. At 4:30, during these assholes’ prime time, I woke right up to the bass. Not even the heartbeats on the sound spa saved me. I knew instantly it was next door. My heart felt like it was gonna jump right out of my chest. It was very similar to the NHA and the Vista. And these fucks didn’t come into the carport, either. They were at the end of the driveway. The white car was at the beginning of the carport. I don’t know how this 12-year-old boy could play ball, but he did. The cock sat in the passenger seat (there was someone in the backseat, too) while the driver was in the house. The cock would stick its arm out and catch the ball at times. At first, the music was insanely loud. Then it went from soft to moderate volumes till the driver got in and they quietly pulled out. I could see the cock looking at our house too, to check and maybe even hope for a reaction (yeah, you’ll get that next time, buddy!). After they left, the boy and the kid that lives there were seen for a second, then they and the white car disappeared.

I knew there’d be at least a white car and a basketball game this weekend, too. I sensed it. Especially since they’ve been quiet for a few weekends in a row. They always have to compensate me and make up for any quiet time they give me, those filthy fucks! I looked back, and since the time of the second city letter which went in around early May, these mother-fuckers have given me the bass treatment 5/30/1998, 8/15/1998, 10/25/1998, 1/23/1999, and 3/6/1999. I see the common denominator here and clearly, these MFs are testing me to see how much of their old shit I’ll take. I even thought they were moving for a minute there, due to how loud and long their scene went on, but they’re not. I’d have sensed that for sure. Just like I strongly sensed Giselle wouldn’t be here by yesterday, and I was right. I bet you anything that Easter would be a nightmare just like last year without this third city letter or my fists, but we’ll see.

I’m really at a tug of war here, cuz a part of me is like - just beat the shit out of them and get the problem permanently fixed. Get it done and over with after three years of this shit. Fight back. Take a stand for yourself or else the shit will keep coming. The other part is saying- there are only a few more months here to go, don’t risk doing anything to cause you to have to look over your shoulder for bullets, the city letter ought to be enough for a while, and this way they can do some serious reading. But what if I was wide awake and he came banging in like that? There’s no way I could restrain myself. No way! You fuck with me, I fuck with you. Period.

Later...

I fell asleep at around noon and got up at 6:00. Thanks to our friendly freeloaders, I didn’t sleep much and I kept waking up, too. So if they’re not waking me up with their music, they’re waking me up with the stress they’ve put me under. The fucking, mother-fuckers!

Naturally, Tom went through his spiel again of why violence is wrong and how it could come down to court, etc. Trust me, though. If I didn’t go to court with her last year, I sure as hell ain’t going this year! Or any other year. He agreed that the city letter was an appropriate thing to do, but he says it’s my call since I’m the one who got woke up. He feels that this is an isolated incident. It could be, but I can’t say for sure that this one was just one of those music setbacks we get every 2-3 months, because of how loud and long it was. That’s why I’m sending in the letter. I also have the feeling that if I don’t send in the letter, Easter will be a nightmare. It still may be anyway. Nonetheless, if this last letter will ensure our peace till we can get the fuck out of here, then fine. I’ll bet if we all lived here for ten years, they’d need 1-2 city letters a year sent in to keep them leashed down and controlled as far as the bass goes. And this is all bass and nothing but bass that these sick fucks listen to. There are no singers, no other instruments, just someone plucking a bass. So I’m gonna go with my gut feeling, trust what my instincts tell me, and send in this final letter. They should hear about it at the end of the week.

I should be getting my doll then too, if it hasn’t been misdelivered. These people are in Florida from what I can tell, and Tom thinks that that’s why the dolls get here late. He said if we were further east, they’d probably be more on time.

Tom and I were talking about the possibility of us getting a 1-acre lot with more considerate people around us, but I don’t know. Yes, the poorer you are, the more likely you are to be trash, and they wouldn’t have subsidized losers on 1-acre lots, but you know how I’m cursed as far as neighbors go. There’s always a problem. You could put me at the end of a row of 50 houses. Say all the houses contain nice considerate neighbors but one. Guess who that one rude, sick, selfish fuck would be next to? Me.

Anyway, all we heard/saw today from these would-be fried freeloaders if it weren’t for Tom, was her going to church at around 9:00. Bitch left in a white car wearing a jumpsuit of light/medium blues. Bitch left with a woman driver. There were 2-3 kids in the back. Bitch’s hair looks pitiful to the shoulders. Looks like she may’ve permed the lamb’s wool, too. It looked better to the middle of her back with it either down or braided. Anyway, because this was all that was seen and heard, I got the impression that the bitch was trying to make up for yesterday’s noise by being extra quiet today in the hopes that I wouldn’t rat on her to the city. Too late. Too late, bitch. If it weren’t for her being an unusually sound sleeper and her house being tightly sealed, I’d be out there waking her up now (bitch crashed at 9:00). Just the fact that she had that dog barking non-stop tells me how well she can sleep to noise. If she couldn’t, she wouldn’t have had that dog that long no matter how much she wanted to use it against me. Plus, her house has double-paned windows. Ours doesn’t.

How can this bitch go to church and consider herself religious? I thought being religious was about being caring, giving, considerate, etc. Like I said, she’s as religious as my left tit. She’s only going cuz of what she can get for free out of it.

Thank God the freeloaders don’t know we’re moving, cuz if they did, they’d probably figure, what the fuck? She’s on her way out, so what should she care if we make the end of her stay here miserable? I do! That’s who.

Tom said that the more he thought about it, the more he doubts the freeloaders will go back to their old shit when we move. He feels they’ll want to start things off on the right foot this time around. Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha,!!! Right foot my ass! Right isn’t in their repertoire. These people don’t know no right anything. All they know is the opposite of right and the opposite of right is usually wrong. If anything, they’ll be bummed at first to see me go, cuz then I won’t be here for a bimonthly harassment treatment from them. But once they get over me, they’ll be happy to start their shit over with a clean slate with new people. They’ll bet their odds on the new people not complaining on them too, but when they get no reaction from the new owners, and they probably won’t since most people don’t have the guts to complain, they’ll be bummed and missing me all over again, cuz then there’ll be no one to badger anymore and no challenges left.

Copy of city letter:

*To whomever it may concern:*

*I’m writing this letter in regard to our next door neighbor. About a year ago, my husband and I sent in a letter complaining of their loud car stereo music, then another letter around last May. Since then, her loud boyfriend moved out, and her constant company’s car stereos have eased up tremendously on us, until recently. Recently, it has been a nightmare all over again as far as her boyfriend’s, relative’s, and friend’s car stereos go. Primarily during the weekends when she has a whole slew of company. It has been anything but peaceful for us. I’m not saying that I want Miss N to be evicted and lose her subsidy, or that all the kids can’t come over to play on weekends, or that she can’t have lots of company/parties on weekends, I’m just saying that we cannot tolerate the car stereo’s bass and the way it vibrates through our house so viciously. That’s all we ask, is that they eliminate the stereos. Meanwhile, we are thinking about moving, but it may take us several months before we can do so, so if there’s anything you can do to ease our anxiety and give us our peace back, it’d be very much appreciated. Talking to them ourselves has gotten us nowhere but yelled at and threatened.*

*Sincerely, Jodi Lin*

MONDAY, MARCH 8, 1999

I got to thinking about something…I wonder if the teddy bear I threw over their wall had anything to do with the 10-minute bass session I received the following day? (I wonder about the weight loss too, being connected) Did these freeloaders figure it was me who delivered the teddy bear and therefore, knowing it was from me, did that fuel them into this bass fit? Even though it wasn’t glass shattering upon concrete, I suppose the thought of knowing the bear was from me, would trigger a reaction. If this is the case, I’m amazed these otherwise stupid people had brains enough to figure it out.

After I wrote the truth about Saturday’s attack on me, I got into my bullshit, of course, which I always make sure I mix in for the freeloaders. I described a young couple that agreed to buy our house from us. A couple just as loud as they are with lots of parties and even a band that’s to practice here. That way the freeloaders can be looking for these people that don’t really exist. In time, though, even stupid fucks like they are will figure out who the hell’s really living here, though.

I wish to hell I had those childish notes they left in our mailbox slot a year ago. I’d copy them with the scanner for them. I wrote my own copy and followed the same handwriting and wording to the best of my memory, and then I scanned that. I also scanned my letter from Unsolved Mysteries, which doesn’t mention my name. It only says: Dear Viewer. Then on top of it, I scanned part of a certificate of authenticity for one of my dolls. Only the top part that says: certificate of authenticity. At the very bottom of this I typed: Copy of JRN’s letter to Unsolved Mysteries to try to find her.

The freeloader’s gonna be like, what the fuck?! It’s hard to duplicate the logo of Unsolved Mysteries, and I know they’d be too stupid to figure out what I did. Especially since poor old losers like this wouldn’t be used to exposure to high-tech, sophisticated shit.

Evie forwarded us a stupid message about someone who died drinking a can of soda because they didn’t wipe the top clean first, which was encrusted with dried rat urine that was obviously lethal. Ha, ha, ha! As an expert on rodents, I told her that rodent urine is not lethal.

There are two closets in the master bedroom, in case I never said so before. One of them leads to the attic. Tom’s had his ladder in there to check for leaks. By the way, it rained today. Can you believe it rained on a Sunday? That may’ve been why I got to sleep today too, since the weather may’ve been too damp for certain ball-playing, bass-thumping assholes. It also didn’t leak. I couldn’t fucking believe that! Anyway, I got tired of reaching over and through the ladder for shit, so I vacated that closet altogether. All that’s in there are a few things we never use. Tom’s gonna use the sander on this door, which doesn’t close very easily. Then he’ll use the sandblaster on the reddish stains out on the front of the house. I forgot what really caused these stains, but I call them bloodstains.

I also packed some non-breakable knickknacks in the big box Maria came in.

There are about 15 common exercises to work the basic muscle groups. Since I have such a problem with sticking to regular exercise, I decided to do 5 at the start of my day, 5 in the middle of my day, and 5 at the end of my day, but so far, this hasn’t helped me to be consistent with exercising. Perhaps nothing will!

I worry about Tom and all this overtime they’ve been throwing at him since getting a new boss. He’s the boss of his shift, but that doesn’t prevent him from having to deal with all this overtime. See? If it isn’t his mom needing constant attention like she did when she lived in her own house, it’s overtime. The extra money’s great, but I’m afraid it’s gonna kill him. He said there wasn’t anyone else available to do the work. I asked him if they could hire more help. Instead of answering me, he just shrugged. I take it that means that for whatever reason, they’re not gonna hire more help. They’re gonna stick the work on this one poor guy and run him ragged with constant 10-11 hour shifts.

Speaking of never-ending shit that has its way of taking its toll on a person, I’m so fucking sick of being tight! I wasn’t even tight this much when I smoked! When I smoked it was wheezing that was the problem for me. See? There’s always a price to pay for everything. I’m afraid to go to a doctor about it because I know that if she can help me, God will only inflict some new problem upon me. Besides, if Tom’s theory is right, I may as well just deal with it and suffer, since it doesn’t matter whether or not I suffer if we’re going to heaven after we die, only to have it a million times better than we do here.

Tom believes that although some people have worse lives than others, it doesn’t matter, cuz there’s no comparison to even the best life here and the afterlife. Well, I hope he’s right and that I don’t get sent to hell for whatever reason, be it the prank calls I’ve made, the women I’ve been with, the things my relatives/ancestors have done, etc. I wonder how Tom decided that this is a logical afterlife for us. He decided that reincarnation isn’t logical cuz of how the population fluctuates. I’ll have to ask him when he gets in, how he came to believe that we go to heaven and have it so fine and wonderful after we die.

Later...

I can’t believe I’ve been up for ten hours, yet all I’ve had to eat is a 290-calorie TV dinner and a 200-calorie bag of popcorn. I also can’t believe my weight’s down this low. I almost feel like my old self. However, as low as I’ve gotten my weight, I still have a full face, a double chin, thunder thighs, and a huge lower gut. It seems my lower gut just won’t go away. Yes, it’s gone down since being in the 120s, but it still sticks out much further than my upper gut. If my lower gut was the same size as my upper gut, my stomach would be practically flat. I wonder if I’ll go right back up to around 110 pounds since I crashed my way down to 105 with hardly eating and with water pills? In fact, I’m already back to 108. Of course, I ended up eating like a pig yesterday. Had around 2000 calories. Anyway, I think the reason I’ve eaten so little is due to all the singing and typing I’ve been doing on and off all night.

Our weather’s been screwy. As I said, it rained today and is much cooler. For a few days last week, we didn’t need the heat all day. Didn’t need it till around 4:00 in the morning and only till around 10:00. Now, we need it even in the middle of the afternoon during this cool spell.

We screwed today, which I always have mixed emotions about these days. I never want to screw with him again, yet at the same time, I want to screw once a week to keep from getting irritation. Today’s fuck wasn’t nearly as painful as the last one, but it wasn’t pain-free, either. It did subside a great deal after a few minutes. Again, he stayed on his side and didn’t go up top. It’s still not like with the vibrators, and I know that it’s just a matter of another 1-3 weeks where we won’t have sex for 2-4 weeks. That means I’ll have to start all over again and feel like a virgin, but each time I start over again, it gets harder and I lose interest and the determination to start over again and put myself through the same old pain and crap that I shouldn’t have to go through in the first place. Although I know he’ll only cum just 2-3 times a year, it’s OK if he cums during that so-called prime time that doesn’t exist for me (think of all the money we’ll save on birth control!) cuz I know I could never conceive.

That brings me to Marla and her lecturing me on how I shouldn’t give up and how I should try everything that modern technology has to offer, and that includes having Tom get tested. Then she told me more things about her and Linda. I guess the story goes like this: Linda, who spent about 15 years trying to get pregnant, was initially diagnosed with one clogged tube which I guess they unclogged (technically, all you need is one tube. You just cut your chances in half, though). Then, she was diagnosed as appearing to be OK, but she just couldn’t conceive. So after trying fertility drugs to no avail, Marla agreed to be a surrogate mother for Linda, but the embryo wouldn’t even stay in her and she’s never had problems conceiving. She even had three abortions before having her two boys. So, I guess Linda had to try over and over again till an implant would stay in her. They were suspecting that Linda’s body reacted to the embryo as if it were an unnatural invader. She had to have daily injections to keep her body from rejecting the fetus.

I wonder if my body treats embryos as invaders. That would be just the thing God would do to me too. There’s still a chance that there could be nothing wrong with either of us, or that there’s something wrong with him, but I think the chances are higher of there being something wrong with me due to how I didn’t get pregnant in the past when I was too stupid to use birth control, on top of my gut instinct. I think it’s more likely that there’s something wrong with my hormones, my body mucus, or something like that.

Marla asked me how bad do I want a kid? Obviously not that bad, but even if I did, I am not allowed to ever have a child. Not under any circumstances. Not even modern technology could help me. I just know it. And even if it could, God would only knock that fetus right out of me. I know Marla means well, but still, she just doesn’t get it and she doesn’t get psychics. I know some people would see me as a negative quitter, but I just know some things about my destiny and my body.

It’s really sweet of Tom to tell me that he’ll support whatever I want to do and I believe him, but again, something’s nagging at my gut instinct and it’s telling me that Tom would just rather not have to deal with me trying to conceive. It seems to be a touchy subject for him and I think more than anything, God would use Tom to stop me from conceiving if I tried to, by making sure he couldn’t give them a sperm sample. Maybe even Tom himself would make sure of it, cuz I still say that despite the times that he did cum during the right time, he’d rather not be a father. I just sense this deep down. The doctor may also refuse to just go ahead and do the invitro without fixing our so-called sex problem first. But you can’t help people who don’t want to be helped, aren’t meant to be helped, or both. Lastly, all this would take years. If we had gone to that consultation last February 15th, we’d still be nowhere near done. To go from the first part of the testing/consultation to either getting pregnant or not getting pregnant, takes years. Another way God could prevent me from conceiving (there are only a million ways for God to stop me and I don’t know which way he will) is by making sure we didn’t have enough money. Linda said it cost her 8 G’s per in vitro and it took so many times before it worked. Tom does know money and he insists there’ll always be the money for it, but what if that’s what it’d cost us, and what if it took three shots for me to conceive? We’d end up paying $24,000 just for me to have a miscarriage.

To say God works in mysterious ways is an understatement. Why is it that he’d only allow Linda kids by way of all this time, money, shit, and pain she had to go through? How can a supposedly good, loving God do this to a woman? Was it because of her sister’s abortions that the bible thumpers say God’s against? That wouldn’t make sense, though. If God was so against unborn children dying, then why did he create miscarriages? And why did he let people figure out how to perform abortions if he were so against it?

I still believe we can either struggle all our lives for stuff we’re not meant to have. Or we can go with the flow of what’s available to us and what is in our cards. At this point, although I promised myself, Tom, and Marla that I’d have a wait-and-see attitude, I’m sure I’ll follow my destiny and not waste my time trying to fight fate which no one can do. I also want to move and make dolls and I believe that God will let me make dolls cuz it’s material things. Maybe in a half-assed way, but he’ll let me, nonetheless. Still, it was nice of Tom to tell me that although it’d stall the move, I could have in vitro right now if I wanted to. Yeah, right! Like God would let me? Like Tom may even let me? Of course, it’s 50/50 in my opinion as to whether or not Tom will block me, intentionally or not, but the offer is still much appreciated.

TUESDAY, MARCH 9, 1999

Just typed a few lines of Spanish in the freeloader’s file. That ought to confuse them. They were bits and pieces of Spanish lyrics of Gloria’s and Linda’s.

It’ll be interesting to see how the cock comes in to pick up the animal in about a half-hour, and in what car. If he comes at the usual time, of course.

Later...

Well, well, well. The cock just may be innocent after all. The cock, who just came in quietly in the dark red car, and who’s thoroughly bald as usual, may not be the fuck in the passenger’s seat of that gold car that woke me up Saturday, cuz the gold car passenger had some hair if I saw correctly. Unless the cock began growing hair, then shaved it off between then and today. Tom even suggested it could be someone new that the bitch hadn’t yet filled in on the rules around here, but she obviously wasn’t in a hurry to do so, since she didn’t come running outside right away telling them to can the music so she wouldn’t get complained on and evicted. Still, I have no regrets about this third and final city letter I’ve sent. Just for waking me up alone, that letter should be sent, and I really believe it may help ensure our peace till we can get out of here. Especially on Easter. Without that complaint, Easter may very well be a nightmare. It could be even with the letter, but I don’t know about that.

Looks like Mistake and Bitch got perms at the same time. Anyway, the cock was being driven by the usual dude with the head shaped like Bart Simpson’s. There was also someone in the back seat too, behind Bart. The kid sat on the cock’s ass. Hope they don’t get in an accident, and that’s highly illegal too, you stupid fuck!

Later...

Just began the book The Stalking of Kristen. A true story about a typical male that shoots his girlfriend, and how as usual, the cops and courts don’t do shit to prevent it. At least the guy killed himself afterward. If he didn’t, he wouldn’t do much time in jail, if he did any at all.

Speaking of courts that don’t do shit, Tammy said she can’t sever Bill’s rights cuz Lisa won’t do anything. Damn, Bill must’ve really threatened the hell out of her. Cuz I don’t think Lisa won’t do anything on her own. I think she would do something if that sick fuck hadn’t threatened her. Even so, aren’t the courts supposed to do something? What about those who aren’t old enough to talk? They should have brains enough to see Bill for the asshole he really is, and they should do something themselves.

Lately, I’ve noticed my teeth are whiter. It took a whole year and a half after quitting smoking for them to whiten up? Strange.

Tom’s answer to my question of why he feels we go to heaven and not just die off and have there be nothing afterward, was this: He feels that we’re more than just bodies. Therefore, it’s hard to believe that when we die, that’s the end.

Makes sense to me.

Got a Bob letter yesterday. His former roommate beat him up, so now he has a new roommate that’s older like he is. He’s lucky they even switched his roommate. I thought they didn’t give a shit who beat up on who in prisons?

He also says he got a letter from Kim saying she had no time to email me cuz she was too busy, and that she left for a cruise while Walter stayed back and had surgery. I don’t think Kim would be cold enough to go on a cruise while her poor guy’s having surgery. Also, she obviously found time last night to email me, cuz there were five emails containing jokes. I sent Tammy, Paula, and Bob copies of these. She never said anything else, though. Never mentioned the pictures I sent, so I asked her about them and about the cruise and surgery, too.

Speaking of pictures, I’m wondering if Bob really is that stupid, or if he was just being sarcastic. He asked what kind of hat I had on in one of the pictures. I assume he was talking about the one of me holding my hair out to the side superimposed over one of me standing with it down in front. Then he asked about the snow Tom was lying in. You mean he didn’t know that I superimposed a picture of Tom floating in the pool and put it in a picture of Tammy’s snow-filled yard?

Anyway, Kim’s jokes were great. Better than Evie’s. I liked the church bulletin message bloomers and the “e-moon.” A picture of an ass made with symbols. Mostly with 0’s. I copied that ass for Joebitch. She should enjoy it. Of course, I added kiss my ass, Joebitch to it.

These Glade plug-ins Tom got are awesome and they work so well. They’re fragrant things you plug into the wall. I guess it heats the fragrance cartridge and steadily sends off the scent. You can get refills, too. I guess they last for three months. I got Botanical Garden in the back room, which has two cartridges for large rooms. I have Tropical Mist in the living room and Country Garden in the bedroom. I have the Country Garden in the bedroom, cuz it’s the weakest one. I wouldn’t want a strong scent in a closed room with me while I slept. They work so well that I can turn the air cleaner off at night. Here, I don’t just use the air cleaner to clean the stinky rodent smell, but I also use it to drown out the daytime noise. However, with these things, I can turn it off at night and enjoy the nighttime peace. When we move, maybe I can get away with having the air cleaner on a low, quiet setting, as long as I have these plug-ins to go with it. I’m going to try other scents, too.

I don’t know if I’ll get Tropical Mist again, cuz it’s too citrus-like. I’m not really big on fruit smells unless it’s strawberry. The Botanical Garden is a little too perfumy. The Country Garden is great, but only for a bedroom. Elsewhere, it’s too subtle.

Tom noticed that Velvet’s earring was missing. Must’ve scratched it off.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 10, 1999

The braces went on one year ago today. The top ones did, anyway.

Still enjoying my Glade plug-ins which I recommended to Andy (he left a message wanting to chat at 1:00, but I didn’t get up till 3:00 and wasn’t ready to chat till 4:00, but when I called him back, I got no answer). They haven’t made me sneeze, thank God, and they haven’t made me anymore tighter than usual in the lungs. I may break down and just go ahead and make an appointment with the doctor to see if there’s anything she can do for the tightness I’ve had. Maybe just upping my Vanceril and moving out of the city will be enough, though. We’ll see. I can’t believe I can be so tight and short of breath a whole year and a half after quitting smoking. That’s just my luck, huh?

It was really nice to wake up to such a nice-smelling bedroom. Another cool thing is that when you walk from the back room to the living room and to the bedroom, it’s cool how the scents change. I was afraid they’d all merge as one and be one big confusing scent, but they didn’t.

Tom’s gonna get me boxes from work every Sunday. I guess on that day they have suitable boxes that aren’t too big and that will be easy enough to handle for moving. They also have lids.

I wonder if the city will talk to that bitch today about her rude, selfish company? I would think they’d talk to her before the weekend hits, although this weekend would probably have been pretty quiet anyway cuz of last weekend’s shit. I know their pattern. Like I said, I’ve dealt with their shit for three years and I refuse to take any more of it during my 15-20 or so weekends left here. So, if that letter spares me just one more outburst, it’s well worth it.

God, I pity the new owners. Like I said, Tom feels they’ll want to start off on the right foot this time around. Fat chance! If anything, they’ll be glad to have fresh victims to harass, with the hopes that the odds will be in their favor and that the new victims won’t complain or take any kind of action against them. The new owners may not come to figure out that that house is subsidized and that the bitch rents and doesn’t own. And she told me that September day in ‘97 not to go in her yard? Ha! I’ll go in your yard anytime I feel like it, bitch! Your house is owned by the city. That makes it public property. Not that I’d ever feel like it as long as I don’t get woken up again. You bet your ass I’d feel like going over there if I suddenly knew I couldn’t get out of here for years. I’d go over there to do two things. To sabotage that basketball hoop and to set that bitch straight about any cars that come into that driveway for once and for all and permanently like I wish to hell I did from the get-go. Maybe I even would beat that little bitch into submission without giving a fuck about how small she is. All the while I was doing this, I’d push for eviction and hope the new people wouldn’t be just as bad, or as bad in different ways, like with two collies of their own barking non-stop just a few feet away from me.

In reality, though, we are moving. Therefore, I hope this third and final complaint doesn’t result in the bitch’s eviction. I highly doubt it, cuz it’s not that easy to evict someone. The bitch and her sick associates may not be able to burn our house down since it’s hard to torch a brick house, but I still wouldn’t put it past her cronies to shoot at our windows and shit like that if they left first. So far, God’s answered my prayers of letting us go first. Now all I have to do is hope and pray that he allows them to read my writings. Like I said, I would guess that they would. They read my “hate letter” after all, and I’d think that any human being would be curious. Especially with that enticing table of contents I stuck in, as well as other strange odds and ends. The key, pictures, etc.

Anyway, to wrap up the freeloader shit, let me cover some strange shit I saw over there yesterday. I’m more and more convinced, though, that the 4-year-old isn’t the only kid over there. There’s a baby over there too, that’s about one year old. This is why Bill’s over there even when the older kid isn’t. He’s been watching this baby.

As I said, the cock and his driver, along with someone in the backseat, came to get the mistake in the dark red car at approximately 8 AM. By the way, this car could also be considered to be cranberry-colored, crimson, fuchsia, burgundy, maroon, or cinnamon. Maybe not maroon or cinnamon, though, cuz there’s too much pink in it to be considered maroon and not enough red to be considered cinnamon. I’ll just stick with calling it dark red.

At close to noon, Bill left, then returned about 20 minutes later. What was weird was that he got out of the car, shuffled around to the passenger door, and took out one white plastic grocery bag. Why couldn’t he have just taken it out from the driver’s seat? He was dressed a little young for his age too, in a light brown leather jacket. It might’ve been suede, but I think it was imitation leather. I don’t remember the shirt, but he had on black denim pants. Either that or navy pants.

Just minutes after Bill returned, the cock came in alone in the dark red car. By the time I stepped up to the window, I saw him emerge into view from the passenger side of Bill’s car with this baby, then go into the house. About ten minutes later, he came out, got in the car, and quietly left. Cock wore a light brown shirt or tan you might say, with darker brown/tan pants.

THURSDAY, MARCH 11, 1999

I couldn’t get into The Stalking of Kristen. Once again, too damn descriptive. I wanted to hear about what happened to her, not her whole life’s story. It’s like, who cares how she liked to decorate her bedroom? How about telling me about her shooting and what led up to it and all that? That’s why the damn book was written in the first place, wasn’t it?

So now I’m reading Gone in the Night. Another true story, but this one’s about a little girl who was abducted and murdered.

So far I’ve been right in saying Giselle wouldn’t arrive before today, and every day since we placed the order, I’ve strongly sensed she wouldn’t be coming. Till today. Today I don’t have a strong feeling she won’t come, but I don’t have a strong feeling she will come, either. What this means, remains to be seen. I still think the 10 days they claim it takes for people to get their orders is really 15 days. That’s how long it took not only for Maria but for the Ashton Drake dolls as well. Then again, didn’t Summer Dream take 21 days to get here? Anyway, if she doesn’t come today, then he’ll call them tomorrow. The day we ordered her, I did sense that this would be the day she’d come so hopefully she will. It’s just part of my shit doll luck, I guess, but at least I know she should be in OK condition. If she’d come really fast, maybe there’d have been a glitch within her.

I finally decided to see the doctor about the tightness I’ve been having. Of course, if there’s something she can do, I’ll just be swapping in one problem for another, but I get tired of struggling to breathe. Once again, if I’d known that things wouldn’t get all that much better if I quit smoking, I’d never have bothered, although it has helped tremendously with the wheezing. I’m virtually wheeze-free nowadays, but my nose and tightness haven’t changed a damn bit. I’m less congested too, but I still have to clear my throat at times when I sing. Anyway, I see the doctor tomorrow afternoon. After Tom gets off work and does the grocery shopping, we’ll go to a different used bookstore, then to the doctor.

If it wasn’t for the city, the fact that we’re moving, and the fact that my vibes tell me not to worry, I’d be totally stressing out over the weekend that’s right around the corner. Although my vibes are correct most of the time when it comes to them, I’d never have thought that they’d wake me up again. Well, I’ll think that and be 100% right on that one if they even think of waking me up again! Fucking blacks! Oh, how I’ve come to hate them! When we move, if I never see another black again, it’ll be too soon. I’m tired of the problems caused by them and Mexicans and of the shit they’ve caused me personally! From a rational standpoint, I’d be like, how can someone say skin color makes a person any better/worse? But after my personal experiences, I can tell you that skin color does make a difference when it comes to behavior. How many Hispanics have the class that Gloria’s got? How many blacks are like Steve (my neighbor on Woodside Terrace in Springfield)? One in tens of thousands is like them.

Tom told me when I got up at 12:30, shortly before he was to leave for work, that the living room plug-in wasn’t smelling as much. I had noticed this too, and that the back room one was weak, too. Maybe they shift in strength cuz now I can smell them just fine. What’s weird is that the living room one can be smelled best in the kitchen.

Now for some really cool news. For the longest time, I wished I could display a little picture of the written versions of the journals I wrote at the top of their typed versions. This word processor I use isn’t supposed to be able to show more than 16 colors. Every time we’ve tried inserting pictures in here, it always looked like shit. Totally unrecognizable. That all changed yesterday. Neither of us knows why. It was a spur-of-the-moment thing. I inserted a picture and it looked fine. So I went and scanned in all the journals and put pictures of them in their typed versions. I’ll put a picture of Gloria, Norah, a family picture, a pet picture, or something, at the start of each month of the journals that are done only on the computer. I went back to June of 98, which was when I started doing them only on computer, and inserted pictures up till this month.

Later...

Just made a lot of changes to the computer. I deleted stuff and added new stuff. Took some pictures of Katie, too.

Feelings of Giselle arriving today are now getting stronger. Hope I’m right!

FRIDAY, MARCH 12, 1999

Something up there not only didn't want me with women way back when and did everything to keep me from them, but something up there doesn’t even want me to have pictures of women, haha. I told Tom about those thumbnails I couldn’t get the full-size pictures of and he left a new website address for me to try before he left for work, but every time I was about to enter this photo gallery, I’d crash. OK, God, I won’t even look at women!

Why must everything be such a big fucking deal for me? Giselle never came, I can’t get a few lousy pictures, and everything has to be such a struggle to obtain. Why? Can’t I just enjoy some of life’s pleasant things without the big deal or the waiting time attached? Why do I always have to fight for stuff? Of course, if Dureen had just sent me my pictures instead of throwing them away, maybe I wouldn’t need to go looking for these pictures. Even my own mother stole from me and kept shit from me, the little thief! When I look back at the things I’ve wanted/want, I see a depressing pattern. I couldn’t have a kid, I couldn’t have a normal sex life, I can’t get dolls I order on time, I can’t get pictures on the web, etc. Must I always pay and be compensated for Tom and for the things I do have?

Anyway, speaking of that so-called abnormal sex life that I’ve come to not only accept but to appreciate its good points, one of them being its cleanliness, I’ve dropped hints to Tom that I’m anti-kid and that if I thought I could conceive, I wouldn’t let him near me during mid-cycle. The point is that Tom will use this as the perfect excuse to quit cumming altogether which is fine with me. I want him to be happy. So if we can both benefit from it, let him do us both a favor and not cum. No, it’s not that I fear that one in a million chance that I’d conceive (I probably don’t even have that much), it’s just that I know he prefers not to cum and I want him to be happy. It also keeps the sheets cleaner. So, if he can be doing me a favor while not doing anything to make his own self uncomfortable - why not?

Later...

Well, I did manage to find a couple of pictures I wanted and so did Tom, from what I discovered when I went to save them in my wallpaper folders. So I got about 5 of the 10 I wanted. I still can’t get into the first site I wanted to check out without crashing. I’ll discuss it with Tom when he gets in.

He’s gonna call about Giselle. Maybe we can get a discount on her. This is the second time dolls have been late and besides, I can’t know for sure that she hasn’t been misdelivered. Tom doubts she’s been misdelivered and with a box that big, I’d hope not! Not unless a certain mailman really was hell-bent on fucking things up.

Andy left me a message yesterday saying how excited he was that he got this temp job for two weeks and how he’ll be such a happy camper for two weeks. Sorry, Andy. I can’t be happy for you. You’ll only throw this job away. In fact, you probably won’t bother to show up for it, will you? Also, what do you mean you’ll be a happy camper for two weeks? I thought you wanted to work only part-time and supplement your income selling pot. If you don’t, then why don’t you just get a fucking full-time job?! And of course, it was on and on about how wonderful God’s been to him, too.

Later...

I am so sick of AOL and all its problems! I tried to go to other sites but kept crashing. When’s AOL gonna get their act together after so long? First we could never get online, now they crash on us left and right.

I managed to get even more pictures, although still not all I want. It’s a screwy system and it was hard for me to figure out how to get into this thing, but anyway, I got some more that are nice. They’re of Gloria.

Giselle ain’t coming today. If she hasn’t come by now, she won’t be coming at all, cuz as Tom pointed out, they usually like to get their packages out of the way first. Especially larger ones, so that there’s room for stuff they pick up. He’s more likely to deliver a small package right before he delivers the regular mail than he is to deliver a large package right before the regular mail.

SATURDAY, MARCH 13, 1999

I got up at 3 AM and Tom was already up. By 5:00 I was all showered and commented on how I wouldn’t stink when we got together. Then he said it’d be a while. Yeah, I’m sure you’re in no hurry for it, Tom, and that you’re gonna wait till the end of your day when your energy’s dwindling. He’s still such a scaredy-cat subconsciously! I’m not in the mood for it, as usual, since it’s nothing new and exciting, but at least it shouldn’t hurt. I’ve been using a cream for the irritation and I should be all broken into by now. Of course, something will come up within the next few weeks to keep us from having sex once a week, and then I’ll be faced with the decision of having to start all over again and go through all that pain again. Each time I have to start over, the harder it gets. I mean, the more reluctant I am to do so. If I could, I’d have sex once every 2-4 weeks. That’d give it time to build up for me since having it once a week or more can be too much and take the fun out of it, but my crotch just can’t take that.

Tom’s back to thinking I’m OK. I asked him how he could go from agreeing that something could be wrong with me, to the same old he’s been telling for years; I’m fine. He said those two statements aren’t necessarily contradictory. He said something could’ve been wrong for a while. Oh, so my body magically fixed itself? I don’t think so! Thank God that’s not how it works.

Later...

I’m doing the usual weekend stuff now - laundry.

Now this car that Marjorie threw at us has yet another new problem. Tom said there was water all over the floor of the passenger seat that he thinks is leaking from the AC. That’s nice.

I asked Tom what was going on with the $10,000 his ma was supposed to give us so we could avoid taxes. He said nothing was going on. That there was the final straw and I was just about as fed up as could be with his user of a mother.

”We help her move, but she won’t help us move?” I asked him.

He said he not only wants us to do things for ourselves, but he hasn’t told his ma we’re planning a move. I asked why, and he said it was because he doesn’t want to upset her and cause her to believe he’ll never see her again. Oh, poor, poor, Marge. That’s OK, though. We will move with or without her help, and yeah, we can do without her help. The only time that’s scary to think - what if she wasn’t around? - was when they turned our electricity off. Perhaps I’m being too harsh on her. We all have our flaws, after all, and compared to your average human being, she’s still pretty flawless.

When Tom told me yesterday there was a message from Andy, I asked myself what he could have to tell me about God this time, and sure enough, the message was all about how God’s such a miracle for him and how he’s oh so wonderful and all that shit. He said he was bawling his eyes out to God, begging him for the love he’ll never have since I know that if God’s ignored him this late in life, he always will. Then he said he awoke to find two roses on his car the next day from what he believes is a secret admirer. He said he doesn’t know who it is and that they left no note. As I told Andy in my reply message to him, that’s nice about the roses, but why doesn’t he meet a guy, fall in love with him, establish a relationship with him, then praise God and how wonderful he is to him? He’s thanking God a little too prematurely and giving him way too much credit. Until his life changes drastically for the better, and until he himself puts more effort into changing for the better, he shouldn’t be praising anyone. Now I’m not saying Andy’s a terrible person with the most non-productive life in the world. I’ve seen lazy, hopeless losers who make Andy seem like a model employee with a model life, but you know what I mean.

Marla sent me a joke that wasn’t too funny, but it was nice of her to do so anyway. I just sent her a few jokes right before I got hers, so I guess she felt she had to return the favor.

I saw Dr. Brown yesterday. Her nurse, who saw me first, used the peak flow monitor on me and said it was within normal range. The doctor, though, apparently didn’t like what she heard when she listened to my lungs. She said she could hear the tightness in my voice, too. How you sound/feel is more important than what a peak flow monitor says. She gave me a 5-day, low dosage of Prednisone, an anti-inflammatory. This stuff in the past would make me all sore and watery, so hopefully it won’t bother me now. She said to come back in next week if I’m not better. She agreed with my upping the Vanceril dosage which does seem to be helping.

There were a few more people in the waiting room this time around, including a couple of semi-obnoxious kids. One could easily be heard yelling from inside where the exam rooms were. Aside from the obvious reasons I don’t want a kid...they’re too costly, time-consuming, nothing I could handle, and too damn loud. There’s nothing more obnoxious and fraying on the nerves than the loud, shrilly sound of a child’s voice.

Before seeing the doctor, Tom called about Giselle. They said I should’ve gotten her by now (no shit!), they’re shipping another one, and to call if she doesn’t come by the 27th (Tom thinks she’ll get here on the 24th or 25th), but if this one doesn’t come, I’m either gonna quit doing business with them altogether, or find an alternative way to receive packages. Tom thinks the package was damaged and is on its way back to them, but I think the mailman gave it to someone else. It’s also possible that it came last Saturday before the freeloaders woke me up and that someone from over there ran over and swiped it. There had to have been a dozen or so people over there and I can easily see them egging each other on to who would swipe the box first. My number one guess, though, is that the mailman gave it to someone else. Once we move we’ll have a PO box or we’ll use UPS. These are more reliable, although UPS has a way of roughing up packages. They broke several pieces of my stuff when Dureen and Art shipped my shit out to me when I moved out here. It’d be pretty funny if we ended up getting this doll after all, and the one we ordered yesterday, and ended up with two Giselle’s. That’s not gonna happen, though. I think there’s a chance we’ll probably get just the doll we ordered yesterday.

Yesterday, we stopped at a different used bookstore that was twice as big as the one I had been going to. It had a lot of the kinds of books I like and I was surprised to find that they only had two Ruby Jean Jensen books. The good part of that, though, was that they had two books of hers I never read, so I was pleased to find them. I began reading The Lake.

I got 10 books for $20. I didn’t bring in my last batch of books that I got at the other place, but I will. They too, do credit. It’s half off the cover price of any book, normally, and then you get half off books you bought and bring back for credit. So if you pay $2 for a book, then bring it back, that’s a buck’s worth of credit you get towards your next purchase. Some of the books I got are by authors I’ve read other books by, and some are people I’ve never heard of.

We went to Walgreens after the doctor’s and browsed the store until my prescriptions were filled. I got another plug-in for the music room. I got a new scent too, of strawberries and crème, but it’s way too subtle. I don’t think I’ll get the raspberry scent then, and not the potpourri either, since that’s too perfume-like, but I would like to try the vanilla, the natural springs, and the tender breeze some time. We got a vanilla air freshener for the car. You dangle it from the mirror. I also put one in the bathroom.

Got a couple of puzzles, and was surprised to find this store had two tiny porcelain dolls. They must’ve been 8”. They were in a sitting position and they each had the same face and boring short hair. One had an ugly dress, one had an OK dress. They were only $8, too, a pretty good deal. Talk about phony-looking hands, though!

I was just looking out the side window to see if I could see anything next door when I saw something blue in their living room window. Then I realized it was the reflection of their recycle bin.

There are no bad vibes in the air, but if I get a bass treatment again like I got last weekend, those mother-fuckers are dead. Case closed. Of course, it’s still early for them. They don’t come alive till after noon, usually. Also, I don’t know if they heard from the city regarding my complaint yet. I would think so, though. I hope so.

Later...

Damn! How many people live across the street? How many kids? Do all these people live there, or is it just 2-3 people with lots of visitors? Tom thinks there’s a couple living over there in their late 20s with one small kid that’s too young to be let out (that would explain why it’s so quiet), and that they have other kids come to visit on weekends. We’ve seen a 3-year-old, a 5-year-old, and a teenager. Of course, these are approximate age guesses. Tom thinks the guy might actually be in his 30s and that these other kids that come to visit on weekends may be from a previous marriage. I, on the other hand, think differently. I think the couple is between 16-20 and that the kids that come to visit are nieces or kids of friends that they babysit. The 5-year-old could be the guy’s.

They’re so weird, though. They water their front yard constantly, yet they never mow it. It’s like they’re obsessed with growing weeds. Tom says it’s probably the first house they ever had. Obviously.

Tom sanded the bedroom door so it closes without much trouble.

Andy, who’s been a pest by leaving messages every day, left two, possibly three messages today. However, I think it was the freeloaders responding to the city complaint. That’s the feeling I got, but I asked Andy about it, and if it was him playing a joke on me, hopefully he’ll admit it. Meanwhile, I told him that just in case it was the freeloaders, I activated the anonymous call reject. The call came right before Andy left two long messages. All they did was sigh for a second, then hang up.

Andy’s messages were all about how wonderful God is, as usual. He said he’s just so thankful for any little thing that God sends his way that’s good. I can understand that. Most of us always appreciated good things. I know I don’t take them for granted myself. Then he asked me about my chat online with Marla, which he said I didn’t leave him a clear message about. Yes, I did. But thanks to his wonderful friends like Laura, I’m sure she erased it. He said she’s allowed access to the voicemail till April. Then he’ll be changing his code. The message I left was about Marla’s not agreeing (along with myself) with his type of friends, including Laura, so that’s one she’d certainly see fit to erase.

Later...

Tom’s out making the opening of Velvet’s wooden burrow bigger since he’s such a huge pig.

Meanwhile, guess which mouse died? Not Cocoa with the tumor, but Star. We noticed yesterday when I was changing their cages that she didn’t look well. She sure went fast for a rodent. Thank God, though.

Ashley was acting pretty weird just a minute ago. It looked like she was having a nightmare or a minor epileptic fit. Then she started cleaning herself furiously. She seems fine now, though.

Later...

Our lovely black bitch is doing just what I figured she’d do so far and that’s that she’s keeping it really low-key. Haven’t heard/seen a thing. She knows she’s been bad. She’s probably doing everything she can to make up for last weekend’s shit. She must really feel she’s walking on eggshells around me now and worry that one more complaint will get her out of here. I hope so, and if this really is the case, I should really be covered till we move. She may not even want to risk having company at all this weekend, no matter how quiet they are. I got the immediate feeling that that was the freeloaders calling and not Andy. Andy wouldn’t bother leaving a message, and if he did, it’d be more original than a sigh-type sound. I also told him he didn’t have to call me back unless it was him and I haven’t heard from him. So in other words, I’m almost positive the call was freeloader-related. I’m glad I got this call too, cuz it confirms my gut feeling about them hearing about my complaint. I think they heard about it at the end of last week. Just when they think they can get away with pulling their shit on me, I complain. Well, like I said, now that she’s been scolded a third time, she should be afraid to even breathe around here and I sure do hope so!

Red Lobster called asking if Andy, who’s scheduled to come in at 6:00, could come in an hour earlier. Does Andy know they think he lives at this number? I’ve told him that they’ve called here before on days he was either late or didn’t show up, but I guess his pot brain cells just spit the information right out of his head. I think the ditz accidentally wrote our number down on his application as his home phone number as well as a reference number.

The Lake is too descriptive and a little predictable, but it’s good anyhow.

We screwed earlier, and he did just what I figured he’d do, too. I had no irritation at all. That’s all gone. However, I was kind of dry. I guess I’m a normal woman in that area since that’s common at this age. We dry up with age. Anyway, he wouldn’t go on top, even though I told him he could if he wanted to. He conveniently complained that his knee just suddenly started hurting so he had to stop before going on top. Coincidental timing, huh? Now, why couldn’t he just say he didn’t feel like going any further? It would’ve been fine with me. He doesn’t have to do anything he doesn’t want to do. Maybe the fact that I forgot the KY nerved him up. KY sort of acts as a contraceptive cuz sperm can’t swim through it well.

Later...

In a half-hour, it’ll be exactly one week since the fuckers woke me up. I’m awake, I’m dressed, I’m ready for you motherfuckers if you want to fuck with me this weekend! You just dare fuck with me now, you sick, scummy, pieces of trash!

SUNDAY, MARCH 14, 1999

Went to bed at around 6 PM yesterday, so if there was any shit from next door in the evening, I don’t know about it. Tom, though, who was asleep when I got up a couple of hours ago, would’ve left a message if anything major had gone on.

I think the phone call and the extreme quietness yesterday, with not so much as a car door slam, tells me that the city got on their ass for me, thank God, and that there shouldn’t be a problem for the remainder of our time here. At least, not the kind of problem I dealt with last weekend. This is what I vibe and what my logic tells me, along with the telltale sign that phone call brought. Easter could still be somewhat of a problem, but every now and then the freeloaders surprise me, so I can’t know for sure. I mean, Easter of ‘96 and ‘97 was quiet, but Easter of ‘98 certainly was not, so we’ll see whether or not they even the score this year. I’ll be evening something of my own if they do!

Another thing that’d be nice to have, but it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world if we didn’t, would be a linen closet in the bathroom. One big enough for at least towels. I hardly use washcloths, cuz I don’t wear makeup regularly anymore (lazy me) and cuz I have my pink puff, but every now and then after I step out of the shower, I wish I had a washcloth, and I have to freeze my ass off going out in the hall to get one and opening the bathroom door much sooner than I’d like to.

I’d also like to get 2-3 more little baskets since it’d be nice to have one in each room and since we’ll probably have more rooms when we move.

Later...

Tom got up a little while ago and said that all he heard from next door was a car that came in without music just after sundown. It was a silver car like Bill’s, but a different make. He didn’t know if she was being dropped off or picked up. I have a feeling that another reason it could’ve been so quiet over there yesterday without any door slams is cuz she could’ve been out all day. I’ll bet it dropped her off and that it wasn’t just a visitor coming to see her. Usually, if she’s there all day, a slew of cars come and go all day. Or at least a couple of times.

There’s a chance, which I’m hoping will be the case, that she may not want to spend much time around here on weekends. Spending too much time just a few feet away from me may be too much for her to take, and she may want to go somewhere where she and her sick friends can be their loud, rude, obnoxious, inconsiderate, selfish selves.

I deleted the journal cover pictures I had put in, cuz they just took up too damn much space on floppy disk backups.

Later...

The so-called religious bitch next door ought to be all dressed up and ready to go within the next half hour or so.

Later...

All’s been quiet so far next door. Guess the bitch didn’t even go to church.

Tom’s napping now and he told me to get him up at 4:30.

Here’s how well I know this man and how I know he’s full of shit when he always used to tell me that he’s horny all the time. I told him it was up to him whether or not we had sex today. Of course, I’d prefer not to, and I’ll bet you anything he’ll make excuses to get out of it. Or he’ll offer just to go down on me. Or maybe he will start to have sex but will get some bogus pain before he can go on top or some kind of problem. Whatever we do, he certainly won’t go up top and even more certainly, he won’t cum. No, this isn’t a complaint. Merely an observation and the writer in me. What he does is fine. It’s when he says one thing and does another that bothers me.

Later...

Here’s the white car. The one with the thick black trim. Good. It seems that the one with the trunk rack brings more trouble than this one ever did. And brings the ballplayers, too. It doesn’t look like this peaceful Sunday is gonna be ruined by thumping balls, though, cuz this car is parked way too close to the hoop for that. All I heard was one car door and that’s all I’ve seen/heard so far. Apparently, there was just one person who came over and they went directly into the house. I’ll bet they’re trying to call me right now, but of course, they wouldn’t have the guts to call and let their number show up, and they certainly wouldn’t have the guts at this point to come to my door. That’d be a very very stupid thing to do. One of the biggest mistakes they could ever make. I kind of wish they would, though. Just give me a reason, you freeloaders! I’m surprised they haven’t come out of the house to talk - or yell, I should say - out in front for a while.

Later...

The white car just left with two adults in it. Again, I only heard one car door, and the person in the passenger seat didn’t look like the bitch, so maybe two people came over, but only one shut their door loud enough to be heard.

You know, a part of me regrets activating the anonymous call reject. Maybe it would’ve been fun talking to them. Then again, are they worth it? Nah. Let them be frustrated with unsuccessfully trying to get through to me.

Later...

Unfuckingbelievable! I think I’m feeling the faint beginnings of another UT infection. Is this my compensation for the fact that my lungs are better?

I started to pray to God to take it away, then caught myself and told myself, don’t bother. You’ve asked him for help with this before and all he’s done is ignore you, so forget it. You’re on your own. In fact, I’ve really had it with God and I’m just about done with him. And I mention how Andy constantly talks about God! On so many pages of my journals, there are references to God. Well, I don’t want to sound like one of those religious fanatics, and I’m tired of trying to justify his actions in my mind to try to ease my fears about God and his true intentions which aren’t good for most people. Most people are just too blind to see it, though. They don’t want to believe that God is mostly bad and not good. And if he is mostly good, then there’s a devil out there that’s more powerful than he is. You can call it a God, you can call it a devil, the point’s the same - there’s something up there and it’s a negative force. Yes, something up there blessed me with Tom and with all kinds of things, but I can still never forgive God, or whatever, for not allowing me the right to say yes or no to having a child. It’s my life and my body and I’ll always resent not having much say in what I do with it. Even if I understand that God did right by not allowing me a child, and even if I don’t want that anymore, it was still cruel and wrong of him, or whatever, to take away my choice as a woman. As a human being. He took away my right as a person. Perhaps this is why I feel driven to lose weight. Not just because of how Dureen taunted me about it as a kid, and not just because I feel I’d look better, but because it’s a form of body control I do have. I can be the one to decide whether or not I’m thin or fat. Perhaps I really take advantage of what little free will he gives me. I tried to myself, God’s blessed you with so many other things, even if he did take away your full bag of rights as a woman, so you’re being selfish by having any ill feelings towards him for that and for your childhood.

Well, sorry God. No matter how much you’ve blessed me, the pain and punishment you’ve inflicted upon me for reasons I can only guess, are bad enough. That’s just like when people would say I should still love and respect my mother even though she’s shit on me left and right. I don’t think so! A line has to be drawn somewhere. I mean, should a woman continue to love and respect her husband if he starts beating on her? Well, I appreciate the good God’s done me in the past, but he’s mostly done me wrong and bad, and for that, I can’t just accept that with the good and simply be OK with God.

Lastly, what kind of good God inflicts so much pain and suffering in this world? That keeps people from having love? That allows murder and other violence?

Later...

Paula read my mind. I just told her in the letter I typed her that I’ll be calling her within a few days (when the kid is in school). But she just called and beat me to it. We talked about the usual till her cordless phone started going on a static fit and she threatened to knock the shit out of Justin for playing with the phone and acting stupid when given orders. She said she’d call back.

You know, she’s breeding the classic serial killer. This is the classic way to come up with one of those - the father that doesn’t give a shit, the abusive mother. I can guarantee you anything that if this kid doesn’t grow up to kill, he’ll at least rape and beat. Along with being a drunk, a druggie, a thief, etc. He’s gonna hate women. I don’t see how this kid wouldn’t hate them with a passion with the way Paula treats him. What if this thing ends up stronger and tougher than her? Maybe she’ll be in danger and not just other young ladies he may date or pick up wherever.

When you constantly threaten and slap a kid around as they’re growing up, and when you constantly play with their heads and verbally and emotionally abuse them, you’re gonna almost always end up with an aggressive person on your hands. I should know.

MONDAY, MARCH 15, 1999

If Andy were smart, he’d change his security code now and not wait till April 1st. I left a message yesterday asking him for Eric’s address which Marla wanted so she could send him a birthday card. I haven’t heard back from him. The only reason I can think of as to why that is is that Laura erased it to spite him or something like that. So I just left him a message asking if he got the message I left about Marla’s wanting Eric’s address, and about the freeloaders. I just deactivated the anonymous call reject, cuz I’m anxious to see if I hear from them today.

I mentioned our going out today to check out manufactured homes and find out what package deals are out there. Such as what land is included, where, and how much land is prepped by them for electric/plumbing. Of course, I can bet you anything I won’t hear a word about it from him. Not on his own, I mean. He won’t ask about it on our machine or wish us luck with our hunting or anything like that. He’s too self-absorbed.

Andy needs more friends like Michelle and I. OK, so I’m not perfect, and Michelle may be a flaky, immature, naïve, irresponsible, pothead, but she’s a sweetheart otherwise and I’ve never heard of her being anything like Laura. Laura’s way more self-destructive and potentially hazardous to others, so to speak.

In freeloader news, I was pretty much right - no music, no yelling, no ball games. Nothing more than a total of maybe six car doors all weekend. I’d usually get a hell of a lot more than that. Especially when he lived here. Then it was six slams six times a day.

I saw the silver car Tom was talking about. It visited for 3-4 hours yesterday. A Buick Century.

Later...

I’m to get Tom up at noon. Then we’re gonna go check out a fancy place that sells manufactured homes that’s about a half-hour away. We figured we’d start at the top of the line and work our way down before going to a nearby place that’s cheaper.

Tom says he’s gonna apply for a day job within the bank and that he hates his job. I’ll believe it when I see it, cuz I know Tom. If he does do something he says he’s gonna do, it isn’t when he says he’s gonna. I wish he could get a job with at least one weekday off. That way, if we wanted to go shopping, we’d have a day available.

I buffed my nails yesterday to make them shiny and smooth.

I think I may’ve killed this UT infection that was just beginning. I didn’t have a chance to kill the last one, cuz it came on so strong and sudden. This one was mild enough to kill before it could escalate, so hopefully that’s the end of it, but why do these things happen right before I’m mid-cycle when they do happen?

Shiny’s been acting really weird. Tom figured out why yesterday, but now he’s at it again.

He wouldn’t come in and eat. He’d only eat if I put the food outside. Then yesterday, Shiny followed Tom like a little puppy, as he was going to take the garbage out. That’s when Tom noticed the sparrow he killed by the pool pump. So I guess he just wouldn’t eat till one of us saw his kill that he was so proud of. I should go out there and see if he made another kill somewhere, cuz he’s not eating again.

I made some really cool changes within the rat’s cage yesterday. I had Tom cut a piece of wire mesh to make a shelf for them that’d be cleaner. I secured the shelf with bag ties. No more solid shelves for these things! They’re just too gross with all their shit and piss. Meanwhile, what was really cool was how I chained tubes all over different areas of the cage for different little nesting spots. I’d like to forget about getting more shelves and get more tubes instead.

I should go exercise now. I may be able to firm up some spots a little bit, but the sad part is that the craters won’t go away. Once you get them, they don’t go away. You can lessen them, but that’s about it. I can change how I feel, a lot easier than I can change how I look. I have craters on the fronts of my thighs. When I began doing those squatting exercises, the muscles there were undoubtedly firmer after about a month, but my thighs looked just like they did before I started these squats.

Later...

Andy left a message saying he’s gotten all my messages, so don’t worry about Laura erasing anything. Also, he swears it wasn’t him who made that sighing sound on Saturday. I believe him. He said he’s been super busy so that’s why he didn’t get back to me sooner. He gave me Eric’s address which I emailed to Marla.

I believe today was Andy’s first day on a two-week filing job. I know he told me about the job last week, but I think he started today. Anyway, he said he had to go home to puke, so I know what this means. In other words, this is it. He’s done with these people if they didn’t already fire him and he’s not going back, even though he says he will tomorrow.

Tom said he might be coming down with a cold. Yeah, I’m sure he is. He’s due for one with his nothing immune system. I knew changing his eating habits wouldn’t help him. He’s just destined for a cold every 2-3 months. It’s fucking ridiculous, though. There’s no excuse or reason for this, other than that it’s a department he’s hexed in. Of course, his hex is my hex cuz now I have to get sick, too. I just may be able to go years without getting sick if it weren’t for him and the damn colds he gets all the time.

TUESDAY, MARCH 16, 1999

I’ve got soooo much to write about!

The kids that get off the school bus weren’t as rude today. Yesterday, they ran around our yard and driveway for a while before going home.

Yesterday, Tom got his new hard drive (a replacement for the one that went corrupt on us) and Giselle came! We were surprised she came on a Monday, too. She’s beautiful and kind of tall. I was right about her face and waist being smaller than Maria’s and Bailey’s, but she’s not as skinny as Summer Dream. The women dolls tend to be thinner, cuz they don’t have the baby fat that the little girls have.

I was gonna keep the second one we ordered, but then I decided I didn’t want twins, so Tom called to stop her from being sent, but she’s already on her way. We’ll send her back. Then Tom’s gonna ask that they reimburse us for the postage, sure that we’ll get a discount from them on our next purchase. There are three doll shows on Thursday that I’m gonna watch.

I can’t believe I’ve gotten ten dolls in just five and a half months! This isn’t counting the Barbies, of course.

Anyway, her dress is beautiful. It’s blue satin with pearls and pearl sequins that shimmer across the bodice and waist. She has a layer of white lace over the skirt, and the feathers in her hair, which would be very hard to get out, look nice after all. I’ve kept her hair up. She has long curls at the sides, and then she has a pile of curls on her head in a ponytail. I’ve kept it up cuz it looks better this way. Besides, the hair that’s up isn’t as long as the side pieces that are down, so it’d look funny down. I have enough dolls with long flowing hair anyway, and the way her hair is suits her best, just as with Summer Dream who also has curls gathered up on her head. She came with a pearl bracelet and necklace.

I took her outside so I wouldn’t have to use the flash, and I took a full-bodied picture of her, as well as a face shot. I’ll send a copy to show Tammy and the girls and keep it on the computer. I did something really cool which I want to do with all my dolls. I want to put a face shot and a full shot on a screen-size page within Windraw and put a watermark background with their names. I did this for Bailey and Giselle and it’s really cool. You can pick the spacing, the font, the size, the color of the text, the background color, etc. I probably won’t do this for Anne and Edie, though. They look so good side by side, that I’ll just take one picture of them together.

It’s getting harder to decide who’s got the best dress. I’d have to say the best dress is still on Summer Dream. I bought her primarily for her dress. Giselle has an OK face and OK hair, so I’d say I mostly got her for her pose and dress. She does have nice vivid blue eyes, even if they’re not very realistic looking. The detail on this doll and her dress is amazing for just $50. She has detailed separated fingers. Not Maria. And she was $60. Maybe that’s cuz you weren’t meant to see Maria’s hands like you are with Giselle.

Our weather, which had gotten a bit summery, has cooled down once again and it even drizzled today. Typical early week weather.

Yesterday, the UT pain crept back up on me, although faintly. I got some more cranberry juice and today - I’m pain-free. Once again, though, I just swapped. I swapped back from having better lungs and UT pain, to not having UT pain and tighter lungs. Yeah, my lungs were slightly tight today. That could very well be due to the weather, so I’m not gonna worry about it at this point, but I’ll still call and report tomorrow to the doctor.

Later...

Got a weird message from Evie saying she lost her voice. She says it’s on its way back and asked if I’ve had that happen to me and that if I have any advice for her, she’ll take it. It was kind of funny. I mean, I’m sorry she had to go through this, but what was funny was how she asked if I’d lost my voice. That’ll be the day! Not with how loud and strong my voice is. And do I have any advice for her on how to get her voice back? Nope. Just how to strengthen and shape it up (singing).

Marla left me a message asking for Eric’s girlfriend’s name and number, which I asked Andy for and he gave it to me right away.

Tom said she’s right about manufactured homes going down in value. However, we don’t intend to sell it, so it doesn’t matter.

I nearly burst out laughing when Marla asked if Andy really was sick or if he just hated the job. I just talked to him a while ago. Today’s the day he said he’d go back, but sure enough, and as I guessed, he was home when I called him. He said he was sick from nerves which he couldn’t help, and I thought to myself, No you’re not. You just hate your job and don’t want to work. Then, sure enough, he said he hated his job. I knew it. I just knew it. I spared him the lectures though, about getting out and working so he can live, cuz it’s his life. I can’t tell him what to do. I wonder, though, just how long he’s gonna keep this up. He’s alone now and has to pay the bills himself. His part-time dealing may give him free pot and cigarettes, but how’s he gonna pay his rent and bills working just a few hours a week? How can he expect to sit at home and eat all day, watch TV and talk on the phone, and still be able to survive?

As usual, he had to stuff his face while we were on the phone, which is so gross and distracting to me. It makes it so hard to keep up with him cuz then he talks intermittently in broken sentences and it’s so boring. He claims that that’s the first thing he ate all day. Oh, yeah, right! And it just had to be when he was talking to me. How convenient that he happened to feel such a need for his first bite of food when he got on the phone with me. Some people are so selfish! That was not the first thing he ate all day. I guarantee it.

Trying to talk to tell him my exciting news wasn’t easy. He can’t sit and listen. He has to ramble on and on and believe me when I say it’s hard to butt in! As usual, he had to be negative and bring up all kinds of what-ifs. He can never just be happy for someone and not question it.

Yesterday we checked out these huge, gorgeous, modern manufactured homes! The original idea was to get a simple house, then build our dream house, but what I saw was our dream house. Nothing’s sure yet, we didn’t actually pick one out and put the 5% down on it, but we got some info., some figures, and we are gonna shoot for this one that’s 79 G’s, 2,153 square feet, w/ 4 bedrooms. You can’t get one with just two bedrooms or just one bath! We could use bedroom 2 as a guest room, bedroom 3 for his computer and a little TV for him, and bedroom 4 for my computer, my stereo, and my exercise equipment. Then there’s a huge kitchen, a dining room, a living room, and a family room. The family room can be a project room (doll making, etc.).

The bathrooms were pretty nice. The master bath had a big oval tub at one end of it, and a shower stall at the other. The other bathroom didn’t have just a sink and toilet. It had a tub too, but just a tub, so we’ll have to tell them to put a shower in it. Tom can mostly use this bathroom and I can mostly use the master bathroom unless I have to pee and am in the living room or near that bathroom. Tom will pretty much use the two bedrooms at the end of the house, and I’ll use the one closest to the living room and I’ll use the family room, too. I don’t know what the difference between the family room and the living room is. The living room’s slightly larger, but they’re just rooms. An option is to make the family room a fifth bedroom and wall off that room in a way that’ll add a hallway leading to that room, the master bedroom, and the utility area, but I’m not sure we’d want to do that.

Our plan was to be out of here in June but the catch is that we may not be able to get out till July or August. It figures, huh? Everything always takes longer than expected, but I’d rather wait and do it right if I have to. I just hope that if we don’t get out by June, it’s only an 8-or-so-week delay and not an 18-week delay. The reason we’re thinking July or August is that although it only takes 4 days to put the house together, we have to wait 9 weeks, cuz then we have to pick out the land, sell this house (we’re gonna ask 79 G’s so we’re not stuck here forever even though it’s worth more), then they have to get permits and line up a driver to drive it to the land we pick out (it’s a triple-wide that they move in pieces) and then they join the wall seams, put the carpet down, etc. We’re hoping to find land that’s already prepped with a phone, plumbing, and electricity which shouldn’t be a problem. Even the smallest one they’ve got is bigger than this house and blows your average house away with its ultramodern, unique layout. The one we want is like a maze and I got lost in it at first! I love the Spanish arcs in it (maybe Bailey would like nice sitting in one) and the frosted skylight in the kitchen. A cookie-cutter house would be cheaper and cost around 50 G’s, but then I wouldn’t be able to have the fun of choosing my own options. There are so many too, ($8,000 worth) and it can take hours just to do that and it’s all included. Appliances come with the place, then you get to pick out your color carpet, draperies, etc.

The further out you go from the city, the cheaper land is. However, we don’t want to go too far cuz he still has to work here.

Anyway, we’ll move this summer if all goes as planned, but we can’t move till we sell this house. We don’t want to be strapped with two mortgages. This house we saw really makes this one look sick. This house is 1400 square feet (maybe 1200 not counting the garage). Not a shoebox, but it’s still an old, dumpy-looking place (built in 1950) and it’s too small for our tastes cuz we both love space and we have a lot of stuff and so many hobbies that need the room.

After moving, we’ll put a wall around the house for more privacy, even though we’ll be pretty secluded compared to where we are now (the wall will also keep out coyotes and javelinas, I hope!) and then we’ll add a pool. The pool is a lower priority and if we have to wait a while on that, fine, cuz there are other ways to cool off. We can run through sprinklers and hold hoses over our heads, and as small as I am, I can fit in a kiddy pool. Tom, who loves basketball, will also want to put a hoop somewhere, and maybe we’ll put in a slab of concrete for me to skate on.

The different options are pretty neat. For example, you can have a closet fill up part of a bedroom wall and have a little sitting area next to it. Or you can replace the sitting area with additional closet space so that that whole wall is a closet. That’s what I’d do. I also don’t see a need for two sinks in the master bathroom. For us, it’s just a waste of time, money, and counter space, but I think that’s standard for the model we want. Hey, I’ll take it over leaky roofs! I wonder if they have water softeners as an option. I hope so. That’s a must. I hate the taste of the unfiltered water here and how it leaves water spots on things. It’d be nice to have a trash compactor, too.

The house has no AC, which is a bit of a con, but one we can live with. The windows here aren’t very openable for airing the place out when we bomb, use shitty-smelling chemicals, etc., cuz the few windows we have are either bolted shut or don’t open at all. But there are plenty of openable windows there, and since I don’t smoke, it’ll be OK. Just a bit costlier, so we’ll have to watch it. I’ll dress warmly in the winter and go practically naked in the summer. It doesn’t have an attic, so that’s why we couldn’t put a cooler in. We’d also have to string cable wires and shit like that outside the house. Tom can do that kind of thing, though.

Andy was saying that something about manufactured homes always bugged him and that he wondered why they were so low in cost, and that they were the first houses to blow away in storms. First of all, the house is made just like a regular house, and it’ll look just like a regular house that was built right where we put it once it’s set on the ground (the wheels and axles stay on it forever, Tom said, and technically, you could put it on top of a basement. You’d just have to dig the basement deeper than normal). They’re solid enough not to blow away in storms and the reason they don’t cost too much is that manufactured homes usually go outside of the city and outside of the city is cheaper. Most people want to live in the city, so that’s why city homes are more expensive. As Tom pointed out, though, it’s close in cost when you add the land in. This place doesn’t sell land, but we were given a Realtor’s name. Tom’s gonna look for land online when he gets up. He told me yesterday that a guy online got a 5-bedroom house for only 40 G’s. That’s cuz it was repossessed. Getting a repossessed house is cheaper, but then there goes the fun of picking out colors for carpet and stuff like that, and other options.

We discussed the different ways we could possibly go about moving soon enough without having to settle. I’m used to settling, giving up, and doing without. It’s no problem for me and it’d be OK (if living with Tom meant living in our car, I’d do it in a heartbeat, before I lived anywhere without him), but we’re still gonna do what we can to have our cake and eat it too.

We could buy land right now, put this house up for sale, hope it sells in about a month, then store our stuff and move into a rented trailer till we can get the house put in. There are different things that could happen, but right now it looks like we’re gonna stay here till July or August, move into the model we want or one like it, and get all the furniture we want too, upon moving, which I’d prefer to getting in chunks. Tom says that after we move, Ma would give us money, cuz she’d want us to use it towards the new house. That’d be nice of her, and I think with that, we could get all the things we hoped to start off with, minus the car and pool. But we could the murals, the furniture, the doll-making stuff, more plug-ins, phones, laundry baskets, fake plants to add a bright, colorful cheerfulness to the place, etc.

I scanned a picture of the layout for Tammy of the model we want, not that we may not find a very similar model for a cheaper price at some other manufactured home dealer, and a list of the standard features with the exterior, interior, kitchen, bedrooms, bathrooms, utilities, appliances, insulation, and construction.

The only negative about it is that it’ll be a bitch to clean, but it’ll be well worth it. Tom promises not to trash it and not to have sloppy piles of clutter to spoil its looks and make it harder for me to clean. It’d help a lot if he kept this promise, cuz then it’d be easier to keep up on it, and it’ll be healthier for both of us. I don’t think I’d clean the whole thing at once. I’d do a few rooms one day, a few more the next, etc.

I feel really blessed and boy is I psyched up! To think that I, of all people, am gonna live in such a big, beautiful house! Each day I have to spend in these tiny old rooms is all the more I know I’m gonna appreciate the beauty I’m to live in. It’s gonna be so open, bright, spacious, colorful, and new. Here, it’s old, dark, dull, and small. Not to mention a bit stressful and claustrophobic. You just never know what the people of this warped city are gonna do. Don’t get me wrong. I still think Phoenix is wonderful compared to Springfield, Boston, Hartford, and Norwich, but cities are cities and I’ve had enough of them. I don’t want to be in the heart of a city anymore.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 17, 1999

I don’t think my favorite bitch worked today. I got up around noon, looked out, and didn’t see Bill’s car. The white car came in shortly after, though, for a little while. Why would the bitch have St. Patrick’s Day off? Even the mail came today, so maybe something else was going on. Maybe the bitch was sick.

I don’t have much to write about today. The weather was damp and drizzling in the early afternoon. Then when it cleared up, I shot some more doll pictures, so now I have them all on the computer. I printed out my favorites - Angel, Patrice, Rapunzel, Maria, Bailey, Giselle, and Summer Dream to mail to Evie to see. Just got Evie email, too. It was the usual - bitching about how motherhood is so tiring and how you get sick a lot. With Tom’s childlike immune system, he’ll be sick any day now, and then I have to get sick, too.

From what Tom told me last night after looking for land online, our tentative plan is to buy land ASAP and put the house up for sale that same day if we can. I guess this will be happening around May. If it takes 4 weeks for the house to sell, then we’ll have about 5 weeks to wait till we can get the house if we don’t get one already built, so I guess we may stay in an apartment or motel as a layover. Tom doesn’t think it’ll come down to that, but whatever we do, we do. We’re gonna do our best to get out soon enough and get the house we want without waiting forever or settling.

Tom says he’s stressing over his job he hates so much but is hesitant to look for a day job since I worry that he won’t have business hours free. Here we go again. The guy has a hard time with the idea of change, so he uses me as an excuse. When’s he gonna just worry about himself? I understand he values my input and I appreciate that, but he’s the breadwinner, so he has to get what he wants. I can adapt to and accept whatever he gets and we’ll make time for appointments and shopping and shit like that, just like the rest of the world does. We just may have to do things when it’s more crowded, that’s all.

I reported to the doctor’s office to let her know I was feeling better. Yes, I’m better today, too.

Later...

The Buick Century is here now. I still have yet to see who the driver of this thing is, but I know it’s something black.

I asked Tom if he thought they’d bass the fuck out of me once they see the house up for sale and he said no. For their sake, he better be right. I still won’t hesitate to pop them good on my way out of here if I have to. If that gold car had banged in with me awake…

Later...

OK, I just saw 5 people leave in the Buick and it looks like it’s the cock’s new choice of car. The cock, the bitch, the mistake, a one-year-old, and someone else that may’ve been a boy of about 10 years of age, just left. No music. Just yelling and screaming. The voice that sounded like a young boy’s (I never saw this boy, if it really did exist) yelled ow! Then it yelled out about something that just got its face. I had my ear pressed to the door, but all I could hear for the most part were yells and squeals. Wonder where they’re all going on a weeknight? See, I still doubt the bitch worked today. Well, they should all come slamming in (which is better than basing in) before 8:30-9:00, cuz at 9:00 on weeknights, the bitch goes beddy-bye and off to dreamland.

Later...

Damn! Thank God the renters aren’t next to me with their constant coming and going. They just came in and slammed their door so loud, I thought it was next door.

Cock and company are back. Its bitch and its mistake and the cock himself, all went in the house. They came in quietly, too. I was stunned. I don’t like this lingering visit on a weekday. I don’t “sense” he’s moving back in, but if he did, that’d be about the dumbest thing he could do with 3 complaints lodged against his bitch, and me to deal with. Well, whoever said these people had brains, anyway?

Later, the bastard left.

THURSDAY, MARCH 18, 1999

Just took a picture of the basketball hoop from the living room window for our lovely freeloaders to have after we move.

Speaking of lovely freeloaders, the cock’s here. The last two days, Bill hasn’t been around. On Tom’s way in from work this morning, he said the Buick was parked deep in the carport. Deep in the carport? That’s not a good sign. Neither was the little outing nor visit yesterday, but as Tom advised, I’ll try not to jump the gun, cuz it could just be a case of Bill being sick. Maybe that’s why the cock’s here. Just taking over Bill’s job until he returns. Tom questioned that car being the cock’s, asking why he’d change car styles. I don’t know, but I saw the bald mother-fucker with my own eyes yesterday. This must also explain why I kept hearing door slams yesterday that I could’ve sworn was next door, yet I couldn’t see anything.

The fact that he didn’t stay overnight yesterday is a sign (hopefully) that he hasn’t moved back in, but why does he feel the need to park so deep in the carport? Just so he can amplify the sound of his car doors by funneling it through and off the block walls? He doesn’t usually nestle deep in the carport like that unless he’s living here. Is he just trying to hide and be less noticeable from the city? If the city wanted to check her house out, they’d check it good enough to see his car in there. Like I said, hopefully they wouldn’t be that dumb. Don’t they know his moving back in if that’s what we’re leading up to, would totally be risking eviction even if I weren’t in the picture to rat on him if he dares come back here. I’ll bounce the fucker right back out, I swear! But like Tom said, we’ll wait and see. If Bill isn’t back by April and if he’s still spending an awful lot of time here by then, then we’ll have to see about taking some action. I may not be in the back room where his car door slams really sound like someone slammed the side of the house, and we may be gone by Labor Day, but I will not be this fuck’s neighbor again.

Later...

I went and looked out the music room window and could see the top of the Buick. But it’s not deep in the carport. It’s at the start of it. Well, while I was in the bathroom right before checking, I heard a loud crash or bang of some kind. He probably went out on one of his ten trips out a day that he usually goes on, and he slammed the door really hard when he got in. That’s probably what I heard.

Two nights ago, while I was in the bathroom, Tom said he heard a loud crash. I didn’t hear anything, but he was probably hearing the cock. If that’s what it was he heard, though, then that’s not good. This was late at night. Why would the cock be there late at night if he weren’t staying there? And if he were staying overnight, he’d park real deep in the carport for sure and Tom wouldn’t necessarily see the car on his way to work unless he backed up further than normal and made a point of looking for it.

Well, you can bet your ass I’ll be looking for him tonight in that carport. It’s hard to see cars in there in the daytime, cuz as short as I am, it’s hard to see over the wall. I could just barely see the top of the Buick just now, and I’d have easily missed it if I weren’t looking for it. At night, it’s easier to see, cuz the streetlight causes any vehicles to cast shadows on the opposite wall of the carport which is the wall of their house.

Later...

I printed a picture of just the driveway/hoop for the freeloaders, and one with my niece Sarah standing by the hoop. Hopefully, the cock will park in the driveway not too close to the carport after he picks up his bitch. Then I can snap a picture of the car too, for their little collection.

I’ve been having awful aches in my upper left molar. I prayed to God to help me with the pain, but of course, I was ignored as always. Once again I had to give myself the old pep talk and remind myself, He doesn’t exist. And if he does exist, he doesn’t exist for you. And if he does exist for you, it’s not usually in the right kind of way, so just forget it and go it alone. It’s all you can do. Meanwhile, I took some ibuprofen. It’s a lot more powerful than God.

Later...

The cock left at 4:40 and hasn’t been seen or heard of since. So much for getting a picture of him parked in the driveway today, since my light’s just about gone, but that’s OK, cuz I did them some other favor. I decided that if they were gonna get a couple of manila envelopes from me, they should get them in style. I popped off the clasps so they wouldn’t jam up in the printer. At first, I was gonna put pictures on them, but then I figured they wouldn’t look too cool with the envelopes being the tannish color they are. So I put her name and address on the fronts of both of them in eye-catching, decorative fonts. I numbered the envelopes 1 and 2 on the back flaps. Naturally, 1 will have the earlier stuff and 2 will have the later stuff. On the backs of both envelopes, I put partially mixed-up journal excerpts from the late 80s. I did the same on the front of one of the envelops, and on the front of the other one, I put the “highlights” of the table of contents - how she and her cronies vandalize our house, have sex in the yard, gets in fights, gets arrested, that kind of BS.

FRIDAY, MARCH 19, 1999

OK, Marjorie. This is the final straw and damn you to hell, woman! May you hurry up and die NOW!!! Oh, how I’d love to smother that woman with a pillow in her sleep! I wish somebody would, since she just won’t go belly up fast enough. The piece of shit car that the user insisted we have, and that’s caused us so much time and trouble, just broke down. Tom called and asked that I give him a number of a towing company. She better buy us a new car and pay these fucking towing costs, so help me God! Oh, how I’ve come to hate that woman and you can bet your ass I’ll be sick the day of her funeral.

He told this bitch, by the way, about the manufactured homes. He said she asked if it came with a little house attached to it for her. Fat chance, Marge!

I’m so fucking sick and tired of this woman, directly and indirectly, coming between us. Instead of being able to prep the house this weekend, we have to play car. The whole weekend’s gonna be shot to having to fix this fucking car.

Poor Tom’s stuck at a Circle K for about an hour having to wait for the fucking tow truck. Every single fucking time we try to get on with our lives, she has to interfere in some way shape or form. I wonder if Tom will have the time to move even with just the overtime they stick him with at work, let alone his having to constantly repair that fucking car and deal with his mother.

I wonder what our young, weird renters are up to, who never seem to work. They’ve been making trips unloading and loading things up in a red van.

Boy, am I a damn good detective! Got some goodies for those freeloaders.

I’m pleased to say that Bill’s back, which I noticed upon waking up at 11:00. I also noticed a white city van, too. There were two city guys. One was black, but I’m not sure about the other. He may’ve been black. Anyway, they were apparently doing something with the evaporative cooler. I got pictures of them on the roof and of the city van parked in the driveway. The guys had their backs to me, but what makes this camera cool, is that you don’t have to aim its lens right at them. You can hold the thing down by your waist and no one would know you were taking a picture of them, since the lens swivels. You can take a picture of someone above you while holding the camera downwards. After they left, the cock appeared in the street. Then a white city car pulled into the driveway and a black lady with short straight hair got out and went into the house. No doubt making sure the bitch didn’t have anyone living there that wasn’t supposed to be there, after my complaint. I got pictures of both cars.

The cock was its usual bald self with its gold glasses, and this time, it wore a white beaded necklace of some kind.

When the lady came and got back in her car, the cock came up to her door with a neon pink piece of paper. I don’t know what that was all about. There was an air about that cock, though, that said, See? I’m not guilty of doing anything wrong. It was like he was trying to butter her up and kiss her ass. Did he have a guilty conscience? Then the lady left and the cock got in his car. He was fumbling with a blue shade screen. He has two twin tree air fresheners dangling from his mirror. I took the binoculars and tried to read the license plate which was a little hard to see with our bird of paradise twigs in the way. I made out what I think is JYD, but then the little shit pulled away before I could read more. I guess this is an older car too, since it has those old maroon-colored plates.

You could say I’ve gone from being disappointed in Andy, to mildly worried about him. He just won’t work. He can’t keep living like he has been forever. He said he quit the filing job cuz he hated it so much. Then he told me that yesterday he began his first day at another temp job which was great. Then today, the phone rang at 1 PM. I got a feeling it was Andy calling, who shouldn’t be calling if he were at this job which is a day job. Sure enough, it was him leaving a message, and he said the same thing - he came home sick. He says it’s his stomach and he doesn’t know if it’s nerves, the flu, or what. He says he thinks it’s the cigarettes, he wishes he could quit, and wants any advice I could give him. As I told him, you just have to make up your mind to quit and stick to it. Everyone’s different as to how long their cravings last. It was 4 months for me, but I’ve known people who have told me their cravings only lasted a few weeks. I’ve also heard some say a year. I think another reason he could be having stomach problems could be due to how much he’s eating. Even he admits to eating like a pig. It seems he lives for food, pot, and phones, and nothing more. As he says, he’s just not interested in anything. It’s sad to see him go to waste like this. He’s too smart and too good of a person to go on like this, but once again, what can anyone do? No one can make him change but him.

In his reply message to me, he said he hasn’t eaten hardly at all this week, cuz he’s been puking up everything he eats. Therefore, he’s hungry but is afraid to even try to eat. Maybe all he needs is sleep, he says. Right. Sure he hasn’t eaten hardly anything all week. He’s lucky he’s only 160 pounds with all he eats.

Later...

Here’s the update - Tom said the car just stalled on the freeway, so he coasted to the shoulder of the road. Using the cell phone, he found out that our free roadside assistance was canceled due to low usage. Thanks for notifying us, huh? He said there was a broken rotor. As God would have it, the nearest parts store was 4 miles away. So he walked to a place to buy a new rotor (of course, there had to be another parts store right next to it). Then he took the bus back, getting off the bus earlier than he knew he needed to. He was afraid the car would be towed or that there’d be a ticket waiting for him when he returned, but God was at least willing to spare him that much. So he put the new rotor in, but it didn’t help shit. He did manage to get the car into a Circle K parking lot, but then that was it, the car was dead. This is when he called me to look for a towing company. Tom says it’s either due to a blown head gasket, a cracked block, or a cracked head. Yeah, I sure wouldn’t mind cracking some heads myself! Meanwhile, almost right on time, the car was towed back here and pushed into the garage where the dead piece of shit is sitting right now. Before Tom told me it could be permanently dead, I had a strong vibe saying it could never be fixed. It’s totally trashed.

I’ll write more about it later.

Later...

Tom and I walked to the Circle K that’s by our house shortly after he got home, and bought a few things to hold us over till he can do the regular grocery run. It was a bit warm, but still a pleasant walk. On our way up there, we walked up W. Weldon before turning onto 19th Ave. On our way back, we came down Whitten Ave., a block over from W. Weldon. A small to medium-sized dog began following us, but its owner called it back, thankfully, even if Tom said it was friendly. As Tom pointed out, every other house had a dog in its yard. It was sickening. This is one of the reasons why Tom decided not to put the doggie door in the back door. It’s not worth the time and money. We have enough other shit to do around here. Also, the next people, who’ll more than likely have a pet, will have a dog. And it won’t be allowed indoors.

Tomorrow, we’ll more than likely have a new car. Not a brand new one, but something that at least runs. Tom spoke to Mary and Marge. Although Marge will buy us the new car, there goes 4 or 5 thousand dollars towards moving. So, in order to get more money from her to help towards moving, he may have to bribe her, so to speak, since she’s selfish. If we told her we were moving to Nevada, all she’d do is think, He’s not gonna be able to take me to appointments anymore. So since there’d be nothing in it for her, she wouldn’t help us by giving us money. If we offer to let her stay with us some weekends, she may be willing to help a little more if she sees there’s something in it for her, too. Especially since she gets sick of dealing with Mary and Dave’s filthiness, their dog, and them eating nothing but fast food shit.

What if she were already dead and had given the money out? Then what would we do? As Tom said, we’ve got to start saving some money at some point so that we can bail our own asses out of trouble in the future.

I’m so tired of being the underdog, I swear! I know things could be worse for me, and perhaps this is selfish of me, but when I look at all these normal people around me who can keep schedules, sleep with their spouses and have normal sex, drive cars, work regular jobs, make decent money, have the houses they want, have the kids they want for free, it really bothers me. We’d have to pay thousands of dollars to have a kid that we no doubt still could never have if I decided to do the in vitro someday, we live in an old dumpy house, have a dead piece of shit for a car, and he makes so-so money working 50 or more hours a week. Forget about trying to fix and deal with the other things like the schedule, etc. He says he should be getting a raise in a week or two. Hopefully, that’ll help.

I don’t know if I’ll be able to get the house I want, in the perfect location, but I just hope Tom’s right when he says we should still get out of here in July or August.

SATURDAY, MARCH 20, 1999

The bald freeloader’s car is out front now. Mr. Cock was fumbling around the backseat, then the front. I see the car seat in back. Then it shut the doors and went into the house. Looks like it’s taking its bitch and mistake somewhere. I can’t believe they’ve been a couple for as long as they have. These are the last types of people you see in a long-term relationship. Like I said, I think she’s got him wrapped around her finger really well. He’s probably too afraid to leave her for fear of her temper doing something like destroying his car, spreading gossip, etc.

The baby and the 4-year-old are in the backseat now from what I just saw. Whose baby is this? Did he have this kid with some other woman who’s dead or in jail or who doesn’t want the thing? Is it the bitch’s nephew? I think it’s her nephew or a friend’s kid. Its mother is probably in jail. Either that or it’s just too doped up to care for it.

Finally, after a few more door slams, they left. Always gotta make a big production out of coming/going. Hopefully, they’ll be gone all day. As I said, there’s a chance she may not want to be around here as much on weekends cuz of me, which I hope is the case. I think she’ll want to go somewhere where she and her associates can be the assholes they are.

Later...

I just stepped up to the window in time to see the black-trimmed white car pull out. Probably came to see if the bitch was home, but of course, it’s not. Why not call and find out if she’s home? I heard music at a very soft volume, which was probably turned on the moment they saw she wasn’t home. That way they wouldn’t have to worry about her bitching at them to turn it off, so she doesn’t get evicted. Like I said, her friends are just as rude and as selfish as she and her cock is. Her “friends” have no respect for her whatsoever.

Wish Tom would hurry back with the new car. Not literally a new car, but one that’s 10 years old instead of 20. Mary took him car hunting at around 11:30.

Can God just ever allow me to be associated with a car that runs and functions well enough? Except for my parents, every single person I’ve ever been friends with or involved with had pieces of shit for cars if they even had cars in the first place. At this point, I’ll take anything as long as it runs and is trustworthy enough. It’d be nice if all the doors opened too, and if it didn’t have such a thunderous idle to it. It’d also be nice if windows and panels within the dashboard didn’t rattle obnoxiously. Another thing I hated about our now-dead 1984 Ford Tempo is that the seatbelt was so high, and on a short person such as myself, it was really uncomfortable cuz the fucking thing would go across my neck. Not my chest.

Tom says if he can fix the Tempo for little time and money, he may haul it to the back driveway with a $400 for sale sign on it. My vibe is that it can’t be fixed.

Tom said he promises to never trash this car. That’d be nice. He also says that although I’m number one, he’s also gonna consider a car his mom can get in and out of easily enough. I told him that’d be OK as long as he doesn’t sacrifice our needs, which he wouldn’t do. We come first, then his mother. Like I said, we already have a child. We’ve had one ever since.

Believe it or not, we screwed on a weekday. It was Wednesday evening if I remember right. At first, he was looking at the calendar like always, then he mentioned if it’d still be OK to screw since I mentioned being mid-cycle when noticing that the UT pains would come right before that. I reminded him that I couldn’t conceive, but that if he felt uncomfortable cumming - don’t cum. This was no problem. He wouldn’t even dare go on top. Instead, he said we were still “easing our way back into sex” which I’ve already done, as far as my crotch is concerned. He just can’t come out and admit that he doesn’t want a kid any more than I do. Instead, he says he wants one and that now would be a good time, when asked. Yeah, and I want a $10,000 phone bill!

I may have been slightly wrong about the footage here in this house when I said it was about 1400 square feet. That’s counting the garage. Not counting the garage this place is about 1200. About the same size as the apartment I had in S. Deerfield. The model we looked at that I fell in love with, was about twice the size of this house, twice the size of the S. Deerfield apartment.

Later...

It’s just after 4:00, but Tom’s still not back yet. I hope this isn’t a bad sign. I mean, I know just how much the evil forces above live for giving us a hard time with things like this. Right now, although I don’t sense it, my biggest worry is that it takes longer than August to get out of here. I feel like August is a year away. The more anxious you are to do something, the longer the wait seems. I feel sometimes like these walls are closing in on me and like the closer we get to moving, invisible hands will jump out of these walls and try to hold us back. I want this to be my final escape, so to speak, after waiting and trying to get out of so many places before - my parents’ house, hospitals, schools, apartments, and this house.

The renters are being their usual odd selves, with several different cars coming and going. Some of the cars are cars I’ve never seen before. Reminds me of the freeloader. They’ve been working on cars, or loading or unpacking cars, and hanging out front all day. There are several different people. I heard one of the car’s stereos, but once again, it’s not those kinds that are all bass like the freeloaders have. It was really soft, and only for a minute. I just don’t get this driveway bullshit of theirs. Instead of sitting in the privacy of their backyard on lawn furniture, they sit in front in their cars. First they sat in a jeep of some kind with the doors open. Some people were out of the car, some were in the car. And now they’re sitting in a maroon car that I see there a lot. They’re too fucking strange man, I tell ya!

I’m totally amazed that these people haven’t been a problem as far as noise goes. I only occasionally hear the faint beat of their drums within their car stereo for a few minutes. This is a moving sign. At least I think it is and I hope it is. Noise is usually more of a problem when I’m not planning an immediate move, although I did move out during quite a riot from the NHA and Bell Rd. The butch at the Vista wasn’t too quiet, but she did quiet down a bit in the end when she saw that if I heard her, that was one more night’s sleep she was to lose on account of it. Meanwhile, I got Robert to shut up before I moved out of there and up to be next to the butch and behind Andy. Bonnie and Steve weren’t a noise problem, but they’d have become one if I hadn’t moved right before Steve got his daughter from Georgia who was about a year old. The M’s shut up right before they moved. So, I do see a slight pattern here. It goes under Murphy’s Law. Just like people are more likely to be able to lend you money when you don’t need it, people seem to shut up when you know you’re on your way out and therefore, aren’t as worried about them.

Later...

Now that was weird. I happened to take a casual glance out the window just now and saw the cock pulling out. You mean he dropped off his bitch and those two kids that quietly? Wow!

See what I mean, though? That bitch is gonna want to spend the bulk of the daytime away from here on weekends. Fine with me.

Later...

Looks like our weirdo renters packed up their driveway/car party and have headed indoors.

Where the fuck is Tom? This could only mean bad news that he’s still gone, right? For it to take all day to find a car?

SUNDAY, MARCH 21, 1999

We got a much better car than we expected. For just $5,000 we got a 1991 Ford Taurus. I can’t believe how nice it is for being that old and at that price. It’s fully loaded, except it doesn’t have dual airbags. It has a 90-day warranty and 123,000 miles on it. We’d have preferred a light blue color, but it’s white. A good color for the desert, though. It rides really well and it’s such a comfy car to sit in. We’re already talking about taking it somewhere for a weekend. Maybe Vegas, Laughlin, California…wherever. We’ll probably have this car for about 5 years. We don’t like to travel much, we don’t often haul a lot of big stuff, so like I said, it suits us well. It also has tinted windows, ideal for AZ, and coin and cup holders that you pull out from where the radio is. We also have roadside assistance that really does exist, too! I couldn’t believe how shiny and new-looking this thing was. I expected it to be filthy for being a used car, but it wasn’t. It looks a lot like what the bitch’s cronies drive.

Later...

I began to panic when I saw it was around 6:00 and Tom still wasn’t back. I called Dave to ask if he’d heard from Mary and he said he had just been contemplating calling me to ask if I’d heard from her, but not to worry about it at this point. Shortly after that, Tom came in just as the sun was setting and we went to Jack-n-the-Box.

As we pulled in (we parked in the front driveway) I saw the bitch’s porch light was on and commented on how someone was coming. Sure enough, the white car pulled in and they had to have seen us. I said to myself, you being seen is gonna stir this bitch up. That bitch always makes a scene of some kind after someone connected with her sees me or hears anything going on over here, and I knew I could bet my life on the fact that the visitor ran and told her immediately that it saw me. I’m sure that was the first thing out of its mouth. Sure enough, the bitch came out and made it a point to talk real loud for a few minutes before the white car left.

The original plan was to push the old car out of the garage and around to the back driveway, so the new car could take its place in the garage. Of course, if Tom hadn’t been such a slob, we could’ve pushed it to the other side of the garage. Anyway, I told him he wouldn’t get the thing to start and that’s exactly what appeared to be the case at first. It sounded like a horse whinnying when he tried to start it. Amazingly, though, it did start up, although it screeched badly, and he got it to the back driveway.

Our weird renters came out to hang out in their cars, as usual. They’re always watering their yard, washing their cars, and working within the hoods of their cars. They were watering the yard today, washing the maroon car, and working within the hood of the red car.

That cock had me really worried earlier that he was moving back in, even though I didn’t sense it coming.

When I got up at around 2 PM, I looked out and saw three tires sitting in the driveway by the basketball hoop. Meanwhile, the cock was parked deep in the carport. I mean really deep. And this had me a little worried. I caught a glimpse of him in a white undershirt and before too long, the car and tires were gone.

At around 5:00, it was back deep in the carport again and at its trunk doing God only knew what. I couldn’t see. This had me really worried for a minute there, cuz this is exactly the pattern leading up to when he moved back in in June of ‘97 (it lived here 3/1996-11/1996 & 6/1997-7/1998). It began spending more and more time here, parked deep in the carport, and it unloaded stuff from its trunk. Tom checked the dumpster, but there were no boxes like when he moved in the last time. If it were moving back in, it’d change the long-dead obnoxious security light bulb in the carport for when it’d be out bopping around the carport and slamming doors on me till mid to late evening every fucking night.

Tom was telling me not to worry and that he’d leave and was probably just unloading something for the kid. Oh, I heard that kid, alright. And the bitch. They weren’t interested in getting away from me today. They were interested in trying to badger me with their nosiness. I’m sure they’re rather furious over the last complaint. Anyway, I know these people are naturally noisy no matter who’s around them, but still, I’m sure a lot of the screaming that could be heard easily enough in the rooms on their side, was hyped up regarding me. The bitch, kid(s), and cock hung out in the yard yelling and screaming for about 20 minutes. I knew right away they didn’t get a dog, cuz I never heard barking. I don’t know what they were doing, but he did leave, fortunately for all of us.

Tom says he doubts the cock knows about how sound gets amplified by block walls that are just a few feet away from a house, and you know, I thought about it and I’d say he’s right. This cock would never have the brains to know something like that. I thank God for their lack of mentality, cuz if they really wanted to, they could have him move back in, but not let it show. They could hide it from any inspectors to make it look like he’s not living there. Hell, that bitch could put his razor and shaving cream in her box of tampons, not that this fuck has any hair to shave, but still, it could be hidden. They could make sure he kept most of his clothes in his car and that he only took the bare necessities into the house. Most of which could be hidden under a mattress. The inspectors don’t check that thoroughly. Let’s just hope these sick fucks stay stupid sick fucks. They’re so lucky we don’t intend to stay here. If we’d had it in mind to stick around, this bitch wouldn’t be living there. I’d have had her tossed out years ago.

The white car came and went today, and that’s it.

OK, time to check for email, do some singing, do some reading, and exercise.

Later...

So God’s gonna win after all. I took a water pill yesterday and the day before and managed to wake up at 105 pounds today. But now? I’m all the way back up to 109½. Bet you if I hadn’t taken the water pill, I wouldn’t have gained a whole 4½ pounds. OK, God, I won’t cheat. I’ll lose weight the natural way; by practically starving myself.

MONDAY, MARCH 22, 1999

Wow. Andy actually said, in response to my message to him about the new car, that he was happy for us, the car sounded nice, and he can't wait to see it.

He wasn't negative. I thought he'd say something about how much he hates those types of cars or something to that effect.

Now for some more bad news. I would've thought that the next mouse to die would be Big Cocoa, but instead, I found Little Cocoa dead. She was sort of in view, cuz she was partway out of a burrow. Then I noticed that Shy didn't come out for her share of cheese. I couldn't find her at first. She was buried inside one of the boxes that have that colored crinkled paper. I felt through the box and when I felt cold hard fur, I knew I'd found her. I'm surprised to lose two of them at once, but these mice were at the end of their lifespan. I wouldn't be the least bit surprised if we move with just Katie and Ashley unless they've got some contagious disease that'll kill them all. So, since I've only got five mice, and know that three of them are old and will die soon, I'm just using two of the Play City cages. No aquariums. If I'm right about just having Katie and Ashley when we move, I'll just get one male mouse to impregnate these two.

TUESDAY, MARCH 23, 1999

I never got a message from Andy today, but I doubt he went back to work. As Marla said, who used to be a pothead herself, pot kills all ambition.

I got an unexpected call from Minnie, but she’s not worth calling or talking to. Besides the fact that I’m not a phone person anymore, I hardly know her, and she’s not quite my type. She’s a naïve kid, if you ask me, but it’s sweet of her to call every now and then and I appreciate her sending me that article on Bob like she did. She won’t be able to call after August, hopefully.

I’m not looking forward to Easter, which is getting closer and closer, but you never know with these sick freeloaders, cuz any day could be a holiday over there.

Not that I give a damn, but the bitch made it a point to talk real loud again in the driveway. Besides the cock pulling in and out and Bill being over there as is usually the case on weekdays, a black car that I’ve seen before, but not too often, visited for a while around 6 PM. The bitch, holding the bald baby, and the 4-year-old mistake, all had to see this visitor off. Whose is this baby? Maybe it’s one of the twins that the cock’s supposed to have made when he cheated on the bitch - ha, ha, ha! Get it? I’m referring to the letter I sent the bitch a couple of years ago, claiming I was his mistress, pregnant with twins, with the hopes that the letter would get him kicked out. Yeah, right! I should’ve known better, too.

We screwed earlier since we didn’t get the chance to on Saturday or Sunday. It turned out to be a disaster, but this time, it was all my fault. Totally. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut and I don’t know how many more years it’s gonna take me to learn to just shut up and keep my curiosities to myself. He does not like to discuss sex. If you even dare try, it really gets him going and he’ll turn it around on you and insist you’re making a big deal of it. People do that with subjects that are really touchy to them and with subjects they haven’t been particularly honest about.

The sex itself was fine. There was no irritation, he went on top without excuses, and all was fine. Afterward, I commented on how nice the sex was and he said, “We’re almost to where we were before.” I asked where that was, but he basically brushed me off. After I washed up, I told him, “I’m sorry, but the curiosity’s killing me. What do you mean by we’re almost where we were before? He said, “Well, I didn’t cum.” I was thinking to myself - Gee Tom, that’s your choice, isn’t it? Then he got all hot and bothered when I told him it didn’t matter to me if he came or not, and why did it suddenly matter to him? He also insisted I asked the same questions over and over and made a big deal of it. I did? I thought I was just asking a few questions once out of natural curiosity. The point is, is that I should’ve known how he’d react, and I should’ve kept my questions to myself. He’s very old-fashioned sexually. You don’t discuss it if you don’t want him to get uncomfortable or defensive.

Once again, mixing sex and relationships is a bad thing. I don’t know if it’d be this complicated if he had been normal sexually all along, but remember, he’s gonna have a guilty conscience no matter how much I’ve come to expect him not to cum, no matter how much it’s OK with me if he doesn’t, and no matter how much he doesn’t want to cum and risk impregnating me. He’s still gonna feel guilty about what he’s doing, which has been basically lying to me in this department from day one. The only one that’s been keeping him from cumming regularly is himself and he’s been deliberately, knowingly, and intentionally doing so. So despite how I now feel about it, it’s natural for someone that’s guilty of being deceiving, to get defensive and turn things around on the other person.

And by the way, where were we? Cumming three times a year? There’s not much difference between cumming three times a year and cumming no times a year if you ask me, so why does he feel the need to cum three times a year? If he’s that nervous about cumming, he shouldn’t cum at all. Period.

Later...

What, Joebitch? No coming out to yack at the top of your lungs to the black car tonight? Well, that car doesn’t come around too much. Instead, the cock’s here now. The trunk of the car’s open.

I still worry about this cock moving back in. I’d like to hope, once again, that neither of these people is that stupid, but I recognize a pattern when I see one. He’s visiting too much and I don’t like the unloading shit from trunks lately. Especially from deep in the carport. We’ll just have to see what goes on this weekend. If he were on his way back in, I’d think he’d complete the comeback over this coming weekend.

The more I think about it, although I hope to hell I’m wrong, the more I disagree with Tom’s belief that they won’t bass the shit out me upon seeing the for-sale sign go up. Yes, they will. They’ll figure, what the hell? She’s moving, so why not make her last few weeks here hell? They’ll pay dearly for it if they even think of harassing me again. What did I do to these people? God, what did I ever do to these people?

Jesus Christ! I just heard a male yelling, making some hooting sounds. Right away I thought it was coming from the freeloaders, but he’s gone and they’re in the house for the night. It’s the renters. They are so fucking weird! They’re hanging out front with their front door wide open. Are they gonna leave their door open constantly when it gets over 100º? Don’t they have a ton of bugs in their place? The sound this guy made was a definite, definite I-want-attention call. This worries me, too. Does this mean those stereos that are all bass are on their way in to be played daily for more than a few minutes at a time? Is society really that desperate and lonely? Do people really need attention that badly? Especially from people they don’t even know? They want just anybody to notice and acknowledge them. Sick!

Later...

I haven’t heard anything else since that little attention call, but the renters do have company tonight. There are four vehicles over there and the door’s still open.

I forgot to mention that yesterday, for about five minutes, I could hear bass thumping shortly after I got up at 2 PM. In the middle of a weekday? That’s not a good sign. Anyway, I couldn’t tell where the hell it was coming from. There was no one next door but Bill and no one was visible in any vehicles that I could see in driveways across the street. It must not have been soft and close, then. It was probably loud and far away. Unless it was coming from inside someone’s house since no one on this street seems to work. I swear each house has at least someone that’s always home. Most of the driveways I can see have two cars and there’s always at least one car in the driveway.

Am I hearing things, or did my computer speakers just talk? It sounded like a scanner or a CB type of voice. I only heard it for a second. Every now and then, when I’m leaving messages to people on the regular phone, I can hear someone’s outgoing message on their answering machine. Well, we won’t be here much longer, and it hasn’t interfered with any of our phone calls, so I won’t worry about it. Especially since I’m not a phoneaholic.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 24, 1999

Here’s a classic example of just how unfair life is: Tom and I lose money and time from each other and our lives to help his mother move and see that she’s taken care of for the remainder of her time, but who’ll be there for us when we get too old to fend for ourselves? No one. Absolutely no one.

I rearranged my little drawers last night. I have a set of parts drawers that I store my beads in for the most part, but I also added my sewing stuff to it, too.

The palm tree plant I got from Marge is in such a boring plant holder of brown wicker, so I decorated it with colorful beads.

I’m reading the other Ruby Jean Jensen book now called Night Thunder.

Andy shocked the shit out of me by actually going back to work. Good for him! I didn’t think he would. He said he hates the job for the most part, but he knows he has no choice. He’s alone now in that house and he has to work in order to live.

I totally understood something else he told me. So far, for this job, he’s keeping his mouth shut. Meanwhile, people are taking it the wrong way and considering him stuck up. See? People are just never fucking satisfied with the ways of others. They hate you if you talk, they hate you if you’re quiet. You talk too much, you’re obnoxious. You talk too little, you’re a snob. You talk an average amount, you could be anything! No one’s ever happy. I gave him the same advice, though, about not mixing business with pleasure, keeping quiet, etc., but I also reminded him that he’s not there to please others by talking less or more. He doesn’t owe anyone shit.

Paula left a message yesterday morning saying she just got home after being in jail for three days after being picked up on warrants. What warrants? I’m sure they had to do with fighting, but where’s Justin? Did they take him away? That’s a stupid question, though. You don’t take a kid away from its mother. Not in this country, anyway, no matter what they’ve done. I still can’t believe they took Robert from her, although they definitely did right by doing so. She shouldn’t have Justin either, and if you ask me, if a mother’s not fit to raise one of her kids, she’s not fit to raise the others. I tried calling her back but haven’t reached her yet.

Minnie’s tried calling five times. What is it that she’s so anxious to tell me all of a sudden after so long? Well, it can’t be that important, cuz she hasn’t left a message since the first message she left when she called the first time.

Later...

Guess who came today? Giselle. And of course, she was just about right on time too, since I’ve already got her. A part of me wishes I didn’t have Tom call to try to stop this one from coming, cuz although her side hairs are shorter than her back hairs, I could’ve evened them out for variety. It would’ve still been long. I also could’ve redressed her at some point.

Got only one call from Minnie today.

I finally heard from Kim. She sent me a brief but newsy email saying she was on a cruise for 11 days. If I could only take one more trip in my whole life, I’d want it to be a cruise, but not for that long. Just 2-3 days would be good enough for me. She said she plans on calling me soon. I just tried to reach her but got her machine. I’m looking forward to hearing all about this cruise. I guess she went with her grandmother, but I’m not sure. I don’t know why Walt didn’t go. Guess he had to work, being a dentist and all that.

I decided that instead of keeping a daily weight chart in my miscellaneous file, I’ll record my weight every five days.

I guess I’ve gotten used to the air fresheners since I’m home a lot. Tom says he smells them when he first comes into the house, then he gets used to them. I smell them, but not as much as I did at first.

Once again it’s gonna cool down to the low 70s and it won’t be back to the 80s till Monday. Since we’re gonna be moving this summer, I hope it’s a mild summer, but even a mild summer in Arizona is hot!

Later...

It’s been three hours and I’m still groggy as all hell from the Benadryl I had to take shortly after I got up.

The renters are being their usual strange selves. They’ve had the hood of the red car open for hours now. What work do these seemingly new and good cars need so often? Maybe they’re as hexed with cars as Tom is.

Another week and April will be here. I still worry that there won’t be enough time for Tom to prep this house. Imagine if we really could move in July or August or sooner, but couldn’t cuz he just didn’t have the time to prep the house in order to sell it? That’d really piss me off! A part of it wouldn’t be his fault, either. It’d be the fault of his boss mainly and probably his mother’s, too. My worst fear is that she ends up in the hospital right as we’re about to buy the land and sell this house. Or when we go to prep it. We’ve got about 40 hours’ worth of work to do, maybe more. Tom says it’s no problem, but I fear that for the zillionth time, he’s just overestimating himself. He says he’s gonna get going on the patio roof this weekend. I hope so!

I think Parker and Nickolena’s birthdays are coming up. I forget Parker’s birthday, but I remember Nickolena’s. She’s gonna be five yet it doesn’t seem she’s been around that long. I’m sure it must feel like ten years to Evie, though.

Once again, I find myself wondering why I wanted a kid like I did for a while there. Why would anyone want to put up with so much just to gain so little? Well, it’s better than that awful depression I went through. Crying day after day cuz I knew a child was 100% impossible.

Tom’s trying to tell me that the neighbors around where we’re moving to won’t be like these city animals and that they’ll be the same neighbors in 20 years. Maybe this is so for most people living out where we’re going. I know this is true, but I also know just what the Gods have ordered for me. How much do you want to bet that our nearest neighbor will be one of those few loud, selfish, rude, inconsiderate assholes that belong in cities? And if they are any good, they won’t be our neighbors for 20 years. They’ll move right out as soon as we get there and in will come a pack of bass-thumping freeloaders or a herd of screaming Mormons. Whether they’re white or black, there’ll be some kind of problem, but the idea is to get the bass far enough away from our house so that even if it’s turned up really loud, it can’t wake me up. Not till the stereos that can be heard from state to state get here. I’m not stupid. I know it’s just a matter of time - it may take ten years - before the noise catches up to our house.

We did it his way in this house with these neighbors, but I’m gonna tell you something right now. I promise this to myself, to him, to anybody that’d listen, we’re doing it my way with the next neighbors. As soon as they get close enough and loud enough to be a problem, I’m going after them myself in my own way. I’m not gonna ask the city or anyone else to take care of the problem for me. I don’t like to operate that way and have others fight my battles for me. So in other words, I’ll want to beat the living shit out of them and make sure that the first time they harass me is the last time.

Later...

Good, God! The renters are still working on their cars (the maroon one came to join the red one). They’ve been gunning the engine on one of them for several minutes now. They’ve been working on these cars now for six hours. Maybe they’ll wrap it up soon and go inside.

THURSDAY, MARCH 25, 1999

He keeps saying everything will work out alright as far as getting out of here in July or August, but how? How can we get the time and money to do all the prep work we need to do? Tom says he makes a thousand dollars every two weeks, but still, how’s he gonna get the time? He says to trust him and that he intends to “plant seeds” in his mother’s mind about giving us money, but I don’t know. I still think she won’t give us any money till after we move, whenever we move. Or after she dies. Marjorie, you fucking bitch! We spend time and money moving you, but do you care to help us? No, of course not, you selfish user!

Even Mary’s tried talking to her about how it’s nice that she gives money when people need it (sometimes), but what about giving money out of the blue? Does there always have to be a reason? But Marge just doesn’t give a shit.

Thank God Tom got up when I went to make iron-on T-shirts, cuz without his help, the shirts would’ve been a total bust. I did most of the work myself, but he had to help with a few pictures. He really saved the shirts! I did two animal shirts for myself of past and present animals. There’s Piggy, Velvet, Measles, Spunky, Patch, Cocoa, Katie, Ashley, Ratsy, Butterscotch, Porky, Mickey, Bunny, and Shiny. Then I did a T-shirt for Mary with a family picture that Tom printed out for her months ago.

Later...

What? First my lungs are tight and now my voice is tight? It felt like someone was choking me when I was singing a little while ago. I swear, there’s always a problem when I sing! Can’t God just give me an ability and let me use it with no restrictions?

Guess the renters aren’t gonna hang out front and play car tonight.

I made another animal T-shirt and I like the way it came out.

Minnie tried twice more to reach me. She left a message too, saying to call her and she left her number. No thanks. I’ve got nothing to say and phones bore me. No offense, Minnie, but I just don’t have the patience to sit on the phone anymore. It was even hard for me back when I was into phones. Andy would want to stay on for 3-4 hours, but after an hour or two at the most, I’d be bored silly and want to go do something else.

FRIDAY, MARCH 26, 1999

My vibe says we will be out of here in July or August. Tom said he’s 95% sure we will be out of here in July or August. My logic says no way. He went to his ma’s today and tried to discuss our moving, but as usual, she was too preoccupied with her own damn self, but no matter how much money was available to us, I still don’t see how the hell we’re gonna get this placed prepped by late May to put it up for sale at that time. I hope to hell my vibes are right and my logic’s wrong. Still, I’m gonna try to write off moving this summer from my mind. Logically speaking, October or November should be when we’ll move, although I strongly don’t sense that at all. I hope I can trust Tom to know what he’s talking about, but like I said, he’s notorious for overestimating himself and for biting off more than he can chew, and even he himself admitted this a long time ago.

It still really pisses me off to know there’s no counting on Marge to help us get out of here on time, after all the help we’ve given her. Just when is this woman going to die? Not soon enough! By God, not soon enough!

Later...

Andy wants buttons sewn on his pants, and the dentist wants to reschedule me. I don’t know when a good time to do Andy’s pants will be, due to how my schedule is now. I left him a message to get back to me about it. As for the dentist, I’m sorry Doc Smith had to have eye surgery, but I’m tired of these people having to reschedule me. My schedule was perfect for this Monday, but now I have to play appointment games with them all over again. Will I ever again be able to see these people when scheduled?

Tom picked me up an appetite suppressant, but it’s too soon to say how helpful if at all, it is.

I straightened Rapunzel’s hair the other day. It was very wavy and fell to her ankles. After I straightened it, it was a few inches past her feet.

I sent Nickolena more doll pictures, as well as doll pictures for Paula, who says she’s gonna get into collecting, too.

Paula claims she got a doll that’s “as long as your arm falls” for just $7. No fucking way, although I asked that she send me one and I’ll send her money for it. I won’t count on it, though! She also says that she’s been busy, but hasn’t forgotten about the pictures she says she’s sending me.

Andy’s filing job ended. What’s he gonna do now?

SATURDAY, MARCH 27, 1999

Tom's online now looking up different things.

We just got done screwing. It was predictable, but not disastrous. At first he didn't seem into it. His movements were sluggish. Then he was panting away and moving in a way that suggested he'd cum, but he didn't.

SUNDAY, MARCH 28, 1999

Last night was the final straw with Andy. I mean, I have absolutely fucking had it with you, Andy! You selfish, spoiled rotten pest! You are like a bad cold that just won’t quit. A bad zit that just won’t fucking go away. Some friend you are Andy. Some true friend.

Let me start from the beginning before I get into what I’ve decided to do about Andy and why I’ve decided to do what I’m gonna do, although that ought to be obvious enough.

I told Andy I’d call him Sunday evening about doing his buttons then and told him for the zillionth time that weekends aren’t good for me. He says, “Well, you never know,” and I’m thinking to myself, yes, I do know, but of course, there’s no getting that through his thick skull. Of course, he can’t come over just to see me. He can only come over if he wants something.

Red Lobster called today asking why he didn’t show up for work. Way to go Andy. Way to go. Now you’re gonna lose this job too?

Anyway, I’ve had it with his selfishness and with his obvious desire to deliberately, knowingly, and intentionally do things that he knows damn well annoy the fuck out of me! He left a message chewing in my ear. As soon as I heard this, though, I erased the message. Wouldn’t even listen to another word of it. I won’t give Andy the satisfaction of acknowledging I got this chomping message of his, either. I’ll let the little pig know I didn’t hear from him all weekend, which I found to be odd since I know he loves to call when I’d rather him not.

Like I said, it’s way more than obvious that he wants me to bitch at him for doing simple little things I ask him politely not to do. He wants to irk me. Well, I’m sorry, but this is not a true friend as far as I’m concerned, and from here on out till we move, I’m just gonna have as little to do with him as possible, then I’m gone. He’s finally succeeding in pushing me away. This time around, I’m not even gonna bother to ask him for the zillionth time to please not gross me out on the phone and chew in my ear like that. He won’t give a shit. It won’t do me any good. So, instead of trying to change him, I’m just gonna leave him as he is just like I did with Doe and company, let him be myself, then I’m gone and then I can associate with others that are true to me. I try to compromise with him by letting him call any day, but he can’t even not eat on the phone with me? He can’t get me even that much? Well, fuck him then! Fuck him! I asked him a reasonable, simple little thing, and if a friend can’t do a little thing like that, they’re not a friend at all. This self-absorbed, stuck-up little snot just isn’t my type anymore. Except for his pot and his negativity, he was once the perfect friend for me. We had lots in common. But now, I can’t stand his constant calls, his selfishness, and all the other shit I’ve been putting up with. Makes me wonder - has he been trying to get me to dump him all along? Andy may have shit for memory, but he’s not stupid. He has to know what he’s been doing deep down what with his selfishness, etc. He won’t come see me unless he wants something, he won’t feed my animals if we go on a trip, he won’t pull in any packages that may come while we’re on a trip, he won’t give me the fucking weekend off from the phone, he won’t quit chewing in my ear, he won’t stop calling me constantly, and he won’t stop rambling and listen to a fucking word I have to say when we do talk. I’m sorry, but I don’t think the things I’ve asked of him were too much or too difficult to do. I didn’t ask for a zillion hard tasks. I just asked for a few simple ones, but everything’s Andy, Andy, Andy. Even he’s told me he’s basically gonna do what he wants and not give a shit about what others want. No wonder he’s alone. How could he ever be in a successful relationship? He won’t do shit for others, and if he does, it’s only if he can get something out of it. How much you want to bet that if Andy was offered money to not chew in my ear - no problem.

This probably won’t do me any good, since he never gave a damn about reading the journal I wrote him for a previous birthday of his, but I’ve done for him what I’ve done for the freeloaders and I’ve assembled together journal excerpts that go back to around the fall of ‘97 that I’ll mail him upon moving (along with his tape of calls left to him on his voice mail). This way, if he has any questions about why I’ve walked away from him, he can read all about it, not that I haven’t gone over this same old shit with him for how long now?

I don’t hate Andy. I will always love him and carry him within my thoughts for the rest of my life. However, I don’t like him, and while he may have no self-respect, I do. I think I deserve friends who are sober and who have a fair balance of give-and-take within them. I will miss him when I’m gone and I will always wish/hope for the best for him in work, love, health, home, friends, happiness, etc., but I also need to move on here. He has a right to be himself and so do I. I have to do what I have to do and cut people like this out of my life. If he wants to be a selfish loser, let him be. Like he can’t call Michelle every day? Isn’t she enough? He said they talk every day, so why does he have to call me every day? Michelle’s perfect for him. More perfect than I ever was cuz she’s a pothead along with him and she eats like a pig too.

Anyway, I’m just too good for him in my mind, and that’s being a selfish, conceited bitch myself, then that’s exactly what I am, and I, like Andy, have no regrets about how I am. He shouldn’t really miss me, when I think about it, anyway. Why should he? We have nothing in common anymore.

When it does come time to move and check him out of my life, I’ll block Marla from emailing me, cuz although I know she understands my feelings/frustrations with Andy, I don’t want her constantly emailing me telling me to get back with him. I respect her and Andy, but like I said, I have to do what I have to do. Come this summer - it’s my time to be selfish. The last thing I want is for my life in my new home to be marred by his constant calls and annoyances. I’m not gonna have as much time then to play phone with him, cuz I really believe deep down that I will be a doll maker. At least, there’s no reason that I can see as to why I couldn’t be. It’s a pretty cut-and-dry thing. I feel God’s on my side with that one, but if it turns out he’s not, I’ll still want to live my life in my new home, which will be busier with lots of things, without him pestering me and making me feel like he doesn’t give a shit about me.

In dumping Andy, I won’t have to worry about him giving our new address or number to Tammy, cuz she will try to find me. At least, I think she will, cuz Tammy doesn’t give up or let go of people too easily. Andy, being the wonderful, true friend that he is, wouldn’t respect my wishes and not give her any info. He’d do what he thought should be done. Of course, if they do find me, that doesn’t mean I have to acknowledge them, either. I can still ignore them and go my own way. Perhaps a lot of people would say that what I intend to do by walking away from Andy is wrong and cruel, but sorry, I feel like I’ve been pushed away. Totally driven away. But I don’t want to play blame and fault here. Like I said, Andy’s who he is whether or not I like it and he has a right to live his life without people asking him to change things, even if they are few and simple little changes, and I have a right to live my life as I see fit.

Enough of Andy for now, cuz I swear, if I think of him anymore, I’ll scream! I am sick to death of him!

Later...

I got new cartridges for the air fresheners. The old ones were dry and cracked, which would explain why we haven’t been able to smell them very well. Walgreens, where Tom went earlier, didn’t have any scents I haven’t tried yet, so he got scents I already have and three free plug-ins. Now I have six plug-ins. I have strawberry in the music room and living room, country garden in the bedroom, and tropical mist in the bathroom and back room.

Tom looked online and discovered that there are stores in Phoenix that sell realistic-looking body parts like what was used to make Bailey. That’s a good sign. He found all kinds of parts and kits.

Speaking of signs, Tom didn’t want to tell me till he found out for sure, but we now have the money to do the prep jobs we need to do in this house cuz he got approved for a new credit card. He said we’d have come up with the money anyway, but if an emergency expense had come up, it could’ve fucked us out of getting out of here in July or August.

MONDAY, MARCH 29, 1999

No freeloaders this weekend, as far as any shit from them goes.

About an hour ago, I was coming out of the shower when someone based by really fucking loud. The first thing I thought to myself was, if that car goes next door, I will sink my fist so deep into the driver’s face, but it didn’t. It could’ve been caddie kid, although he hasn’t been a regular attention-getter around here lately. I didn’t get to the window in time to see who it was, but I checked the whole length of the freeloader’s driveway and carport to be sure there was no car over there.

I did as I said I’d do, and not only did I refuse to give Andy the satisfaction of acknowledging his chewing message, but I cried foul machine this weekend. I told him people have said they’ve left messages that we haven’t gotten for the last few days. He didn’t mention Saturday’s message in his reply to me. Just that he called Sunday morning, but I obviously didn’t get the message. You could hear the oh-too-bad in his voice, too. He’s totally bummed that I didn’t get the message, and I thought for a minute there that he was actually gonna come out and say, “Oh, bummer. I really wanted you to hear me chewing in your ear just so I could piss you off and gross you out.”

The next chewing message, I’m gonna tell the truth - that as soon as I heard one chew, I erased the message. Better yet, I’ll just keep my mouth shut for the next four or five months and let him read that I erased his chewing messages if he reads anything I send him after we move. Any mail that gets forwarded to the new house from him or from family in the east will be marked “return to sender.”

Anyway, the little twerp’s message this morning, which was left a few hours before I crashed, was about him wanting to come over and maybe go to yard sales, too. He just doesn’t get it. The fucking idiot just doesn’t listen to a damn thing I say, nor does the little shit care. It’s like, hello! Hello, you stupid fuck! It’s like he can’t accept the fact that I don’t do weekend company and phone chats. He refuses to accept it.

Anyway, he mentioned Tuesday morning, which so far as it looks, should be a good time for us to visit. Of course, I know we’ve got to play phone leading up to it and make such a big deal out of a simple little visit. There’s always gotta be a big production. Can’t just make up his mind to do something, and just do it. Not all of it’s his fault, though. He can’t help it if our schedules clash. I told him, though, that if he can’t get over here for whatever reason in the next week or two, we’ll drop the comforter off at his place since we’ll be in that area checking out manufactured homes.

If he wants to feel insulted by my dumping him this summer - fine. I feel just as insulted by him and his selfishness. Maybe this will teach him a valuable lesson as far as just how selfish he is. He just won’t budge an ounce for someone he calls his friend. He doesn’t need me, anyway, any more than I need him. I mean, we have nothing to offer each other. What can I offer him? A place to surf the web periodically? A place to get his buttons sewn on once or twice a year? What else? That’s it. I can’t and or won’t get high with him, spend hours a day on the phone with him, pig out with him, go to Stevie concerts with him, etc. Getting stoned, stuffing his face, and yacking forever on phones is his thing, not mine. I’m just fed up with him trying to force his ways on me while he couldn't care less about my wants. Everything’s only what he wants. Call me selfish, spoiled, childish - I’m done with Andy come what July or August! I’m not gonna be any truer of a friend than he’s been.

Later...

I took my wind chimes down from outdoors and put one of them in the rat’s cage. They seem to enjoy playing with it.

This morning I’ve got to call and play appointment games with the fucking dentist, but did Mel cancel our appointment today at 11:00, too? Or just the doctor? Well, I’m gonna try to reschedule both of them for later this week, cuz this morning, we plan on looking at manufactured houses in this neighborhood.

A hilarious idea came to mind earlier that had me laughing to myself. I just might do it, too. I plan on not telling Bob our new address and number anyway, so the idea is to tell him (he’s a sucker for believing anything), that we’re gonna be living in a house back there that belongs to a cousin of mine (Larry’s) who’ll be vacationing in some other country from when we move till about six months later. So I’ll tell him from July until the New Year. At the turn of the century, we’ll return to Phoenix. Meanwhile, from July to the new year, I’ll tell him he can send any letters to me to the address I give him, which will be Larry’s. Larry ought to get a kick out of that. That’ll keep him guessing and wondering, alright. I’ll let Kim know what I plan on doing, and I’ll get started with planting the idea into Bob’s head now with a letter to him today. That way, I can hear what he has to say about it before I disappear, and of course, I’ll promise to visit him, too.

Later...

In case I haven’t already mentioned it - I straightened Rapunzel’s hair. Before, it was really wavy and fell to her ankles, but now it’s a few inches past her feet. However, I’m not overly impressed with it, so now I’m gonna crimp it.

Tom got in about an hour ago and is now napping till 9:00 when we go to look at homes.

I called the dentist to hear what hours their machine says they open. They open at 8:30 today and as early as 7:15 on other days.

I realized that the day I was woken up by the gold car’s stereo two weeks ago, was the first and last time I ever saw that car. How much you want to bet on what happened? Bet it goes like this - the people in the gold car recently met either the bitch or the cock and a “friendship,” if you can call it that, was just starting up, when the bitch, not wanting to but needing to for the sake of keeping the house, asked them not to blast in like that. What did she get? A reaction that didn’t fit the request. They reacted as if she asked them to do something far out, totally unreasonable, and insane. They reacted like she asked them to kill their family. Therefore, they no doubt said, fuck it. We’ll never come back here again if that’s the way you want it. You’d never know they were asked a simple, reasonable, legitimate request.

I’m gonna wait till after the cock comes to get the mistake, then I’m gonna go out and snap a picture of Bill’s car. Unfortunately, I may only be able to get the tail end of the car, cuz it looks like he’s parked a little deeper than usual in the carport today. That’ll be my final contribution to the freeloaders picture-wise.

Later...

The cock came early today, at 7:35, so I went out a few minutes later to shoot the picture. It wasn’t a great shot, but it was good enough. You can tell what it is. I got at least half the car. The recycle bin was in front of it, too.

TUESDAY, MARCH 30, 1999

I called and rescheduled my appointments with Mel and the Doctor for April 7th. I know it’s hit or miss, though, as far as if I’ll be able to go to this appointment, but things turned out for the better. It would’ve been hard on me to go to them today at 11:00 and spend an hour and a half there since I got up at 8:00 the night before.

Minnie’s still trying desperately to get me.

There was a message to call Dr. Wells to get a message left for me. Can you believe they’re telling me now, that the IVP test that I took last December came out OK? I know, though, that this is cuz I quit on them and never rescheduled to resume the baby quest. Once again, though, not only is there no baby to be had with the way God’s dead-set in his decision about that, and with Tom’s fears/stubbornness/resistance, but each day that passes, I feel more and more sure I don’t want a kid. I tell Tom I’ll probably have in vitro a couple of years after we move just to please him, cuz I know how much he likes it when I leave doors open, but I know better. Not only do I not want to put myself through any more physical shit that’s not medically necessary, I just don’t want the burdens and responsibilities of a kid, even if I thought I could handle them. I want my freedom and my life with my husband. And when my husband’s not around, I like my space so I can do the things I enjoy doing. No, I don’t fear conceiving naturally, regardless of the fact that Tom won’t cum. I trust that especially after not getting pregnant during the five years I’ve been with Tom, God wouldn’t do that to me and let that happen. Since it’s never happened yet, I know he’s looking out for me and that he’d never give me more than I could handle. He’s obviously taken serious measures to see that I have a life filled with freedom, security, and happiness, so I don’t see why he’d suddenly take that away from me. Not after all the shit I’ve already been through. Compensation’s well due to me after all the years I didn’t have freedom or happiness.

The pest is supposed to come over this morning when he gets up, but we’ll see. I’m sure that if he does, we’ll have to play phone 3-4 times leading up to this grand visit.

You know, I wonder if we’ll even be local calls to each other when we move? Maybe it’ll be a long-distance call for him, but I don’t know. I still think it’d be best for both of us if I just made a clean break. I can’t offer him the kind of things he wants in a friend, and to me, he’s nothing but a pest most of the time.

We went looking at this other manufactured home dealer, and sometime within the next two weeks, we’ve got one more place to look (there are three makers in AZ - Shultz, Cavco, and ?). The first place we went to had the Shultz homes and this place had Cavco. The next place we go to will have all three brands, so then we can really compare the differences.

At this place, we were shown around, rather than told to just go look at the models ourselves, but the woman did leave us alone for a while before we met with her again and talked with her in her office. Unlike the other place, she gave us a listing of land available in different areas surrounding the city. This should be really helpful to us too, cuz I know Tom was having trouble finding this online.

Later...

Gosh, our weather’s been on a New England roller coaster lately. It’s gonna be near 90º today, but by Thursday, it’ll be down to the mid-60s.

Anyway, for $14,000 less, we found a home we like better than that beautiful $79,000 one we saw. The only thing that’s not as nice is its kitchen, but that’s OK. You don’t live in the kitchen. However, it did have that nice light wood color I like that’s almost like a crème color. The cabinet doors were also nicer, too. Its glass doors had gorgeous stained glass-like flowers in them. It’s a double-wide and not a triple-wide, yet the rooms are larger. I also liked how the return air grills are in the bottoms of the doors, rather than above the doors. That ought to cut down on light. I like to sleep in total darkness if I can.

I like this $65,000 model better cuz of the way it’s laid out and the way the rooms are proportioned. Again, the master bedroom is at one end of the house, and the other bedrooms are at the other end of the house. This house is 76’ long and 27’ wide at 2026 square feet. The other more expensive one was the same in width, but only 64’ long. In this house, the living room and family room are a little smaller, but not by much. The extra room is made up in the bedrooms, and that’s where space really counts for our needs and what we want to do with the rooms. We really want four bedrooms. That way we can have a master bedroom, a guest bedroom, and a room for each of our computers and other things.

I just paused to call Andy to see if he was up. He wasn’t, so I let him know he can just call right before he’s on his way out the door to come over. He doesn’t need to call to tell me he just woke up, then a half-hour later to say he’s getting ready, then an hour later to say he’s on his way. However, I know him and how he loves to play phone, so I’m sure there’ll be at least two calls before he gets here. Of course, I told him to call and let me know if he needs to cancel as well.

We looked at a five-bedroom/three-bath and weren’t the least bit impressed. The rooms were much smaller. One of the bathrooms had a vent right smack in the middle of its doorway just inside it. Imagine the toes waiting to get stubbed on this thing. Still, the smallest house they got blows this one away in size and with its modern stylishness. This Cavco brand may allow us to rig an evaporative cooler to it, too.

The first place we went to had nothing but models. You don’t buy the ones you see. You order them from their factory. This place, though, does both. If you see a model you like and you like it as is, you can buy it as a cookie-cutter. They’ll even throw in the pictures they used to decorate it with if you want. I like how you can get appliances as options, too. That way, instead of buying a house that’s already built and sitting wherever it’s at, then having to haul in new appliances, you can just get everything all at once. Tom even says he’s gonna set up a couple of sheds for his junk upon moving, too. That’d be great! His junk alone would fill up all three bedrooms at the end of the house. He’s only gonna keep the things he needs and uses regularly inside the house.

This kitchen had a see-through skylight, and I believe you can get skylights in the bathroom, too, although I don’t see why that’d be necessary. I like how there were ceiling fans in every room. You can get a see-through fireplace put in the wall that divides the family room and living room, but for Arizona, I don’t think that’d be necessary. I like the closets better in this one, too. It had a regular rod for hanging clothes and regular shelves. No wire shelves which you also use for hanging clothes. The master bedroom was so cool. Way better than the other one. It had what’s called a retreat. A large open area off of the main part of the room itself. I haven’t decided what I’ll do with this area yet, but I’ll probably put the animals in the dining area, use the family room as a living room with the couch, recliners, TV, and the living room for doll-making and whatever other projects we may want to do. Another good thing about this house is that it takes 6 weeks to set up, rather than 9, but we still have to prep and sell this house and probably still won’t be out of here till July or August. The woman we spoke to knows the area we live in and says our house ought to sell fast. That’s what Tom says, too. He wonders if we can get an investor to pay cash for it like they did for his ma’s house. That’d be nice.

Other options (this will be the fun part unless we get a cookie-cutter house) will be picking out drapes, carpet, the outside color of the house, and so much more. Tom said as long as we get the cabinets we like, carpet and paint colors don’t matter that much, cuz they’re easier and cheaper to change compared to cabinets. I like how these had Formica countertops without the tile accents. I’m sick of tile! It’s so hard to clean in between the fucking things.

Later...

It’s almost 9:30. I know the morning’s not over yet, but it figures I haven’t heard from Andy yet, and I’m sure his definition of a morning visit is really a noon visit or later.

Later...

See? It’s doing just what I knew it’d do. It called to say it just woke up, and I reminded it that it didn’t have to call till it was on its way out the door. And of course, our morning visit turned into an afternoon one. It won’t be here till between 11:30-noon, so it says. It mentioned wanting to water its yard, and food, as usual. Why has this guy turned into such a pig? I mean, all he does is eat and eat and eat. I think he’s trying to get fat so he can feel like he has more in common with Michelle since he sees her more than he sees me. One thing I’ve noticed about Andy is that he’s very big on finding common ground with those he’s close to. If I played any instrument other than the keyboards perfectly, he’d still insist I was best at the keyboards cuz that’s his favorite instrument.

Despite his selfish ways lately, he did ask about our trip to look at homes yesterday, which was thoughtful of him. I’m surprised he remembered. He also said that for a quarter, he picked up a People magazine with Gloria on the cover at a yard sale the other day. That was nice of him, too.

Later...

I knew it. I just knew it. I’ll bet he did too, all along. Andy called wanting to know if it’d be OK if he could come over tomorrow at 1:00 instead, then go to a 2:30 dentist appointment in this area, since he doesn’t want to take his car out more than necessary. Also, he could come over, but would rather hang out at his place. Sure, no problem, I told him. He asked if I was upset. No, but I am sick of having to make a big production out of getting together. I told him I’d call to let him know if I was sure I could have him over at 1:00 tomorrow, and that if I was, he didn’t have to call. He could just come over at 1:00. Knowing him, though, we’ll have to play phone over it all fucking morning long and make such a big deal of it.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 31, 1999

Bandit died. Now I’m down to four mice - Patch, Cocoa, Katie and Ashley. Lost four mice this month alone, and I can’t believe Cocoa’s still alive. I guess her tumor isn’t squishing against any vital organs.

I’m making some chicken wings now.

Supposedly, Andy’s coming over today at 1:00. I got up at 2:00, so I’ll be a little tired then, but still functional enough. I left him a message telling him to just come over at 1:00, but I know I have to get a zillion phone calls about it before then.

Later...

Finished another puzzle. Later, I’ll begin the one Tom picked out for me a few days ago.

Someone was playing car alarm a block or so away. You know, I’m really surprised the freeloaders haven’t harassed me with car alarms and car horns. You’d think that people who are desperate for attention, especially my attention, would do other things besides just music, dogs, screaming, and ball games.

I totally dread this Easter Sunday. Right now, although it’s awfully soon, I don’t have a bad vibe. The question is, if they do raise hell am I gonna be able to keep my promise to Tom and restrain from beating the shit out of them? Well, they’d have to be incredibly stupid to blast in and out like they did last Easter. I mean, they’d really have to not give a shit about losing the house. I’m sure there’ll at least be hours of yelling and ball games.

We have between 14-22 weekends left here. If we’re here till September 1st, then that’s 22 weekends left. If we get out as early as the beginning of July, that’s 14 weekends left. We’ll probably really have something like 17-19 more to go, provided things keep working out for us. But damn! That’s about a month’s worth of weekends left - yuck!

Later...

Just got call number one from Andy, but what made it cool is that he met Stevie Nicks. He told me, “I’m not gonna tell you any details till I come over at 1:00, but I met Stevie Nicks last night. And Cheryl Crow. I knew it. I told him I knew he’d meet Stevie someday. Somehow, I just knew it was inevitable. It was destined that they meet if only once, if only for a second.

I told him I’d tell him about the manufactured homes on Tuesday (my best phone day) since he’d no doubt be understandably excited and not let me get a word in edgewise, but he said his story would only take about 20 minutes. Well, it takes however long it takes. I’m happy for him and excited to hear about this.

Later...

Just thought I’d write while I wait for Andy. Of all the times I hated how Andy has shown up late in the past, I kind of hope he’s late today. If he has to leave in time for his 2:30 appointment, then the later he is, the less time he’s here. I can’t believe he hasn’t called me a second time, but he will. He’ll probably call right before or right after 1:00 to needlessly say he’s on his way. Wouldn’t be surprised if he brought food over, too. Since I’ve pointed out his overeating, that’s all the more he’ll mention food.

Tom said they’re doing something to replace pap smears, but he’s not sure what. It has something to do with grapefruit. Sounds lovely.

Anyway, Tom came in, ate, unwound in front of the TV, took a dump, and now he’s in bed.

I had a vision that our land would be prepped and that it was in Maricopa. I saw an old, small, white wooden house off in the distance and another one I couldn’t see, but that’s it. I could only see two sides of the house. The other two sides are blurred. I saw us in the house we like best so far (the one we saw the last time we looked), but these visions, sadly, are subject to change. Anything could come up to trip things up. So far, though, God’s paving the way for us just nicely. The biggest factor in what we can get lies within how much of a loan we can get, as well as the stocks. We certainly can’t count on selfish Marjorie, even though we’ve helped her. That bitch is too wrapped up in herself. Well, I just hope we won’t have to settle, although nothing we could move into could be a settlement compared to this house and this area. Even if it was the same exact house we live in now; just to be more secluded, would be way better. To not have a pack of sick freeloaders three feet away. To not have a basketball hoop three feet away. To not have a street full of bass bangers fifteen feet away. To not have to listen to this dog somewhere in front that I hear barking non-stop right now. Still, even if we do have to settle for a smaller house within the $50,000 range, it’ll still be bigger and nicer than this house and it’ll have at least three bedrooms and two baths.

About 90% of the time, the front is quiet dog-wise. It fucking figures that a dog has to act up non-stop when I’m expecting company.

[doctorho]

Neon lights pt. 2

hi guys!!! here's a little gift for you on this fine evening✨✨✨

i hope you like it <3

Viktor x gender neutral reader, 3k words, slightly nsfw

Summary: the quiz ends, but the night continues.

tags: @writingmysanity

The rest of the night goes like this:

You sit in his lap. 

You try not to think about it too much.

It's the only thing you can think about.

How close he was. What he'd said. What he felt like. How his hand on your hip held you close, the pressure of it burning through your thin clothes. 

And what would happen after the quiz was over. 

You didn’t know; you had no idea how they usually ended these nights when they were out. Did they just leave? Did they stay to drink and hang out? Did they go somewhere else?

You don’t know. 

You hope, deep in your bones, that the night would end up with some version of you and him being alone, but you don’t know. For all you knew he could just get up and go home as soon as they'd asked the last question, and it’s not like you could stop him. 

He answers questions, remarkably calm and collected, and occasionally his thumb traces a small circle on the side of your hip. Sometimes he says something so close to your ear that it makes you shiver.

The night ticks by, and all the thoughts and feelings you’re trying to ignore trickle down your spine. It’s impossible to ignore, the waiting. The anticipation. The wanting.

 You barely concentrate on the quiz, and as soon as it's over, you straighten your posture, waiting to see what the rest of them would do. Out of courtesy for Viktor, you've moved slightly further away from him, trying to be as non-distracting as possible – even if being a distraction to him is tremendously entertaining – and he leans back with a long, deep sigh. 

"Ready to get out of here?" Jayce asks, turning to look at him.

Viktor is silent for just a beat. He swallows, and licks his lips before answering. 

"Very much so."

Mel stretches, long and languid, like a cat, and then she stands up. "I'm ready to get out of this musty air." She says, running her hand over her hair lightly. 

You follow her lead and stand up too, hoping to make the whole situation as natural as possible. Like this was a totally normal, casual situation. 

Jayce stretches, too, leaning his head back and closing his eyes for a moment. 

For this, Mel gently nudges his leg. "And you're ready to go to sleep, apparently." She notes, and then turns to look at you. "He got up before five am today. Five. "

You lift your eyebrows in surprise and nod slowly. "Why?" 

"Because he is insane," Viktor answers, earning a smile from you and a poor attempt at a lazy swat in his direction from Jayce. 

"We should go before the entrance gets crowded." Mel changes the subject, and this gets Jayce to sigh, open his eyes, and get up, taking her hand. 

Viktor grabs his cane and stands up too, very pointedly avoiding your eyes. You try not to read anything into that, but it still makes something in your soul sink a little bit. In the dark room, it doesn’t sting as much, but still.

You weave through people, your anxiety slowly creeping up your spine and growing heavier by the second. You don’t know what’s going on, you don’t know what’s going to happen, what could happen, but you can feel it slipping away from you; this fragile new something. This possibility. This warmth.  

You have to talk to him.

You have to get him alone, and you have to talk to him. 

Each step towards the exit has something in your lungs feeling heavier. You couldn’t predict what he would do when you got out, but you hoped it would be something other than ‘leave immediately’. 

When you get out, the cool fresh air hits you like a very pleasant wave. The night is dark and the city is alive; breathing, pulsating with music and people and blinking lights. It’s been raining, and the wet asphalt reflects all the neon lights back at you. 

It’s beautiful, in its own way. 

Shop signs and ads and decorations make everything around you glow, adding something you never see in daylight; all this dark. All these colors, breaking through. 

Viktor is bathed in golden light, soft and sparkling, and you forget to think for a moment. When he turns, the light catches his hair and the contours of his face, and he is so beautiful it almost hurts. 

Mel and Jayce break off almost immediately, both waving at you – Jayce yawning and Mel giving you a very pointed look – and this leaves you and Viktor standing outside the entrance alone, surrounded by a slow steady stream of people and a strange silence. 

He still doesn’t look at you. Just bows his head slightly, hiding in the shadows.

And you don’t know what to do. 

Usually, when you see him, the parameters of what’s happening are very, very clear. It’s always at school, or in the library, the lab, somewhere where you know what’s going on. You do your work, you help each other, you complain about the issues with equipment and materials and teaching, you get coffee sometimes. Until now, you’ve always just navigated situations where it’s clear that you’re friends. 

And now it’s not anymore. 

This is uncharted waters, and you wish you knew what he was thinking, but he seems to be deep inside his head somewhere. Somewhere you can’t reach. Not from where you were standing.

When he starts walking away from the bar, you follow, still unsure of what to do but thankful that he was going in the right direction. That way it didn’t feel as weird. But the way he was avoiding your eyes, and hiding in this newfound silence, it was obvious that something was wrong, and you hate it . 

As soon as you say his name to ask what it is, he speaks up too, at the exact same time.

"I'm sorry if I made you uncomfortable." He says, still not meeting your eyes. “We can pretend nothing ever happened.”

You blink in surprise, almost stopping at your tracks, and just stare at him. 

"Viktor," You repeat slowly, "the only reason I was uncomfortable was that we were in public and not alone." Your voice feels thin and weaker than you’d like, but you have to try. You have to get this across. 

You take a breath, “I don’t want to pretend nothing happened.” 

At this, he does stop. He stops, and turns to stare back at you. 

You both just stand there for a moment, in a random street corner, staring at each other, surrounded by silence and muted lights. 

"Do you think I would have stayed if I didn’t want to be there?" You continue.

There, in the bar.

There, with them.

There, in his lap.

He just looks at you, studying something you couldn’t see. 

"Societal pressure can have a very strong influence." He says, like it’s a fact. It probably is, in general – it just didn’t apply to your earlier actions.

The tone of his voice is level, reasonable, and a little bit detached. 

Like he's staying at an arm's reach, testing a hypothesis. Testing you.

"Yeah," You agree, casually, "but I still don’t do things I don’t want to do."

He looks at you for a moment, quiet. Like he's trying to decipher something. You could practically see the gears turning inside his head. 

You don’t know what he's thinking. But you can sense the unsure confusion, the blanks he's trying to fill in.

“You didn’t make me uncomfortable.” You lick your lips and swallow around your nerves, "on the contrary." Then, you sigh a bit. “Viktor, you didn’t do anything wrong. I liked being close to you.”

He furrows his eyes slightly, like he’s thinking it through. 

“And this isn’t–” He says, tilting his head, “just a situation of…ease of circumstance?” Again, he sounds factual, calm. He's dissecting the situation, turning it around in his mind.

Now it’s your turn to be confused. 

“What do you mean?”

He shrugs softly with one shoulder. “I was there,” He explains, like it’s a perfectly reasonable argument, like this is what he expects to be the explanation, “it was convenient. Your friends ditched you, so maybe you were lonely. It makes sense.” 

You just look at him for a moment, trying to follow this explanation. You could see how he would think that, sure, but it wasn’t right. 

He takes a breath and looks away again. “I would understand if it’s just superficial. It’s fine if that’s the case. I don’t expect anything from you.”

He sounds like he’s already accepted it. That you couldn’t possibly want anything more. 

You take a deep breath. 

"Viktor," You say again, trying to silence your own self doubt and jumping straight into those uncharted waters, "I like you."

He blinks. 

You take a breath.

"I like you," you repeat, "and no, it’s not superficial. I mean, yes, you’re hot, but it’s not just about that. I like you because you’re kind, and funny, and smart, and nice to be around, and you try your best to help people even when you don’t need to, and you're so talented it’s amazing, and you get me and–”

He smiles a little, and the rest of the sentence fades away.

“...and I’m rambling.” You continue with a small sigh. 

“I don’t mind.” 

“I know!” You answer, “but you weren’t saying anything!” 

His smile falls, and he blinks. “Oh.” He says, like he genuinely just now realized it. “Well, I, uh, like you too. In case that wasn’t…obvious.”

He’s blushing again, and somehow, it warms you too.

You exhale, slow and deep, and meet his eyes again. “So what now?”

It’s a stupid question, you know. But with how the conversation was going, you weren’t capable of anything super smart right now. 

“I want a coffee.” He says, and, to his credit, this shocks you out of any residual anxiety that was still clinging to your spine, any residual awkwardness of the earlier situation. Any doubt that things were going to be weird between you forever.

“Been craving one the whole night.” He adds, sighing a bit and nodding towards a nearby drink cart, where the vendor was still out, no doubt precisely to serve people leaving the bars.

You smile, and fall in step besides him as he starts towards it. 

“Are you sure those things you drink qualify as coffee?” You ask, grinning through the words, knowing he was going to take the bait. 

“There’s three shots of espresso in it,” He defends, sounding a bit offended on the drink’s behalf, “how is that not coffee?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s like, 80% everything else.”

He exhales a hum as he walks up to the cart to get his drink. “I’m pretty sure that’s how most drinks work.” 

“Yeah, except yours is mainly whipped cream and caramel.” 

“And it tastes very good.” 

You smile, and lean to the cart as he gets his drink, warm and steaming, in a big takeaway cup. You can smell the caramel and spices in it from where you’re standing – sweet caramel and cinnamon, and something else that you don’t recognize. 

He moves away from the cart, stepping into a nearby shop corner to put away his money. There’s no-one there, and the corner is dim, quiet, carved away from the main street. The only light there is some runoff lighting from places down the street, bright neon signs in blues, pinks and purples reflecting off the windows and wet pavement and filtering through the air. 

He inhales deeply, smiles a little, and takes the first sip of his fluffy light brown drink. 

It leaves a strip of whipped cream on his upper lip. 

Deciding not to think about it too much, you reach up and sweep off the whipped cream with your thumb, bringing it to your own lips next, licking it clean. Whipped cream with a bit of caramel and coffee on it – and his baited breath.

He stares, and blushes, and you enjoy it thoroughly. It feels like time slows down, with the way he's looking at you. Like you’re the only thing there.

You smile. “You’re right,” you say, trying to sound as casual as you can, licking your lips, “it’s good.”

He holds your gaze, and takes a deep, slightly uneven breath. 

“You’re just going to do that without warning?” He asks, sounding genuinely a little surprised and a bit breathless. Which is a something that you’re going to treasure.

“Would you have preferred it if I’d kissed it away?” You ask, lifting one eyebrow and leaning a little closer, studying his reaction. 

More blush, another uneven breath, and slightly dilated pupils. 

Good. 

Time stands still for a moment again, as you just look at each other. 

And then he takes another sip. 

Recreating the scenario.

You raise your eyebrows slightly. It’s a challenge – and you’re going to take it. 

You lean closer slowly, and wrap your fingers gently around his coffee cup, nudging it out of the way, out from between your bodies. And then you kiss him.

Pressing your lips to the whipped cream first, you can feel the shaky exhale he lets out – and then when you kiss him properly, you can taste it. Caramel and coffee and cream, and him, and it doesn’t take long for him to inch closer and deepen the kiss. 

He makes a small sound somewhere at the back of his throat, and you can’t think. All there is is him, his lips moving on yours, soft and strong, his breaths mixing with yours, his body pressing against yours, and it’s him, it’s Viktor, and it’s so, so much more than you ever could have imagined. You run your hand up his chest, and the sound he makes in response makes you shiver – something caught between a whine and a growl – and you want to hear more of it. 

You’re storing every second of this to permanent memory, you’re drinking all of it in, you’re soaking in every point of contact and every small sound he makes. Your hand travels up to his hair, running through it, and his breathing falters.

Your world narrows down to this and only this; this moment, this small hideaway bathed in neon lights, this warm glowing lightness in your chest. His lips on yours.

He tastes like the drink, sweet and warm and dizzying, and when he moves from your lips to the side of your throat you feel like you melt. It’s a perfect, delicious pressure, his lips and tongue tracing over your skin, his teeth lightly grazing at your pulse point, and before you realize it you’re letting out a breathless, quiet moan. It would be embarrassing, probably, if his reaction wasn’t so good in return; he presses closer, and makes a sound you more so feel than hear, a quiet low growl that reverberates on your skin. It ends with an exhale, and a small quiet word that might be a curse, you’re not sure. Either way, it’s perfect, and makes heavy desire drip down your spine and pool at the bottom of your stomach. 

It’s sweet and heavy and perfect, and you want more of it.

“I wish I could touch you.” He breathes, words brushing against your skin, “but unfortunately my hands are full.” 

He says it casually, but this, too, is more than it sounds like; it’s a gentle offer to take the lead. He’s holding out the option to either diffuse the situation – or make something more of it. 

It’s up to you.

You sigh a little, and shift away enough to glance down; one hand holding the coffee, one hand gripping his cane.

“Pity.” you answer, “Think we could fix that?” 

He smiles, a little, and meets your eyes again briefly before looking somewhere past your shoulder. Then, he hums a little, thoughtfully. “I don’t live that far from here.”

You smile, and lick your lips.

This is an offer, too; one that you’re going to take. 

You hum through your smile, and take the coffee from his hand gently. He lets you take it, and doesn’t say anything when you bring it to your own lips, taking a slow sip.

“Good.”

Next (i lied this has more than two parts now)

[berryvalentine]

I'm humbly requesting something for our melon man Melone. Say he made reader mad about something but didn't apologize cause he thinks he's in the right. So they leave the house they live in together and he figures they'll just come back the next day after cooling down. But they don't. And not for probably another 3-4 days either. They were just THAT upset because the subject was something sensitive to them and he offended them. They needed that time away. But then happens that downward spiral in situations like this as the days go on. They haven't texted + called him and he can't use Babyface because he doesn't have the proper kind of sample he needs. So he's left wondering if they're okay. They come back of course, this isn't some run away from home or kidnap thing;;; just a real bad spat where Mel was a dumb dumb. I'm sorry if I was too specific with this chdjwndkchd. a character x reader as you can see, female reader. If you could have it be a one-shot that'd be nice 👉👈. But if you're more comfortable/prefer to do headcanons I don't mind those either

Silence. That’s all Melone’s gotten for the past few days. The house you two share has become a place of loneliness. The thoughts in his head are loud and they don’t show any sign of quieting down anytime soon. All Melone can focus on was the argument the two of you had the last time he saw you - he was just too stubborn to admit he had been wrong so he just kept going on and on. He wasn’t used to apologizing, but, he was still getting used to the fact that he couldn’t just be selfish anymore. A relationship required the work of two people - and when Melone got in one of those moods it made it difficult for the relationship to work. 

He understood why you left - he understood if he’d never hear from you again. Still, he wanted to at least tell you sorry. There was a lump in his throat when he began to think the worst - what if he something bad had happened to you? It would all be his fault. He wasn’t there to protect you - he promised he’d always be there to protect you. What had he done? Melone didn’t want to continue to allow his thoughts to go to dark places. You knew how to take care of yourself - if anything, he’d like to believe that maybe you went to a friend’s place to cool off. At least he hoped so. 

Melone stared at the wall - he wasn’t sure how much time had passed. It all felt just like one long day. He replayed the scene over and over again in his head of the last conversation you two had together. Would that be the last time he saw you? He could hear his pulse, or the way his chest began to feel heavy when he thought too much - the look on your face hurt him when he realized just how much he had hurt you. He replayed the conversation in his head and let the scene play out differently this time. In his head, he had apologized to you and held you closer instead of trying to push you away. He was sorry - God, he was so sorry. He just wanted you back and it seemed like maybe this was it now. This was the end. 

He had finally grown tired of staring at the wall - his body felt heavy. When was the last time he slept? His eyes felt sore, his throat was dry, and his stomach hurt. He hadn’t been taking care of himself these past few days. Melone finally rested his head down on table - exhaustion seemed to have finally caught up with him. There was no point in waiting for someone who might never even show up again. This was his fault - he deserved this. Maybe if he just closed his eyes, even for a little bit, he could just allow time to pass him by. Maybe in time he could try to begin to feel better about the mistakes he had made.

The door eventually opened - but Melone didn’t bother to lift his head. He was sure at this point he was hallucinating maybe, but it wasn’t worth checking out if he was just going to be met with disappointment.

But, Melone wasn’t hallucinating - it was you. You finally thought it over, and after giving yourself some time to yourself you were ready to talk things out with Melone. You found him resting his head down on the table. From where you stood, you weren’t sure if he had been asleep or not, so you were quiet when you approached the table. It wasn’t until you pulled the chair out that the slight scraping of the chair leg against the floor made Melone lift his head up. 

He wasn’t dreaming. You came back. You really came back.

The numbness that Melone had been starting to feel had immediately gone away and he was hit full force with all of these feelings. His eyes were now filled with tears - you came back. 

“I thought I lost you...” he was finally able to muster up some words. It seemed he had still been staring at you in disbelief.

You nodded, and reached for his hand across the table to hold it. “I just needed to cool off.”

“No. I know. But... Are you sure you want to forgive me? I said some pretty fucked up things. I... I’m sorry. I’m still getting used to these things. To us. I mean, I’m happy to be with you but I’m usually not the type to be in a relationship and I... Shit. I am so sorry. I don’t want to upset you ever again.” Melone didn’t want to look at you - he felt like he had no right to look at you or to ask for forgiveness. 

You thought otherwise though - you gently cupped his cheeks and kissed him on the lips. 

“Relationships aren’t all sunshines and rainbows. Stuff like this happens, but I don’t want to give up. We’re learning... Together. We’ll get through this. I know we can.” 

Your response touched Melone. You really were too good to be true. Melone didn’t think he deserved you, all he could do was to allow himself to break down in tears. For someone who had kept himself so guarded, he finally allowed his walls to come down because of you. 

[cowboycatreign]

Hangar 3

Melinda May x nb or fem!reader

Warnings: mentioning of cannon typical violence, gayyyyyyyyy, lesbians, I think that’s it

A/n: this probably sucks. Also I didn’t beta read 😀👍🏽

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

I wake up to a hydra agent knocking on my door. I get up more excited then usual because today was the day! The day I had been waiting for. After a year and half I can finally go home.

I walk through the halls not trying to show my excitement or else I will get questioned and have to lie more then I already have. I finally make it to my little office area. I have secured an area that is semiprivate. I start my final transaction of data when a coworker sees. She turns and starts running to Whitehall’s office. I know I’m screwed, so I rush back to my room make sure I have everything (a picture of me and Mel, the USB, and my wedding ring. I hear violent knocking on the door telling me that I have to go. I have my stuff in hand and snap my fingers. I hear the water running in the bathroom of shield headquarters, so I know I’m here. I open my eyes and take a breath of fresh air. I’m back. I’m finally back.

I find Hand wanting to get the debrief done so I can just go see Melinda. “Oh Y/n your back.” I simply nod my head and say, “I am sorry to be rude, but I really want to get this debrief done.” Hand acknowledges this and says, “well lucky for you all I need is the USB and you can go free.” At this point I am ecstatic so I grab the USB as fast as I possibly can and hand it to her. Hand takes note of this and simply states, “hangar 3, they are about to leave you should be quick.” I give my gratitude, get to a not very visible place, snap my fingers and teleport to hangar 3. I see a very large plane, which is the place I can assume Melinda is. The only way in is regrettably closed, so I have to teleport in.

When I get inside someone walks out of something that looks like a lab. She walks up very cautiously and asks, “who are you? And how did you get in here?” I really don’t want to explain everything to her, so I just say, “Hi! I would like to talk with coulson… we are old friends. And hearing myself say that, it sounds very sketchy. But, you are Jemma Simmons, right?” She’s seems to be a little bit more confident now. “I will call him, but if you do anything I will shoot this ICER at you. It will cause you to fall unconscious.” I nodded cause that actually sounds really cool. When coulson finally got there he walked up to me and we started hugging. He started by saying, “How was the mission? Did you just get back? Does Melinda know you are here?” Right before I started trying to answer everything Mel walks in looking down at the tablet thingy. She starts mentioning a mission and how someone named skye should do the debrief. Phil smirks and simply says, “melinda, there is someone here for you.” She looks up sees me and everything changes. She hands her tablet to the woman behind her and starts running to me. When she gets to me I lift her up and we start hugging. When I finally let go she kisses me and says, “I missed you.” Jemma and the other woman look so confused while Phil is smiling. Mel looks at them and says, “Before any of you say something stupid, this is my wife.” The change of tone made you laugh.

Being introduced to everyone was funny to say the least. Turns out no one knew Mel was married. Obviously I had to have a fake sense of hurt when I figured this out. Mel just rolled her eyes and elbowed me. I missed her laugh and smile, but apparently for other people she is a stone cold emotionless robot. I never wanted to leave her again, so I offered my help to Coulson and he graciously accepted. Everything seemed to be falling into place.

[luci-in-trenchcoats]

Hollow Pass (Part 1)

Summary: When the reader has to spend a day in the mines for work, she’s less than thrilled. When the miner showing her around for the day, Dean Winchester, is an ass, she’s even less thrilled. But an accident will change all of that and if they want a chance of getting out of the mess they’re in, they’ll need to put their lives in each others hands, literally...

Pairing: Miner!Dean x reader

Word Count: 4,100ish

Warnings: language, injury, frightening/claustrophobic/near death situations

A/N: Please enjoy the first of this 2 parter!

_______

You sighed as you stood in the trailer of the manager’s office, a jumpsuit and a pair of boots sat in a chair. Your boss, bless his heart, thought it was always a good idea for corporate positions to experience a day in the mines to truly understand the product and what the little guy went through on a day to day basis. The argument that you were not really corporate, not even close, seemed to go over his head.

“Y/N, you gonna change? I need my office back,” said the manager through the door. You pulled it open and pouted. “I don’t want you going down in the mines anymore than you do but if you want to make corporate, you gotta do what the CEO says.”

“Dad I don’t even want to work there. I like my simple office job.”

“Then why have you been in all those development programs at work?” he asked. You shrugged and he sighed. “Cause you can’t say no.”

“Do I have to?” you asked, looking back at the overalls.

“Do you want to quit?” he asked.

“I don’t want to lose a good paycheck. But I don’t want a corporate job either,” you said. 

“Then you’re shit outta luck,” he said. “I’m gonna put you with the Winchester boy. He’s on safety checks in our most secure mines.”

“You mean the ones that never have problems.”

“Funny how that all coincidentally happened today of all days,” he said with a smile.

“Thanks dad.”

“I don’t want you going anywhere near explosives. You’ll be safe doing the checks with Dean for the day.”

“Hi, I’m Y/N,” you said twenty minutes later. The man in overalls and a hard hat rolled his eyes.

“I’m ten minutes late because of you which means I’m gonna get docked those ten minutes of pay so thank you little miss corporate.”

“I’m your boss’ daughter, jackass.”

“Still ain’t my boss,” he said. You huffed and headed over towards the mine entrance when he grabbed the back of your overalls. “No, dummy. You have zero safety gear so unless you want to die, you’re coming with me.”

“Asshole.”

“Dean Winchester at your service,” he said, dragging you over with him to some lockers. He punched a card and went to the storage racks, seemingly grabbing a few items and putting them on. He picked the hard hat off your head and grabbed one with a light and a wire attached to it, clipping it on your belt. He put something over your shoulder you put your arm through like a sling and clipped a mask onto the back of your belt, a flashlight and a small hand pickaxe going through your other loops. “Turn this lamp on anytime you’re in the mine and never, ever, take off your hat. If I yell at you or you smell something funny, get that mask on. Flashlight and the axe are backup for emergencies.”

He put a radio in your pocket and looked you over.

“Oh and for the love of God, do not wander off. I don’t care if you see a bug or break a nail or gotta piss.”

“What do you do if you have to…” you said.

“Normally you piss against some rock like a man but special manager’s daughter we’ll walk you back out here, take our slow ass time, make me go longer than my shift and because I was late today, I don’t get overtime.”

“That sounds kinda illegal.”

“The contracts for this company are a fucking nightmare,” he said, walking out of storage.

“Why work here then?” you asked as he went to an area and grabbed a clipboard. He took two water bottles and clipped them on each of your belts before whistling for you to follow after.

“Well somebody had to pay for his baby brother to go to law school and it wasn’t going to be my drunk of a father now was it,” said Dean, stopping and writing something down. 

“So you didn’t grow up with mining in your family?” you asked.

“No. I’m not some redneck hillbilly like you imagine either,” he said. He flipped on his light and turned yours on when you got to the mine entrance. “Crouch.”

“Huh?”

“We ain’t riding the cart which is missing, dumbass. Crouch down so you can fit in the tunnel,” he said. You swallowed and had to bend down some, following Dean closely. “Ain’t claustrophobic are ya cause now’s the time to tell me.”

“No,” you said. “Jerk.”

“Ah, see? We’re getting along already.”

You walked for five or so minutes before the ground sloped down further and an entrance to the right opened up. Dean straightened up and you did the same, stretching out as he grabbed the back of your jumpsuit.

“Dude, would you stop doing that?” you said.

“Would you stay in my line of sight?”

“That’s harassment. You can’t touch me without my permission,” you said, crossing your arms. He blinked a few times and rolled his eyes quite possibly the most dramatically you’d ever seen in your life.

“This? This is not an office building. Every single time you step in here you run the risk of dying and you have zero clue on how to stay safe down here. I hate it when you people with your big offices and penny pinching bullshit come down here and complain about every goddamn little thing. If you want out, get out of the fucking mining business.”

“You’re an irritable person,” you said. He grumbled and tugged you along with him until you brushed him off. You followed him down a hallway and another, Dean checking things off on his clipboard as he went. “Are you gonna explain any of this stuff?”

“What do you think?” he said. He whistled and you followed him down a few more hallways when he stopped a gauge looking contraption. He checked a few different numbers and valves on it as you spun around. 

“I guess it is kinda cool. That somehow you guys know how to block up rocks and leave all these cracks and know how to make it so it doesn’t all come crashing down.”

“Cracks?” he asked as he squatted down and read off a meter.

“Yeah like that big one,” you said, pointing at the wall across the way. He turned around and looked at it for barely a second before he grabbed your arm. 

“Move. Now,” he said. He pulled out his radio and pressed down the button. “We have a grade five crack in Lodge Six West. Do not blow. I repeat do not-”

The ground rumbled and you heard a splintering noise, Dean pushing you back into the hallway you’d been in. He jumped on top of you and covered your body with his, all the lights going out, a loud thundering of falling rocks happening close by. It seemed to go on and on before it finally stilled, the hallway pitch black.

“You alright?” he asked.

“I think so,” you said, coughing when you felt dust in the air.

“Don’t move,” he said. He lifted his head and there was some light, Dean looking around before climbing off of you and staring at a new wall of rock. He looked at the hallway you’d been in, clicking on his flashlight and you saw where the rock dropped off about a hundred feet away. “Well. Shit.”

“What just happened?”

“The rock was unstable and they already set off the charges and it shook the mountain so now there’s a giant hole over there and our exit is blocked.”

“What’s that way?” you asked, nodding down the only unobstructed hallway.

“Further down into the mine before you hit the decommissioned area.”

“Is there a way out,” you asked, Dean patting his side.

“Fuck. My radio is under all that,” he said. He took out yours and handed it to him, Dean nodding before he turned it on. “Main do you copy, over?”

There was silence on the other end and Dean hit the button again.

“Main this is Winchester in Lodge Six West with…what’s your name?” he asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N.”

“Y/N Y/L/N, manager’s kid. Copy, over.”

“Winchester this is Main. We got lots of calls coming in from ground crews about a shaking.”

“Lodge Six West Hall K is a giant crater of death and Hall H is buried, right up to the entrance of junction HJ.”

“Injuries?”

“We’re okay,” said Dean.

“Give me a second.”

Dean took a deep breath and coughed. He tapped your mask on your belt and you put it on, the air a bit easier to breath. 

“Winchester this is Melvin.”

“She’s okay, boss. Just a little shook up. Saved our asses from winding up in the ground even if she doesn’t know it yet,” he said. He held out the radio and you pulled down the mask. 

“Dad I’m fine, really. We both are. It’s just kinda dark and smelly is all.”

“I know. Put your mask on sweetie until you can get to some cleaner air,” he said. You put it back on, Dean, getting to his feet. He pulled you up and looked back at your blocked path. 

“Any other collapses?” asked Dean.

“None reported so far. Everyone should be out of the mine’s or on their way. Alarm is blasting.” You looked back at Dean, his eyes shutting.

“Melvin we can’t hear it. At all.”

“Rodney’s out checking where our side of the collapse starts. We’ll get you out,” he said, someone panting in the background.

“Hall B, Mel,” he said. Dean turned away from you and sighed. No one said anything for a long time until Dean finally raised his head.

“We got two 16 ounces bottles of water. If she rations it, she’s got a shot,” said Dean quietly.

“No, she doesn’t,” said your dad, his voice softer than you’d ever heard it. “How long does your radio have?”

“Mine got crushed. Hers was on a quarter charge. I’d guess maybe an hour or two tops,” he said.

“Should we call your brother?”

“He’s hiking in Glacier Park this week. No cell service,” said Dean quietly. “Just tell him to check my bottom desk drawer. There’s something for him there.”

“I can do that,” he said. “Is there anyone...parents-”

“All due respect sir, I’d rather you talk to your daughter,” he said. Dean held out the radio to you and you picked it up, Dean skirting around the corner to the one unblocked hallway.

“Dean?” you asked, following over there. He was leaned against the wall and looked over his shoulder at you. “What’s going on?”

“They can’t dig us out in time.”

“What do you mean-”

“Talk to your dad. You’re wasting time. That battery won’t last forever,” he said. He turned back and you walked back around the corner, sitting down against the wall.

“Hi dad,” you said.

“Hey,” he said, his voice shaky. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath. “Mom’s on her way down to talk, okay? She’ll be here in ten minutes.”

“I so quit this job,” you said, wiping off your eyes with the back of your hand. He laughed and you threw your head back. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to say.”

“You don’t have to say anything. I’m gonna stay on the line as long as I can, okay?”

“Okay. Okay.”

Two Hours Later

The battery in the radio had died about fifteen minutes ago. There was no sound aside from your sniffling and Dean’s down the hall. You got up eventually and went into the hall, sitting down beside him. You handed him the radio and he clipped it back on his belt.

“You okay?” you asked, voice hoarse.

“You try listening to someone say goodbye to their parents and not bawl,” he said. He wiped off his face and took a deep breath. “Air’s better now at least.”

“What do we do now?”

“Now,” he said, clipping his water bottle onto your belt. “You sit there and try not to exert a lot of energy and that water will last you a few days.”

“We both heard my father. They can’t drill or dig or do anything fast enough. It’d take weeks. I’m not sitting here next to your dead ass so take your damn water back,” you said, shoving it back in his chest. He didn’t speak but put it on his belt, pulling his knees into his chest. “Why were you so mean to me before? You gave up time on the phone for me. I don’t think you’re what you pretend to be.”

“I’m a dead man walking and that’s a fact.”

“Technically you’re sitting.”

He smiled and rested his face in his knees. He sat up and reached over behind you, hitting off your headlight.

“We need to conserve power as long as possible,” he said.

“Will our lights go out before we dehydrate to death?” you asked.

“Yes,” he said. “This is what it’ll be like.”

He flipped off his lamp and you swore you’d never experienced a darkness so deep. You felt his hand graze yours before holding it and you swallowed.

“Kinda less scary knowing you can turn it back on again,” he said.

“You didn’t answer my question. Why such a brute?”

“You do this job long enough and most people think you’re a dumb sack of shit with nothing in his head. You’re dead weight, odds are you’ll die down here or get into some kind of accident and have to go on disability the rest of your life. You corporate people are always so stuck up, like I’m not even good enough to be the dirt on your shoes. I didn’t give you a chance because odds were you were like all the rest of them. You’re the only reason we didn’t die in that hole, very painfully.”

“Wouldn’t we have-”

“No. It’s not a simple hole we would have fell in. Falling rocks, crushing and hitting, landing on you, ones you hit yourself. Might not kill you immediately. You’d feel it.”

“Dying of thirst is better?”

“I’d say so. Still get to keep this handsome face, or what’ll be left of it,” he said. He flipped his light back on and you scooted closer. “I think you’re very attractive.”

“Excuse me?”

“I’m gonna die in like three or four days. Life has no consequences now and I happen to find you very attractive and you seem like a smart, sweet woman that put her parents a little at ease during the worst moment of their lives.”

“Who’s your brother?” you asked. “No consequences after all.”

“He’s a lawyer...and my best friend.”

“You said you did this job for him.”

“Student debt is a bitch. I try to help him out and the overtime helps make dents in it,” he said. “Our parents had debt out their asses. It caused so many problems for us. I wanted him safe, never have to worry about the next meal on the plate or the roof over his head or having to wear my hand me downs ever again. At least he’ll get my life insurance policy. That should help.”

“I have been busting my ass since I was a college freshman in that office to move up the chain for a job I didn’t even want. I completely lost nearly all of my twenties to work. All so I could die in here.”

“Well I know this doesn't sound good but I’m glad I didn’t die all super painful. Or that I’ll be alone,” he said. You smiled and nodded, Dean returning it. “Got any bucket list shit we can pull off down here?”

“We could make out,” you said. “Never knew anyone could make that jumpsuit look good.”

“Why the fuck not,” he chuckled. He leaned in close and your helmets bonked, Dean pulling his off and yours, quickly cupping your face. 

His lips were gentler than you thought, the two of you stopping when your lips were pressed together. You rested your forehead against his and broke off only an inch.

“Not as much fun at the moment as it sounded,” you breathed out.

“Pretty good last kiss though,” he said. You put your helmets back on and you grabbed his hand again. 

“Don’t let go down here. Please.”

He reached to his belt and undid a little pouch, pulling out a small tether of rope. He clipped one end onto him and the other to you.

“For when the lights go out,” he said.

“How long do we got?”

“About a day, maybe a little more,” he said. You sighed and turned your head, staring down the rest of the hall. “It’s decommissioned, Y/N. It’s a death trap.”

“Is there a way out?” you asked.

“Maybe. Maybe they never find us though,” he said. You stared at him and he nodded, hitting your headlamp back on. “Enough of the pity party. Let’s go get out of here or die trying.”

He stood and held out a hand, hoisting you to your feet. 

“So. What’s our best option?” you asked.

“It’s alright for a bit until we get to the decommissioned section. When we get there, that’s when it gets dangerous. Technically it’s dangerous now considering the blast but we’re okay for a bit,” he said. 

“Let’s go then,” you said. He nodded and you followed him down the hall, walking side by side. 

“Alright so the decommissioned section is called Hollow Pass. Beyond that is Upper Seven. If we can get to Upper Seven, we can get out the old entrance I’m pretty sure. Never been in there but hopefully it’s not a maze over there.”

“So Hollow Pass is the hard part.”

“Yeah.”

“Why was it decommissioned?”

“Unstable ground. Holes, pockets of air, rotted support beams, wood planks.”

“So it’s a death trap.”

“Yup,” he said. “We’re probably gonna die down there.”

“What do you think our odds are?”

“Well it’s been out of order for over fifty years, we have no map, I have no real idea where exactly to go...I give us 1% odds.”

“Beats are 0% odds here.”

“Good way to think about it considering we’re going to most likely die.” He stopped walking and took a deep breath. “If I fall or whatever, follow the widest hall possible and keep away from wood and cracks as best as possible. Ration your water and eventually you’ll find your way out.”

“If you fall I’m definitely not gonna make it.”

“Well at least try. You can tell my brother how devastatingly brave I was that way.”

“You just spent the past hour crying.”

“So did you,” he said. You bumped his shoulder and he returned it but it was playful and soft. You walked together quietly for a moment until Dean rounded a corner and took a deep breath.

There were a few planks across a hallway, Dean kicking them down, frowning when they broke pretty easily.

“There’s gonna be rot.”

“Lovely.”

“We don’t have to go,” he said. “You don’t have to. There’s a chance-“

“There’s no chance Dean. Not if we stay up there. If you don’t want to go, I will. Maybe I can get help back in-“

“We’re doing this together or you’re staying. I can go and you-“

“We both go,” you said. 

“I go first. You step where I step and if I tell you to do anything, you do it.”

“Dean. We already established that you’re not a hardass. You can lead the way but you know, nicely.”

“Alright, alright,” he said. He gave more slack in the rope attached to the two of you and took a deep breath. “Let’s go.”

He was calm for a few minutes until you were turning down a hallway, Dean suddenly stopping in front of you.

“What is it?” you asked.

“Look,” he said. You poked your head around him, swallowing at the rotted wood on the ground, holes worn into the planking. “Y/N that’s not good. Rot means there’s water and water means erosion and erosion means big shafts hundreds of feet straight down under those wood planks.”

“How much of it is wood?” you asked. You both looked ahead and sighed, the whole hall flooring covered in wood. “Shit.”

“Y/N. This is too dangerous. I’ve worked in mines since I was 18 and it’s way too dangerous.”

“Dean. I don’t want to die. If we don’t do anything, we’re dead in three days, maybe less.”

“Maybe they come up the decommissioned mine and get us,” he said. 

“Dean. The mountain collapsed from what my dad said. They are not coming in here, risking even more lives, in this mine. It might even have collapsed on the other side on the way out. We don’t know. All we do know is we stay and we’re dead or we go and we’re maybe dead.”

“You still won’t let me go on ahead on my own to try to get some help?”

“You’re not leaving me alone,” you said. You stepped ahead and he yanked on the rope, pulling you back. “Dean. Stop.”

“I go first,” he said. You held up your hands and he swallowed, Dean stepping past you, carefully putting his weight down on each plank. “Follow. Every footstep exactly where mine go.”

You followed after, the only sounds your breathing and the occasional board creaking. Dean put a foot down and stopped moving forward when you heard snapping. 

“Go back. Slowly.”

You stepped a foot backwards, putting weight on it and your foot going straight through. Dean grabbed your arm as you pulled your foot up, a few sticks falling into a deep dark pit. 

“What do we do,” you breathed out.

“Well we’re over rock that fell away so there’s a big hole beneath us if the rotted wood is anything to go by,” he said. You heard the slight waiver in his voice and sighed. “We make a choice. Forwards or backwards.”

“Back looks bad. Plus we already probably broke the supports.”

“I think solid ground is in front. But I have to jump for it,” he said. You looked past him and shook your head. 

“Dean, it's way too far. I can try to walk over there if you let out the rope. I get to solid ground and then you walk and if you fall, I got you with the rope.”

“Sweetheart, there’s no way.”

“You’re too heavy and we can’t stay here,” you said. You slipped past him and he tried to grab you but you went quickly. “Dean let out the rope. Now.”

“Fuck. We’re gonna die.”

“No we’re not,” you said, walking quickly, planks creaking but you sighed when you had solid rock under your feet again. “Alright. Just go where I did and fast.”

He took a deep breath and walked a few steps, a loud groaning of the wood making him move faster.

You hit the ground the second you saw him go down, the wood breaking away. Dean shouted and you dug your heels into the dirt. 

“Y/N!” he said, falling straight down into a hole and out of view.

_____

A/N: Read Part 2 here!

[impala1967dwinchester]

Sam Winchester: Thoughts

*Credit to the gif owner* 

Pairing: Sam W. x reader 

Pov: Sam 

Warnings: Fluff, Sam can hear the readers thoughts, Sam falling in love with the reader, Dean is here to help the plot

Summary: Sam gets cursed after the Dean, Y/n, and Sam hunt a witch. The next morning when he wakes up all he can hear is Y/n thoughts, and he’s slowly start to fall in love with her. 

A/N: Using @firefly-graphics Sam Winchester divider for this fic. This fic is sorta based on "What women want" with Mel Gibson. A good ol' Romantic Comedy.

Word Count: 2.3k

Main Masterlist Sams Masterlist 

Taglist: @sweetdetectivequeen​

A witch hunt couldn't possibly go wrong, right? Especially with the Winchester boys.

"Look lady, sit down before I shoot," Dean shouted, causing Y/n to flinch. Just enough of a flinch that I would be having a conversation with Dean later about no yelling so much.

The witch sat down, but what nobody noticed she was casting a spell under her breath. Dean, Y/n, and I had huddled together trying to figure out what we were going to ask this damn witch.

My back facing the witch. Dean looking over my shoulder looking angrily at the lady. Y/n had her game face on. She sometimes followed us around like lost puppies, but damn was she a fucking awesome hunter.

Sometimes better than Dean and I put together.

When I say that she followed us around like lost puppies I mean she never said what she thought. Dean or I would come up with a plan and she never put input in. Just kinda did what she was told. Reminds me of a younger version of Dean and myself.

Working our asses off for John, all for it to be for nothing. A good little soldier and that was all we were to him.

In the end, Dean just ended up letting the witch go since she hadn't any information. We all pilled back into the impala for the drive back to the bunker.

Y/n fell asleep in the back seat curled into a ball and looking rather peaceful. "Y'know I was thinking lover boy that maybe she could stay permanently with us," Dean said referring to Y/n in the backseat.

I just rolled my eyes before turning to look out the window. The drive was shortened by the fact that at one point my eyes were open and scanning the passing environment.

And the next minute I was dreaming a nice dream. I had a family a beautiful wife standing on our front patio, and watching our daughter and I play with our puppy.

It was nice, it was peaceful. But when I was looking around my dream, I noticed that every face was blank. Well, there goes the normal dream.

The shaking of my body woke me up. "Yo, wake up. Get your shit and go the bed." Dean said, pushing me closer to the passenger side door.

Stumbling out, I walked groggily to the back of the impala and grabbed my bags. Slinging them over my shoulder, I saw Dean try to pull Y/n from the back.

"Sweetheart, we made it home." Dean whispering. His hands falling underneath her knees, carefully picking her up out of the impala. "Open the door would Ya, instead of just standing and staring," Dean said still whispering.

I ran over to the door opening it. "Dude get some sleep, I'll get Y/n settled in, kay," Dean said passing me. Shrugging my shoulders and yawning as I walked to my room.

Stripping down to my boxers I collapsed into bed, loving the coolness of my sheets. Within minutes of my head hitting the pillow, I was out like a light.

Dreaming wasn't something that always happened for me, not since I first started hunting with Dean. But those weren't dreams those were more like nightmares, of people that I couldn't save.

I fell back into the same dream as before, still no faces. But the woman I assumed was my wife as a familiar voice, our daughter was what seemed like she was tops five or six.

Cute little thing, long brown hair like my own, wearing a cute sundress that was blue with green flowers printed on it. ' Dear, are you guys ready for dinner?' the woman asked me. I tried to not stare at the fact that she had no face, so I just hummed. Picking up our daughter.

'Tank you for playing with me daddy!' my daughter said to me bringing her small hands and arms and hugging me around my neck. Besides having no faces everything else seemed normal, my wife's voice seemed all too familiar and it was honestly getting at me. Before I was able to ask her something I was pulled from my dreams.

Waking up was a bitch. My neck was sore, and so were my shoulders. Deciding that today I wouldn't take that mile run, I opted for staying in bed just a bit longer this morning.

Finally getting up when I smelled coffee being made in the kitchen. Grabbing a pair of sweats that were laying around, I slipped my slippers on and went to go get some coffee.

The first thing I saw when I walked in was Dean dancing along to his horrible 70s and 80s rock. Flipping pancakes and sizzling bacon. 'God, why'd he choose no shirt this morning' "Huh? Did you say something Y/n?" I asked her, looking at her for the first time since last night.

She had her hair up in a messy bun, wearing a flannel of Dean, and a baggy pair of shorts. "No, I didn't say anything, Sam," Y/n said pushing her glasses up the bridge of her nose, continuing reading her book.

Okay Sam you have to admit that was odd and kinda creepy. Not that I mind being complimented, but still weird. "You gonna get your cup of coffee or just stand there looking like an idiot!" I heard Dean crack.

"No," I answered back grabbing a coffee cup that was next to the machine. 'Jeez Dean way to be an asshole towards Sam.' There it was again Y/n voice.

Turning around rather quickly which only hurt my neck even more. "Did you just say that?" I asked panic starting to overtake my body and instincts. y/n looked over at Dean, causing Dean to look over at me.

"Dude what are you going on about?" He asked me... eyes big I just waved his question off, "Never mind I think I must have hit my head last night." I said just wanting my morning coffee more than anything.

The rest of the morning went by fine. No hearing Y/n voice, but then again, she wasn't around for the rest of the morning. "I'm heading out to the shops; I need a new pair of jeans. If either one of you wanna head out with me that's fine too. If not that's okay too guys." Y/n said mostly talking and looking at me.

'Please come out with me Sammy' I heard. Ignore it, rolling my eyes before speaking again. "No, it's okay. Dean?" I spoke. "Nah, I'm fine dear. But thanks." Dean said using his signature wink.

As Y/n walked away I heard her voice again, 'Jesus Dean, stop with the nicknames, and the winking. Obviously, it's not working.' That was the last I heard the sentence.

Dean wants to be with Y/n. I don't, I can't see that going very well, Dean sees Y/n more as a sister than anything else. What does that mean it's not working?

Hours later Y/n came into the bunker carrying a few bags. "I thought you only needed a pair of jeans, Y/n?" Dean snarked. "I did, but you guys were running out of some things, so I grabbed some other shit." Y/n countered.

Well, I can't deny that Dean and Y/n do have a certain chemistry, one that she and I just don't have. "what did you get?" I asked moving the conversation along. "I umm... I got you guys some t-shirts, some more socks, and just something fun for both of you." She said shyly.

"That's great, thank you. Did you have an okay time?" I asked, 'No, Sam I didn't that's why I wanted you to go with me. So many gross old men hit on me.' I heard Y/n's face was only scrunched up for a few seconds.

"Yeah, I had a perfectly fine time. Really did enjoy the alone time." Y/n said winking at us. Dean just rolled his eyes and jumped up to go through the bags, but Y/n swatted his hands away.

Digging into the bag she pulled out pie for Dean and he took off with it like he was a squirrel. Y/n looked back over to me and then started to look through the other bags. "Here Sam. I didn't know if you already had this book, but I thought why not." She said, shrugging her shoulder in a cute sort of way.

"Here for a gift return, a Winchester hug, yeah?" I said laughing a little bit. "I don't see why not, I heard that they're hard to come by," Y/n said back rounding the table in an effort to get on a very one-sided hug.

I hadn't realized until recently how much shorter Y/n was compared to me. I could fully rest my chin on her head. 'God I could use this more often' I squeezed her in my arms. 'God, he smells so great' I heard again, she nuzzled her face into my chest. 'He gives much better hugs than Dean.' I heard.

Y/n was the one to let go of the hug, not me. I was starting to realize that it was in fact Y/n I was hearing just not the words coming out of her mouth, it was her thoughts.

That night I convinced Dean that I could make dinner. For the time I was at college and dating Jessica I had learned some good enough cooking skills. "Fine whatever you do just don't ruin my pans and pots!" Dean screamed from his bedroom as I walked away.

That night I cooked a shrimp alfredo, and chicken alfredo with noodles. Something simple but it was mostly all the food that we had left in the bunker kitchen.

"Dinners ready you two!" I hollered from the library, Dean running from the garage, and on the other side of me was Y/n walking down the hallway. 'Look at him, damn chiefs' apron' I looked down and saw that the apron said "kiss the cook" Damn Dean.

'I'd definitely kiss that cook.' I heard as she walked past me. I just followed her with my gaze, mouth slightly open. Hoping that it wouldn't fall straight to the floor.

"Well dig in. It won't kill you, Dean." Y/n said. Dean just put his hands up in defense it's not like he had said anything but we all know he was thinking it instead.

Dinner went by quickly, few words from any of us, and not many thoughts passing through Y/n's mind. Besides 'Damn, he's got skills, 'So much better than Dean would ever do' I snorted when I heard that thought. Dean looked over at me, "What's so funny Samuel?" He spoke.

I rolled my eyes, "It's Sam, Samuel sounds like an old fashion name" I said. "Nothing is wrong Dean." I finished. 'If nobody thought you guys were brothers, they should spend at least a few hours with you.' I heard.

"Can we not fight at the dinner table, please Dean," I asked. I was trying to lean into what Y/n was saying, or more thinking. By the end of dinner Dean had eaten another serving and was now on his second piece of apple pie and a glass of hard crown apple whiskey the Y/n had bought earlier that day.

"Good night you two love birds. Tweet tweet. I'm heading to bed." Dean said kissing Y/n's temple, and patting my shoulder he walked out of the library.

"I'm sorry about him, Y/n. He doesn't have a sensor." I said apologizing for my older brother. Y/n got up waving him off and grabbed the leftover dishware.

I followed behind her grabbing what she couldn't. "He's fine. He should know better, but he's okay Sammy." Y/n said. Not many people called me Sammy besides Dean and Y/n, but it always seemed sweeter coming out of her mouth.

Y/n started to wash dishes. "Can I ask you a question Y/n?" She hummed, so I continued on. "Why do you never say anything while we are on a hunt. You don't always have to follow out stupid ideas...." I said noticing that Y/n had now turned around and was facing me.

"Look I didn't mean it like that. I'm just saying that I'd like to know what you're thinking for a while. especially when we are on a hunt. Your opinions matter to me. I hope you know that." I said, crossing my arms across my chest.

'Shut up would Ya'. You don't know how much that means to me.' "I know that you can hear what I'm thinking." Well, that went south very quickly and my stupid facial expression doesn't help the situation. "How long have you known?" I asked.... We stood in silence beside the water in the sink running. "Since before dinner when I was thinking about kissing the amazing chef that made dinner. Because I would still kiss the chef." Y/n said. setting the plate down on the kitchen island.

'Do you want me to kiss you, Samuel?' She said in her thought. I hummed. Shaking my head, licking my lips in anticipation. 'Words Sammy Dear.' She thought. "Just come over here. If this is what happens when I can hear your thoughts, I may be okay with being cursed by a witch ever so often." I said before our lips crashed together.

Our kiss was short-lived when Y/n left mine. "What are you talking about the witch from last night's hunt?" I shook my head. "We need to go get that witch, kill her, get her to remove the curse. Whatever, because as much as it's cute somethings a girl wants to keep to herself." Y/n said, coming back up to my lips and pecking them.

"You're gonna be the death of me," I said, before following her over to the sink to help wash dishes. I think I might have fallen in love with you Y/n. I thought.

"Hey... I heard that." Y/n said. I rolled my eyes, "No you didn't." Confusion replaced Y/ns soft features. "Okay, what did I say then, Y/n?" I asked. "I think I might have fallen in love with you Y/n" Y/n answered.

"Damn it. We really gotta find that witch, Samuel." Y/n said.

Completed on: 04/11/2021

[wolfstarlibrarian]

Welcome to the fifth installment of Beyond The Shelves!

This month’s creator spotlight is on the truly unique and amazing @mlim8. Mel has brought new life into fandom with her stunning art and comics that can make you laugh and cry. She's also the artist behind the Padfoot you can pet on the Librarian's home page (desktop) and the Moony gif on the Help Desk page. Now let's get to know this incredible artist!

Name: Mel is fine :D (she/her)

Where can people find your art?/Support you?

I'm only on Tumblr! @mlim8 (I tried getting a Twitter but I got confused so it's an account in limbo~). My Wolfstar/HP Masterlist is here (links only work on mobile)

What's your favorite thing about Remus & Sirius?

I'm a biggggg sucker for the 'childhood friends' trope. As well as pairings that scream mutual pining, but on the other hand, can be pure fluff. I like pairings where the couple can play off each other, can support each other, who might not always see eye-to-eye but have also been with the other for so long now, they know what they’re doing to make sure they still work, because in the end, they LOVE EACH OTHER. Somehow, Remus and Sirius can tick off all these different boxes and I love them for it uwu And then, there’s also just so much mystery about them in the books and therefore, so much freedom to interpret them, given how little we actually have to go on - it’s so cool to see them in an assortment of AUs, tropes, canon, non-canon fics and see them fall in love over and over and over again… So ultimately? I guess my favourite thing is that it’s so damn obvious how in love they are with one another that the Wolfstar fandom is as big as it is :)

What do you think your signature style is?

I think I’m known for fanfic comics, cute fluff, and my chibi style. You will also see a blush on my characters’ cheeks like 98.9% of the time. I can’t help it… it belongs there lol

What inspires you?

Fanfics, usually. I actually came back to drawing on tumblr because of some beautiful fanfics that I couldn’t get out of my head and needed to draw them. Afterward, it would be songs, videos, memes, conversations with friends, posts from friends, etc - it’s not difficult to take something and go “Do it again, but as Wolfstar.”

What advice would you give new artists?

I guess some obvious ones would be to practice, practice, practice. Use references and 3D models, they help so damn much. Video tutorials and other art tutorials are there to help you make things easier, there really is an endless pit of things to learn and techniques to master. Some other things that people might forget: drink water, do stretches for your wrists and neck, get up once in a while to get blood flow in your legs. But most importantly, even if you want to practice a lot, don’t forget to TAKE. BREAKS. Your body and mind will thank you.

You also don’t need anything super fancy to draw: traditional art is just as valid as any digital art (more so because you don’t have a CTRL+Z function and it drives me insane, so power to you!!). Cheaper $50 art tablets can do what you need them to, as long as you know how to use it. With art programs, there are tons of free ones that you can get your feet wet before committing to any expensive programs (I’ve used Paint Tool SAI for years in the past and I know artists that use FireAlpaca and GIMP with amazing results as well :D)

Lastly, and this is gonna be a hard one: Don’t compare yourself (or your progress) to other artists. People take years (decades??) to make art that they love and develop a style/technique that they’re proud of and it’s not worth the stress. You’re only in a competition with yourself and that’s challenging enough already!

What do you use to create your art?

I use a Wacom Bamboo Fun Pen & Touch - it was a birthday gift from waaaay back that I’ve had for a decade now :’)

For art programs, I’ve been using Clip Studio Paint for about 8 months now and I use Photoshop for stitching larger GIFs together uwu

What's a favorite piece you made and why?

Oh my God, how to decide… there’s been a ton that I’ve been proud of but my favourite (spelling with a u because I’m Canadian, eh) would be the recent Candy Heart Post I did a couple weeks back now. Just a lot of love and effort went into it, not just the art itself but trimming the song, all the editing and timing of each frame. I wanted so hard to tell a story and I think it came out the way I wanted it to :)

Pick one of your own pieces/AUs and give readers a little note about it. What inspired it? Why is it a favorite?

Okay, so this is probably an obvious one for those that have been on my blog for the last few months - but I have an AU called ‘Rembus and Hunter AU’ that is about an incubus demon, Remus, and a Demon Hunter, Sirius. The demon, affectionately called Rembus, is surprisingly sweet and adorable. In short: HE IS BABY. And when Hunter comes to the Village of Gryffindor to get rid of him, he learns that there’s more to demons than he’s known through the church and his family.

It’s just a really stupidly cute AU, despite the premise, and I’m so excited to share their story with everyone (one day, haha I’m a slow artist -)! Here’s Part 0 (the info card), if anyone is interested :)

It was created when I came upon an outfit ( similar to what Rembus wears) and thought “Okay, but Incubus!Remus.” - and that’s it. That’s usually how my AUs come about. The smallest inspiration and I spiral out of control with a backstory. This AU was fleshed out a lot with the help of Whippy, who was great to bounce all these ridiculous ideas off of lol

Make sure to check back later today for a list of works and recs from Mel herself!

[pedro-pascal-love]

The Truth

Chapter Seven of Well, This is Awkward

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Rating: 18+, NSFW

Word Count: 3k+

Summary: Reader learns the truth about Dave, Carol returns home, and unexpected things happen.

Warnings: Language, angst, cheating/infidelity

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Dave looked at you. You looked at Dave. There was a silence in the room that was stifling. You blinked, cocking your head to the side, waiting for an answer, unsure of where this confidence came from. Dave stared at you, unsure of how to proceed.

Do I tell her the truth? Or lie? Dave pondered.

Fuck, here goes nothing.

“I - uh. I used to work for the DIA,” Dave started as he held his hands up to help keep you calm.

“What, like the CIA?” you countered with a scoff. Dave nodded.

“Kind of. DIA, Defense Intelligence Agency. We focused more on national level defense military stuff whereas the CIA was more on the intelligence and international stuff,” he explained. You looked at him bewildered.

“You’re telling me that you’re like some kind of spy or assassin or something?” you asked sarcastically. Dave merely looked at you and nodded.

“Yeah, you could say that. But it’s a was. I used to work for them,” he clarified. “The government shut us down a few years back.”

“Used to? What do you do now?” you questioned. “If not for the government, then who?”

“Whoever I want,” he retorted. “I do the same things I used to for God and country, kill names on a paper. Only now, there’s just a price next to them.” You stared at him, completely speechless. The man that you’d been sleeping with, who you had slowly been growing feelings for, was someone who killed people for a living?!

No, no, no, no, no.

This can’t be happening, you thought as you grew lightheaded. You lost your balance and had to sit down on the bed while Dave took a step closer to you. You held your hand up to him.

“No. – just stay there. Please,” you said, as you tried to process everything. Dave. Your boss Dave. Dave, who hours ago had you sprawled out on his bed as he plowed into you. Dave, who just rescued you from your murderous ex.

Fuck, I sure know how to pick ‘em don’t I?

You scoffed to yourself as you held your shaking hands in front of you. You looked up to Dave with a stern look.

“After the shit I went through, I deserve an explanation,” you said firmly. “I watch your daughters; I deserve to know exactly what the FUCK I got myself into.” Dave nodded at your words and held his hand out.

“Fair enough, princess,” he said as you gazed at his hand, still uneasy. All of a sudden, you heard a knock at your door again.

Fuck.

In a blink of an eye, Dave had whipped out his Glock and aimed it at the door, placing his body between you and the doorway. He nodded as he looked at you, letting you know you could talk.

“Who is it?” You shouted.

“Hey, it’s Jesse! I’m outside with Mel, and the cops are here too,” you heard your friend Jesse say. You breathed a sigh of relief as you touched Dave’s shoulder, indicating he could put down the weapon. He hid the gun again as he grabbed your hand in his left hand and your duffel bag in the other and pulled you through your apartment. You arrived at the front door and opened it, to be greeted by Mel and Jesse staring at you, with two police officers behind them.

“Uhm, hey guys,” you said, trying to keep your cool.

“Oh my god! Thank goodness you’re okay!” Mel said as she threw her arms around you. Jesse patted your back as he looked at Dave and then at your intertwined hands.

“Where’s Tom?” Jesse asked, observing the absence of the person who moments ago was just there. You shivered at the thought of what might’ve transpired between Tom and Dave outside your door.

“I got rid of him. Turns out he kind of spooks easily,” Dave said with a shrug.

“Excuse me, who are you?” The policeman behind Mel asked. Dave looked at the officer and read his badge and badge number, memorizing it just in case.

“I’m Dave. Her boss,” Dave said firmly. “When she didn’t return to the house right away, and I hadn’t heard from her, I knew something was wrong. And I was right. She’d texted me about Tom being here.”

The two police officers nodded.

“Miss, do you mind coming down to the station to get a statement?” The officer asked. You shivered, and Dave took notice.

“I think I should get her back to the house. She’s been through so much already, and I can bring her down there later on,” Dave answered for you, taking charge. You gazed up at him, surprised he was so cooperative with the authorities.

I guess that’s what he has to do, given his line of work, you thought to yourself with an eye-roll. How much more did you now know about Dave?

“Very well. Miss, is that ok with you?” You nodded your head as you looked at Mel and Jesse.

“I –," you began, but Dave cut you off.

“If you two would like to accompany us on the way to the house and spend some time with her, you’re more than welcome to. I’ll take care of getting the girls from school and everything later today,” Dave said. You looked at him and then your friends.

“Uh – yeah. I’d like that. They can follow along behind us?” You asked, finally finding your voice. Dave nodded, and you both made your way out the door and to his SUV. Mel and Jesse got into their cars and drove up behind you as soon as you pulled off into the road. You and Dave sat in silence in his car. The air between the two of you growing tense again.

“Spill,” you said as you crossed your arms and glowered at him.

“Ask me questions, and I’ll answer them. It’ll be easier that way,” Dave answered as he looked at the road.

“Fine. First of all, how the fuck did you get into my apartment?” You asked, quirking an eyebrow up at him. Dave sighed.

“I had a copy made of it the first week you were at the house,” he answered truthfully.

“Why?”

“In case of emergencies.”

“Hmmm.” You pondered out loud. You thought back to all your conversations and things that he had said to you. Today he’d mentioned that he knew you were in trouble when he hadn’t heard from you, and he’d made it to your apartment faster than you’d anticipated, considering you thought he was fifteen minutes away at home. He’d made it to your apartment within five minutes of texting him, which would’ve been impossible if he was where he said he was.

“You said that when you hadn’t heard from me and when I hadn’t gotten back to the house after dropping off the girls that you knew something was wrong. But it would’ve taken you at least fifteen minutes, maybe ten if you broke traffic laws, to get to my apartment from the house. How did you know?” You challenged. Dave sighed. He pulled his phone out and handed it to you. You looked down at it in confusion.

“What am I supposed to do with this?” You asked him. He had you point the phone to him as he unlocked it with his thumb and turned the phone back to you. You looked down at the phone, and your eyes widened. On the screen was an image of your front door. You tapped an arrow, and the angle changed to that of your kitchen, facing the front door. Another tap, and you were now looking at your living room. Another tap, and you were looking down your hallway. Several more taps confirmed that there were indeed cameras everywhere in your apartment. Even in your bedroom and bathroom, though it didn’t show the shower, thankfully.

Small blessings, you thought in annoyance.

“Double click and choose the next app,” he instructed. Following his directions, you were then greeted with a series of dots. Upon further investigation, you saw that the dots corresponded to your phone, and your car, along with a few other dots that you weren’t sure about.

“Those other dots are the girls’ phones, Carol’s car, and her phone,” Dave explained, seeming to know your unspoken questions.

“You bugged Carol’s phone?” You asked. “Is that how you knew about the affair?” Dave shook his head.

“Wait, is my phone bugged to?!” You said, realization finally dawning on you.

Oh, god.

He’s heard all the things I've told Mel over the phone.

Dave merely looked at you and smirked.

“I won’t answer that, but I think you know the answer, princess. And no, I had had a feeling about the affair for a while but never had a reason to pursue investigating into it. Until –,“ Dave stopped himself.

“Until?” you prompted. Dave cleared his throat.

“Until you,” he replied softly. Your eyes widened. What exactly was he saying?

“Explain,” you stated.

“After I met you and found out you were the nanny, I had Resnik investigate into your background. Who you were. Where you went to school. Where you previously worked. Who you’d dated. Everything. You were going to be watching my kids 24/7; I had to,” Dave said with a shrug.

“And the cameras?” you asked with a grunt.

“Just to keep an eye on you. With Carol being absent, the girls needed someone, and I wasn’t about to lose the only other person in their life that they looked at as a mother,” Dave uttered. “Besides, even without the cameras, you were tailed wherever you went. Resnik made sure of that.” You narrowed your eyes at him.

“You mean you had someone spying on me?”

“I guess when you put it that way…. But it was only to keep you safe. The night I got confirmation of Carol’s affair was the night I found out about Tom.”

“YOU WHAT?!” you exclaimed.

He’d known that Tom was out of jail and would be coming for you and didn’t tell you?!

“Look, I wanted to tell you, but you didn’t even know that I knew.” Dave had a point there. You hadn’t mentioned anything of your history with Tom to Dave, even though you’d had a lot of pillow talk the last week.

“Wow,” you breathed out as you sat back in your seat. You both spent the rest of the ride in silence as you processed everything that Dave had shared. Your boss was a spy. No, an assassin. An assassin spy? Whatever. He killed people for a living, which should terrify you, considering your ex had tried to kill you.

I’m surrounded by killers.

Yet you didn’t fear Dave like you feared Tom. In fact, instead of fear, you felt something else, and you weren’t quite sure what it was. You mulled things over and realized that Dave had only tried to protect you and hadn’t hurt you, whereas Tom had wanted to kill you.

Dave was a killer, but he didn’t kill without reason, you thought to yourself.

Being so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t realize that you’d returned to Dave’s home until you were pulling up the driveway, and Dave had already parked and looked at you. You turned away from him and let out the breath that you were holding.

“I – I think I need a little space,” you managed to say as you looked at him. Dave looked at you and nodded.

“I understand.”

You got out of the SUV and made your way over to the front door as Mel and Jesse met you there. Dave nodded at you all as you walked into the house and you shut the door. You turned to Mel and Jesse, and they merely looked at you.

“Ok, spill,” Jesse finally said, breaking the silence.

Dave was seething. He wanted to crush Tom like the parasite that he was. But he couldn’t. Not yet, at least. He needed to take care of a few things first; the main thing was to make sure that you were ok. Dave sighed as he thought about the conversation you had moments ago. He’d come clean to you about what he did and who he was. He’d come clean to you about everything, including the cameras and even bugging your phone. What the hell possessed him to do that? He had no idea. He shook his head as he dialed Resnik’s number.

“Resnik, I need you to track down Tom and keep an eye on him. I have some plans for him,” Dave instructed into the phone as he looked through the windshield and towards the silver SUV at the other end of the street.

“Got it,” came Resnik’s reply, and the line went dead. Dave had things to prepare.

—THREE DAYS LATER—

Dave had grown weary of Carol’s arrival as it grew nearer. After the ordeal with Tom two days prior, you’d holed yourself up in your room. Dave had told the girls that you weren’t feeling very well and not to bother you, and you hadn’t even emerged to see him. He’d resorted to leaving trays of food outside your bedroom door for you and would watch as you’d open it and set the previous tray out. He’d understood that you’d just deal with a lot and needed some time, but he grew anxious.

I do not have feelings.

No.

I can’t, Dave argued with himself that morning. Carol was set to be home within an hour, and the girls were still at school. Dave had checked on you through the cameras and had seen that you were sound asleep, having taken some sleeping pills that he’d given you. First, he needed to deal with Carol before addressing things with you. He sat in the living room and waited, thinking of what he would say to Carol. It felt like an eternity had passed before he heard Carol’s car drive up and the sound of her getting out. Dave sighed as he got up and braced himself for what was to come. Carol walked in the door, none the wiser to what her husband knew.

“Carol,” Dave greeted as she opened the door. Carol jumped back with a start.

“Dave! I wasn’t expecting you here,” Carol said as she clutched her chest.

“Well, our nanny wasn’t feeling well, so I dropped the girls off at school today and came home to make sure she was ok,” Dave answered. Carol nodded.

“I see. Well, that’s sweet of you,” Carol said as she maneuvered past him and towards their bedroom to unpack. Dave followed behind her as he bided his time, waiting for Carol to notice the envelope on their bed. Carol walked around the bedroom, putting various things down before setting her gaze on the yellow manila envelope on the bed.

“Dave, what’s this?” Carol asked as she picked it up. Opening it, she scanned the contents of the envelope, and she let out a gasp as the pages fell to the ground. Enclosed were the photos of Carol and Adrian's affair, the same ones that Dave had shown you the night he found out.

“Dave, honey, I – I can explain,” Carol said. Dave held his hand up and shook his head.

“I know everything, Carol,” Dave sternly said as Carol swallowed. “We are getting a divorce, and I am taking the girls.”

“You can’t!” Carol exclaimed, and Dave silenced her with a firm gaze.

“I can, and I am. The girls deserve a mother who will be there for them, not one that goes on so-called work trips with her lover for weeks at a time,” Dave spat out. Carol recoiled at his spiteful tone, and his words cut deep.

“I suppose the fucking nanny’s the one to do it?” Carol retorted back, trying to get a rise out of Dave. “Have you been sleeping with our nanny?”

“Maybe she is! The girls asked her themselves if she’d stay and be their new mom,” Dave bitterly replied, making sure to dodge the question of sleeping with you. Carol’s heart broke to hear that her daughters were unhappy with her.

“No. No, they can’t have said that. You’re lying!” Carol lashed out as she threw a finger accusingly at Dave. Dave shook his head and squared his shoulders, looking much more intimidating.

I wish it were as easy to get rid of her as it would be others.

Ugh.

“It doesn’t matter, Carol. This marriage is over. Don’t bother unpacking because you will be out of this house by tonight,” Dave said as he turned on his heel and walked out of the bedroom, leaving Carol to cripple to the floor in agony.  She let out a sob as she looked down at the pictures once more.

What have I done? She thought to herself.

You woke with a start. You’d had another nightmare about Tom. You dreamt that he’d somehow gotten into the York’s house and taken you and finished what he’d started. You looked down at your arms. Sweat dripping down onto the mattress. The last three nights, you’d stayed in your room away from Dave, and you’d known that it was a mistake. You missed his body next to yours, holding you as you slept. You were still upset with him but also understood where he was coming from. In a matter of short weeks, you’d gotten to know Dave and knew that he’d never intentionally hurt you unless you asked for it.

Having found out the truth about him had not made you fear him; in fact, it made you even hotter for him. You also dreamt that Dave swooped in to save you and whisk you away in your nightmares with Tom. You sighed at that thought as you got up out of bed and into the bathroom. You knew that Carol was due home today but wasn’t sure about the time since you’d been ignoring the world around you for the last 48 or so hours. You were, however, unaware that she had already arrived home two hours prior and currently sat in the master bedroom crying while Dave was hidden away in his office.

You walked into the shower and turned it on, waiting for the room to fill with steam before stepping in and sighing as you felt the hot water cascade down your back. You never wanted to get out, but you knew that you had to face reality sooner or later. After twenty minutes, you stepped out of the bathroom and into your bedroom and stopped in your tracks. The window on the other side of your room was open, and a breeze came in, but you knew that you’d left it closed when you went into the bathroom. You were sure of it. You clutched your towel to your body as you scanned the room, not seeing anything out of the ordinary. You walked over to the window and shut it and then made your way to the walk-in closet and turning on the light, and looking around, still not seeing anyone. You sighed and shook your head.

Probably just being paranoid.

Dave probably came in and opened the window, you thought to yourself as you walked over to where you kept your underwear. As you were about to drop the towel, you felt a presence behind you, and the hairs on the back of your head stood up. As you began to turn, a hand came around to clasp your mouth shut as another one held you restricted your movement.

“Hey baby, miss me?” a voice spoke into your ear as the world went black around you.

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