#i just thought her marketing was weird but separated from that Just looking at the dlc shes fine shes cute

[spacedlexi]

i said in my seyka response that i wasnt going to be engaging with any weird fandom drama so know those asks arent seeing the light of day

[dat-town]

one look (and it's over)

Characters: student representative!Leehan & content creator!female reader

Setting & genre: high school au, fluff, coming of age, fake dating for like 30 seconds

Summary: You took one look at Kim Leehan and thought you had him all figured out. But oh he was so much more than that and somehow he became a stable point in your uncertain future.

Warnings: stage names are used, OC refers to Leehan as pretty boy and is annoyed by him in the beginning, OC has one neglectant comment about harassment against boys but regrets it immediately, Leehan has this popularity thing going on with all its consequences, people tend to touch him without his consent and it does bother him but tends to play it off, he also reveals an insecurity about his looks at one point

Words: 7.8k

Author’s note: this is also the product of the amount of Ann Liang books i binge read recently, the instagram algorithm and @restlessmaknae’s marketing for Zico’s kids. partly inspired by who! trailer film and Leehan’s iconic “how can she not like me when i look like this?” title is from Leo’s One Look

despite all the spoilers i hope you like it @restlessmaknae <3

read Taesan’s companion piece here

The first time you met Leehan, he said you were his girlfriend.

Not to you but to another stranger, a girl very obviously flirting with him and you felt like an awkward third wheel standing there with your camera in hand.

“Oh,” the girl with thigh socks and manicured fingers pouted after giving you a once-over as if cataloging what she lost against but then she mumbled out a sorry and made a beeline towards her friends in the back of the room.

The boy next to you let out a relieved sigh and that was what managed to snap you out of your stupor.

“Did you just use me to get out of having to say no?” You hissed and glared at him despite the height difference. Lucky for him you weren’t a fan of public humiliation, so you didn’t call him out on the lie loudly while the girl from before was still so close but it didn’t mean you supported his rude behavior. However, the boy didn’t look like he was feeling guilty.

“I did say no. Twice. She was being pushy,” he explained, letting out a frustrated huff as he looked down at you. “I know her type, this was the easiest and kindest way to let her down.”

“You talk as if you had so much experience,” you snorted, the urge to roll your eyes too strong but nothing could have prepared you for the boy’s reaction.

“Well… yeah,” he simply confirmed with a small nod after barely hesitating and just pointed at his face. His stupid handsome face because if you wanted to be honest, he looked exactly like the type of guy girls your age would be daydreaming about. His hazel brown, longer locks framed his freckled face nicely and his orbs reflected the blue lights of the aquariums around you behind his stylish glasses. You weren’t even sure he needed those or if they were just a fashion item like his baggy jeans and plaid shirt were. He looked like the kind of boy who thought they were too good for everybody.

“Alright,” you muttered, sarcasm dripping off your tone before turning your back on him and heading towards the tunnel under the shark aquarium because you wanted nothing to do with the likes of him. Briefly you wondered whether the girl from before saw this and thought you were the jealous kind of girlfriend but you had better things to do than worrying about that.

Unfortunately, the pretty boy didn’t get the memo and managed to catch up to you quickly. His stupid long legs easily kept up with your steps.

“Hey, wait up. It would be weird if we went separate ways and she found me again.”

“Not my problem,” you reminded him and the guy had the audacity to look like a kicked puppy with his doe eyes. It was unfair. You sighed. “Whatever. Just stay quiet.”

The guy did not in fact stay quiet. He babbled about random fun facts about the sea animals you were seeing, pointing out cool hiding ones you would have missed otherwise and he seemed to know more fish species than you ever heard of in your life.

“How do you know all this?” Your curiosity got the worse out of you at one point when he was talking about the coral reef and star fishes in such detail your past Biology teachers would have been ashamed of their own knowledge.

“Oh. I come here a lot,” pretty boy answered with a shrug and a big smile, his pearl white teeth glittering under the fluorescent lights. “Would you like me to take a picture of you? It’s one of the last rooms.”

Out of instinct you were about to tell him no because you were used to taking your own pictures but thinking about it for a moment, it was only right. He lied about you being his girlfriend and stuck to your side, so you couldn’t film like you planned. The least he could do was to take some pictures.

“Sure,” you handed him your camera and stood in front of the colorful aquarium, posing naturally, then you turned towards the fish and poked the glass between you. The boy didn’t even complain and later you had to admit that he did take it seriously. The photos came out nice enough to set one of them as your new profile picture.

“I’m Leehan by the way,” he said as he handed back your camera and as if on cue, your phone started ringing. You glanced at the caller’s handle before answering, sandwiching the phone between your shoulder and ear to take the camera back.

“Hi, mom. I will be out in a minute,” you said, waving the guy goodbye just to not be rude while you listened to your mother explaining the location of the parking spot she found. You might not meet ever again but you could be well mannered about it even if his previous attitude still bothered you.

When you were younger, you wanted to become many things: idol, actress, tv show host, news anchor… You had always had the passion of performing and ever since you had won the beauty pageant in your region when you had been 4 years old, you had kept hearing that you had the face for these things, too. As if having been a pretty baby helped much with teenager pimples and acne scars.

It was a bit more than three years ago when you decided to take your fate into your hands and do something with this interest of yours. During the summer after your middle school graduation, your family moved to Jeju, so your parents could oversee the opening of the new branch of their business. Not knowing anybody around there but loving the beautiful spots, you started making weekly videos about your days, studying, discovering bakeries and stationary stores. A term passed and life brought you to Gwangju, then Daegu, then last time Daejeon. Over the years your content changed a bit focusing more on realistic high school life portrayal, aesthetics vlogs going around new towns and skincare tips you learned while your subscriber numbers increased gradually. By now, you were an established content creator with a loyal following and some long term sponsors. You only had one more year to graduate and then you could do this full time.

Unsurprisingly senior year had found you in a new city too, this time Seoul, and your viewers had been eager for new exploring types of content, so you had done your research and headed out to look around a bit before the upcoming term made you busy. That was how you had ended up at the aquarium too, not that you could salvage any footage from that day after meeting the arrogant pretty boy.

But oh, how wrong you were about not seeing him again. He was literally on the poster advertising your new school when you went to pick up your school uniform with your mom. Suddenly Seoul seemed to be a much smaller city than you expected it to be.

Small mercies though, at least you weren’t classmates. Not that it saved you from hearing the girls gush about him or his other popular friends. It was a typical high school thing, everywhere you went, school cliques and dynamics were all the same. As the new transfer student you fit in alright, but you had experience in that, in being the new kid in town. You got yourself some popularity too after one of the girls asked for your IG and saw your followers’ number and another classmate was watching your Youtube channel apparently. You didn’t become an outcast nor were you caught up in classroom drama, so it was all good just how you liked it to be.

It happened a few weeks into the term, on a nothing special Tuesday. You were sitting in the canteen with some of your classmates you befriended, spooning fried rice into your mouth and listening to Eunjoo squealing about the new Olive Young discounts, when you looked up and your eyes met a familiar set of brown eyes. The first thing you noticed was a sly smile on the boy’s lips then the second that he wasn’t wearing glasses, so either you were right about them being fake or he wore contact lenses.

You forced yourself to look away despite feeling his gaze on you and focused on the girls’ chatter about Innisfree’s new skincare collection, agreeing to go with them later to check it out. Suddenly, you heard a creak of chair legs dragged across the floor and the canteen quieting down for a long moment before the murmurs picked up. Then an empty tray with only remains of the daily lunch menu was slid onto the table across you and Wonhee on your left gasped.

“Hello, girls. Hello… Y/N,” came the now familiar smooth voice and you caught Leehan pointedly looking at the name tag over your uniform before locking eyes with you. “I didn’t know you go here.”

“I just transferred this year,” you said, unfazed but you couldn’t help but observe how different vibe did the boy give off now compared to the aquarium. Maybe it was the circumstances or maybe it was the uniform’s doing, the suit well-fitted, his necktie nicely made and the fabric’s tight stretch empathizing his broad shoulders. Nothing about him now indicated how laid back he had been back at the aquarium, how relaxed, if not for his lazy smile. Here he was composed, seemingly aware that each of his movements were followed by curious eyes. Huh, maybe he did have as much experience rejecting girls as he had claimed despite his age.

“Do you know each other?” Eunjoo chirped in, cutting your train of thoughts short.

“We ran into each other before,” you explained briefly and while it didn’t seem to satisfy the girls' curiosity, luckily Leehan didn’t seem keen on elaborating either.

“Well, it was good to see you again,” he nodded towards you then flashed a charming smile at your entire table before taking off, leaving a trail of whispers and gossip in the wake of his steps. You looked after him and wondered what Yongsan High’s prince wanted from you.

That could have been it. Acknowledging each other’s presence, greeting each other on the school hallways, nothing less, nothing more. That was until Principal Im called you into his office, offered you tea and mentioned that ‘it was brought to his knowledge that you were some sort of Internet persona’, his words, not yours. It felt weird talking about it with a teacher because none of your previous schools had a problem with it. But as it turned out it was quite the opposite. The principal wished to use your ‘expertise with standing in front of a camera’ to the school’s benefit. So that was how you ended up doing a photoshoot for the school’s Open Day with none other than Kim Leehan.

Although you had no actual modeling experience, the principal reassured you that you didn’t need to be professional for this kind of shoot. He was even delighted by the idea of you vlogging the experience for more exposure. So on the day of the shooting, you headed to the classroom assigned for the shoot right after classes and talked with the photographer about recording the entire session and set up your camera. You were doing last minute adjustments with the brightness and white light with the new angle after filming getting your hair and ‘no makeup’ makeup done by the stylist the school hired (like woah, they took it seriously) when Leehan showed up.

It was obvious that he had experience, he moved around the lighting and photography equipment with ease, charming everybody with his easy smile and kind greetings. He sat through getting his makeup to not glow or look tired on camera without a word of complaint and instead chatted with the woman about her dog. You caught yourself staring at his genuine smile a little too late.

“Y/N!” Leehan’s smile widened slowly, a little cheekily, showing his dimple and he shot up from his chair to walk up to you and your camera. “So it’s you.”

“It’s me,” you confirmed but you weren’t sure why he looked so giddy about it. Was he worried it would be some clingy fangirl of his?

“I heard you’re Internet famous,” he noted and then looked pointedly at the camera. “Are you going to film the shooting too?”

“That’s the plan. If that’s alright with you,” you looked at him, questioning. Even if he said no, you could record your solo parts and use just that and the preparation during editing. You wouldn’t have wanted to make anybody uncomfortable with your filming. Leehan however didn’t seem to mind at all.

“Sure, you can even put my face on the thumbnail,” he winked at you, teasing, right before the photographer called for you.

Even with all his playfulness, Leehan took the job seriously. Whether it was experience or natural talent, he had a knack for easing into natural behavior despite the constant click-clack of the camera and knew how to smile into it when it was needed to make the photographer satisfied. You took a bunch of photos depicting school life at Yongsan High: flipping through text books, fake writing essays, solving equations on the board and working in pairs on a task. You honestly weren’t sure why they needed so much for a simple Open Day brochure but it was a one of a kind experience and not at all bad.

“Thank you for your hard work,” the principal’s secretary distributed drinks for everyone when the shooting was wrapped up and you bid goodbye to every adult with polite bows before dismounting your own camera.

You didn’t expect Leehan to wait for you but for some reason, you weren’t all too surprised either.

“Want some?” He held something out for you and looking down you saw that it was a pack of shark shaped gummies. So random.

“No, thanks,” you shook your head and put your tripod and camera into your bag, ready to go. But you couldn’t without making a comment. “You’re pretty good at this. Modeling, I mean.”

“Hm. It’s good for extra pocket money,” Leehan shrugged between chewing two pieces of gummies. You were sure it wasn’t the first time he heard it from somebody. “And no, before you ask, I wasn’t paid for this either. I mean in general.”

With his face and overall good looks you weren’t surprised to hear that. Not to mention it was a positive thing that he had already found something to earn money with.

“Do you wanna do this after graduating?” You asked, suddenly curious because you realized that you didn’t know anything about him other than his fascination with sea animals, that everywhere he went girls just fell in love with him at first sight and that he acted like you were friends for a while when you had been nothing but strangers.

“Nah. Maybe as a side gig but hopefully I will get into a uni with marine studies,” he said and you knew that it was very judgemental of you to be surprised at his career choice, especially after seeing how enthusiastic he was at the aquarium but it only proved your stance that you barely knew each other. And apparently Kim Leehan kept surprising you.

“That’s cool,” you mumbled, not wanting to voice out your surprise in case he would think you thought of him as an air-headed pretty boy even if there would have been a tiny bit of truth in that.

“What about you? Will you turn content creation into a job?” He nodded towards the tripod in your hands. He didn’t ask about it in a way some of your more distant relatives did, condescending, like you were a child they needed to warn about how unstable of a career it was. He seemed genuinely curious, so you gave him an honest answer too.

“Well, I will try to. But I plan to get certificates for digital marketing too and maybe help others boost their online presence too,” you said because while your plans might not have been unheard of in this time and age, you knew that it was far from what your conservative country encouraged. If nothing worked out, your parents would have been glad to welcome you at their company too but you didn’t voice that out because you would have preferred paving your own way.

“That’s pretty cool, too. What’s your account’s name by the way?” Leehan asked, fishing out his phone ready to look it up and his eyes sparkling with curiosity which was unfair really because it made it hard to say no to him. “Oh come on, I’m sure I could ask any of your friends.”

You knew he was right, he could even just search your name on Naver and find it. You weren’t sure why you felt so self-conscious thinking about him checking out your channel or other socials. Plenty of other people did.

“Fine,” you sighed, telling the boy your IG handle and in a weak attempt of not seeing his reaction, you swung your bag onto your shoulder now that you were all packed up and headed towards the classroom exit.

“Cute,” you heard Leehan’s comment, quiet and unexpected, from behind you just before he caught up to you with his long legs. “You set the photo I took as your profile picture.”

You hummed because what else could you have said? It was pretty obvious. Leehan seemed surprised at first though but then his mouth tilted in a teasing way.

“Where’s my credit?” He singsonged, easily keeping up with your walking speed.

“In your dreams. I don’t want dating rumors,” you told him. You weren’t famous in a way you would have to worry about people dissecting your life but so far you had managed to keep your family and relationships out of the public eye and you wanted to keep it that way. If you captioned the photo with ‘taken by the pretty boy I met at the aquarium’ some of your followers surely would have gotten way too invested in your non-existent love life. Plus, you had thought you wouldn’t see each other again.

“What if it’s not a rumor?” Leehan asked just to tease. It was easy to tell from his tone or the way his eyes glinted when you looked at him.

“Says the guy who lied about having a girlfriend when asked for his number,” you deadpanned with an eyebrow raised, challenging him to disagree with you but the boy only cackled.

“Touché.”

He followed you on Instagram and after one cute animal post in your DMs, you followed him back. You didn’t text much at first, just sharing some memes over Principal Im’s mild reactions to your photo shoot and random sealife content. Then the principal asked the two of you to greet the parents at the school gate on the Open Day which made you bond over mutual annoyance over responsibilities like this. You would never understand what difference it made to have two students offer brochures by the door instead of stacking them on a table free to take to the overall experience of parents, but there you were, on brochure hand out duty on a fine Friday.

“Do I have a sign over my forehead saying ‘touch me’ or something?” Leehan grumbled after the nth parent thought it was appropriate to place a hand over his shoulder or touch his cheek just to coo about how handsome boys attended this school. You got some comments on your looks too but the aunties were impressed by Leehan’s visuals way more and neither of you could say anything because that would have come off as disrespectful and wouldn’t have done any good for the school’s reputation.

“Do you want to take a break? I can cover for you,” you offered because seeing him at unease twisted something in your stomach. Honestly, both of you were there mostly just to look pretty, so if he left to be alone a bit, you would have been fine still.

Leehan seemed taken aback by your offer though if his widened eyes and slow blinking was anything to go by.

“No, it’s fine. Thanks though,” he shook his head eventually and put on his fake smile when the next batch of parents filed through the entrance.

But something shifted then between you, some sort of unsaid understanding over vulnerability. Something that made you think that maybe you could be more than just two people in the same boat. You could have been friends talking about stuff friends did.

Maybe that was why, when you were done and ushered to your respective classrooms, you brought up the first neutral topic that you could think of to fill the void while walking on the empty hallways.

“Hey, are you friends with the school radio club leader?”

Leehan seemed lost in thoughts, so your question made him falter a bit, his eyebrows creasing, confused about the sudden topic.

“Taesan? Yeah, why?” He asked tentatively, turning to look at you briefly and see your expression.

“Is he dating my class’ president?” You asked because even though you weren’t one to bump your nose into others’ business, based on what you saw, you could barely believe it wasn’t common knowledge. Leehan must have been on the same page because his eyes immediately shone with excitement.

“Oh, you noticed too!” He pointed out, giddy, and it was nice to see him smile so wide after how uncomfortable he had looked before.

“It was kind of hard not to. I was at the senior interview last week and they kept glancing at each other,” you said because honestly, they must have thought that they had been subtle about it, always looking when the other hadn’t but it made you feel like a third wheel.

“That’s just great! I can’t wait to tease Taesan with it,” Leehan grinned, bouncing a little on his feet, his soft-looking hair falling into his eyes behind the glasses he decided to put on that day too. “They aren’t official or anything. Taesan was actually convinced for a while that pres hated his guts but as far as I know there has been progress.”

You weren’t an expert at love by any means but based on what you saw, your class president was far from hating the other guy, so you just hummed in acknowledgement. Leehan misunderstood your silence though.

“Are you jealous?” He asked, more astonished than teasing as he jogged in front of you, so he could look at your face while walking backwards. An unnecessarily hazardous thing to do, so you halted your steps when you reached the corner of your classrooms' hallway.

“What? No,” you furrowed your eyebrows because where the heck did he take that from?

“So you don’t like Taesan?” Leehan asked as if it was something he needed to confirm, best friend duties or whatever. Even if you liked his friend, you wouldn’t have talked about him with Leehan. That kind of behavior just didn’t make sense to you.

“No, gosh, I was just trying to start a conversation,” you sighed exasperatedly which exuded a chuckle from the boy.

“Cute,” he noted and absentmindedly reached out towards your head. You froze in your spot the same moment his hand stopped mid-air too having caught himself. You felt heat rush into your cheeks thinking that he wanted to… what? Ruffle your hair or pat your head? Either way, Leehan smoothly recovered as he pulled his hand back and ran his fingers through his own silky locks, waving goodbye to you before heading off to his class.

It was silly how something so small and insignificant like that suddenly made you nervous around the boy. Well, nervous might not have been the right word. You would have liked to think that previously you were indifferent or slightly intrigued at most when it came to Leehan. He was just another boy after all, just one more face that you wouldn’t see anymore when your family moved again. You had become great at not getting too close with anybody after the constant goodbyes had become too much to handle. Yet, you caught yourself waiting for the boy’s random animal fun facts and felt yourself getting flustered when you caught him as much as looking in your direction at the school canteen. It was getting ridiculous.

When you mentioned to Hyewon that one guy made you feel this confused, she told you that it could be just because you weren’t used to being friends with boys and that you needed to get out more. That's how you ended up at Wonyoung’s house party that weekend. The cheerleader welcomed you with a wide smile despite not talking more than ten words with you before but you guessed that it was normal. The more the merrier and all that jazz.

You had never been a party person, it was too loud, too chaotic. You weren’t sure how this was supposed to help with your problem but Hyewon seemed to have fun, especially when she made Gyuvin dance on the dance during a round of truth or dare. You talked with some people from class and strangers both and it wasn’t bad, you did have a good time but after a while it was a bit too much. Very unlike your usual Saturday night when you usually edited your videos to the tunes of your feel good Spotify playlist.

You needed some fresh air after being in the stuffy house for hours among dozens of other sweaty bodies and luckily Wonyoung’s parents’ house had a back garden, perks of living in the suburbs. From outside, the party’s music was muffled through the walls, toned down but still audible. You closed your eyes and let the night breeze cool your face. You only snapped out of it when you heard the sound of movements from the other side of the terrace. Initially you thought that it must have been a cat, so you were quite surprised when behind the huge kimchi jar there was none other than Kim Leehan.

“Jeez, what are you doing here?” You put a hand over your rapidly beating heart after such a jumpscare and eyed the guy sitting against the wall.

“What does it look like?” He asked, sheepishly for once with a scratch on his nape. It was so unlike his confident persona that charmed half the girls in your year. There was something lovely about it though, that he allowed you to see him like this.

“Don’t tell me you’re hiding? From girls?” You asked in a hushed voice and at first it was supposed to be a teasing joke but considering Leehan’s silence there must have been some truth in it. “Seriously, you are like 180cm, what can a bunch of girls do to you?”

You blurted it out without thinking but the moment it left your mouth, you realized how ridiculous that sounded. It didn’t matter that he was a guy or he was this tall, nobody deserved to be made to feel uncomfortable.

“Sorry, that was insensitive of me,” you apologized immediately, not wanting the boy to get defensive or hurt due to your unnecessarily harsh words. “But if they bother you so much, I’m sure there are better ways to deal with it.”

Obviously you had never been in his shoes but you wanted to help, you wanted him to feel comfortable enough around you to share the burden, to not play it off when things got like this.

“Most girls are fine, they are respectful and I don’t mind being looked at,” Leehan sighed wistfully, leaning his head back against the wall, looking up at the sky, starless from all the light pollution in the big city. “But… some are too much.”

You felt your fingers twitch, sudden anger rising in your chest thinking about scenarios of what could have happened that made him come out to hide there. Did they grab him or touch him in a way he didn’t want to? Did some drunk girl force themselves upon him when he just wanted to have fun with his friends?

“Are you okay?” You asked, worried, keeping an eye closely on the boy’s facial expressions.

He hummed. It was not a very elaborate response but it was better than nothing. In the following silence though you weren’t sure what to do with yourself. You looked back at the door, wondering when tipsy high schoolers would stumble out to smoke and to break this idyll. It must have looked like you were about to leave, not wanting to bother him because he spoke up, rushed as if he could miss you any minute.

“Can you stay?”

The depth of his voice was more apparent when he talked quietly. Or was it because of the dim light and the open space? You could practically feel it vibrate through your cells. There was no way you would have said no to that.

It was you who just hummed this time, not trusting your voice, and you squeezed yourself next to Leehan, into the space between him and the kimchi jar, the house wall cold against your back. It made you shiver lightly because in the recent lovely spring weather you forgone wearing an extra layer. The boy noticed though, he shrugged off the plaid shirt he wore over a white tee and covered your back and shoulders with it.

“Thank you,” you mumbled, suddenly surrounded by his warmth and the smell of sea salt even after he pulled back his hands.

“Tell me something,” Leehan whispered and despite initially not knowing what to say, you ended up telling him about your inexperience with parties and how moving around a lot affected your relationship with people and your sense of home. You told him that you were thinking of getting your own place instead of moving with your parents to a new city next time but you were afraid because you had never lived alone and you weren’t sure what your parents would have said either. You were so young yet the last few years had been so uncertain, a constant countdown until the next destination and you wanted to settle down for a bit, to call a place home for more than a few months. You wanted to get to know people without the constant fear of eventually losing touch with them.

Leehan was a good listener. He asked the right questions and shared his own perspective of things. There was nothing arrogant in the way he said that distance didn’t matter with the right people. At one point, once the heaviness of the topic subdued into a lighter conversation about your favorite places to be, he leaned his head on your shoulder, his locks tickling your ear and his closeness turning your cheeks rosy.

It was cozy, staying there with him, just talking. You didn’t even notice the party sounds dying down until Haewon called you to ask if you had already gone home without her. It could have been embarrassing how you didn't even notice time passing in Leehan’s company but you felt nothing of that sort. Shyly, you handed him back his shirt and wished him good night before catching up with Haewon.

You should have known that the girl famous for her intuitions wouldn’t leave it just like that. You were ambushed the moment the two of you were alone on the night bus.

“Sooo… where did you disappear off? Were you with Leehan?” She singsonged casually while you almost choked on your spit because you had never told her that the boy making you feel conflicted was Leehan. The pretty, popular boy of your grade, the prince of Yongsan High. The one almost everybody wanted. So cliché, so unnerving. And yet…

“Wh– what? How?” You spluttered, flustered but it only made Haewon giggle and coo at you.

“Please, I have seen how you look at him.”

“Oh, gosh, is it that obvious?” You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. You didn’t think you were that gone. Scratch that, before the party you wholeheartedly believed that it was just curiosity and being friendly on your part. Maybe Haewon was right and you had no idea how simple friendship worked with boys.

“It’s cute. And don’t worry, I don’t think Leehan noticed. He’s used to more… aggressive type of love declarations.”

“I’m not declaring my love for him!” You objected because that was too much, too soon. You just realized that you liked him and you haven’t decided yet what to do with this new, fuzzy feeling spreading in your chest.

“Why not?”

Why not indeed? Was it not wanting him to lose this fragile safe space he found with you just because you couldn't stop yourself and fell in love when all he needed was a friend who understood? Or was it your usual mindset of keeping everybody at an arm’s length to not get too emotionally attached?  You had no idea and it was too late into the night to figure it all out then.

Summer was approaching fast. It meant humid and sunny days, and way too many term end tests. It also meant two months without seeing Leehan which planted a kind of dread in your chest whenever you thought about it. At least you weren’t moving this time, not with your CSAT exams coming up in the second half of the year, so you had a bit more time to decide whether you wanted to stay here even if your parents moved away after your graduation.

Things only subtly changed after that party at Wonyoung’s. You didn’t necessarily look for each other’s presence at school, probably because both of you knew the rumors would be a pain to avoid if you did otherwise. You did text more though and not just about the previous neutral topics. Having been in Seoul for longer, Leehan started recommending places for you to visit for your YouTube channel and he knew that you wouldn’t belittle his complaints when he was annoyed by the way he was treated. He was also the perfect person to turn to when you had a bad day because he would listen and then he would make you feel better with his odd little jokes. He was such a dork under that popular pretty boy surface and you loved being able to see this side of him too. He also made sure to keep you updated about the school radio leader’s and your class president’s progress.

On a particularly hot June day, it was Leehan who nudged you in the side when he walked past you in the hallways.

“Let’s get ice cream after school,” he suggested casually as if it didn’t make your heartbeat go crazy, so you walked two blocks down from the school while arguing about the best Baskin Robbins flavors and went over the popsicles section of the corner convenience store only for Leehan to dig out the most artificial green colored one for its alien packaging. You laughed about the color of your tongues and the icy dessert melting all over your fingers and you had so much fun that for those few minutes you forgot about all the uncertainties in your life. Nothing mattered, just that moment with Leehan.

Haewon’s question (why not?) echoed in your ears at times like this.

It became a new habit sweeping well into summer: hanging out outside of school, looking for places with refreshing desserts to beat the heat. It was Italian-style gelato one week then bingsu or hwachae the next. You didn’t film but you kept posting pictures on your Instagram and you really underestimated the curiosity of your followers because one blurry reflection on the window was enough for people to conclude that you were on a date.

You knew for a fact that Leehan had the habit of stalking your comment section ever since he got so worked up about somebody making a mere comment on you gaining weight, but he didn’t say anything about this incident, which was probably for the best because honestly, you weren’t sure you could have played it off as coolly as when you had talked about not wanting dating rumors back in the day. Because what if it wasn’t rumors?

Next time you met up, Leehan pointed a finger at you in accusation even before he sat down at the table you already occupied.

“You went to an ocean-themed cafe without me?”

You blinked up at him in surprise, trying to make sense of what he was talking about when you remembered what you posted earlier to your Instagram.

“I was cafe hopping and found it by accident,” you explained that it wasn’t planned. If you knew, you surely would have told him about it. Even when you found the pretty coffee shop, you were so excited to tell him about it but then you had to remind yourself to tone it down, to not make your feelings too obvious.

“Still… Next time, you should take me with you,” Leehan said, pursing his lips a little child-like and you wanted to pinch his cheeks just above his adorable dimples. You curled your fingers into your hand to stop yourself.

“I’m not used to filming in company,” you told him because it was kind of a principle you had to fully pay attention to the people you were with instead of focusing on snapping pictures or recording. Maybe it was because your parents didn’t like it that you had your camera on you when you went out with them on those rare occasions they were free to give in to your request. With Leehan though, he might not have minded it but you were sure he would be distracting in the most heart-fluttering meaning of the word. You couldn’t take your eyes off him and it would be a mess. Your viewers would notice the same way Haewon had noticed too.

“Please~” The boy pouted (unfair!), fluttering his eyelashes under the loose strands of his long grown fringe and you felt your resolve weaken immediately.

“Just because you are pretty, it doesn’t mean you can just do that and I will give in,” you blurted out a protest in a weak attempt of keeping your composure. You didn’t even notice your subscious slipping through until Leehan’s pout turned into a content smile.

“Oh, so you do think I’m pretty.”

“I… that’s not the point!” You protested but Leehan seemed oddly satisfied with the new knowledge. He was whistling to the tone of a 2nd gen kpop song under his nose when the ahjumma came to take your orders and both of you were embarrassed because you didn’t bother looking at the menu since you arrived. The ahjumma smiled fondly and mumbled something about young love which turned you crimson but you hoped Leehan didn’t hear and didn’t notice. Luckily (or not), he was still hung up on your previous slip up.

“I thought you were immune to me,” he mumbled and he sounded so serious that you couldn’t even find it in yourself to joke about what kind of virus he would like to be then.

“What?” You blinked at him, not sure what brought this up but while you were confused, Leehan looked like this was something that had been on the tip of his tongue for so long and now that it was finally out he had a lot to explain.

“I mean, it’s not a terrible thing I guess. I like it that you treat me like a normal guy from day one, that you don’t swoon just because I walk past you on the school hallways and you aren’t afraid to call me out on my bullshit when I’m too much but then I kind of want you to be swooned by me. I know it doesn’t make sense but sometimes it bothers me so much that you don’t like me the way I like you.”

“I…” You gaped at him like a fish, speechless, but couldn’t even finish your clumsy excuse of sentence because Leehan was still rambling.

“Like look at me. How can you not?” He finally looked you in the eye and pointed at his face.

His all too lovely face with the warmest shade of brown in his playful eyes, the prettiest hair you would like to ruffle and the smart line of his rosy lips. At that moment he looked so young, so boyish, the teenager blemish barely visible on his face because in your eyes even the flaws made him more handsome.

“Leehan,” you said his name slowly, forming each syllable like it was an answer itself. Suddenly it wasn’t so scary to be honest because you now knew that he was just as unsure around you as you were with him. “I do like you but no offense, it has nothing to do with your looks.”

If you wanted to be honest, his looks were one thing you disliked about him in the beginning. You had known popular boys before who knew they looked good and they had always had the kind of ego that made their handsomeness turn sour in your mouth. But it became clear over time that he wasn’t one to use his good looks to get away with things and take advantage of girls’ feelings.

“Y/N,” Leehan called your name in a similar manner to the way you had done, a confused little frown sitting on his forehead and you wanted nothing more than to smooth it out. “There’s so much to unpack in that sentence.”

“Like?”

“Like when you say you like me, do you mean it in a friendly way?” He asked and he sounded so nervous asking it that you couldn’t help but giggle. He had said it first in his ramble, he wasn’t weirded out by your confession either nor did he brush it off and gosh, he sounded outright hopeful, so the relief made you feel giddy.

“Sure,” you smiled before casting your eyes down. “If wanting to hold hands with you and going on cheesy dates is a friendly thing to do.”

There was a moment of silence that made you so nervous you had to look up again and what you saw was better than seeing any breathtaking sunrise.

“Really?” Leehan whispered, his eyes shining with little stars in them.

“Really,” you nodded shyly before remembering his previous claim about so much to unpack and you cleared your throat. “What else?”

The soft smile melted off the boy’s face and something insecure flashed through his eyes as his fingers fumbled with the napkins on the table.

“And… does it mean that you like me but not the way I look? Like… am I not manly enough or–?”

“Hey, no, that’s not what I meant,” you interrupted quickly but not quickly enough because you never wanted him to feel that way to begin with. You scrambled to find the right words to explain this time. “I like you because you are caring and kind, you listen to my vents and try to help, you make boring stuff fun, you make me feel at home with you in a way I haven’t felt in a long time. It doesn’t matter how you look but to tell you the truth and not just to boost your ego, you are the most beautiful boy I have ever seen.”

“Oh, okay,” Leehan muttered but then giggled and the tips of his ears peeking out from between his wavy locks reddened adorably. You couldn’t believe what you were seeing. Kim Leehan getting flustered in front of you, because of you?

“Hold up… are you blushing?” You teased, softly, playfully and wholeheartedly smitten.

“Shut up,” Leehan mumbled but there was no edge in his tone, just a smile playing on his lips. So cute. “I like you too. A lot. In a friendly way if walking you home and kissing you goodbye is something friends do.”

This time it was your turn to flush, a cherry color appearing on your cheeks. You were pretty sure that that’s why the ahjumma turned on her heels when she walked up to your table again without asking about your orders. The menu cards were still untouched next to you.

You got to hold Leehan’s hand that day when he did good on his promise and walked you home. He also kissed you on the cheek by the gate because you both got shy but it was fine, you had the entire summer and all the time in the world. There was no need to rush anything.

Your first official date was at the aquarium for old time’s sake and it was the second time Leehan called you his girlfriend. You got distracted reading about the ‘Nemo fish’ and you didn’t realize that the boy wandered further away staring at a big tank full of fluorescent jellyfish as if it hadn’t been there before. By the time you caught up with him, there was a girl there, handing him her phone, smiling coyly. Last time you didn’t feel anything if not mild annoyance for being dragged into it but now you could feel your chest swelling with a new emotion. You had thought before that you would be jealous but what you actually felt was pride. That there was this beautiful, amazing boy and he liked you and he seemed proud of it too as he shot an apologetic smile towards the girl then saw you over her shoulder and his forced smile softened, its edges lifting up until his dimple showed.

“Sorry, I have a girlfriend,” he said and this time it was real.

He bowed politely towards the stranger then reached for your hand, lacing his fingers through yours and you hid your smile in his arm as he pulled you farther away.

“Are you good?” You asked quietly, just to make sure that the girl didn’t make him feel uncomfortable because otherwise you might have had to go back and lecture her on basic manners.

“Never better,” Leehan replied, smiling against your temple with a brief kiss before pointing at a tank you passed by. “Did you know that angelfish mate for life?”

“No, I had no idea,” you chuckled and listened to your boyfriend tell you all about this species of fish you had never heard about before. It was perfect. You could have listened to him all day.

[ohsohoney]

When it comes to love you're just as blinded.

Part Three

Eminem x Musician

Summary: It starts with a drunk embarrassing video, it spirals into something a whole lot more.

Note: Ah this took ages to write but I actually really loved it- finally they meet!! Hopefully I got a few things about Detroit right too but I don't live there so lemme know if not! Also I appreciate all the love the last two parts have gotten, means a lot!

Warnings: Some heavier topics surrounding a rough childhood and abuse of substances.

Set in 2014, just after the release of LP 2 || Em’s daughters are renamed here because it felt weird not to and also have different ages– doesn’t affect the story much but just a warning! Rosie's nickname is also Z:)

Masterlist

It was far too early to be up. Especially after the night I’d just had, tossing and turning until I’d eventually passed out from sheer exhaustion. Something I hadn’t quite anticipated after my call with Em, but sleep had seemed near enough impossible once I’d hung up. No real reason as to why, simply that my mind had gone from a dull sluggish buzz to over-fucking-load in a mere matter of seconds.

Thankfully I had a flight to catch which meant that, even though I looked like my mum after another week long bender, I would be able to catch a little sleep before landing in Detroit. 

Detroit. That was the singular thought my tired mind kept pausing on. Stupidly, it felt just like yesterday that Marshall had first bridged that gap between us and phoned me, only it had been weeks since then, during which the most unexpected friendship had blossomed. He’d called again that next day and the timezones separating us had been made all that more obvious, him having not long dropped his daughter off at school whilst I’d been returning from lunch. He never really had given me the real reason as to why he’d gone and gotten in touch again so quickly, only that he’d wanted to double check that I was still down to fly out and work on a song or two. 

It hadn’t phased me. Neither had the next few calls that had followed, nor the texts that I’d found myself composing to him at odd hours of the day. 

We’d spoken about music at first: “Who inspires you?” He’d asked me which had led into a ramble. Something I only ever tended to do with those who knew me best, never having really mastered the whole art of social interaction yet, even after the fame. But he’d let me go on, before I’d eventually spun the question back around on him and listened quietly to a passionate speech about the handful of artists that had transported him out of the tiny room he’d grown up in and into something other.

I mentioned my sister after that. Em had heard her shouting at the tele one evening whilst she’d played some game that always seemed to bring out her most profane language and laughed, asking after the roaring gremlin in the background. I’d told him bits and pieces, added to the story in odd quips and mentions over the passing weeks, enough that most wouldn’t quite catch on to what I’d been avoiding, but Lottie had been around more often than not and the man had quickly worked out that she lived with me. He’d never outright asked me the reason as to why, though I liked to think that he was simply waiting for me to tell him, because this thing that we had, it was all about building trust. And Marshall? He was almost as unforgiving with who he gave that out to as I was. 

Soon enough our calls and Facetimes had become a featured part of my day, one I actually looked forward to. But even saying that, I was still shit scared of meeting him properly.

As much as it might humour him for me to admit it, I was a big fan of his. Had been since I’d first heard Guilty Conscience when it had hit the UK charts. I’d been swallowed whole by the rest of his LP, had even nicked a cd copy of it off a stall down at the market, alongside Aquemini, because I’d liked it so much. In truth, one of my earliest memories even featured the man. It was of my uncle bagging tickets to Em’s first real show down in Notting Hill, his girlfriend at the time’s brother having managed to somehow score a couple on a whim. It had been all they’d talked about for weeks on end.

I’d been around long enough now though– having dived headfirst into the industry before dipping a toe in first– that I knew just how meeting your icons wasn’t all it was chalked up to be. Still, this felt different to us just bumping into one another at some show or a party. And, who was I kidding– it was entirely different. Impossibly so. I’d said it to him then and I’d reiterate it again, he had been the last person I had ever expected to call.

“Passengers boarding the 09:53 flight to Detroit, Michigan please head to Gate B7.”

I sucked in a deep breath at the overhead announcement, figuring that it really was now or never. Two weeks in a big old house working on music with Eminem, I supposed stranger things had to have happened. So instead of lingering on the inane concept, I popped an anti-sickness tablet and dragged my carry-on over towards the gate. 

…

Truth be told, I much would have preferred not having slept on that flight. God, I was still embarrassed, but even so I couldn’t help the muted giggle that bypassed my lips whilst I waited for my luggage to drift on by. 

I was just thankful that I’d had the foresight to wear a hat and sunnies the entire time. Mostly out of habit, yes, but also so that I could keep this whole Detroit trip hush hush, because Marshall really had gone above and beyond to bring me out here and so I didn’t want to reward him with a swarm of unwanted questions. Not that anyone would even add up the notion of me being here and allude that it was down to him. That was probably the most unlikely headline somebody could conjure up.

But back to the whole Flight from Hell. Well, I had the tendency to sometimes be dramatic so not Hell per se, it had just been humiliating. Being shaken awake only to realise you'd been drooling the entire time and the rest of the passengers had already disembarked was more than a tad bit mortifying, especially when the air steward’s eyes had widened a fraction when I’d tried to sort myself out and wake up. 

I wasn’t entirely sure if he’d recognised me, or if it had just been down to the fact that Marshall had put me in First Class— a matter which I had complained about, justifiably— and that I had one of those faces he couldn’t put a name to. But either way, I hoped he wouldn’t expand too much on it.

I caught sight of my suitcase just as it pushed its way through the heavy black flaps on the end of the conveyor belt and so I slid past a man in a bright green Packers jersey to grab at it. And even I had to wince at the sight of the offending article. In all places, really? I wanted to ask. Wrong fucking move there, mate. 

By the time I finally did make it out of the crowd that had amassed, it had been near enough an hour since I’d landed and so I had a few messages waiting patiently for me.

Messages  The Martian Blacked out GMC parked out front Tap twice on the back window

Then…

Flight ok?

My mouth quirked upwards on its own accord at the quick relay but I was quick to shoot something back.

Messages  Might have passed tf out Woke up and it was just me and the steward there:))) Also tap twice?? Do I look like James Bond to you?

Although I had to Google what the fuck a GMC looked like, I did eventually work my way out of the terminal to spot the sleek SUV sat a way down in the drop off zone. ‘Course he’d have his driver park there, I thought pointlessly to myself as I manoeuvred past a handful of tired faces with a polite smile. Though to him it was probably easier to deal with whatever fine he got plastered with than it would be for me to attempt to find the thing in pickup parking. Not that it would be all that hard, it was huge.

Anyway, by the time I managed to hone in closer on the vehicle I felt my nose scrunch up in slight embarrassment at the thought of having to knock twice, as though I really was some sort of spy or, more than likely, a dodgy dealer. But just as I approached, prepped to knock and give the driver my name, I heard the far side door open and a pair of shoes hit the rough tarmac. 

Jumping back a tad, my head swivelled left to better view the figure who was then rounding the car. My eyes widened at the sight I was met with.

His smirk at my evident shock was ascued by a heavy hood and the brim of a dark cap, but it was there. Stayed there actually, all whilst he easily manoeuvred my luggage from out of my hands and into the boot of his car, whilst I simply stood there stock-still. Eventually, he came to stand before me about an arms length away. I blinked and my gaze skittered over the rest of our surroundings before they finally returned to his tilted head and piercing eyes. His back was turned towards the airport, away from the trio which had since grouped around their suitcases to wait and a handful of people that exited the terminal one or two at a time.

“What, I don’t get no hug?”

The mirthful lilt of his deep voice surprised me and my mouth worked over a plethora of words that couldn’t quite take stage before I was laughing softly into the shoulder of his jacket, his arms coming up to wrap around me. 

It felt oddly surreal to finally meet him, even if I had been so caught off guard by his sudden presence.

In fact, I jolted back at the very thought and thumped his arm, my eyes narrowed even whilst my smile never appeared to falter. “Why are you here?”

His tongue darted out to wet his lower lip, arm moving to cradle the offended limb in sly mocking, before he huffed out a low laugh. “No, hello? No, wow, Marshall, I can’t believe you’re really here!”

My mouth gaped at the teasing tone he took on, much like something I’d heard on one of his songs, and then I was laughing too, shaking my head at his antics. “That’s how we’re playing this?” I quirked a brow, but eventually mimicked, “Wow, Marshall. Gee golly, I just can’t believe that you’re really here!”

Marshall dipped his chin in supposed approval, gentle eyes roaming over my face in a way similar to what I must have done when he’d first arrived. I wondered briefly what he saw but hastily brushed the thought aside. “The American accent still sucks, by the way.” He acknowledged just as he stepped forward to open the passenger side door, surprising me yet again as he slipped by me, “So if you’re goin’ into acting, take note.”

My glare was mocking at best, lacking any real heat as he waited for me to climb inside, it was only once I’d glanced back at him with a thankful smile that he moved to shut the door. I took in a sharp lungful of air at the quiet that then engulfed the car and watched him move around the front of the hood. He was achingly familiar and yet not at the same time. And it was such a strange thought to latch onto that I took the initiative to just take things as they came over the next few weeks, which turned out to work in my favour when he joined me in the car and the engine revved.

“I can’t believe you’re actually here.” I found myself saying as he slowly peeled his way out of the drop off bay. “Thought you said you’d have someone come get me.”

Em simply shook his head whilst I observed how his hands slid around the wheel with an effortless ease. “I said there’d be a car.”

My eyes widened to accentuate my point. “Exactly! There’d be a car! So I just figured a cab or something.”

His eyes flickered over towards me just as we came to a stop at the busy intersection outside the airport, then pulled away to look left and right again. “Well, you should stop figuring then.”

I couldn’t stop the eye roll I gifted him, even as I laughed heartily to myself and took in the comfort of privacy the car offered, as opposed to the flight I’d just been stuck on. It was then, whilst we merged onto the highway and followed into the flow of traffic, that I got the chance to really look at him. 

I was still attempting to get over my evident shock, having expected to meet him much later on, once I’d been dropped off at the house or maybe even a while after that. But it was nice to know that he’d driven all the way here to merely pick me up when he could have just as easily sent someone to do it for him. 

Marshall looked about the same as he had when we’d first phoned in truth, only it was easier now to see all of the minute details he offered the world, those tiny imperfections. 

The slight dip in his chin was much more prominent now what with the way his lips had since pursed in concentration. The skin there was smooth, as though not much time had passed since it had last been seen to by a razor, and it wrinkled only around his eyes when they narrowed into focus. His nose was pointed, whilst simultaneously being both strong and soft. He had eyelashes that I could only envy, dark and long, and freckles light enough to dot both sides of his face.

He must have felt my gaze on him though because he soon chanced a glance back at me with a single raised brow. My eyes slid away from his profile and instead I opted to gesture my chin out towards the tinted windows that encased us. “These legal?” I had wondered, but mostly asked just to steer his mind away from me having been caught staring.

With a short snort, his brow dropped and the beginnings of a smile twitched at the corners of his mouth. “What d’you think?”

I chuckled in retort, having expected that, and then looked away again, out towards the grassy verge that separated the long stretch of road from small grey buildings that littered both sides in the distance. It was my first time in Detroit and I wanted to make the most of it, remember every part.

It was quiet for a while after that, Em having switched on the radio at some point after asking after my flight, the two of us more than content to just let the silence linger around the hum of something so familiar, music.

He pointed things out to me here and there on the journey, nothing of real importance but dropping comments that would either make me hum or laugh loudly. He was a funny fucker even when he didn’t seem to be trying, I figured that was what I liked best about him. 

We drove through Downtown Detroit at one point and I listened intently when he spoke about Ford Field, the home of his favoured Lions, and again when we stopped at a traffic light and he gestured over towards where the Fox Theatre sat. Even during the daylight it drew the eye.

Once we’d rolled away from the inner city and its skyscrapers though I felt myself relax further, pleased by the vast amount of green that I started to see. Most of the time I’d spent in The States often left me confined to the major cities, to their bustling crowds and hectic commutes, mostly because I didn’t have much of a choice in the matter, what with venues and tours, interviews and recording sessions. So this would probably be the first time I’d get to see a slice of the country’s suburbs and it wasn’t all too different from what you’d typically see back home. Not exact sure, but similar in a lot of circumstances. 

It took me a while to realise that Em had been nodding his head along to the radio, following the beat in an exact tempo. The sight had me hiding my grin behind my sleeve but the move captured his attention and he must have seen the growing joy my glazed eyes gave away to when he peered over at me because his forehead furrowed. “What?”

Instantly I shook my head, “Nothing.”

His eyes darted out towards the road, shifting gears before the back of his hand shot out to tap the side of my knee. “What?” He prodded again and I was startled by the easy nature of his touch, remembering then that it was possible now that we weren’t stuck between screens.

I snorted softly, dropping my arm seeing as he’d already caught on to the grin. “Just strange, is all. Being here.”

I watched closely as he gave a slow blink and waited, propping my arm up against the window whilst slumping a little in my seat.

“Good weird, or bad?”

The answer had to have been obvious and yet, I still answered him, “The good kind.”

“Good.” He hummed and my grin softened at his own small smile. It remained there for most of the drive. 

I didn’t know what I had expected to see once we finally did pull up to the house, but it didn’t fail to live up to its owner's accomplishments. It was beautiful, big yes, but beautiful too. Terracotta in colour and with a long gravel driveway. He had trees and flowers around the fenced gate to further keep out any prying eyes, but they were vivid and lush. Pretty to admire. 

Marshall turned towards me once we’d slowed to a stop and I smiled, unbuckling my seatbelt before he huffed a chuckle, turning off the engine and moving to do the same. The door shut behind me once I’d jumped out and I let myself breathe in the change of air. Having been cooped up in the Big Apple for the last few days it was refreshing to be able to actually enjoy it and not just think about all of the heavy city fumes. 

I was quick to snap out of it though when I heard the slight beep that sounded from the back of the car when the boot reopened. “Hey, I can get that.”

Marshall's eyes cut over towards my approaching figure. “So can I.” He tugged the heavy suitcase out with one hand, “See?”

“Mature, Mathers.” I retorted, leaning past him to at least grab my carry on, but he was there too, our hands clutched the handle at the same time, his encasing mine. “I can get it.” I repeated, turning slightly in my stance to lift my brows up at him. 

He was close, thigh pressing into the ledge of the boot whilst his other hand still held onto the door stationed above our heads. “You’re my guest.”

His tone was gruff, low enough for only me to have heard, even though there wasn’t anyone else mulling about. My eyes shifted, flickering back and forth between his own. “Then let your guest get their way.” 

He blew out an amused breath, the weight of it fanned my face and had a few loose strands of hair fluttering. “You’re so fuckin’ stubborn.”

I shifted and his knee knocked against mine. “Here’s the pot calling the kettle black.” I quipped with a growing smile.

There was the slightest shake of his head, his mouth twitched, and then he was leaning in closer. I held my breath. Waiting. For God knows what, when—

He snatched the bag out from under my hand.

“Marshall!” It was almost indignant the yell I made, shocked by the sly move he’d played and the fact that he’d already jumped back to make his way towards the front door before I could even properly react. I heard his bright laughter echo back to mock me.

“Too slow.” Marshall called in turn, shrugging as he shot a smug look over his shoulder. “Lock her up for me?”

The tap he then gave his right trouser pocket evidently had me frowning and so I looked down on impulse, only to spot a set of keys dangling from the belt loop on my jeans. Baffled, my head snapped upwards, just in time to see him laugh and wheel my suitcase inside.

I took a deep breath, then let it go.

“Such a prick.” I muttered to myself, though not unkindly, as I jumped up to grab the boot door and slam it shut, using the fob to then lock the monster truck up.

By the time I made it up the rest of the drive and through the front door I was a little less peeved about the whole thing, which was mostly down to me having been a little humoured by his methods of undermining.

“You treat all your supposed guests like this?” I blew out.

Marshall only greeted my entry with a snort. “Uhuh, that initiation we talked about? Starts here.”

Rolling my eyes, I stepped further into the entryway to observe, making the effort not to gape at the sheer size of it. Because in truth, he could’ve easily fit a half a dozen Harleys in the space between the door and the stairs.

“Where do we start the sacrifice then? Can’t imagine anyone would be all too happy about staining these pretty floors.” My toe skimmed a stark white tile as I said it, peering over at him through my lashes whilst I thought back to an earlier conversation we’d had and the fact that he’d actually remembered. 

“Basement, baby!” 

He used the term in ridicule, to accentuate the gaiety in the back and forth we’d just begun. His hands shot out wide in a gesticulative fashion and so I used the moment to grab at the handle of my suitcase he’d left by the door, thankful that the thing had wheels. I grinned at the small victory.

“You were saying?” I dragged out around a pleased smile.

Marshall shook his head at me, like he actually couldn’t believe I’d attempted to one up him— and managed it. Though he thankfully left it alone. Still, that was probably only due to the fact that he then said, “Want a tour?”

And who was I to deny?

“If you don’t want me getting lost, then yes please.”

He scoffed, but wore the ghost of a smile as he pushed further into the house, leading me this way and that until we finally wandered up another set of stairs onto the second floor.

“Bedrooms are there.” Marshall pointed out to me, hands stretched towards both the halls that lined either side of the staircase. “Mine’s just down here, Z’s too.” He explained further, gesturing towards the two doors on the far right side, Rosie’s bore a bright sign with her name and I was humoured to see that the usual silver handle had been switched out in favour of a neon pink.

He caught my slight smile at the sight of the door and nudged me with his shoulder.

“Quit it.”

I snorted softly, pursing my lips to dampen the grin I wore. “I didn’t say anything! But I do love it.” Honestly it was too cute seeing him all mushy like that, and the fact that he’d gone out of his way to make something like a door handle special for his daughter was endearing.

Marshall grunted out a hum, then took a deliberate step over toward a room a little closer, the door had been left slightly ajar. He pushed it open to reveal a room that could have resembled a hotel room had it not been for the much warmer sense of comfort it offered. I reckoned it was down to the little souvenirs and decorative pieces that had been jotted around the place, like the snowglobe of Big Ben and a little British flag, as well as the articles of clothing which had been laid out on the bed.

My attention caught on those first and I glanced back at Em, who was now leaning against the doorframe, to ask a silent question. The man shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed to the wood and suddenly looked a tad bit sheepish, “Rosie’s idea. Wanted to give you something, like, so you’d feel welcome or some shit.”

I let my fingers brush over the pyjama’s the little girl must have picked out. They were soft and dotted with tiny woodland creatures, bunnies and berries. My heart ached at the lovely gesture, never really having had anyone do something like this for me, let alone someone so small and sweet who had gone out of their way to make me feel welcomed of all things.

“You lucked out with her.” I murmured  and was granted a doting smile when I peered back up at the girl’s father.

“She’s aight.” Marshall reasoned, pushing out a small breath as he took a step further into the bedroom. “Room okay then?”

Smiling, almost a little stupidly, I chuckled in disbelief and took another peer around the room. “It’s perfect, thank you again for this.”

He rolled his eyes at me and made a gah sound, “Say thanks again and I’ll take you to the nearest motel.”

My eyes widened just as my jaw dropped, “A motel, really? Wow, and here I thought we were truly bonding.”

“You know what they say, don’t assume.”

Narrowing my stare into something a bit more intense I waited for him to crack, but he must have been half-alien or something because the man held his own much longer than I did. “You’re such a dick.” I eventually chuckled, shaking my head.

“Get used to it,” He retorted and stepped away to wheel my suitcase further into the room, placing my bag down on the end of the plush bedspread. “You tired? Figured we could grab something to eat once Z’s home if you’re down.” 

It was something I was used to, the whole jumping back and forth between serious and teasing, but I still found it sweet how he would tend to ask after me, simply to make sure that everything was still good.

I hummed in reply and took one last look at the pyjamas I'd been gifted. “I’m good, slept on the flight–”

“And drooled all over them First Class seats.” He butted in, earning himself a short glare which only proved to make him grin. 

I should have known to have kept that shit to myself, fucker would probably lord it over my head forever.

“Uhuh, hilarious.” I deadpanned before continuing on like he hadn’t interrupted, “What’re you thinking of getting?”

The question went unanswered because it was then that the front door sounded, creaking open on its heavy hinges before it rattled closed. I jumped at the unexpected noise whilst Em simply glanced back over his shoulder, “That’ll be her.” He commented, confusing me for a second when he raised his hand and started a countdown on his fingers, “3, 2, 1–”

“Dad!”

I snorted at the precise timing, Marshall already moving towards the door at the call of his name and so I went to follow. It was just as we made it back out onto the hallway’s landing that he paused, “I can keep her occupied for a while if you wanna settle in, take a nap or something.”

It was an offer and a half from any parent to attempt to keep their kid at bay, I mean I’d done it a fair few times with an excitable Lottie over the years, but I waved it off, smiling when the girl’s voice called out again. “Dad?”

Marshall leaned in closer, hand clutching the bannister, and lowered his voice whilst his face got all serious, “Get out whilst you still can.”

Huffing out a mirthful breath, I couldn’t quite hide my smile. “I’m good, I'm actually excited to meet her.”

He paused and observed me for a moment, as though he was trying to see the truth behind that sentiment, which made me unsure. But I hoped he did find the sincerity in my words because it hadn’t been a lie, I was nervous to meet his daughter sure, wanted her to like me and not feel as though I was suddenly imposing on her life, but I had genuinely enjoyed her witty remarks and scathing comments when we had spoken the night before. She reminded me of a little of a younger Lotts. 

Em eventually nodded at me, cheek dimpling ever so in a possible attempt to dampen his reaction, but before I could question it, the man was jogging down the stairs. “Up here, you monster. And what I tell you ‘bout yellin’?”

A familiar face poked its way out of the hall at the bottom of the staircase and the smile that dawned on it was beaming when she spotted her dad. “How are you gonna hear me if I don’t yell?” She replied, squealing when the man swept her up off feet and into a hug, peppering a line of kisses into her hair, “Dad!”

Marshall snorted at the reaction he’d garnered but eventually lowered the girl back down onto her feet, whilst I just stood at the bottom of the stairs watching them with a fond smile. “What?” He said in a put upon voice and ran a hand over the girl’s head, bulging his eyes out wide when Rosie pulled a face. “How was school, kiddo?”

Rosie pushed up onto the balls of her feet before she rocked back, “Good, I ran out to the car quick to get home ‘fore she gets here.”

The smirk the man took on was almost evil and he laughed when he cocked his head out to gesture behind the girl. “Just about managed it.”

A curtain of honey coloured hair swept over her shoulders when the girl twirled around on her heel, eyes widening in sudden surprise to find me standing there. “El!” She called out, a grin breaking across her features before she hurried over to engulf me in a hug too.

Even as surprised as I was by the gesture, I chuckled and lowered myself down to squeeze her back, smiling at Em from over the top of her head. “Hey,” I murmured gently, staying crouched even as we pulled apart, “Thanks for the pjs, they’re probably the best gift I’ve gotten in ages.”

That statement appeared to thrill the girl, who’s eyes twinkled under the soft lights, “I got a matching pair, guessed we could wear them tonight and watch a movie so you’d feel more at home.”

My heart burst at the thought, I was sure of it.

But then Marshall went to speak and I already knew what he’d been prepared to say, so instead of letting him ruin Rosie’s sweet plans, I was quick to jump in, “I’d love that.”

The smile she gave me was award worthy and she turned back to face her dad with that settled. “See, if you had gotten the same ones like I said, you could’ve joined!”

I snorted at the expression that then crossed Em’s face, his head jolting back a tad. 

“You really didn’t get some to match?” I egged the girl on, mouth dropping open in a feigned amount of shock.

We were both met with a disbelieving shake of his head as the man blew out a heavy breath and turned away. “I’ll watch what I want and wear what I want, it’s my house.” He threw back at us as he headed further into the house, murmuring under his breath, “Women.”

Rosie and I shared a conspiratorial grin before we made to follow after him. 

“It’s rude to just dump your friend, Dad.” Rosie commented once we’d wandered into the kitchen to find Em grabbing a couple of bottles out of the fridge, the girl slid onto a stool at the end of the island whilst I bit my cheek to keep from outright laughing.

Her words were met by an unimpressed stare that didn’t appear to phase her as she continued to swing her legs back and forth. The man let the fridge door slip close as he made his way over to join his daughter, handing her a bottle before sliding the other across the counter to me. “You got homework?”

Rosie’s eyes flickered from her dad to me, then back again, “Maybe, but it’s Math.”

“Well, we ain’t goin’ nowhere til it’s done.” Marshall told her with a small shrug, even though I’d seen his eyes widen at the thought of having to deal with numbers and sums. “Get changed and we can start on it, okay?”

The girl emitted a soft sigh but ultimately moved to jump down from off the stool, “You any good at Math, El?”

Biting down on my smirk, I ignored Em’s murmured warning of the girl’s name and answered, “Not bad, I might be a little help.”

“Anything’s better than my Dad’s attempts.”

“Yo, I try.” Marshall was all too quick to quip back in retort, his arms now crossed over his chest as he stared his daughter down with a slight frown.

Rosie’s smile was precious, but her eyes told another story. I knew then that she understood exactly how to keep her dad wrapped around her finger. She was a little menace and I already loved it. “I know, Daddy, my teacher said that my English homework was the best she’d read in a while.”

Em actually seemed to take pride in that and so I guessed he’d had a hand in that homework too. His daughter also appeared to take note of the fact that he was pleased because she hurried off then, calling out over her shoulder once more, “Be back in a sec!”

“Yellin’!” Marshall yelled, defeating the whole purpose of his previous argument, before he sighed and gestured me over towards the seat Rosie had just vacated. “See what I have to put up with?”

Scoffing, I moved to take up the stool whilst he picked up a few stray notes lying on the counter and placed a glass that had been left behind at some point into the sink. “You ain’t seen nothing yet. Wait til she’s thirteen and debating the point of riding a dirtbike to and from school with you.”

Em barked out a real laugh at that as he turned his back on the sink to shoot me a look that said ‘Really?’

I heaved a put upon sigh, fingers toying with the water bottle I’d been gifted. 

“That’s not even the worst of it.” I told him as my mouth worked over a smile, “Before I left she asked if she and a few friends could stay at the house alone whilst I was away, because, and I repeat, ‘If there’s six of us then that basically equates to one whole adult’. I’m still genuinely scared that she went through with it even after I said no, keep checking the security cameras to make sure there isn't a herd of teenagers working their way inside.”

He wore an amused smirk but I noticed there were more than a few questions hiding behind his stare. They’d been there for a while now.

“You can ask.” I eventually said, appreciating the atmosphere his home offered, from the warm walls and the pictures that decorated the place, to the odd bits of mess that made the too large house look lived in.

Em worked his tongue into the curve of his cheek and watched me for a moment, before he eventually settled his forearms against the counter and leaned into it. “Kinda figured you took care of her, even before you mentioned that she was your sister.”

My gaze flickered down to the water droplets that clung to my fingertips, the bottle sweating from the change in temperature. “Yeah. I mean, I’m a lot older than her, so we sort of lived through different shit but I went through a lot as a kid, with like my mum and all the issues she had. When I found out that she was pregnant again it was through this woman who used to work with her at the local greengrocers when I was little. I just remembered thinking that I didn’t want that baby going through the same thing I did.”

My mind flashed back to the memory. Thinking of Annie’s wrinkled face and the relentless rain that had only just begun to let up. She had congratulated me.

“I was sixteen, had long since packed my shit up and left, but I’d never had the money to get too far. So I’d still spot her out and about.” I licked at the corner of my mouth, unwilling to meet his eye. “I went to see her after I’d heard, mostly out of anger. Her new boyfriend had moved in and I remember just being thankful for the fact that my brother had a friend that didn’t mind putting him up. She said she wasn’t using, just fags and the like, a cider here and there. Was surprised to see me, though she expected a big song and dance about the new baby.”

I picked at the water bottle’s label.

“When Lotts was actually born, her dad was locked up proper– facing sixteen years for armed robbery. Mum had her in a ward two months early and ended up leaving her there to go visit him. She was a preemie, tiny, too tiny, you know?” I murmured and could still picture her that small. “Mum she came back that same night mostly for a bed to sleep in, but had already found herself a fix. The nurses must have noticed that something was up, they’d asked to run blood tests and shit, but mum wouldn't have it. Would come and go during visiting hours whilst Lotts was in the NICU. I stayed, only leaving when I had a shift to work, and even then I’d come running straight back.”

Marshall just stood there listening and in truth I was thankful that he hadn’t thought to interrupt me to offer words of comfort or probe deeper. Although his eyes were serious when I finally managed to look over at him, listening intently.

I rubbed my lips together before getting on with it, “I moved back in with her when Lottie was finally able to come home. Ended up taking care of the kid when I was still just a kid myself, only so that she didn’t get tossed into care or fucking overdose on whatever shit mum and whoever else left lying around. It was just the two of us for a while, before my brother, Danny, came back. He’d gotten caught up in something with these older lads on the estate and was still at school, so I worked nights down at this pub under the table to keep up with rent and he’d watch over her for a few hours. It was there that I started performing just for extra cash, like on mic nights and stuff.”

Em squinted and for the first time he opened his mouth to contribute something, “That’s where you got found, right?”

I was sure I hadn’t mentioned that in any of our conversations and so I could only guess that he’d done a little bit of digging on me, the thought made me want to laugh but instead I simply smiled. “Yeah, some scout just happened to be passing through.”

He hummed, taking that in.

“But by the time anything really came about, my brother had long since gone off to join the army and Lottie was seven.” I mentioned, eyes jumping back and forth between him and the bottle I still clung to, “I’d always taken care of her, but then I was suddenly needed elsewhere to make these dreams come true, to make money, to give her a better future.” 

I knew that he could relate to that, to the utter struggle and fear I’d faced, terrified it would all fall through and I’d be left with nothing again.

“I didn’t really have a choice about leaving her though so she stayed with a neighbour at first, then her dad’s aunt who was nice enough to pop round sometimes, she was an older frail woman. I managed to actually land something eventually and started work on an album, but even after that the weight of anxiety had settled and I was working so hard just to keep all of these producers' attention.”

I swallowed thickly at the next flashback that had hastily followed. 

“Shit went down while I was over here in The States.” 

I felt sick each time I thought about it, hardly even dared even attempt to bring it up even to those few that knew. Lotts didn’t really remember any of it though, didn’t recall the hospital scare or my frantic need to make sure that she was okay for weeks after it had happened.

“I flew back that night and managed to sort of work things out. Threw a fucking toaster at my mum’s head I was so angry–” I snorted stupidly, “It missed. But after that I couldn’t trust her. She’d lost any sort of love I’d held for her. That was about five years ago now though, so she’s a bit different. Trying, she says. But Lotts stays with me until the very second I can’t help it.”

Blowing out a shaky breath, I willed my gaze to meet his and was taken back by the intensity of his stare.

“Sounds like a piece of work.” Marshall eventually commented and it honest to God made me laugh, allowing me to fill that hollow in my heart for a second and be grateful for the ease of it, because I really wasn’t too sure if I’d been about ready to cry at his kitchen table. “But I get it.” He added, “I think it’s great what you did for her, too. She probably won’t realise that til later but you should hear it.”

I glanced away, eyes suddenly stinging and tried to smile. “Yeah, well.” I tittered, wiping the corner of my eye discreetly, “She’s staying with her now and it’s got me on edge.”

Marshall moved around the kitchen island to place a careful hand on my shoulder, squeezing slightly before he ended up dragging me into a one armed hug. “You’re tough. Which means she’s gotta be too. I’m sure she’s just doing what kids do and messin’ around with her friends. Remember that’s all I did growing up, anything was better than bein’ in that house.”

A small snort escaped me as we parted, though he stayed near. “Because that’s so reassuring.”

He clucked his tongue and grinned, knocking shoulders with me, “I was a good kid, didn’t do nothin’ bad.”

“Uhuh,” I felt the need to drag out, “The image of an angel, Marshall Mathers.”

“Too fuckin’ right.”

“Dollar!”

It seemed we both jumped at the sudden reappearance of Rosie, who came sweeping into the room with a finger pointed at her father and an armful of school supplies. The skin between my brows pinched in confusion before the man beside me answered her, giving me the explanation I needed.

“For what?”

“You swore.” The girl shot back at him and climbed onto the stool beside me to settle her notebook down as well as a few pages of paper and pens. 

Marshall ended huffing, unable to deny that he had and moved towards the cupboard by the large, sliding glass door. 

“Maybe don’t eavesdrop on conversations. Reckon you owe a dollar for that, girlie.” He’d since grabbed a plastic tub and I was honestly surprised by the sparse amount of notes that were hidden inside it. Em must have spotted my surprise though and equated it to what it meant because he spoke again, “It gets emptied every couple a’ weeks and that monster over there gets to choose what we spend it on.”

Rosie perked up at the mention. “Last time I got him to take me fishing.”

“Fishing?” I wondered, blinking at the revelation. I looked back at Marshall and laughed, “I’m sorry but I can’t imagine you in that scenario.”

“Ha ha.” The man said impassively, widening my grin whilst he tugged two dollars out from his back pocket and shovelled them into the jar before he returned it to its rightful place.

“He only caught one.” Rosie piped up, already having written the date in that backwards way the American’s preferred, “It was real cute.”

I raised a brow and shot it Em’s way. “Cute?”

Rosie’s smile was big and bright, “Yeah! He said we had to let it go though ‘cause it was so small.” 

Marshall rolled his eyes and then pointed between the pair of us. “You two keep this whole thing up imma go out to eat by myself. Bunch’a bullies, I swear.”

Rosie and I broke into a fit of giggles at that which only made the man’s expression flatten that much more, he waited for us to get over it before he looked between us and the notebook which had been laid out. “Enjoy Math, I’m gonna go grab a burger.”

“No!” I laughed brightly, spinning on my stool when he started to walk back around the island, “We want food too.”

“Yeah, we’ll start a riot, we're that hungry.” Rosie told him and I couldn’t muffle the rest of my giggles. Marshall merely rolled his eyes for the umpteenth time.

“Math, then we can talk food.” He declared, tickling his daughter’s side as he slid in beside her to get a better look at the worksheet she had. His eyes widened. “They got you using letters now too?”

Rosie’s laughter filled the kitchen and I got a first row ticket to watch her and her dad’s light ribbing as we started in on the first question. The sight of it made my heart swell in truth, it was just so easy to see how much love they held for one another.

[good-beanswrites]

WAH HEY BEANS!! okay so i was looking at the plushies and merch again and i suddenly had a thought in LCSyS, what are their thoughts on like merch?? i have no idea if you've mentioned this before and if so i am silly. i can totally see fuuta go OH NO IVE BEEN TURNED A MARKETABLE PLUSHIE

YES AHAHAHA I love that!! This is for the gone-public variation of the au

This made me realize the wide range of official merch, plus I think a lot of them would love supporting artists once they're out and have access to the internet again lol. Overall I think the plushies would cause the biggest stir around the facility 😂 I mention bootleg merch, like when you have random companies making weird/ugly knockoffs -- I don't think real Milgram has that but it was a fun idea for the story lmao

Haruka isn’t used to having his own image on so many things. The others are really sweet about taking care of his plushie and doing kind things for it to boost his own confidence (although there was One Singular Moment of jealousy where his tiny counterpart was getting more attention than himself and needed to be talked down lol) He and Muu have plushies of each other that they’ll plan cute matching outfits/accessories with.

Yuno loves her own plushie, and is excited to share it with Yura. She takes really good care of all the plushies she has, and they genuinely bring her warmth, especially post-milgram when they all separate <3 She (or maybe Mikoto, I haven’t decided) gets only the weirdest/most concerning buttons on her personal bag. She loves her Borderline Suicidal Fuuta, Crazed Bug Muu, Grieving In A Hospital Shidou, Rats Mahiru, and so on. She asks Amane for permission to add Waterboarding Button to her collection. For her more public displays, she likes the aesthetic things from the anniversaries and birthday art. She loved those days of dressing up for the photoshoots, so they carry nice memories as well as being super cute. 

(I tagged you in the art I thought of, but yeah,) Fuuta puts up a big act about how weird and capitalistic it is to have merch of oneself, how plushies are “for kids,” and also how ugly/skrunkly his t2 one looks... His refusal to interact with it only makes the others interact with his more. I can see some of the prisoners (*cough* yuno *cough*) carrying around their Little Fuuta and sharing full conversations and activities while he looks on in horror. In the end, he caves in order to set a good example for Amane, and keeps a few in his room. He never admits that he also gets really attached >:3 Another secret -- he likes using the special bluetooth headphones. He thinks they look cool and the voices are a fun touch, but he’d never dare tell the others. 

Muu has one of those really aesthetic merch bags where she keeps buttons, plushies, stickers, keychains etc. She has a little something for every prisoner, but there are definitely a few who have some shameless favoritism… Once out of Milgram, she makes a lot of social media posts focused just on the plushies in different locations and outfits. She keeps them in pristine condition, caring a lot for them.

Shidou gives the plushies to his kids, and the prisoners laugh/brag about which one each child chose as their favorite. (I also like to imagine the conversations Shidou must have with strangers: “aww your daughter is so sweet! Who do you got there, honey? Aw, you’re squeezing ‘em real tight! Is that your favorite disney princess or something?” “Ah, that’s a little doll version of the divorced cop who lives a few streets over. In a prison uniform.” “O.oh…?”) He likes adding stickers to his tech, using some of the cases, and thinks the album covers look nice to display.

Mahiru goes crazy over the plushies. She sews little mv outfits for all of them, alternate outfits, and other accessories to hand out. She starts planning on making custom plushies for other people – her bf, Hinako, Shidou’s family, Lucky, etc. She was genuinely upset by how sad her T2 plush looks, thinking no one will love it – Jackalope breaks his experiment-long internet ban only once to sit with her and scroll through pictures that people had posted of them treating the plush kindly because of her looks. Also, even though they broke up, she excitedly shows her bf the buttons that feature the two of them 😅

Kazui already has a lot of records/CDs collected, and he makes a really nice display of all the albums for his wall. The other prisoners love gifting him bootleg merch of his own videos – tshirts and things from random companies that are juuust off somehow. (I have no clue about her sense of humor, but maybe one day Hinako wears one of the Cat marriage buttons like “I got married and traumatically divorced and all I got was this this stupid button)

Amane would have tried to match Fuuta acting too cool for the plushies… if it weren’t for every single other person absolutely fawning over them. She can admit to loving them and carries a different one to set with her each day, treating them kindly and dressing them up with Mahiru. She also enjoys adding stickers to her notebooks and things, they end up completely covered by the time the later mvs come out. At the very end of the experiment, she ends up using merch to cover up the old cult stickers on her backpack.

Mikoto owns the most of his own merch, claiming “it’s John :)” (and then John points to the same things claiming “it’s Mikoto :)”). They each have a T1/T2 plushie to carry around, though they end up like that Garfield "to be loved is to be changed" plush -- they really go everywhere. Mikoto gets those anniversary art shirts with the prisoner’s face taking up the whole center, and wears it to each of their mv shooting sessions, much to their embarrassment. He owns a lot of the stands to keep on his desk while he works, using them for rubber-ducking when needed. He posts I feed him rocks.

Kotoko prefers the more general things when she goes out, feeling like it’s odd to show off the other’s faces out in public. (They claim they’re famous anyway, but she insists you can never be too careful.) So she wears a lot with the main milgram logo/inno and guilty symbol/Jackalope/etc. In her personal space, though, she has a ton of the others’ things, and tries to play down how much she really likes the plushies :3 When Mahiru’s finished with it, she’s excited to show Lucky both of theirs.

Everyone owns a lot of Es merch. They try to be subtle about it post-reveal and not overwhelm their poor guard, but it comes out eventually and does scare them just a bit. 😅 Later, Es really enjoys having something of each of the prisoners close even when everyone goes back to their lives.

[thatbxolivia]

could you do one where the reader regresses during a mission? With clone wars era anakin?

🎀 anon

you have the best ideas omg

you woke up this morning feeling incredibly little. you pushed it down, not wanting to impede on anakin’s plans. he had this mission planned for weeks, needing you specifically as your father, a political figurehead on Tattooine, was making issues for the senate and giving troubling signs of separatist sympathy. you had no contact with your family, especially not your father, and preferred to keep it that way. however, you were beginning to feel useless and when this opportunity arose, you jumped at the opportunity.

you had tried sending a message to your father, asking him to PLEASE stop this madness, but you received no response. you knew he would be angry with you when he saw you, but anakin would be with you the entire time.

you sat in the passenger seat of anakin’s ship, silent as he manned the controls. he looked over at you.

“i will turn around right now, i’ll take you home. i’ll find someone to watch you, just say the word.” he told you, smiling softly. you shook your head.

“i feel kinda weird… but not enough to regress.” you lied. “i’ll be okay to wait til we both get home.” you told him, giving him a small smile. he nodded, you thinking he believed your lie. you felt better knowing he wasn’t worrying about you instead.

soon enough you landed on the desert landscape near mos eisley, departing the ship and tracking through the market to your fathers workshop. when you found it, you stood in front of the door, sighing.

“i don’t want to do this.” you muttered to yourself, hoping anakin didn’t hear. he did.

“i’m serious. anytime, even if we’re in the middle of speaking, just tell me. give me a sign, i will take you home and have someone watch you. i don’t care what the order says, you do NOT have to do this.” he said, grabbing your shoulders and making eye contact with you. you shook your head, not wanting to be a big baby. you stood your ground before, you would now as well. you were going to do this.

“no, anakin.” you said, and he backed off hearing his name. he nodded and smiled sadly at you, not used to hearing anything other than “daddy”.

“okay.” he said. “then let’s go, baby.” he said putting his hand on your back and guiding you in.

the workshop was small. roomy, but small. it was well lit with multicolored lanterns and lampposts, giving the room a very colorful view. you remembered it. you remembered being young, before your parents separated, and spending many a night in this workshop. you loved it. loved.

“most people use common sense when they don’t get a reply to a message and leave the recipient alone.” you heard a man scoff behind you. you turned around and deadpanned at him; lo and behold, in all his glory, your father. “then again, guess you weren’t very bright.” he grumbled.

“i’m very intelligent, thank you.” was all you said in response. “we’re here to talk about-“

“ugh.” he cut you off, exiting the room. “boring.” he called over his shoulder, making you scoff. anakin spoke up.

“you know of me?” he asked, holding his head high.

“the great hero of the order.” your father said sarcastically, not actually impressed. anakin’s response was to use the force to drag your father over to him, choking him in the process.

“i’m not as kind as your daughter. if you refuse to speak with her, you get me instead.” was all anakin said, keeping a dead serious expression. your father nodded, gasping for air when he was let go.

“these the kinda people you hang with?!” he asked incredulously. you on the other hand just shrugged.

“they’re nice to you when you’re nice to them.” you replied, earning a small snort from anakin. at least he thought it was funny, unlike your father.

“what do you even want?! why do you care where my allegiance lies?!”

“because your dragging this entire planet down a separatist sinkhole, i won’t have it, none of us will!” you said, raising your voice. “tattooine has for far too long been engulfed in war and slavery and the LAST thing it needs is separatist ownership. for fucks sake, dad, what the hell happened to you?!” you yelled, anakin behind you being dead silent. he’d never seen you this way. “you are my father-“

“i gave you life and that’s IT! you are no daughter of mine!” he yelled back, making you cry immediately.

“fine! die then! take the whole planet with you and die a lonely and miserable old man. i HATE you!” you screamed louder than anyone. the room fell dead silent.

“glad the feelings mutual.” he said with venom in his voice. “get out!” he pointed towards the door and kicked over a box. the noise startled you and you cried.

“daddy..” you sobbed.

“i’m not your father!” he screamed, pointing at the door again. “fucking go!”

you ran out into the streets, earning a few weird looks, but most people seemed sympathetic. your heart was breaking. what a stereotype, a young girl needing her boyfriend to be her caregiver because she has daddy issues. for fucks sake.

“i’m here. i’m not him, i’m here and i always will be.” you heard behind you, feeling a hand on your shoulder.

“i never should’ve come here.” you sobbed, shaking your head. anakin wrapped you in a tight hug from behind, his chin resting on top of your head.

“even when you’re just a baby, you’ve always wanted to do everything yourself. i see it now, you don’t want to be big or anything like that. you want to be independent so if someone leaves you, it doesn’t hurt. but you can depend on me.” anakin said. “you can always depend on me, i am NEVER going anywhere. not without you.” he said, whispering the last part. you cried at his words.

“daddy,” you began. “i lied. i shouldn’t have come here i’ve been feeling off all day.” you fessed up. your daddy was not angry or upset with you, he had a very calm look on his face, very sympathetic.

“i know.” he said. “you needed to come to this conclusion yourself, there was nothing i could’ve said.” he told you. “but i’ll tell you what we’re gonna do.” he began, walking you forward, back towards the landing spot. “we’re gonna go home, i’m gonna get you in a bath and changed, then we can have kol come watch you, or maybe obiwan, whoever. and i’ll come back here and deal with this, and you’ll never have to hear about him again.” you both stopped. “sound like a plan?”.

“yes.” you said, kicking a rock. you felt better already, in your headspace and your daddy already making plans to help you out. your shoulders relaxed.

“good.” he said, continuing forward with you in tow.

“i hate him.” you said.

“no, you don’t. you love him and that’s why it hurts. you won’t heal until you acknowledge that fact.” your daddy told you softly. you knew he was correct.

“why is he so mean?” you asked, feeling tears form again as you walked. you could see the ship ahead of you in the shipyard. you sighed.

“i don’t know, that i wish i knew.” he said sadly. “but i do know that it gets better, losing a parent. or in your case, going no contact. the first few days are hard,” he confessed, not wanting to lie to you. “but i’ll be there. then, it’ll get better. and better, and better, until you learn to live with that loss. it will always hurt if you think too long about it.” he said. “but you learn to live with that pain, and you learn ways to cope.” he said, smiling and reaching the ship. he opened the door and let you enter first.

“daddy?” you called out, looking back at him. he had walked in and was packing something.

“hm?” he hummed, stopping packing and looking up. he always gave you his full attention. always.

“am i too much?” you asked and he smiled.

“never.” he said, knowing you needed to hear it. it was the god’s honest truth, and he’ll tell you any day you need to hear it again.

🎀🎀🎀🎀🎀

[prxtze-l]

Ophelia lived alone in the woods where no one paid her any mind. Camelot was a pretty big kingdom so no one ever thought about anyone living outside of it.

She lived her life peacefully in her small cottage and her garden, only going out twice a week to sell her herbs and plants to the people in the kingdom and going to the market for supplies.

That was until she earned the curiosity of a certain blond prince.

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˚ ༘ .˚🌱୭ ˚. ᵎᵎ

Tedros laid on his bed staring up the ceiling. His mind was racing with thoughts of the beautiful girl he met at the market. He doesn't get it. He's only seen her once but he couldn't help but want to talk to her again.

His eyes wandered to the small plant that rested on his bedside table. Then a thought suddenly hit him, 'I never got her name!'

Within a moment of decision he took the arrows from his bow and leapt out the window. Catching himself with one of the arrows. 'This is absolutely stupid..! Why am I even doing this? I've only met her once,' these were the thoughts running through his head while he climbed down the side of the castle.

Without even realizing it, he was already at the bottom of the tower. He took off towards the busy market to find the small stand. The market was brightly lit by the lamps on the stalls. The crowd was still bustling in the market.

'She's probably still there!' Tedros thought hopefully. That hope quickly diminished when he arrived at the small stall seeing it dim, completely without a person in sight. He looked around hoping to see her but to no avail.

Tedros looked at the stalls nearby and started his small investigation. He approached a stall that sold dry fruits. "Excuse me, Miss?" He called out to the elderly woman.

"Yes–", the woman gasped at the sight of the blond prince. "Prince Tedros..! Good evening your Majesty!" the old woman greeted with a bow.

"Huh?" Tedros was confused until he found the problem. Earlier when he went with the knights he wore a disguise so people wouldn't recognize him but now he was in his normal clothing and without a cloak. 'Great...' he grumbled to himself.

"I would like to ask a question," Tedros dismissed his current predicament. "Ask anything, your Majesty!"

"Do you know the girl that sells plants here?" Tedros asked.

"That girl? Oh of course! She's quite famous around here but no one knows her name. All we know is that she only comes to the town two separate days a week. Why? Is there something that she did?" The old woman worried.

"Oh not any of the sorts. I only wanted to know her name," he reassured.

"I'm terribly sorry but you're going to have to ask that to her. I'm afraid no one in this town knows her name."

Tedros sighed at the information. "Thank you very much, ma'am!" He thanked her anyway before making his way back to the palace. Using the same way he got down.

When he climbed back up, the door to his room suddenly opened. "Tedros–" the voice of his father startled him. He ended up knocking back on his bedside table which resulted in the potted snake plant to wobble.

Time seemed to slow down as he watched the plant fall to the ground. But before it could hit the ground, Tedros caught it just in time.

"Father!" He replied shocked.

"Tedros, I wanted to talk with you. Ever since coming back from the market you've been acting strange." King Arthur approached his son with concern.

"Strange? What do you mean? I am perfectly fine, father!" Tedros tried to shrug off his father's allegations.

"Tedros. You're holding that plant like your life depended on it." His father gave him a blank stare. As if stating the obvious.

"Huh? Oh..! This thing? It's nothing!" Tedros tried to deny it but his hands only held the plant tighter.

"This is not helping your case at all, son." Arthur stared at the plant while talking. He knows why his son's been acting weird. The sweaty palms, the acting suspiciously, holding on to the plant as if he let go it'd be gone in seconds.

"Now tell me, who's the girl?" Arthur asked his son.

"Girl? What girl? I don't know any girl..." Tedros tried to deny.

"Son, I know your mother left me but I'm not dumb."

Tedros sighed and approached his bed. "Fine. I met this girl at the market when I was with the knights and she sold me this plant. For the first time in my life I knew the difference between pretty and beautiful and she's both."

"What's her name?" Arthur asked his son. His love may not have ended well but he doesn't want that to stop his son from finding someone.

"That's the thing, I didn't get to ask her. And I went back earlier but she wasn't there. I asked the stall that was near hers but they said no one knew her name." Tedros uttered.

"Well that's a predicament. How about I help you search for her? I'm pretty sure we'd be able to find her," Arthur suggested.

Tedros just sighed for probably the hundredth time that day. "It's fine, father. I'm going to be leaving for The School for Good tomorrow anyway, I'll probably forget about her when I finally find my true love there."

Arthur dropped the topic. "Well if you say so. I also wanted to remind you that dinner will be served in a bit. I came here to spend as much time as possible before you go."

And with that the two headed to the royal dining room and never spoke about the mysterious plant girl again.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

Back in the woods, Ophelia was cooking dinner for herself. It was quiet besides the sounds of the fire crackle from her stove. Heinz stayed for the night which was a rare event.

When her food was ready, Ophelia transferred it to a plate. Eating quietly she began to ponder if she'll always live alone in the woods for the rest of her life. Thoughts swirled through her mind of all the things she could do in her future.

'I could set up a flower shop in town when I'm finally old enough. The knights will probably stop going after me when I'm finally eighteen–'

Her thoughts were interrupted by something slipping under her door. She approached it to see a letter. Ophelia was confused. No one knew she lived here, so how could they send a letter?

She turned over the letter to see her name written in fancy cursive with the insignia of two swans under it. One swan was black while the other was white, under the swans were initials.

"S.G.E? But how?" Ophelia asked herself. "I'm not a princess nor do I come from an influential family," she was tempted to open it. She put it down on the kitchen counter before she went back to eat.

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

When Ophelia finished putting away her dishes, her eyes drifted to the letter. Her curiosity got the best of her so she opened it. There was no note inside, only a piece of paper. It was a Flowerground Pass.

"Flowerground? Guess now I know what to do tomorrow. It could be a good change of pace, right Heinz?" she looked towards the sleeping cat in his small bed. "Plus if I ever become a sidekick to someone, the knights will probably get off my back."

With that thought, her decision was final. She found an old crate in the cottage and began packing her necessities. At some point during her packing, Heinz woke up and approached her. Heinz rubbed his fluffy head against her leg.

"You wanna come with me, Heinz?" Ophelia asked the cat who meowed back as if to say 'yes'. She smiled at him and scooped him up in her arms. It was already late and she was done with packing anyway.

She turned off the lights and retired to her room. Tomorrow would be fun.

That night, Ophelia slept with a smile on her face awaiting what was to come the next day.

A/N: This is just a filler chapter but this will be the last prologue chapter. I know Arthur died but let's pretend that he's alive. Hope you liked this chapter :) !! Not proofread !!

[brakingpoint]

Adding onto the point you made about rpf and I just wanna mention the video that Mercedes released of George reacting to his 'meme' scenes and imo you can clearly tell that at one point he was just so uncomfortable? And how that is not okay because at the end of the day thay are the ones providing the content and if they all are made to feel like that, than i wouldn't be suprised if they just stopped sharing personal stuff?

i checked this video out after seeing this ask and it was certainly just... a choice to have him react to one girl's extended tiktok that was just thirsting over his photoshoot. like it wasn't actually a "meme" there was no real humour to it there was nothing for him to really say about it (which i think at least partially contributes to his awkwardness in that section)... like the person who made that tiktok is in the comments and she's chill about it seemingly but it's such a weird decision. i know "celebrities read thirst tweets" has been a thing for years but that's normally quick, snappy, slightly absurd statements that actually are funny enough to get a reaction, plus they usually blur out the author's handle & photo and often their display name too. to just make you look at one young woman's actual face and listen to her actual voice for a minute straight as she talks (fairly blandly, no offence to this woman, she was just trying to generically thirst in peace i presume) about how good you look in a photoshoot is just... so strange and i can't figure out what the person who planned that video thought the appeal of that section would be or what george would possibly have to say about it?

imo that definitely comes into the same category as admins using ship names etc in that they're taking things that are definitely intended for intra-community conversation and, because in the current age of social media (and especially on hyper-algorithmic platforms like tiktok) fan spaces and official spaces are exactly the same thing, decide that they can get more attention from the younger fangirl [theoretically gender neutral, though i'd guarantee marketing teams aren't viewing it that way] demographic by acknowledging them and leaning into the lack of separation between church and state (blorbocedes, 2023).

then people who are new to fandom & don't know the etiquette, especially in rpf fandoms, think - quite understandably, if this is the way admins are acting - oh cool, well in that case it's okay and normal for me to talk about ships/thirst/my y/n fantasies to the drivers and teams, and if that gets engagement the admins will continue blurring those lines and pandering to the shipper demographic as far as they can without actually getting into inappropriate territory, and this will make the existence of the rpf side of f1 fandom even more noticeable & something of a curiosity attraction to other types of fan. and as has already been discussed all this almost certainly won't lead to a "George and Lewis Read Your Fanfictions" video posted by mercedes-amg petronas f1 team's official youtube channel. but it could more realistically lead to one of like lando or max's mates namedropping everything changes or whatever in a twitch stream as a gag. which, i must stress, we also do not want

really tl;dr i guess it's. as people have been saying, a lot of the drivers are probably aware that rpf (slash fics or x reader) exists. we live in a post-larry world after all. but that does not mean they need to be privy to the details or have it shoved in their faces or have open discussion around it encouraged by their own social media teams

[imagineanime2022]

No It Wouldn't

Ogai Mori X Fem!Reader

Word Count: 1444

Requested: Anon

Request: Hiii could I request Mori x fem reader who is Hirotsu's granddaughter? Reader was just smoking and listening to music usic Infront of pm building and waiting for her grandfather when bodyguards took her inside into meeting room where everyone were. Everyone found out that she is Hirotsu's granddaughter but the thing is that she was left Infront of his door and he took her as his. Reader is ability user. Reader and mori actually met before when she was helping him with Elise and they both fell in love

Thanks

Warning: Reader gets hurt, Needle, Syringe and technically drug usage though it is for pain relief.

You hadn’t meant to get in trouble, all you were doing was waiting for your grandfather outside of the building but there was nothing you could do when you were herded into the meeting room, one ear phone still in your ear music blaring, your eyes found the grandfather immediately who seemed to sigh before he stood up “there’s no need for this, I know who this girl is.” He said as you looked at him and narrowed your eyes, you had told him on many occasions that you weren’t a girl anymore, you had grown. “You do?” The voice made you look at the head of the table, you knew that man, for a second you couldn’t place him but you seemed to put the pieces together as soon as you heard the call. “(Y/N)!” You felt the weight of a child crashing into your legs and when you looked down you saw that it was Elise the girl that you had met when she got separated from who you had assumed was her Dad, you helped her find him and he asked you if you were in the market for a job to help him look after his little girl sometimes. When you looked back up again it seemed that everyone at the table had tensed but you were looking at the male directly opposite you leaning against his fist and he smirked. “What are you doing here Miss her (L/N)?” He asked. “I was waiting for my Grandfather. I guess I looked suspicious.” You shrugged. “Mmm. Hirotsu, you never told me that you had a granddaughter.” Mori said. “It never seemed relevant sir.” Hirotsu answered, you were starting to feel uncomfortable with how much everyone was staring. “If you don’t mind sir I would like to escort my granddaughter back out.” “Of course, your presence here is no longer needed, you can head out for the day.” Mori answered as you stepped back from Elise, you gave her a small wave. “I’ll see you on Friday Elise.” You said before leaving with your Grandfather.

“I’m sorry that you were dragged in there.” Your Grandfather said as you finally made it back out into the fresh air. “Oh that, it wasn’t your fault, it wasn’t that bad either.” You shrugged “it was a little weird with everyone watching me.” “You know Mori?” He asked. “Well kind of Elise got lost one day and I helped her find him again, he asked me if I was able to help him with her every now and again.” You answered. “That’s the job you were talking about?” He asked. “Mmhm.” You hummed. “Well, come on, we’ve got a reservation to get to, I was worried that we would end up missing it.” He said as you both started towards the restaurant that he had chosen. Friday came around faster than you had expected and honestly when you headed down to the park that you arranged to meet Elise and Mori you at. You were sitting on the bench waiting for them but in the end the only person that showed up was Mori. “Where’s Elise?” You asked. “I have someone else looking after her today, I thought it best that we talk about everything.” He answered. “You mean about you being part of the Port Mafia?” You asked. “Only part of it?” He asked. “What?” You asked. “This is why we need to talk.” He said leaning back clasped hands resting on his knees. “I run the Port Mafia.” “You… You what?” You asked. “Does that change things for you?” He asked. “Change things? Elise still needs someone to look after her, correct?” Getting tired of twisting your neck to look at him, you turned your body, one of your legs pulled up onto the seat of the bench so that you were looking at him head on. “Yes she will still need someone to look after her.” Mori answered. “Then I’ll look after her.” You nodded. “Mmm. Well then there is only one thing that I ask.” He said, now leaning closer to you, “I want you to look after her at my office.” “Your office, why?” You asked. “It’s safer there.” He answered “there are people that would want to hurt her and they’d hurt you to get to her.” “Of course.” You nodded “fine.”

That was when the regular visits started, they served as both stable income and a reason to see your Grandfather more often. Mori had since explained Elise’s unique condition in that she was part of his ability rather than an actual child. Elise was easy to look after when Mori wasn’t around she loved your ability and most of the time it was all she needed to entertain herself. Today however Mori had an expected visitor, one that had barged his way into his office early and ordered that Mori speak to him. It was a split second decision to use your ability to protect Elise. Your ability allowed you to put up barriers by solidifying the air around whatever you were protecting, the man that was haphazardly waving around the gun in his hand was making you nervous but no one dared to move in fear that he would lash out. “You promised us somewhere safe! The mafia was supposed to protect us!” The man yelled. “For the right price, yes.” Mori answered leaning forward, his elbows resting on the desk as he clasped his hands together. “We paid you every month!” The man yelled “what more did you want!?” “You paid those who run your village but they weren’t paying us.” Mori answered. “Like I would believe that! Start telling the truth or I’ll shoot her!” His gun trained on you across the room, Mori took on a completely different demeanour after that, his eyes became dark and cold, his voice calculating and manipulating. “You’ll regret shooting her if you do, she’s just a babysitter, nothing to do with the group and no consequence to me if we lose her.” Mori shrugged as he stood. “Prove it!” He yelled, you heard the gun go off but you were more focused on the precision with which Mori moved, cutting into the man’s wrist and taking the gun. Finally other members had made it to the office, it had only really been a couple of minutes but it felt so long to you, they took care of the male from there as Mori moved to you quickly, as his gloved hands came into contact with your face pain blossomed through your shoulder “we’re lucky that he was a bad shot, why weren’t you protecting yourself?” Mori asked, using an arm to support you as he moved you to the closest seat. “You hired me to look after her, that’s what I was doing.” You answered through pained breaths as he looked over at Elise, he realised his ability after that forcing you to focus on him as he pulled a syringe out of his bag. “This is going to help with the pain and probably make you sleepy, okay?” He asked. “You're mad at me.” You mumbled. “Not at you.” He promised, from there you were in and out of consciousness, something that Mori seemed to expect as he carried you through the building and to the medical bay.

When you finally woke up Mori was sitting in the chair next to you, Elise was sitting in his lap and he had a book out in front of him. “I’m glad that she’s okay.” You managed to say, your voice was weak but it sounded loud in the silent room, Mori’s eyes moved to you as Elise squirmed off his lap to stand next to the bed. “I’m okay, thank you.” Elise said before she disappeared, it seemed that Mori had again realised his ability. “How are you feeling?” He asked. “Sleepy.” You answered trying to sit up, you hissed slightly and Mori moved forward to help you. “It was a through and through wound, you still have a lot of healing to do, that will however be no problem, we can help you with your recovery.” He explained. “Surely you have better things to do.” You mumbled as you played with the blankets covering your legs. “Not at all.” He answered “after all I’ve never felt more fear then when I thought I might lose you so now, I’ll keep you close, I can’t lose you if you're right next to me.” “You want me to be next to you?” You asked. “Would that be a problem?” He asked. “No, no it wouldn’t.” You answered.

Request Here!!

[discountalien-pancake]

I’m not sure if you’ve already critiqued them, but if not, what are your thoughts on the new Shades of Magic covers? Here they are for reference:

They’re not good, bront.

Look i can summon little eloquence right now and most of my coherent thoughts come down to: these covers are badly done. They’re just. A couple feet up and to the left of hitting the mark. I get the concepts they’re going for but the execution is just not good!

Kell (book 1) is so awkwardly posed. It seems clear to me at least that he was pieced from a couple different photos because the proportions are so weird. His head is bizarrely large compared to his t-rex arms. His hair looks awful.

Lila (book 2) literally has a zipper on her extremely modern leather jacket:

A zipper! Look i know there’s magic and shit but the overall aesthetic of the various londons is pre-Victorian fantasy London. The zipper just takes me right out of the immersion and kills the plausible deniability and it’s SLOPPY. It would not be hard to remove the zipper from the image to improve the overall adherence to the canon. Also. What the fuck are those weird little blades in the corners? They make no sense whatsoever, and there are no such similar elements in the other two covers, which says to me they were just slapped on to improve the visual balance of the image. But they just look stupid! They aren’t necessary.

Also the proportion issue of Kell’s cover is highlighted by the fact that Lila and Rhy (book 3) look normal-ish, but Lila’s head is smaller than Kell’s and yet she has longer arms??? Lila isn’t taller or broader than Kell in the books so that just doesn’t make any sense.

Also also it’s hard to tell for sure bc of the lighting of the images, but Lila’s pants appear to be unfastened at the top of the fly. Because sure. Oh and the mask is straight up just photoshopped on top and looks horribly dinky. Party City Halloween-ass mask. Oh and if you look carefully at her hair im pretty sure she originally had a close-cut bob and they painted/edited in more swoosh, which is not a problem necessarily, if not for the fact that i can still see the original hair’s silhouette.

Rhy’s cover is once again rife with weird editing choices that are poorly executed, like the clearly edited waistline silhouette that sliced off the sides of the belt. The epaulette and crown are weirdly dinky and definitely photoshopped, and the cape is so poorly edited that you can see that it was two separate images of draped fabric slapped one on top of the other:

Also the incredibly obvious fact that, if you read the books, you know immediately that the reason Rhy is facing away from the camera is the artist couldn’t find a suitable brown model 🙃. It’s almost funny that in an effort to avoid brownface/whitewashing they just. Committed erasure instead??

Overall, these covers just feel like badly trimmed, over-filtered collages of magazine clippings, which is not an unworkable aesthetic. But it’s not an aesthetic that works for this series. It just lacks intentionality in these covers and comes across as sloppy work.

Somewhat annoyingly, it seems the main selling point here is the author’s name, which is printed in font three times as tall as the title’s. It’s a marketing tactic to cash in on Schwab’s popularity, but really that just says to me that the books and covers can’t stand on their own.

6/10 they do their jobs but badly.

[fated-normal-767]

You ever heard of that myth where the guy royally pisses off demeter and she basically makes him so starved he eats himself? That’s Eris to me .

And also,,,,, so many thoughts about how…. Blasphemous his very existence is? Like how many times has he wondered if he even COUNTS as alive with the way he lives? The way his very birth was considered enough reason to damn him to basically a lifetime of sin . And not to be weird about religions I wasn’t even raised in but ,,,,,, hhhhhh something something Eucharist and the inherent holiness of the most foul thing a person could do etc etc etc ,,,,,,, (yes that is something I directly stole from TMA and will continue to steal idc what anyone tells me)

But also,,,, letalis & phantasm ?

oh exactly he’s so fundamentally fucked up and I love him . because of his skill his blood is actually a dark blue, and I originally chose it because Interesting Colour but. the way the term “blue blood” means royalty or an aristocratic bloodline. Just . this thing is so unnatural and if a god exists I doubt they made xem. but. their blood which is the main thing that draws the line between them and everyone else is the exact same as the idea that describes royalty. yeah I’m normal about this.

“Not to be weird about religions I wasn’t even raised in but” < should literally be at the start of all of my poasts because I am doing that every single day. I think the cruelest thing about eris is that he does not just do this on his own, he doesn’t just kill to live; he drags phantasm and letalis into addictions too. That’s like a form of religion to me. Look at this act condemned by everyone and trust me enough to live with yourself after it’s done. If I am cursed to do this to live, you can do it and live with the curse of the knowledge and then we will be the same. He doesn’t even always eat entire corpses even though it’d be more efficient for him to do so. He wants to leave evidence. It’s not survival, it’s a performance, and a threat.

Right . Phantasm and letalis.

Both letalis and phantasm ‘worked’ with xem at some point, and ended up with handprint-esque burn scars on their shoulders/shoulder blades to prove this, though letalis’ was covered by the explosion scar from the building collapse, and phantasm’s scar was on shimmer as it occurred before they had separate bodies, but shimmer (moderately horrifying concept) scraped it off with steel wool so there was still a scar but it no longer represented anything to do with eris and healed like a normal scar rather than a chemical burn. They had the scar for a while before they did this. Phantasm gets another scar when they get their own body. Though both of them lose the scars at some point, phantasm is willing to let eris do it again, where letalis is much more reluctant, and refuses.

Eris also learnt to design extremely efficient painkillers from chemical compounds found in their own blood, as they developed immunity to other painkillers and also became unable to get them from shops when they were found out to be killing people. They shared these with letalis and phantasm as they did technically work more effectively than market painkillers, but were very very addictive. Letalis has to start taking them after she gets caught in the explosion (“has to”, they already had a small addiction, but the pain from the injuries and muscle trauma meant she developed a reliance). This was at the same time as she was trying to distance herself from eris, but due to the reliance on something only he had, was nearly unable to leave without risking her health. Phantasm is also shown to have an addiction to these, though they’re suffered no particular injury to cause this, and it refuses to stop taking them. It also overdoses a few times as it isn’t used to how much their living body can handle and live. Eris doesn’t seem bothered by this, but does describe both letalis and phantasm as his best friends.

[theangelwithawand]

Princess and the Scoundrel Thoughts

Spoilers ahead:

First of all, the title and cover of this book are ridiculous. The art is pretty, but the pose looks like a cheesy romance. I think they’re paying homage to Courtship of Princess Leia, which while that story is hilarious, is one of the worst Star Wars books ever. But we get the Dathomir witches so it’s fine I guess.

On the other hand, Princess and the Scoundrel, is one of the best Star Wars books. Despite everything, despite all of the obstacles this book had from the beginning, it succeeds as having some of the best and most subtle character work in the entire franchise. Which is hilarious, because this book literally only exists to market a hotel. But Beth Revis said, “yeah, but what if it was good and I actually tried?”

Now, Beth Revis has clearly read COPL. You can tell and it’s kind of hilarious. For example, in COPL, there is a really long scene where Han plays sabacc (space poker) during a bout of insecurity and wins a planet to give to Leia and he uses THE MILLENNIUM FALCON for collateral. Han Solo would never do this. Now in PatS, Han plays sabacc while Leia is working to help her out by gathering intelligence. One of the players mentions that he wants to kidnap Leia (not knowing who Han is), and Han almost murders the guy. It’s awesome.

Here’s the thing, you can tell when Leia is being written by a woman instead of a man. In COPL, there is one moment where it’s brought up that if Leia marries Isolder there will be a planet for the survivors of the Alderaani genocide, but it’s only mentioned a few times and not by Leia. So any opportunity for a duty vs love internal conflict is not used. Her conflict is “Han and I are distant and space Fabio is hot so…”. Then HAN KIDNAPS LEIA USING A MIND CONTROL GUN. And she doesn’t murder him. So…I don’t care about this relationship anymore because both of them suck and it isn’t even clear why Leia falls in love with Han all over again.

Beth Revis gives Leia a very multi faceted internal conflict. Part of it is her dealing with her feelings about Vader, about being part of a team, and her guilt over Alderaan. It doesn’t take up too much time, but they inform a lot of her character.

Now, in a different canon book, that came out previously, it was mentioned in passing that Han and Leia got married on Endor. Now, at that point in both the EU and Canon, Han and Leia have been forcibly separated for a year and only actually got together a little bit before that. So, that’s really weird. But Revis is stuck with this. So she says to herself, “Why would they do this? Why would they move this quickly?”

And she remembers that this is Star Wars. They are living through war, they all almost died, and just spent a year forcibly separated. And they’ve decided that they’re done wasting time. Han just kind of…proposes and Leia (in typical fashion) debates for a second before deciding to take a leap of faith for love. It’s genuinely very, very sweet. Despite the title and cover this is not a romance book. There is no “will they won’t they” bullshit. Thank. God. They just get married and it’s really happy and Lando pranks Han into dressing nice, and it’s great. Then it’s a Star Wars adventure featuring Han and Leia.

That’s not to say Han and Leia don’t have any tension between them. The difference is it’s interesting. Han and Leia, especially her, do not know how to fully let each other into their lives. It isn’t that Han forgets for a bit that he married a very driven woman. He absolutely knows. His frustration stems from the fact that they are literally on their honeymoon, and Leia keeps leaving to work, because that is all she knows how to do. It is how she has coped with her trauma for three years. On the other hand, Leia feels like she is solely responsible for saving the galaxy, and that Han doesn’t understand that. Both sides of this argument are understandable. The book switches between Han and Leia’s perspectives. There are no stupid cutaways to Luke or space Fabio, there are no space witches. It is a focused relationship/ character study of Han and Leia while they’re on a decently interesting mission.

And the build up to the fight they end up having, is great. It’s a slow build up, you can feel their mutual frustration, and once they have the fight it is very cathartic. They don’t fight for the entire book either. They flirt and tease and have real conversations too.

So, after this huge fight, Leia is trying to divert the cruiser they’re on to this other planet, and Han finds out and helps her. Together, they succeed, but Leia is confused. They haven’t made up from their fight yet, and she asks why he helped her fight to go on a mission that’s going to take up more of their time. And Han says, “You’re my wife. If you’re running a con, I’m going to help you.”

Now, this might just be one of my favorite lines. Beth Revis understands that Han Solo is very loyal to the few people he cares about. He loves Leia, it’s why he goes back for her on Hoth at his own risk, why he saves Luke at Yavin and on Hoth. (She also understands the little bit of dorkiness Han Solo has beneath the posturing, up to the point that she gives him a sweet tooth.) Neither of them are overly mushy, they just love and respect each other.

There’s this great symbolism with their wedding rings. They’re made of hardened amber by the ewoks, and their fragility is a constant reminder of Han and Leia’s issues. They crack under pressure, and have to be maintained carefully. They eventually end up breaking under immense water pressure, but Han gives Leia a new ring (the one she wears in the sequels) reminiscent of the amber ones, symbolizing that they’re coming out stronger. It’s so sweet, and while it’s a little bit on the nose, it’s a great literary technique.

He’s acknowledging that he recognizes this part of Leia’s character, Leia realizes she needs to also put him first. In the aftermath, they both feel bad, apologize, and resolve to work on their issues together. And when they make-up, it feels real. This runs through the entire book, and the way it ends is really satisfying. Now, we know what happens to them in the sequels, so we can see how this conflict may come back into play later and lead to their eventual separation in canon. But, it’s also easy to see a different path where they work through these issues and live happily ever after. It’s just ambiguous enough to be read as either a prelude to eventual tragedy or the beginning of a long, happy life between two complex people. (I prefer the first one, but whatever).

Other things I liked:

- Han proposing. It’s literally that “I want you” “For what?” “A really long time.” quote on the internet.

Han: I want you.

Leia: Me? For what?

Han: Forever. Marry me.

- Leia tells Han about her true parentage and he just does not care. Like, he’s sympathetic towards her feelings, but is like, “why would this impact my love for you?”

- Leia finally lets herself do something spontaneous.

- Luke and Mon Mothma ship it.

- This quote:

Leia: About time.

Han: For what?

Leia: You once promised me a good kiss. I’ve been waiting.

- The conflict on Madurs is also pretty interesting. Leia is unwilling to let another planet die, giving an insight into Leia’s feelings about Alderaan, especially since Madurs values art like Alderaan.

Honestly, I want Beth Revis to write the canon “trip to Bespin” book.

Also…

This book kind of implies that Leia is bi? There’s a scene where Leia is remembering a conversation with her mother. So, when Alderaanian royals get married, their parent straps the ceremonial Rhindon sword (also used during their coronation) around their waist before the wedding.

In the flashback, Breha specifically says “whoever you marry” and “your husband or wife”…

Some people may say that it’s just ‘forced inclusion’ but that’s boring. Now, in the EU, fanon, and canon, Leia always puts emphasis on how close she and her parents were. This is something that I don’t think is ever particularly well illustrated, especially in canon. In parts the Kenobi series (she gets better later) and Leia, Princess of Alderaan, Breha in particular comes off as really unlikable.

But, if Leia isn’t over romanticizing (and there’s no indication that she is), she was really close to her parents. So, it stands to reason that her mother would know her sexuality. They at least seem really accepting in this passage, so it doesn’t seem like something Leia would keep from them.

I have no other evidence, and as far as I know, Leia is always seen in romances with men in both canon and legends, but in this context, it is a very interesting hint of something new about her character.

[spoopydooblr]

My King Will Be Kind Chapter 2 / Kendall Roy x OC

an: another short chapter, but here you go!!

tw: mentions of drug use, cursing

Stella was awoken the next morning by her phone ringing. She groaned, knowing her alarm hasn't gone off so must be relatively early.  It's 11 AM, whoops.

It was an unknown New York number. Probably a marketing call, but it could also be someone her manager needs her to talk to. Fuck it, Stella thought, as she picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hello." A smooth, deep voice perked her interest from the other side of the phone.

Kendall.

She immediately cleared her throat, trying to sound less sleepy. Stella sat up, clambering out of bed and to her bathroom. In the mirror, her hair was a mess, makeup smudged across her face.

"I hope I didn't wake you."

"Um, no, no, definitely not." She walked back to the bed.  

Kendall laughed, but it kind of sounds pitiful.

"I couldn't stop thinking about you."

Stella rolled her eyes. "Okay, lover boy." Stella tried to hide the blush on her cheeks as if he could see through the phone.

He's quiet for a second. "What are you wearing?"

She muffled a laugh. "Are you fucking serious?"

"Yeah I'm fucking serious."

"Well," Stella put on a sultry voice. Good thing she was a good actress. "I'm wearing gray sweatpants and a t shirt, so."

"You're hilarious."

"I know."

"I want you to come over tonight. I'll have my chef make us whatever you want."

"Your chef?"

"Uh, yeah."

She was quiet for a second, worst-case scenarios flash in her head.  "Listen, Kendall, are you sure?"

"Of course."

"I just—" Stella paused. "I'm apprehensive."

"Why?" He asked.

"Well, for starters, um, I'm kind of new at all this. I'm just a baby famous person, like, I didn't grow up in this spotlight like you." She continued, "if something goes wrong, I don't have money to fall back on. This is it for me. I just don't know...if I can be in your world."

"Stella, relax."

"I just feel like—"

"Just once, okay? And if it fuckin sucks, uh, you never have to see me again."

Stella thought for a second. It could be fun, probably amazing food and an even better fuck. But the optics were not good.

"Okay."

"I'll send a car at seven."

"Kendall." She pushed back.

"What?"

"I'll just take the subway, it's fine!"

Kendall laughed in disbelief. "You are not taking the subway."

"Then I'll Uber."

"No. I'm sending a car. Let me do this for you."

Stella could practically hear the twitter trolls screaming at all this.

"Okay, okay, fine."

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

Kendall sat at his desk, scrolling through Stella's Instagram. He stopped at a picture of her in a bikini, clicking on it and zooming in.

"Ken."

Kendall shot back into reality as Roman's voice pierced his eardrums. He jumped, closing his laptop.

"Insta-stalking? You horny bastard."

"Fuck off, Roman."

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

Seven came a little too fast for Stella. She was supposed to spend the day working on her script and answering emails. She was supposed to take her dog, Kurt, to the park. She spent the day anxious, pacing around her apartment, contemplating the millions of things that could go wrong. Stella had researched Kendall all day, stalking his social media and wikipedia pages.  He seemed to have mixed reviews, but the bad was very bad.  

He had two kids, Sophie and Iverson, with his ex-wife Rava.  They were young teenagers and apparently spent most of their time with their mother.  There wasn't much about Rava online other than her relation to Kendall.  It looked like they were separated for a while before getting divorced two years ago.

And then there were the drugs...

Stella knew it was bad to look for Kendall's dirty laundry on the internet, but she had to know what she was getting herself into.  Last year he went on a weird "feminist" tirade against his father and company.  He even planned to go on Sophie Iwobi's show but backed out last second.  She had definitely been looking forward to Sophie making fun of Kendall, but now that she knew him, she felt bad.  He clearly had a tough life and had been through a lot.

Stella facepalmed.  She couldn't actually be having sympathy for a billionaire, right?  Right?!

Then there was the outfit.  Stella had no idea what to wear or what to bring.  What do you get a person who has all of the money in the world?  She decided that, as risky as it was, she would bring him a nice blunt.  She knew he smoked, so a good, dispensary-quality blunt would be perfect.  It was better than a cheap ass wine from Trader Joe's.  

After the trip to the dispensary, Stella took a detour to a local vintage boutique.  She had a pair of black leather pants and a blazer that needed a top.  The store was one of those extremely expensive vintage places that were all over the Upper East Side, but she really wanted to impress Kendall.  

She decided on a silky white cowl neck halter top.  It was pretty expensive, but again, Stella wanted Kendall to like her.  It was almost five when Stella got back to her apartment.  She was pretty good at getting ready quickly, but this was different.  This guy was a literal billionaire, not some C-list actor from Raya.  Stella still chose light makeup though, and opted to have her hair down and straightened.  

After over an hour, she was ready.  Stella looked at herself in the body-length mirror of her apartment.  She looked good.  Billionaire good.  She took a few selfies before getting her things.  Her phone chimed with a text from Kendall.  She usually kept her ringer off, but today Stella needed to be aware of every text and call.

The car should be there in two minutes.  Excited to see you

Stella still couldn't believe Kendall was sending a car, but here she was, two minutes later, climbing into a huge black Suburban.  The driver opened the door for her, smiling.  

"Thanks." She muttered.

Twenty minutes of nervous sweating later, they had arrived at Kendall's building in Hudson Yards.  The building was huge and probably the nicest place Stella had ever been.  Did she need permission to even get into the front door?

"Mr. Roy will meet you inside."  The driver said, opening Stella's door.  

"Oh, um, thanks.  When do I, um, tip you?"

The driver laughed.  

Stella laughed nervously.  She stepped out of the car, looking around at the fancy business people around her.  The streets were actually clean.

Here goes nothing.

[empressofthesunwriter]

To Belong : The End

She was the weird foreign girl, he was the most useless Viking in the history of Berk. Together they were just Leandra and Hiccup. Two best friends who searched for their place in the world. Would their search for it unite or separate them?

After thinking long and hard I decided to finish Leandra and Starchaser's story.

Leandra in particular became a character I just can’t see that she ever would get back to Berk to be with Hiccup after he choose Astrid and Berk over her.

For her, it’s clear that she will always be second best to him and she deserves better.

So this is the final chapter of Leandra and Starchaser's story, I will delete My War and Together, we map the world.

I hope you enjoy the Epilogue ^^

Epilogue: The Last Rider and her dragon

30 years later……

In a little village in China near the Silk Road…

Careful to not wake up her beloved wife Xia, Leandra stood up from their shared bedroll.

Xia just mumbled something, rolling over where Leandra had lied a few seconds ago, enjoying the warmth.

The Spanish woman couldn’t help but smile. Xia was still so cute like when they had met as twenty-somethings.

In the corner of the bedroom, her darling Night Fury Starchaser slowly woke up and greeted her with a smile.

Starchser wasn’t as young as she was once, her black scales, looked more smoky-black and her golden eyes had darkened with age.

Leandra gently stroked Starchaser's head, feeling grateful for the dragon's companionship all these years. She knew that Xia loved the Night Fury just as much as she did, and it was one of the things that brought them together in the first place.

The black-haired woman tiptoed out of their small bedroom, making her way to the kitchen to start breakfast. She couldn't wait to surprise Xia with her favourite dish, huevos rancheros, her version.

As she cooked, she thought back on all the memories they had made together - travelling the world, adopting children, and building a life filled with love and adventure.

Despite the challenges they had faced as a same-sex couple in some places they had visited, Leandra knew that Xia was worth fighting for. She was her soulmate and best friend, and nothing could ever change that.

As she placed the hot plate of food on their small table, Xia appeared in the doorway with a sleepy smile on her face. "Good morning," she yawned.

"Good morning my love," Leandra replied with a grin. "I made your favourite."

Xia's eyes lit up at the sight of huevos rancheros. "You're amazing," she said before planting a soft kiss on Leandra's lips.

They sat down to eat breakfast together, enjoying each other's company. Starchaser soon joined them and ate her basket full of fish.

After that Leandra and Xia took their morning flight with Starchaser to enjoy the thrill.

Neither of the women would get ever tired of this feeling.

Sadly they couldn’t just keep flying like once they were young, they had responsibility.

Today was market day in their little village and Xia turned to buy the groceries they needed.

With both a kiss for the Spanish woman and dragon, she made her way there, while Leandra and Starchaser worked on their rice field.

When the black-haired woman was once a young girl she never thought that one day she would love such a simple life and yet here she was.

Humming a small melody she worked on the rice field when suddenly she heard Starchaser growling.

Confused Leandra looked up.

Starchaser was growling at a young man. He was clothed like a traveller and had the same tan skin as herself, black short hair and blue eyes.

Something about them was familiar...

“Leandra Alvarez?”, he asked her in perfect norse. Leandra felt how her heart began to race...no could it be possible? “And that dragon must be Starchaser...I’m Ulf Alvarez.”

The basket where she had put the rice fell from her hands as tears shot into her eyes.

“Ulfi, my little brother!”, she chocked out. “You are all grown up!”

Without a word, the siblings hugged each other tight. Leandra noted how tall Ulf was. Taller than their father.

“I wished so long to meet you big sister!”, cried Ulf. “The letter you left behind wasn’t much and by Odin, you were hard to track down.”

“I travelled the world. Seems like you did the same.”, she cried, kissing his cheeks.

They weren’t the squishy baby cheeks but had stubble.

God, her Ulf really was here and all grown up!

Even Starchaser seemed to recognize him and licked his cheeks, which made Ulf laugh happily.

It was now early evening and the Alvarez siblings were seated at the little veranda of Xia and Leandra's home.

Xia was so nice to cook dinner, while they cached up, Starchaser was flying alone a big round over the property.

“I still can’t believe that there is one dragon left.”, mussed Ulf and took a sip from the rice win Xia and Leandra made. “We all thought...well that any dragon in the world heard Toothless command.”

Leandra snorted.

“Starchaser was once his mate, in the relationship she was the Alpha, she would have never listened to him...also I think she loved me more and rather stay here with me than go...what did you call it? The Hidden World?”

Ulf nodded.

Both siblings took each a sip of their rice wine, gathering their thoughts.

“So Hiccup married Astrid?”, couldn’t help Leandra but ask.

Xia may be her soulmate, her one true love, yet Hiccup had been her first love.

You never quite forgot your first love. Especially if it had hurt you so bad.

Nervously Ulf rubbed his neck.

“Yeah...they have two kids, Zephyr, their oldest girl, and Nuffink, a boy.”, told her Ulf.

The black-haired woman pursed her lips and then nodded slowly.

Well, it didn’t surprise her, even if one part of her, the one who still was 16 and in love with Hiccup cried out.

Hiccup had made long ago his decision. When he had the chance to run away with her and chose to follow after Astrid to make her see reason.

Tzz.

“Are they happy?”

“I think so...but Dad told me, that Hiccup had said to him on his wedding day if you would appear suddenly he would cancel the wedding.”

“Really?”

“Whatever you wrote in the letter for Hiccup made him hope till last that you would come back to Berk...but I think he made finally his peace now.”

“It’s better so, I have a wife that I love very much and a bunch of little brats I love.”

This made Ulf laugh and squeezed her free hand.

“Again, tell me where all my nieces and nephews are?”

After dinner, Leandra and Ulf talked late into the night, catching up on all the years they had missed.

Xia listened to their stories, occasionally interjecting with a question or comment.

Starchaser eventually returned from her flight, settling herself next to Leandra as they chatted.

As the night grew darker, Leandra realized that she was grateful for this unexpected reunion with her brother. She had missed him more than she had realized and was glad that he had found his way back to her.

The next morning, Ulf said his goodbyes and promised to keep in touch. Leandra watched as he disappeared down the road, feeling a sense of loss mixed with happiness at having seen him again.

As she turned back towards their home, Xia wrapped her arms around Leandra's waist and rested her head on her shoulder. "I'm so happy you got to see your brother," she whispered.

Leandra smiled, feeling content and loved.

She knew that life would continue to bring surprises and challenges, but as long as she had Xia by her side and Starchaser in their lives, she could face anything.

[kitty-is-writing]

Kitty's Pride Month short #7!

Looks like I finished a few more of these than I thought. I also have the same amount yet to finish, so... maybe next year?

This short is about Narak, a trans man finding out there's more than one way to bind a chest.

🩵🩷🤍🩷🩵

It was just an extra step, really, to getting dressed in the morning. Get up, void bladder, find shoes and trousers, wrap cloth tightly around chest, pull on shirt. After so many years, he was used to it, securing the bindings was almost second nature by now, so how had he managed to mess it up this morning? The damn things had to come loose in the middle of dealing with a rival gang leader, too. He could almost feel his chest expanding, like a pair of sacks slowly filling with grain. He leant forwards, arms crossed to hold them down a bit, hoping the posture looked intimidating instead of stupid.

Less than a minute later, the other man’s eyes had drifted down to his chest, and he grabbed his hair, pulling his head back up. “My eyes are up here, you know.”

“Hey, easy. Those weren’t there a minute ago, right?”

“The hell difference does that make? We’re trying to agree on territory lines here, not gawp at each other’s bodies.”

The other man, Lopor, didn’t seem nearly as bothered as he should have been. “It doesn’t make a damn bit of difference to me, man, but some of my guys - and probably yours, too - might get weird about it. If you need a hand doing it back up when we’re done, I used to help my brother out with his all the time.”

Narak blinked, and let go of the man’s hair. “You have a brother?”

“Yeah, Milagar. He’s had his… unwanted bits removed now, but he used to bind when he was younger. I think I can remember how he did it.”

The gang lines discussion forgotten, Narak leant in. “He found a healer willing to perform an operation like that? All the ones I’ve spoken to said it’s too risky and they wouldn’t do it unless they had to.”

“He went to that new university place they built out in Yoscar, you know the one? There’s a bunch of healers out there doing research and stuff, and they’ve come up with some new technique that lets them do stuff like that more safely.”

“Can they do anything about the lower half?” He was thinking of Kolena, who he knew had a far worse time of it than he did. He’d lost count of the times he’d wished and prayed for a way the two of them could trade bodies.

“Not that I know of yet, but I think Gar said they’re working on it. They might have come up with something by now. I guess they could take some of the flesh from the top and reshape it somehow? I dunno, I’m not a healer, but there should be some way.”

Narak shrugged. “Yeah, but I was thinking more of the other way round. A friend of mine is going the other way, and she’s had a lot of trouble with her unwanted bit downstairs. Tried slicing it off herself as a kid.”

“Ouch.” Lopor winced at the thought. “Listen, I don’t have much detail for you, but I’ll get Gar to put you in touch with the healers that did his op. Maybe they can do a kind of swap, you know? Give you and your friend each other’s bits?”

“Heh. That might be a little strange, but I’ll take it. I think I’ve worked with Gar before, when there was all that separation business going on. He’ll know where to find me.” Narak leant back in the chair. “Now, where were we?”

The man shrugged. “Tell you what. I’ll concede Hunter Street and West Avenue, if you give us Cartwright Way. Deal?”

“What about the market square? I’m not going to leave with that still a warzone.”

“Let’s call it neutral ground. Neither of us can operate there, since whoever has it gets an unfair advantage over the other.” Lopor grinned. “If we both play it smart, we can even share some profit by keeping independents off the traders. Offer them a little security for a small protection fee, you know?”

“I like the way you think. Alright, we have a deal.” The two men shook hands. “Let’s get these things wrapped back up then.”

After a minute or two of dithering, they worked out it would be easiest for Narak to hold himself in while Lopor wrapped the bindings around. It was a slightly more complex method than Narak usually used, involving crossing the strip of cloth over itself at the back, and looping over the shoulders a few times. “For support, see. Gar always said they were heavy enough to pull at the bottom of the cloth, and unravelled the thing after a while. This way they’re not quite as flat, but they’re kept in tighter. Got those pins?”

Narak handed them over. “Think you can show me how this is done? It feels more secure than what I was doing before already.”

“Sure. The trick is to wrap it around itself a couple of times at the back here,” Lopor said, tapping what felt like a small knot where the cloth was crossed over itself. “That stops it slipping too much, and then the bits over the shoulders hold it up better. Like I said, it’s not quite as flat, but at least they’ll stay put all day. If you want, I’m sure Gar can explain it better.”

“I’ll ask him when I see him next, then.” Narak nodded his thanks, and the two men left the back room of the bar. The handful of gang members that had accompanied Lopor followed him out, and Narak gathered his own people. On the way back to their own streets, he caught sight of a pair of Talri-Pekra’s acolytes outside the library, and resolved to contact Kolena as soon as he could. She had far more trouble dealing with her body than he did, and would probably appreciate any kind of news regarding safe alterations.

[birchatthecrossroads]

How I became a stray.

7, August, 2024

We rarely get to learn it, but every stray has an origin story. I'll tell you mine as best as I can, but fair warning. There's a whole lot of heavy hard stuff here. Probably not as bad as you're imagining at this point, it's bad enough. It's been on my mind because of my CPTSD therapy. It's also almost certainly not the whole story. I've got trauma responses that suggest that there's more I don't remember or maybe blocked out. There's a thousand little stories between the cracks here, but when painting a picture, you work on the background first. This is that. Names have been changed.

I wasn't around for the first parts, what I know is from detective work. I think Marie was fourteen when she met her pimp, Will. I know she was sixteen when she married him. They lived in a trailer in Marie's mother's yard and fought often. It was a life of sex, drugs, and rock & roll.

Three significant things happened in the five or six years before the divorce. She became pregnant by Will, resulting in me coming into the world a week after Marie's 20th birthday. While she was pregnant, she was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. Also, she met & became romantically involved with a client named Walter.

Will left after the divorce, he'd be out of the story for decades. Walter raised me.

My earliest memory of Walter started with me crying hard, my fingers tingled and it was hard to breath. It was a full-blown panic attack. Walter was screaming at my mother in the kitchen down the hall. When he stormed in, grabbed my arm and dragged me to see her, she was crying hard, standing at the kitchen table. The M.S. Was in it's early stages, so she could still stand, but she needed to lean on it for support. He told me it was my fault she was crying. I believed him. That's where the memory ends.

Incidences like that happened maybe once a week for the first 18+ years of my life. He'd separate us into different rooms. Scream at me for a while, he'd raise his fist to me, tell me how awful I am, how everything was my fault. How I'd never amount to anything. Then he'd go scream at my mother while I dissociated, hyperventilated, did my best to recover, then he'd be back while my mother recovered. Back and forth back and forth.

It would start for any reason at any time. Early morning, late night, mid day. Anything would set him off. Blow-ups like that would happen because someone cut him off in traffic, because someone looked at him wrong in the super market, or because I left my toys out, I needed glasses, because I was weird (no one knew I was autistic). If I misbehaved, he'd explode at us. If I did good, he'd explode at us, grasping at whatever loose thread he could find to unravel me completely. I learned that everything was my fault, nothing I did mattered.

Even when calm, if my mother wasn't around he would tell me that I wasn't wanted. That he was stuck putting up with me so he could be with her, that he couldn't wait for me to move out so he could have his girlfriend all to himself. My mother would confide in me that she was just with him so I could have a father. I didn't have the heart to tell them.

After the screaming fits, the breaking things, the slamming doors, sometimes he'd take all the cash he could find in the house and take off for a few days, & I'd have to take care of my disabled mother. Usually they'd disappear into the bedroom & I'd be alone.

After, usually a day or two after, he'd call a family meeting & apologize. We'd forgive him & group hug. I was maybe six when I figured out that apologies were meaningless. Mom & I would walk on eggshells, anticipating the next explosion, the next bad day, the next long night, the next apology. To this day, I don't like group hugs.

Early on I learned to keep my head down and mouth shut, disappearing was the best way to put off setting him off. Don't make noise, not ever. When the eruption started, I'd have to face it alone, recover alone. I thought all this was normal. I was specifically told not to make friends, I had no basis for comparison. Especially during my grade school years. We moved four times and I attended five schools before we moved to the trailer park at the end of fifth grade.

I graduated high school on a Friday. My parents told me I could take the weekend and have fun, but on Monday I had to find my own place. That they were done raising me.

I told them I'd move in with a friend they didn't like. Walter bought another trailer in the trailer park we were living in at the time, and I lived there. He'd still come over and rage at me. I'd never had a job before, I knew nothing of how to live independently. As a child, any time I managed to save up money, he'd take it. When I had my own place, I got a job sweeping floors for minimum wage. After rent and bills, there was little to nothing left for food. I learned about starvation that year. By the time he raised my rent the following spring (he wanted to start making a profit) my ribs were clearly visible.

I made an emergency temporary move, then another, then another. I'm good with kids, so sometimes I could stay on in some households helping out with those, but it never lasted long. Got to keep my head down and mouth shut, disappearing was the best way to hold off the storm, because when it started, I'd have to face it alone, recover alone. I've never known stability or safety. That's why I'm a stray.

Walter was a despicable, pathetic coward and a monster that preyed upon a scared kid and her son.

[jodilin65]

FRIDAY, APRIL 30, 1999 Will the new noisemakers be here tomorrow? After the city leaves at 4:00, I’ll look over the wall and see if the stuff’s still there and if the grass is mowed. That should be a sign in itself. When I went to hang a few things on the line just now, I could hear soft music coming from over there. Just what have they been doing for eight hours a day for these past two weeks?

I just hope my vibes are right about us moving in July or early August, cuz getting the house up for sale by mid-May is just a dream. I knew he was full of shit when he said the house would be ready to put on the market by then. He’s much too intelligent to be giving off-the-wall time frames like he’s done a lot in the past, and it makes me wonder if he likes don’t that.

He called that realtor, who was with customers, to find out what land was available and where, but he never returned the call. People seem to be doing that a lot lately; not returning calls.

I wonder if the guy with the braids doll will return Tom’s email. Tom told him we haven’t gotten the doll, but I’ll bet you anything that if he does reply, he’ll say it’s been sent. This guy has sold over 200 items and has a good rep with the auction. Tom says he thinks he’s procrastinating, but I think it’s the mailman. That’s two packages he’s given away and I’m really fed up with him! I want to kick his ass so bad! Ironically enough, the two packages I never got had dolls involved. So, it’s a combination of my being hexed in the doll department, and having a mailman who likes to give our mail away. I’ve already resigned myself to the fact that I’ll never have this braids doll any more than I’ll ever have pictures from Paula. I just hope we can get our money back on this doll.

Andy left a message yesterday. It was a quick one, cuz he was expecting a couple of co-workers to visit. I thought he wasn’t mixing business with pleasure, but I guess not. He said he’s got all his bills paid. That’s good.

I’m halfway done reading Black Ice, then I’ll read Amy Girl.

Yesterday and the day before, I spent a lot of time on the web getting back the Gloria pictures I lost. I also got a Gloria theme and it sucked, so I made it better. They used a few icons with her picture. Their colors sucked, so I chose my own. The only thing I really like about it is the music clips, although they should’ve put more on and more variety of songs, too. They’ve got two clips from Anything for You. I went and made my own picture icons, but they didn’t look too good cuz of the way my wallpaper picture colors would get into them. Then they started doing weird things on me and changing into bizarre things. Maybe I’ll try again today.

Later…

Fell asleep for an hour cuz I had to take Benadryl. Had the typical allergy attack I get every 2-3 weeks. It looks like it isn’t over either, since I just started sneezing again. These things go on all day and I usually can’t stop it till the next day. I may go for 20-30 minute periods without sneezing, but on days I have these attacks, I sneeze all day on and off. I don’t have an attack for just a part of a day, although I wish that were the case if I had to have them at all! God doesn’t recognize hard work when he sees it. I dust, vacuum, and quit smoking, only to keep on having allergy trouble. Maybe he’ll care enough to help me help myself someday, but I won’t count on it.

It’s just about May now, but we’ve barely scratched the surface of our list of prep jobs. Tom is out there putting flashing on the patio, so that’s another step in the right direction.

My vibes say next door will be empty again this weekend, but we’ll see what my logic says after I do a spy check after they leave today.

Tom fixed the bird clock. I didn’t think to check it myself, but when he did he saw that the part that makes the birds chirp uses two separate batteries from the one battery that keeps time. The “chirping” batteries were dead.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 28, 1999 Due to having major computer problems, I haven’t written in a few days.

First, Patch died yesterday, so now I just have Katie and Ashley. I could’ve sworn I saw Katie fucking Ashley, though, which makes no sense at all. Even if Katie was a male, they should be well on their second batch by now. It’s too late to not have produced any babies since they only carry litters for three weeks.

Tom has an anti-virus thing installed on his computer. He never bothered to put one in mine, cuz I hardly ever download anything. We suspect that the new screensavers we recently got had a virus in them that infected my computer. One day my computer just wouldn’t boot up. I ended up losing so much. I lost some of the Gloria pictures I downloaded not too long ago, the superimposed pictures I made, the pictures I put pretty backgrounds on, all the family pictures, doll pictures, and some pet pictures, my cardfiles, and more. Tom says he’s really sorry he didn’t back me up more often. Yeah, me too, but now I’ve set things up so that I can’t lose much, if anything at all, the next time something like this happens. Fortunately, though, I didn’t lose any journal stuff. I lost four pages from Andy’s file, but I was able to rebuild that by copying/pasting excerpts from my journal just like I would for the freeloaders.

Since my weight hasn’t fluctuated much in the last several months, I quit doing a weight file, then I condensed things. I rebuilt my dolls and pets files in my word processor so I can back things up more easily. I pretty much went back to basics. The main reason I got into computers in the first place was to do journals and write letters. Not sit and look at pictures. My picture days are over. If I want a picture, I’ll print it out. That way it can’t get lost so easily.

Aside from AOL, a few games I like, some empty files I use for letters, and my journals, I have my journal chart, the grocery list, an index of subjects I once began, phone numbers, lyrics, edits, and pet and doll info all backed up onto one floppy. So, from now on, all that should matter is that I keep my journal stuff backed up regularly. Yesterday, I figured out how to restore floppies for the first time in my life. It was only January 9th, as far as the computer was concerned, cuz that was when we last backed up on CDs, so I had to restore the journal stuff from then on up till now. Every time I get a page worth of Andy’s stuff, I’ll print it out.

Got my period. It started yesterday. Will I get those mid-cycle pains for the 4th month in a row in two weeks? Anyway, even if it’s dryer when he doesn’t get off, the good thing about when he does get off is that I know it’ll be many months before he does it again. Also, if he cums at the wrong time of month, it’s the wrong time of month for me. If he cums at the right time of month, it’s the wrong time of month for me. I still trust him to be smart enough not to go squirting at the right time, and for God to take care of destiny even if he does.

I had been worried that it’d be a bitch to peel off stickers and contact paper from shelves/doors, but Tom got this really cool thing that sands it right off. It’ll even sand the paint off too, in no time at all. It’s a chalky, rough pumice-like thing. It makes a mess, but it works.

I moved Velvet into the aquarium that’ll be his home when we move. He seems content enough in it. Especially since he’s such a lazy pig who just sits there. I put him right next to the mice and I think he likes being able to see them. Makes him feel less alone, I guess.

I also put Bailey back in the living room, cuz the room just looks so boring without a doll in it. The rest are still in boxes, but not Mary, Giselle, Maria, or Rapunzel. I don’t have suitable boxes for them, but that’s fine. They can ride in the backseat of the car wrapped in towels.

It looks like I’ll be keeping Giselle #2 which I’ll rename Liselle to go with her twin Giselle. Giselle and Liselle. I’ll leave her in her box till we move, of course, and then I’ll do different things to make her look somewhat different than her twin.

I was right, so far, when I said I’d only get two or three out of the four dolls I got from eBay (the auction), so Tom will email the guy tonight so we can get our money back. That’s two packages of mine the mailman didn’t give me this month.

I got that form for that art test. I did a good job considering that I haven’t drawn in about a year. They asked a few questions - age, marital status, why you like art. Then you draw a copy of a couple of cartoon heads and dress up an outline of a house. If the mailman lets me have it, I should receive a score and evaluation on it. Tom said I did a great job and that he’s looking forward to hearing what my options are on it. I don’t know. This is a fun experiment, but I’m sure that they tell everyone their work is good. Even if I’d scribbled, I’m sure I’d get an encouraging reply about it with a high score attached. They want to entice anyone they can into their training program.

Later…

The city van’s not here yet. Usually, he’s here from 8:30-4:00, with an hour and a half off for lunch. Just three more days till the freeloader animals get over there. There may be no basketball games, but there’ll be music, car doors, loudmouths, and maybe even a dog or two to go with it. Thank God we’ll be getting out of here soon enough.

I realized a reason I don’t want to be with Andy in his car again. I may’ve been lucky enough not to go down with him for years, but I’m reluctant to push my luck any further. Very reluctant. Even he says he doesn’t want to take certain risks, like having furniture stick out of his trunk, cuz he’s not insured. That doesn’t mean he still doesn’t have weed on him when he drives around. To think that I could’ve gone down with him those many times I’d ride in his car with him in the past is a bit scary. I can’t afford to push my luck nowadays. I’m not some poor, young, cute girl with connections any more. I’m a married, middle-aged woman with a decent income. I can’t afford to go down with him now that my life is what it is. I just don’t want losers or druggies for friends. Period. Out of the very few things Andy has an interest in, he knows his stuff well, and there is some good to Andy, but if I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a million times - I’ve outgrown Andy. I’m not going down for some waste product who doesn’t give a shit about life. Who only cares about himself. If he wants to be a dope case that hangs with the wrong people and that sits on his ass day in and day out with a phone in one hand and a joint in the other - let him. Let him stuff his face and ruin his life at his own expense. I’m not taking any more risks. Period.

Here’s something that’s pretty amazing. By 4:00 yesterday, there had been only one sales call. I don’t know what calls came later, though, cuz I went to bed around then.

Later…

The city van’s here. An hour later today.

Later…

Now there are two city vans.

Later…

We’re back down to one van. Just what in the world are they doing over there, hour after hour, day after day? What did those freeloaders do over there?

Anyway, Tom was in for about a half hour. He put in a sell order to cash in some stock if it hit 76 points, but it hasn’t so far. He’s gone now to the eye doctor. I’ll be calling in an order for pork-fried rice at noon which he’ll pick up.

If there’s one thing, and one thing only, that I’m glad is gone, it’s the cardfile. I inserted a table with rows and columns of blocks for keeping track of pet and doll info and it looks much better this way.

SUNDAY, APRIL 25, 1999 No one moved in yesterday, and there were signs saying that no one would move in this weekend that we didn’t see or think of right away. The grass isn’t mowed, the recycle bin’s out, and they still haven’t picked up the shit I threw in the backyard I couldn’t believe it!

The only activity that I know of that went on over there yesterday, was this car that pulled deep into the carport. A fat lady and a little boy got out of the car and they went straight to the back. The first thing I thought was that the pregnant kid’s mother came over with one of the kid’s kids, and they were getting the dog set up in back, but nope. They were only here a few minutes, too. Maybe they went to get something I threw over.

Then Tom went up on the roof to read some numbers off the side of the cooler, and to spy, and that’s when I totally regretted throwing things over there! Mr. Paranoid saw the shit over there and lectured me for a good hour or so on why I shouldn’t do things like that and why it’s important that he be paranoid and cautious in life. I’m very very sorry to have upset him, and now I’ll be just as paranoid and cautious just so I can spare him from having to get all worried again. I’ll never again do anything remotely like that.

Also, there’s no way I’m gonna tell him about the hoop when we move. He’d be a basket case of nerves over it and he doesn’t need it if I can spare him from it. What he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Not even after ten years will I tell him about the hoop, cuz even then he’ll probably worry that something bad may come of it.

Meanwhile, I’m going to finish enjoying this weekend with next door empty. It’s to be our last weekend here with it empty.

Later…

Tom fixed the stereo in seconds yesterday. All that was keeping it from playing CDs was a loose wire.

I went around and counted cracked outlets and light switches for him so he can pick up new ones to replace them when he gets other things we need. It’s gonna cost $500 to put the fence around the pool! But it’s the law.

SATURDAY, APRIL 24, 1999 I have so much to write about! Let me start with the bad news, then I’ll get to the good news. I saw what’s probably going to be the new scum that’s gonna be next to us either this weekend or sometime during next week for sure. We’ve gone from Mormons to blacks to Mexicans. I am so sick of them! I’m so sick of having to be the one stuck next to lazy, rude, selfish kids with kids. At 9:45 on Thursday, the city van came back, and shortly after, at 10:00, a nice blue/gray van pulled in. Too nice for someone who’s supposed to be poor and in need of subsidized housing. Anyway, out hopped a pregnant woman with two little kids and with what appeared to be her mother. A little later, the city van and the asshole's van left. At 12:30, the pregnant kid returned with two guys. She and the guys couldn’t have been over 18 and they all looked like total scum. Totally. One of the guys had a T-shirt on that said: Don’t ask me 4 shit. I was thinking to myself, don’t worry. I’m not gonna bother wasting my time, guy. I’m gonna have the city deal with you.

At 1:00, the van came back. I saw that same gray-haired guy step out topless and pull a door out of the back of the van, and a paint roller.

I hate these loud-mouthed Mexicans! Although they didn’t seem to be that loud for being Mexican. Not as loud as that black bitch was. She sounded like a mad bull butch. Anyway, I’m just so sick of these lazy people who have one kid, jump on welfare, then keep popping kids so they can avoid having to work. Meanwhile, it’s people like us who struggle to earn a living that has to foot their bills with our tax dollars, and I’m sick of it. Fucking sick of it! They couldn’t wait to have kids. They just had to run out and have them before they were ready and on stable ground financially. They probably made a contest out of which would come first - their diploma or the kids, although I doubt Miss Mex went all the way through high school.

I could’ve sworn I heard one of them mention us having a pool, so they were probably peaking in our yard. I hope Tom doesn’t leave anything of value out there.

Tom says I’m pretty bigoted. Well, if they don’t force their lives on me then I won’t be. If they let me sleep and don’t constantly invade my home with their noise, they can be whatever color/race they happen to be. It’s not the color or race I’m against so much as the ways of lazy people like this. I’ve lived in two projects. I know how most of them are. Not all, but most. It’s rude, selfish assholes I’m against. Not blacks or Mexicans, although I use those words as a way to vent. I’d do that with a white person I disliked, too. It may be wrong, but within my own journals, I think I should be able to say whatever I please. I’ll be damned if I’ll watch what I say in my journal. I could’ve lowered myself to that bitch’s level and called her a N after she stormed off calling me a ho, but I didn’t. The issue wasn’t about her black skin. The issue was about her and her associates harassing me with noise.

Now for the good news. I saw the city van pull in yesterday at the usual time of 8:30. This time, the gray-haired guy was with that black guy again. The black guy got out and took hold of the lock on the hoop just like one of the black boys had done. Then I stepped out and asked if the place was gonna be rented to the people that came yesterday. He said not for sure. They had just come to look at the place. I don’t buy it, though. I think it is gonna be them living there, but can they have that nice van? I thought Tom said subsidized housing was for the working poor, but there’s no way this Mexie’s gonna be working. Not with kid number three on the way by August at the latest. So, if she can stay home and have a van like that, she can have a dog too, right?

I asked when the new people would be in. He said when they were done fixing the place up.

Anyway, I asked if they could do me the favor of taking the hoop down cuz kids were coming around in the middle of the night playing ball. This is BS, of course, but I figured that’d get me further than saying that I just didn’t want to listen to the new kids, or their kids, thump balls just outside my window all day long. So, the guy got up and took it down!!! With my luck, though, the new scum will be bouncing balls up and down the driveway, anyway. I’m still thrilled to see this thing go, and I wish I’d done this in between the Mormons and the blacks. Better later than never, I guess, even though Tom says we can have the house up for sale as soon as May 15th. I just hope we can sell it privately, although $65,000-$75,000 is a lot of cash to come up with.

Anyway, I’ve opted to wait till after we move before telling Tom that I asked that the hoop be taken down, cuz he can get more paranoid than Andy at times. He’ll fear trouble will come from it, but I know that even if the city suspects I’m the one who locked the hoop, they can’t prove it, and I don’t think they’d bother with such petty shit anyway. They should have better things to do with their time. Tom, though, may fear we’ll have to go to court on vandalism charges.

We saw the hoop sitting just inside the carport on our way out at around 10:00 and I feared they’d put the hoop back up as soon as the lazies moved in, but Tom said he didn’t think they would. He was the one to be right, fortunately. He said he saw a pickup haul it away. Good riddance!!

On our way back, we saw an APS truck. That means they could be moving in this weekend, but more than likely, they’ll be in next week. I’ll have to see if they replaced the security light yet when I listen to music. I’ll go do that now, then write about our little outing yesterday.

Later…

The security light hasn’t been replaced yet, but I’ve been compensated for getting rid of the hoop with a dead stereo. I was listening to CDs and everything was just fine, but then it quit playing anything. It goes from disk to disk, then stops as if it had no CDs loaded in its carousel. Great timing. Just what we need to be dealing with now. I might not tell Tom about it till after we move and I may just listen to tapes till then.

We went to Wal-Mart yesterday and he got a couple of pairs of shorts. I got a bright pink cotton pair of shorts and two satin pairs in black and royal blue. Their sundresses were boring. I got a pair of denim shorts, two white bras, and two shiny pairs of panties. One’s gold and white checkered, the other’s magenta and black.

The only problem with the shorts is that because I’m so thick-waisted, in order to get a comfortable fit around the waist, the rest is too big and baggy. In order to get the shorts to fit well, I have to get a tight waist. So I took the good fit with the tight waist and am now stretching the waists on chair backs.

Then we went to the bookstore, got Jack-n-the-Box, and came home. Not right away, though, cuz some stupid shit had to hold us up by parking in a way that we couldn’t get by them till they decided to move. I was getting more pissed by the moment. Two more minutes and I’d have been pulling the dumb fuck out of its car and beating the fuck out of it, I swear to God!

We still want to go to the library some other time and to the mall so I can get more clothes.

If I don’t get my braids doll today, then I guess I’ll get her next week.

Ashton-Drake sent me their new catalog. They had a couple of new Indian dolls that were nice, but for $135, no thanks. If they weren’t 17” and under, that’d be different.

Later…

Tom came this morning. I was shocked. He cums so rarely that it was just so unexpected that I wondered if he’d quit for good.

So, are our new assholes coming today? I’d guess that if they’re moving in today, they should be here any time now. Well, they won’t be playing basketball in the midst of moving in! Anyway, Tom says he’ll stick around and spy along with me till 11:00, but that if they don’t come by then, he’s gonna go out to the racetrack.

THURSDAY, APRIL 22, 1999 Andy left a message about an hour ago saying he was bored and lonely, so call him if I was up. I called, but he didn’t answer. Then he called me back saying he was out walking and wanted another hour before calling. I thought he was supposed to be so bored and lonely. He’s probably lowering himself out of desperation to cruising the streets for sex. So, I just left him a message to please have his eating done when he calls me but to just let the phone ring once, and I’ll take that as my cue to make my coffee, then I’ll call him back. Knowing him, though, he’ll have a mouthful of food, the little pig!

In the first message he left, he told me he didn’t know if he’d told me yet, but that he was going back east in May for a visit, and he went through that spiel again, after telling me three times. Of course, if he stopped potting his brains out, he may remember what he’s already told me. Sometimes, though, I think he just rambles about the same old things just to be leaving me a lengthy message, since he never really has anything new going on with him. He says he realizes he chooses to be bored. Yeah, I realized that a long time ago. I know he doesn’t want to do anything. As I told him, though, I’ll still accept him no matter what he does, and this is true whether or not I dumped him. He has to be what he wants to be. No one can make him work or do anything he doesn’t want to do. Only God can do that to any of us.

Then he says he’s gonna get his act together and seriously work when he gets back. Yeah, right! And I’ll get serious about being a brain surgeon!

I’m surprised Tammy hasn’t called yet, but she will. It’s just a matter of time. I knew the pathological liar had no intentions of sending a letter or pictures either like she said she would, but do I really care or want these anymore? No. I’m done with these people.

It’ll be nice to have Andy go back east and give me a break from the phone for two weeks, but will he call Tammy? I hope not, for his sake. She’s a very insecure person, uncomfortable with gays, and living in the past. She’ll only be rude, cold and distant to Andy and bring up the past, but Andy has to be Andy, as always, and do whatever he wants to do.

Later…

I managed to get Andy off the phone in just a half hour. He was falling asleep anyway, and the stoned ditz who never listens to a damn thing I say asked the same questions for the tenth time and brought up yet again manufactured homes being cheaper and blowing away in storms. For the tenth time, I explained to him why they’re cheaper and why they won’t blow away (he’s just jealous and is trying to burst my bubble). So, after hearing about stuff I already know, he mentioned us going to Camelback Mountain and then to his house. I reminded him of how he recently said he was sick of Camelback Mountain, then he goes, “Boy, I contradict myself a lot, huh?” Yeah, he does. Anyway, I don’t want to go, but what am I supposed to do? Tell him, “No, I don’t feel like it. Besides, why do you think I’m not giving you our address and number when we move? Cuz I’m sick of you. I’ve moved on in life, you haven’t. You’re a lazy druggie and I don’t need that.”

He wanted me to hand-write more notes up for him to distribute, but I told him no. Not just because I don’t feel like writing the notes, but because I’m sick of doing for him and not getting much in return for it. There’s nothing he can really offer me. Also, why doesn’t he do it? He has the time. While he’s sitting at home stuffing his face or getting high, why doesn’t he do it? He said he might have Michelle do it.

Lastly, during our talk, he said he was picking food out of his teeth but I know he was really eating the whole time. God, what a fucking, major fucking pig this guy’s become! That’s about 35 minutes of eating - damn!

I wonder what Naper dolls are? Andy says Barbara Nicks collects these.

Later…

That fucking pest! Here we go again with the phone. He just called twice. Let me make some coffee, then see what this general nuisance wants now.

Later…

Well, Andy just had himself a little scare. I’d have been furious and I’d have run out after the person but to each their own. He sleeps with music on and had just turned his radio on to go to bed when he heard these weird noises. So he turned the music off and listened and then saw someone running from his backyard. I don’t know if the person heard him, changed their mind, or what their intentions were in the first place, but Andy was appalled that someone tried breaking in at 4:00 in the morning with him there. He says he keeps his kitchen window open sometimes and that they got the screen out. I say it’s Laura-related or someone he’s had problems with cuz 4:00 in the morning is not the time to go breaking into houses when you know the people are probably home and could very well shoot you since so many people have guns.

I sort of played a joke on Tom. I told him on the machine that I saw a show about people like him who rarely cum and that it has to do with some blockage, so it’s physical and not mental. It’s rare, but maybe not as rare as people think cuz some people won’t speak up about it cuz they’re either shy, embarrassed, or afraid they won’t be believed. Meanwhile, he can do what he wants with the information and doesn’t have to change a thing on account of me.

It’s a long shot. Quite a long shot. But maybe his problem is physical. Whatever it is, although I still think it’s fear of making a kid, I hope he doesn’t change unless he wants to. I prefer him as he is. Especially since I don’t want a kid, regardless of how much it’s not meant to be, anyway.

For a few hours this morning, a city van was next door. I don’t know if they were around in the afternoon, though. It appears the electricity’s not on yet. Also, that unmarked white car that looks like ours and a little like one of the ones that would visit the bitch was there today, too.

The lock’s still on. I hope they wait till after the weekend before cutting it off, cuz then that’ll be one less weekend that it could be used.

I wonder why they haven’t taken the recycle bin in from off of the side of the road.

Tom’s still sure we can beat our deadline and be out of here in July or August. I hope so! I really, really do!

Yesterday I dragged out two old, beat-up chairs to be put in the alley during bulk pickup, an old table, and that wavy, furry recliner that Andy gave us.

Woke up to find that I lost a pound, naturally, without water pills. I’m down to 107 pounds. Of course, though, that meant no shitting, so I’ll be back to 108-109 by tomorrow.

Later…

Got the bitch’s new number. Yesterday, I used the message-send thing (which is untraceable as far as I know) as a test and sent a message to her old number. All I did was moan for a second. It went through, but why would it send to a number that’s been changed and that’s not in use now? Must’ve gotten forwarded to her new number. Also, I thought this bitch didn’t accept blocked calls. Maybe she’s too broke to have kept her Caller ID.

Anyway, I called at 5:45 and whispered her name. She said, “Uh-huh” and there was no doubt about it being her. She asked who it was and I whispered something unclear, hoping she’d guess a name that I’d go along with. Bitch did just that. She asked, “Michelle?” I said yes, and that I was scared about this guy Brian I met last night who was outside my window. She asked what I wanted her to do and I asked if she could come over. She said she didn’t have a car to come over. I asked if her dad was there yet. She said no one was there yet. I asked if she had to go to work. She said yes. So, I told her I’d call her later and that was it.

I wonder if the bitch will suspect me when she finds out Michelle never called her.

I really think she’s still subsidized and that’s why she moved quietly and hasn’t done anything to the house. I think that for some reason, the city just transferred her to some other house. Maybe not even a house. Maybe an apartment, but my guess is that she’s in another house. She’s not living with Mike. At least I don’t think she is, cuz she said, “Nobody’s here yet.” Not, “He’s not here yet,” when I asked about her dad, and remember, both Bill and the cock would come over in the mornings.

I thought about waiting till Bill got there to call him. I could probably come up with a clever enough line that he’d buy and weasel the new address out of him, but I won’t just in case he were to be a little suspicious and give me the wrong address. I’ll just stick with the original plan and mail it next door and let it get forwarded.

The final chapter of the bitch will be when I call her two more times. I’m gonna wait a week or two after sending her her stuff, then call her when I think she’ll answer and ask if she got the stuff. If she didn’t, she’d more than likely sound curious and confused and ask who I was. If she did, she should go off on me. I’ll make the last call a little later by way of the message-send thing. I’ll just remind her how lucky she is I didn’t maul her what with all the shit she and her cronies stuck me with, and just laugh and laugh away at her. Then just like Tammy, Larry, Dureen, Art, and Andy, we’ll be finished with each other.

Later…

I was right on assuming the city van would be here at 8:30. It just pulled in.

Tom mentioned us possibly looking in the paper for ads with people wanting to buy houses with cash. Oh, how wonderful it’d be if we could privately sell this house! Then I wouldn’t have to be woken up a billion times while waiting for a Realtor to call. Also, we’d get out of having to pay percentage fees.

Later…

Just saw this gray-haired guy, who I’ve seen working next door before, but who isn’t the one I spoke to, pull a door out from the back of the van. An inner door. Bitch and cock must’ve had a fight and punched a door out.

No white car today. At least not yet. That white car’s gotta be some kind of inspector checking up on the workers to make sure everything’s going well.

The van’s leaving. That was fast. And from what I could see, it was just that one guy.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 21, 1999 Typical, typical Tom. He has me get him up at 10:00 so he can do some work on the back room before leaving at 12:30, but what does he do? Finds out he was outbid on a computer part on the online auction, then sat in front of the TV till he had to shower and leave. We’re never gonna get out of here by July or August at this rate. Not if he keeps contradicting and procrastinating, and not if the car keeps having problems. His being sad about having too much to do tells me something right there; that he’s gonna resist doing things till the last minute, causing us to be stuck here till October or something.

At 12:30, I went and put the lock on the hoop which will be cut off by the weekend tops, I’m sure. Can’t these fucking city people, when they see another lock, just say to themselves, Alright. Somebody must really want this locked for a reason. So be it then. But no. Knowing how people work, that’ll only egg them on to rebel and cut the lock off again and make a competition of it.

At 1:00, the renters had company. This is the latest I’ve ever known them to have company, but somehow, it doesn’t surprise me. All I heard was a car door, but for about 10 minutes they had their front door wide open and I could see people milling about. Then the white pickup that came and had parked on the street left and now the only two cars there are the ones that are always there. They’ve shut their door and lights.

The doll with braids could get here tomorrow!

Later…

I recorded myself singing to hear if there was a difference in the way my voice sounds since not smoking for a year and a half but it was the same. In other words, it sucked but was better than most could do. It was as nasally as it usually is. The only thing I didn’t hear that I’d always hear when I’d tape myself singing, was me clearing my throat. It was still strong, on key, and vibrant, but other than that, I didn’t like what I heard.

I could’ve sworn I just saw Katie trying to fuck Ashley. I took her out, and Patch too, since she was easier to get at than Ashley at the moment, and looked at their parts. They look the same to me, but boy is Patch’s weird cuz of her tumor that’s growing fast. Unlike the others that had tumors, hers goes down from her hip to her crotch. Although I could see her parts, her crotch is bulging at one side making it look sort of twisted. How can she shit with this thing?

Another racially motivated school shooting. This one’s in Denver where my braids doll is. They need to go back to segregation, I swear! It shouldn’t have to be that way, but it’s the only way to cut down some of the problems like this. Especially since kids nowadays can get a hold of guns as easily as bubble gum. Kids are mean enough as it is and will shoot another kid for the color of their shirt, so why add fuel to the fire and give them more reasons? It’s not fair, it’s not right, blacks and whites should be able to get along, but that’s just pure fantasy and never to be a reality. You can’t just say, “OK boys and girls. I want you to all get along now no matter what color you are.” That’s not the way it works. In reality, blacks and whites don’t mix. Period. We may not like it or think it should be that way, but that’s just the way it is. It’s always been that way and it always will be.

It’s pretty sick to see how almost all schools are installing metal detectors. What have schools become? Airports? Well, I’m glad I’ll never be having a kid. I’d have hated to send it to such a war zone and be wondering all the time if it’d get shot. Sending kids off to school today is like sending them off to some military base with beefed-up security. Instead of learning what they should be learning, they’ve got to fear for their lives (if they aren’t one of the ones on some murderous rampage).

TUESDAY, APRIL 20, 1999 I’m to get Tom up at 10:00, according to the message he left when he came in while I was asleep, so he can get some work done in the back room.

He stops at his ma’s on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He says she’s doing OK. Yeah, I figured.

Last night, we had our typical cumless sex. Neither of us could really get into it. He didn’t even go on top, claiming he likes variety. I really believe that whether or not I was with just Tom for the rest of my life, or slutting around with women, sex will never again be new, exciting, and fulfilling. It’s easier to just get myself off when I need to get off since I don’t have the patience to get off with him since it now takes me forever to get off. I don’t think he could hold out long enough for me to get off. I don’t want to run the guy ragged in bed.

I forgot to mention that I saw an ad on TV for free information on being an art student and taking an art test. I don’t want to be an art student anywhere, but I’m curious to take the test and have it graded. You take some art test that’s judged by people who teach at this school, I guess, and I’m curious to see what they say about it. I haven’t drawn in ages!

I had Ratsy running around the music room the other night like Piggy used to do. He seemed to have a good time.

Someone had to be next door early Monday morning; cuz the recycle bin was out (with the stuff I threw over there in it?). I don’t know if anyone was there today, cuz the bin’s still out.

As I knew would be the case sooner or later, though, the lock’s been cut off. Tonight, after Tom goes to work, I’ll put another lock on, just in case the other very old lock broke off. I doubt it, though. I’m sure it was cut off and that this one will get cut off, too. If God insists that the hoop not be locked and that I must deal with ball games till we move - so be it. At least that can’t wake me up and can be fanned out when I’m up. It’s getting hot too, so maybe kids won’t want to play much ball.

A good way to tell when the new scum’s about to move in will be by the security light. I know the city will replace that obnoxious light. Freeloaders, why did you have to move?!

We went to Staples and Walgreens yesterday. The seatbelt adjuster’s great. It really keeps the belt off my neck.

We bought a package of 10 boxes that are the same size as the ones he used to be able to get at work. I packed stuff we won’t need while we’re still here.

Got a V-shaped keyboard, but it was awful! I couldn’t type on it to save my life, so I’ve got my old one back. Tom may use it, though.

Got a book to hold me over till we go to the bookstore on Friday called Black and Blue. I’m almost done with The Other Side.

Got a puzzle, a potpourri thing you clip along the rim of the toilet, and lilac-scented refills which really do smell just like lilac.

I’m hoping that this Friday, Tom will not only feel up to going to Wal-Mart and to the bookstore but maybe to the library too, to get books on face exercises and doll making. Also, to get this 200 CD changer that you can hook up to your stereo. That’d be great! Then I’d never have to handle the CDs and risk damage to them or hairs getting caught in the stereo and Tom could have my CD rack for his computer CDs.

Speaking of exercises, I’m making yet another attempt to be consistent with that by developing another routine. I’ll do my abs, hips, and inner thighs every day (my worst areas), my upper body every other day, and my lower body every other day. About 8 exercises a day. Then when we move, I’ll walk on the walker for 15 minutes every day, too.

Talked to Paula earlier, who’s up to the usual - health problems, neighbor problems, and male problems. She’s getting her money back on the package. She either wrote the address out wrong, or the mailman gave it away. Maybe he really didn’t give it away, since I got these other packages. I think the ditz addressed it wrong and that I’m not meant to get mail from her. A doll from her would’ve been nice, but pictures would’ve been even nicer. However, I know I’ll never have pictures of her. This is the second attempt at her getting pictures to me. Something up there, for whatever reason, just doesn’t want me having pictures of her.

Andy mentioned coming over to use this program that prints out music you play on the keyboard. Always when he wants something. Can’t come over just to see me. I told him we don’t have the program anymore, but in truth, our computers aren’t set up for it, and I’m not gonna go out of my way or steal any of Tom’s sparse, valuable free time, to cater to Andy. We’ve given and done enough for Andy. Everything’s what Andy wants.

I did tell him, though, that he might want to come over to get the round glass shelves in the living room, cuz he should be able to haul it in his trunk, the more I think of it. It’ll stick out the back of his trunk, but he should still be able to transport it that way. It’s heavy enough that it won’t bounce out, even without a rope across it.

MONDAY, APRIL 19, 1999 Here’s a weird observation. We got this car on a Sunday, March 21st. So, exactly one month to the date, just four weeks later, there’s already a problem. I suppose some would consider me a selfish, greedy, ungrateful person, but I’m so sick of God’s unfairness. I resent his not letting us get ahead. If we have to play car, we’re never gonna get out of here come July or August. Not if every other weekend has to go to the car. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if he had to spend the next weekend on the car, so there goes two days right there to prep and relax.

God, give the poor guy a break, will you? Have mercy on the guy! He works his ass off, has no free time, so leave him alone! Just leave the guy alone!

Talk about mixed emotions about God. Just yesterday I was feeling blessed by him for allowing me not to want a child, about the moving, the doll making, etc. Today, though, I could strangle him. Enough is enough is enough of the same old, same old.

I suppose he’s gonna go after the toilet again anytime now, too.

Later…

Couldn’t sleep, so I thought I’d expand on my mixed emotions about God. Well, his ordering me childless, for example. I know I’ve probably said this before, but I hate him and I love him for it. I hate his taking away what was supposed to be my right and my responsibility as a human being to choose, yet I love him for letting me out of the misery and hardships it would’ve brought. Then I find myself feeling sorry for myself that God has no faith in me and that that’s why he didn’t let me have a child back when I wanted one, but he shouldn’t have faith in me. There are things I can handle, but we all have our limits. Mine is children. I could never handle a child.

SUNDAY, APRIL 18, 1999 Another stress-free weekend as far as next door goes. God, please don’t take it away too soon! I know better, though. The new subsidized blacks or Mexicans will be here this week. If not, definitely by the 1st of May.

Speaking of freeloaders, who was that that rang our bell an hour ago with the clipboard? It might not have been a clipboard, but the black guy was holding something. Some papers of some kind. He only rang once. Usually, people don’t give up that quickly. What says he could be an associate of Miss Bitch was how he walked directly to the collie house as if he knew the freeloaders' house was empty. On the other hand, if he’s innocent of any asshole connections, he may’ve decided not to bother with houses that had no cars in their driveways or carports, upon doing whatever he’s doing. Maybe a survey? I also couldn’t see if he went on to another house after stopping at the collies. Lastly, I think the bitch and the collie people had a fight at some point and are no longer in touch.

Anyway, we’ve been compensated for the dolls and peace with the usual - car trouble. I knew it. I just knew it and I told him this would happen. I knew that no matter what car he got, no matter how old, it’d have one problem after another. A hose sprung a leak. He taped it, but who knows if it’ll hold till he can replace it? And as soon as he does fix it, there’ll be a new problem in 2-4 weeks. We’re totally hexed with cars. I still see us moving this summer and so does he, but what? Are we gonna get held up in life again to have to play car constantly? The back room still looks the same, although he swears he filled up a box of CDs. Car trouble or not, he’s full of shit when he says he’ll clear/pack the back room. He ain’t gonna do that till it gets close to us moving.

He “says” he’s gonna have the pool fence delivered next Monday, but we’ll see. Everything’s always gotta get delayed with him. Yesterday he got the tools to do the fence with. He also says he’s gonna get more roofing (he was a little short) and do the patio roof soon.

He didn’t get to go to the track. Said so many things were going wrong with the handicapping program he wrote for his little computer that he took that as a sign saying he wasn’t meant to go. He did some shopping instead and got a sketch board for the computer. You draw on this board with a stylus and what you draw appears on the screen. We haven’t used it yet cuz he has to get a special adapter for it.

He also got this thing to move the seatbelt off of my neck.

He said they have some really cool contacts that you can get custom-made with your prescription. You can get cat’s eyes, spirals, contacts that whiteout the eyeballs, etc. That’d be interesting to see.

Later…

Cocoa’s dead. No more originals left. How sad. I guess Patch, although she still appears to be well, will be next soon enough. Ashley and Katie, who should have at least a year of life in them, should be the only ones to move with us.

I got up too early this afternoon to go to Wal-Mart and the bookstore when Tom gets in in the morning, so we’ll just go to Walgreens and buy a book, then hit Wal-Mart and the bookstore this Friday. I should be able to go then unless the new pieces of shit move in this week and wake me up in the process. Most people move on weekends, but who knows if the new assholes will even work?

I know I’m gonna be stuck with either blacks or Mexicans, and you know what? Mexicans may be even worse cuz they have kids like rabbits. I could end up with a Mex woman over there with 8 little kids who do nothing but stay home all day and play ball, while the boyfriend who isn’t supposed to be there comes in and out all day slamming doors and blasting music, along with their millions of just as rude, selfish, buddies.

I’d like to think that the city, knowing how much I don’t want shit like that, will think twice about who they put in there, but that’s not the way it works. Anyone in a subsidized house is gonna be like those freeloaders were. They’re not gonna give a damn about anyone but themselves. They want to be heard. Society’s so against people like this that they have to work for acknowledgment. The more you try to ignore most people and tell them to shut up, the more they’re gonna do things to be heard and noticed. These kinds of scum feel the dire need to remind people of their sorry existence. Yes, Mexicans could end up worse, making it seem like the black folks never had company and like the kids that were associated with them were comatose. The adults talk really loud just like adult blacks do, and the women are typically just as aggressive as black women and butches are. The guys are all the same. So, while I could end up with a home-all-the-time Mex woman over there, plus adults that aren’t supposed to be living there, plus tons of kids, the shithead’s sister and her 5 kids are gonna be over constantly, and her other sister and her 6 kids will be too, and so on and so forth.

God, why do you do this to me?! Why is it that the biggest family has to go next to me? Or the blacks and the Hispanics? Why do I have to get stuck with them, huh? Can’t I have some nice, white, quiet, respectful, dogless, childless person or persons over there till we move? No! Of course not! That’d be the day! Can’t it stay empty till we move? No! That’d also be the day!

What is it with all these off-brands I’ve seen walking around these streets lately, anyway? I thought this was mainly a white, middle-class neighborhood.

I envy Tom, who says depending on what he eats, he can be full for up to 3-4 hours. I couldn’t be full past 20 minutes if I tried! The only way to satisfy my hunger regularly would be to eat the same amount, maybe a little more, than your average adult eats, which will put 20-50 pounds on me in less than half a year.

For when it comes time to show the house and to move, I’ve got five boxes that Summer Dream, Patrice, Angel, Falling Star and Christina will fit perfectly in. Meanwhile, the doll with braids that’s on its way can sit safely in her box. Anne, Edie, Victoria and Sunshine and Lollipops will fit on the tallest closet shelf which is Tom’s closet. Bailey, Maria, Giselle, Rapunzel and Mary can sit on the top of my journal bookcase. That way, they’ll be out of the way of unruly children that’ll be coming to see the house, and in a safe place for moving. Not all the dolls need to go in a box. It’s OK if some of them sit in the backseat of the car. I’ll just stick one of my shirts over them for extra cushioning.

That was weird. Some lonely desperado just went down the street honking. About 10 quick honks. What? Your stereo don’t work? Must’ve blown those speakers!

Those fucking sales calls are now coming even on Sundays. Sundays were the only day I had to look forward to getting a break from them, but not anymore. A guy called from some opinion/research thing. I told him I’d give him my opinion, alright - fuck off! I know I’m wasting my breath with these people, but it feels good to cuss them out now and then. He had a woman try again later, but I told her to fuck off too, and that was it for tonight.

Guess who couldn’t wait another weekend to not call? You got it. The motor mouth itself called and left three messages. Two for the last two weekends he didn’t call, and one for this weekend. Trying to make up for lost time, I guess. He didn’t mention God, but he brought up the food. He said he has a cold and should eat, but won’t. Right! I know he’s stuffing his face left and right cold or not. Like I said, he’s obsessed with finding common ground with people. He’s trying to reflect Michelle onto himself, so he’s eating like a pig and trying to gain weight. I don’t know if he knows this on a conscious level or not. Well, if he keeps eating like he has been, he may not end up like Michelle, but he will gain weight. Things have a way of catching up to us.

Anyway, the thing I like about his messages, although I’d rather a few short ones than lots of long ones, is that I can hit 3 to skip the boring parts. Most of what he says is boring or stuff that I already know, and he almost always leaves full 3-minute messages. But by hitting the 3 button it forwards 10 seconds. I also have to 6 it too, to speed him up. Like I said, I’m not gonna try to change his ways or politely ask for simple reasonable things that a friend should have no problem complying with. I’m just gonna let Andy be Andy and walk away.

So I skimmed through most of his messages being glad he wasn’t live. When we talk live, I can’t fast-forward him. I did listen to one part, though, but that’s because what he had to say was such a crock of shit that I was laughing all the way through it. His “new career move” (he’s only had about a thousand of these this year alone) is gonna be to tour with bands selling T-shirts. Right, Andy! Sure! That’s the biggest crock of shit. Brilliant, Andy! Real brilliant. Wake up, boy! You gonna spend your whole life an immature druggie loser with your head in the sand? Damn! Some people never change. They never grow. They never move on, learn, develop, and mature. I mean, I’m still a kid at heart too, in many ways. I still have teddy bears and shit like that, but look at all I’ve learned and done since 1988. But look at Andy - still a druggie, still smoking, still poor, still unstable, still loveless, still can’t hold a job, still obsessed with losers, looks, and youth. Still thinks he can mix dreams with reality, and is still as selfish and contradicting as always. Still loves abusers and conflicts with people. The only difference is that he never shuts up and he eats like a pig.

I used to look up to this guy. Now I’m not saying I’m perfect and that there’s no good in him. It’s just that I now see him as a few steps below myself and if he hasn’t come up a few pegs closer to my level by now, he ain’t gonna at all. He’s as set in his ways as I am in mine. Although I’d say I have a little more of an open mind for change than he does, and change is exactly what I need - meaning - no Mr. M in the new house! As hard as this may be to comprehend, I still do love and care for him and I want him to succeed in life and be happy. After we move, I’ll make it a point, on the first of every month, to close my eyes and think of Andy and Lisa and pray for their health and happiness in life, even if prayer almost never works for me. The power of prayer? Ha! How about the power of wishful thinking? That’s what they ought to call it. Meanwhile, let Andy chew in my ear, call up a storm, and bore me with God and food talk all he wants till it’s time to move on.

Guess the sales calls are done for the night. The question is, though - how long must the payback go on? And why is it that Andy never had to lose as much sleep as I did and get 5-10 sales calls a day? God must really favor anything male over anything female. Andy’s rude untrue friends may’ve woken him up here and there, but that’s something he could’ve avoided. He chose to associate with friends that aren’t true friends. People that don’t respect him enough to even let him sleep. Me? I had no choice. There was nothing I could do to keep from being woken up like I constantly was from 1991-1993. Especially during 1992. In 1992, I got woke up nearly every single day. Much more often than not. But sure enough, Andy’s beloved God wouldn’t have him be woken up day after day for over a year. Nor would he have him get nearly a dozen sales calls a day.

Speaking of lost sleep, I sure as hell can count on losing plenty when the house goes up for sale. I won’t allow the new subsidized scum to wake me up, but I gotta answer the phone if the Realtor calls to show the house when I’m on nights. Not that it’s not worth it, but knowing I’ll have to answer to a zillion sales calls and Andy, does not go over well with me at all. Andy says he’ll use the message-send thing. Yeah, right! This selfish loser’s gonna be calling me directly and we both know it. You’re such a true friend, Andy. Such a true friend. It’s nice to know I can count on you for a favor. Hey, what are friends for anyway, right?

I decided not to mail Andy his stuff right away. I’ll wait a few weeks after we move. I’ll give him a few weeks to sit and wonder where I am. Maybe that’ll just make him all the more determined to read his stuff thoroughly. That’ll depend on how curious he is, but it’s hard to get a druggie to do anything. They are so non-ambitious! Sorry, but I think I deserve better for a friend. I have too much respect for myself to have selfish little potheads for pals.

The spotting stopped yesterday. I have no idea when my next full flow will come, but if it comes at the end of the month, then I guess that’d be pretty much on time.

I saw an ad on TV for getting a video and some audiotapes for $40 on face exercises to tighten the face/neck. When we go to the library to look for the doll-making book (when he’s not playing car) I’ll have to look for a book on this. I could use those exercises, if they really work, to pick up my sagging neck and keep the folds that run from the sides of the nose to the sides of the mouth from getting any worse.

SATURDAY, APRIL 17, 1999 Falling Star could very well arrive tomorrow (today). I wish! I won’t count on it, though. Not if this stupid fuck of a mailman is gonna give it away or take his sweet time with delivering it, even if it is priority mail.

Monday morning we’re gonna go to Walmart. I’ve been needing more bras. We’re also gonna go to the bookstore.

Later…

Got Falling Star, Mary, and Christina today! I was shocked. Tom said they came as early as 9:15 this morning. Was there any doll trouble since they came so soon? You bet. But it was nothing I couldn’t fix or improve and deal with. Falling Star had no problems. She’s 12” kneeling and is on her brown bear rug right by me as I type, but I was afraid at first that I wouldn’t be able to pose her kneeling, cuz she’d pitch forward. I didn’t realize her legs would be soft and that they’d bend. Guess there’s a wire in them. Only her feet and lower calves are porcelain. She has cream-colored moccasins with a few tiny red and green beads. Her dress, which is sort of corduroy up top and felt on the bottom, is cream-colored from the chest down. There’s a dark aqua stripe along the hem and below that are fringes. She’s got longer fringes streaming off the front lower part. She has a brown leather belt with round silver studs. There are red and green beads throughout the dress. The upper part of the dress and the sleeves are dark aqua with white trim. The sleeves, which go down to the wrists, have fringes off the ends and are a little wide. Her arms are a little too long with hands a little too big, but other than that, she’s gorgeous. Her face reminds me of Summer Dream’s, even though they’re very different. Her face, with its delicate and distinct features, is more realistic looking than most of my dolls. Her dark brown eyes really have that wet look and they shimmer and sparkle with light as you move around them. She came with a beaded knife pocket (she doesn’t have a real knife. It’s just a handle glued to the top of the pocket), a beaded bracelet, and four beaded necklaces. Two reds and two blues. She looked good with one I made on too, but that was before I put her hair in a ponytail and exposed the big silver clasp in back. She has two white feathers in her hair that stick up in back. Also, some round gold thing, but I don’t know what you’d call it. Her black straight hair is short for being Indian. It’s barely to the middle of her back, but it’s long enough still. I’ve been wanting a doll that’d look good in a ponytail for variety. I used a red elastic to put her hair back with and it looks better this way. The red elastic goes with the red beads well, too. She has no bangs and her hair is close to one length. It’s parted in the middle.

Falling Star’s the doll we won even though we lost. I was outbid on her, but the woman offered us another one anyway for our bidding price of $46. An excellent deal, cuz I know these dolls go for $132 from Ashton-Drake. They have one similar to her, only she sits on a log, has a different outfit, and has braided hair. Ashton-Drake would want $80 for Christina and over $100 for Mary, but they don’t do dolls over 20” and Mary’s 22”.

Christina, the 16” ballerina, was a mistake. However, if the guy who sold her to me offered to buy her back, I’d say no. Unlike Mary and Falling Star, she’s not extremely detailed. Her hair is, though. It’s blond with bangs and up in two braids across the top of her head. She’s got flowers and ribbons of different shades of blue in her hair. Her face, though, is the worst of all. Her eyes are such a weird and ugly color. It’s like a grayish gold/green color with stripes, and eyelashes that are too long. She was very poorly put together. This is a girl doll no older than 10. Probably between 6-8, yet she had tits. Not only did she have tits but they were also so low. They were on her upper stomach. She was also pitching forward in her stand and was standing disproportionately. Slightly twisted at the waist. Her head, just like the other two that came today, was turned slightly towards one side. She’s supposed to be standing on both toes, but one toe doesn’t quite touch. Her dress is very nice, but I had to use the steamer on it at first. It’s made of that stiff stuff that Patrice has in the skirt of her dress, and it was a little crinkled at first. It’s white, with white solid dots on it. The only blue part is on the chest and sleeves, and that part’s satin. She has the same stiff stuff at the shoulders and blue satin ballet slippers that crisscross up to below the knee and tie in a bow as do Giselle’s. Her dress and blows consist of two different shades of blue. Sky blue, and a blue/green color. So all three of my ballerinas are wearing blue. This one just has blue only at the top of her dress. I undressed her to see if I could better proportion her so she’d look better and stand sturdier. That was when I noticed the “tit pillow” that was glued onto her upper stomach area. What a stupid thing to do. Anyway, I couldn’t pull or cut it off without having to cut the cloth part of the body out altogether. At first, it felt like foam was the body packing, but when I looked at it, it looked exactly like multi-colored lint that you’d pull out of a dryer. Fortunately, it was tightly packed enough that I could just leave it as it was. The stuffing won’t go falling out. Her pantaloons had a million threads hanging from them so I trimmed those off, and out of her pants came a little silica gel packet. This is the first doll I’ve seen packed with this. It’s to keep moisture out, but why would a porcelain doll need it? I’m not gonna bother to see if Mary’s got one in her pants. So after removing her so-called implants, I wiggled her around to a better position, and now she’s standing steadier on her stand and looking much better than when she arrived.

Mary is runner-up on my list of those who came today, and for a Victorian doll, she’s beautiful. She’s skinny for 22” tall. Her face is bigger than Giselle’s, but not as big as Maria’s and Bailey’s. I thought she’d be Maria’s size, but she’s just a tad shorter and wider than Giselle. I love how her dress, which is about a half-inch past her feet, falls straight down. It’s a nice change from the typical full-circle gown like Rapunzel’s that stands out. I don’t know if I’d describe it as burgundy, though. I’d say it’s a maroon (or dark red) and pink floral design. The dress is very detailed and sort of hard to describe. It’s got two white ribbon sashes across the chest with two button-like things in the middle. It’s long-sleeved, and there’s white lace at the neck, sleeves and the very bottom. The sleeves are so long that they only made her porcelain just a little above the wrists. Usually, the arms are porcelain to just above the elbow. There’s white netting from the waist down, and an area at the bottom that’s about two inches wide of white, gathered satin. There are also three pink rosebuds in the front with a few off-white embroidered lines that go down and across the front. She has yellow rosebuds with leaves in one hand. Well, sort of. The stem is wrapped around her wrist. She has white shoes, a pearl necklace, green eyes, and a matching hat. I couldn’t take the hat off cuz it’s glued on in a way that I could tear off, but there’d be glue in her hair that’d be impossible to get out and that’d look really dumb. The hat’s nice, though, with a feather, a yellow bow, and a yellow, orange and pink flower. She has curly brown hair with bangs and two small braids at the sides. Her hair’s a lot like Sunshine and Lollipop’s, and just like with Sunshine and Lollipop’s, I straightened her hair out a little bit. Mary’s stand was a bit bent and Tom straightened it out for me.

Of all my dolls, Bailey’s still number one. She’s the best looking and the most realistic looking too. Tom agrees.

So now I have 7 dark-haired dolls and 7 light-haired dolls, but that’ll change to 8 light-haired dolls when Miss Braids gets here, whatever her real name is. The guy, who’s in Denver, should’ve gotten our check for her yesterday or today, so that means we should get her probably Wednesday or Thursday if all goes as swiftly as the others did. Falling Star came from Ohio and the other two came from Wisconsin.

I have 9 girl dolls and 5 women dolls, but again, that’ll be changing. I’ll soon have 10 girl dolls. They’re all very detailed except for Christina, and I’m very happy with them all. Especially with Falling Star and Mary. I don’t know why Falling Star didn’t come with a certificate of authenticity, but Mary and Christina did.

The guy that packed Mary and Christina, packed them in a big box. Great for moving. I’ll also keep their boxes to put them in when it comes time to show the house and move.

Tom says that tomorrow he’ll clear the massive mound of clutter in the back room. That’s great, but every time he decides to do this, although that hasn’t been very many times, he retrashes it. I hope he won’t do that yet again. He needs to get some of this shit packed and out of the way for packed boxes. I can only fit so many boxes in the other rooms.

FRIDAY, APRIL 16, 1999 The van was next door again. The hoop is still locked, though.

I’m gonna deal with these new black, rude, selfish assholes right this time. As soon as they stick their bass on me or whatever the fuck noise they’re gonna throw out, I’m not even gonna waste my breath going over there and asking them to quiet down. I’m not gonna get a phony, “Sure. No problem,” only to have them keep right up with their shit. A city letter’s going right in as soon as they start up.

The phone rang earlier and I saw Tammy’s number. I said to myself, I knew it was just a matter of time before she started calling, but the person tried calling collect so that told me it was Lisa. Lisa calling with a problem since she rarely calls just to say hi. But the call came at 8:00 her time. Isn’t she supposed to be with the sick fuck at that time? Tammy says he takes them on weekends. I can’t believe a woman would place her kids in danger like that no matter what the courts order. What if he kills one of them? These things may not happen as often as we brush our teeth, but they do happen.

Anyway, I know this may sound like the cruelest, most selfish thing, but I’ve washed my hands of all Os and Gs. I don’t want nothing to do with their goddamn misery and problems and all that. Had it with their control, their negativity, their selfishness, their lies, etc. My life is too good right now to mar it with their shit. All it does is get me upset or angry when I hear about how Bill’s doing this or Larry’s doing that. The mention of Art and Doe’s names doesn’t do well with me, either. Just thinking of these people is enough to get me riled up. I moved on and that’s what I need to keep on doing. I need good, positive people like Tom in my life. People who haven’t abused me like they have. People who don’t pressure me into doing what they think I should be doing. After the overkill on the control and non-acceptance I grew up with and put up with as an adult, I’m a freedom freak in almost every sense of the word. I spent my childhood taking their abuse. I spent my 20s taking more of their abuse and trying to impress them and win them over. By the time I hit my 30s, I was fed up. I just don’t care anymore what they say, what they do, or what they think. They can all go to each other with problems I’ve had with them. They can lie, they can exaggerate, they can all kill themselves or each other. I’m not saying I want these people to suffer, I’m just saying they’re out of my life and that they’re people of the past. It’s up to them to either sink or swim.

I forgot to take the phone off the hook so these fucking sales calls wouldn’t keep distracting me, so when one called just now, I simply picked the phone up and left it off its hook. Didn’t even bother wasting my time telling them to fuck off.

Later…

Another half hour and I’ll put the phone back on the hook.

Last night was rather shitty, but only for a few minutes, fortunately. I swear, whether or not I stay not wanting a kid, or return to wanting one, I’ll never again bring up the subject of Invitro or a kid again. All it brings is trouble, as always. I told Tom I’d consider in vitro in a few years cuz he says he wants a kid. I knew I really wasn’t gonna do this, though. Then he said he was against it and never felt we needed a doctor. He said that just like he supported me last December, he’d support me in the future if I decided I wanted in vitro, and that’s really sweet of him, but why is this otherwise logical, practical, realistic, sensible guy so heavy in denial? First he thinks I could conceive naturally, then he felt something was wrong, and now he thinks both (he’d say I was still gonna conceive naturally even if I had to have a hysterectomy!). He said he sometimes has conflicting beliefs. We all have a right to our beliefs, but this one’s just too far-fetched and that of a delusional person. It may not be more than a dozen times, but he’s cum enough to prove to a rational human being that it’s thoroughly impossible for me, Jodi Lin, to conceive. That is a completely foreign thing as far as my body’s concerned. My body just doesn’t do that. It doesn’t understand that. It’s like it sees embryos as enemies. This may not be the case, but the point is, if he thinks I’m gonna conceive naturally someday, he’s kidding himself. He’s too smart to have these conflicting beliefs he says he has. I don’t think he really believes what he says he does. I think it’s his way of conning me. It’s easier for someone to go into denial than it is to face a situation and try to change it for the better. He also knows, though, that he’s not alone anymore. I don’t want a child any more than he does. I still say I could never have handled it, it would’ve caused major conflict between us constantly, and stolen our lives and freedom. This is another reason why he’s in denial and not eager to see if there really is something wrong that hasn’t been detected yet. This is why he doesn’t cum. Not that I’m not OK with this attitude, I’m just stating the facts here. He used, to his advantage, how I talk about meant to be and not meant to be. He said that if it was meant to be, it’d happen naturally. Oh, I’m sure he’s right. However, I was meant to have an ear canal too, but only through surgery. Not naturally. Nonetheless, I believe what he believes. For me, if it were meant to be, it would’ve happened by now and it would’ve happened naturally.

The peak of our arguing and analyzing our beliefs came when I threw one of my dog mugs and smashed it against the bedroom wall and said mean things to him. Right before this, he stormed out of the room swearing. Then he came back and apologized and insisted he help pick up the mess. I know it was wrong of both of us to go off, but like I knew better, I should never have brought it up. God, how I hate having such a curious mind and loving to analyze things left and right!

Even up to this day, I don’t believe him when he says he can’t help his not cumming. Forget about whether or not I accept the cumless sex and have come to be used to it, forget about whether or not I want a kid. The point is, I always thought he was lying and I still do. There’s got to be a reason for this. I can’t be so sure he’s been lying to me about this for years without a legit reason. Again, there’s no such thing as being able to get hard but not cum. If you can’t cum, you can’t get hard. I could do another five years of asking myself why he won’t just admit his fear of cumming and ask that we use some method of birth control, regardless of how sure I am that I can’t conceive naturally, but I have to trust that he has his reasons for sacrificing cumming altogether with his own wife. I don’t want to be accused of trying to control/change him.

Then the dream came. I’m still not sure whether or not I was asleep, or if this was just a dream or something more, but it was my maternal grandmother Shirley G. She came and sat down on the side of the bed beside me, and in her no-nonsense tone of voice, informed me that the choice is now mine. God’s given me a full bag of rights as a woman. I must be sure I don’t want a child, cuz if I don’t heed her warning, so to speak, consequences could result.

I’ve thought about it and thought about it, but it makes no sense. Why would God suddenly hand me my rights as a woman? All my rights as a woman? Why now? Why now when we’re in the middle of moving? This would be an awful time for that. It wouldn’t fit into our lives now. Why would he think I deserve the rights? Why would he think I could handle them? Why would he stop looking out for me? God wouldn’t let me get into something that was not right for me, that I couldn’t handle, that wasn’t meant to be, whether it was intentional or accidental. So I chose to ignore this dream, this whatever it was, for two reasons. One is that I know I’m not meant to have a child. Two is that he quit cumming. So as long as he refuses to cum out of sheer stubbornness and fear, I’m not about to conceive at all. This, though, will be a sign as to how right I am about it not being meant to be. If he stays not cumming, all the more I know I’m right. Then again, it’s not like he’s never cum before, or that other guys haven’t, so does it matter if he cums or not? No. Destiny is destiny is destiny. Period. I don’t know my full destiny. But I know parts of it. A child isn’t part of it. Trust me. His not cumming is simply part of God’s orders that said my sex life shall be hexed, just like he ordered me to be short and brunette. If I were suddenly with someone else, male or female, they too, would have a problem.

Ironically enough, though, is this spotting for a few days when I’m approximately mid-cycle. The spots seem to have stopped. Guess I’m not gonna go into a full flow anytime too soon. Anyway, I have had times where I’ve spotted for a few days a week before my period, but if I get my period in a week, that’s still pretty damn early. Is something changing? I get the feeling something’s “resetting” itself, so to speak, but I don’t know. I don’t see how this dream could have a single grain of truth to it. Like it or not, the choice was never mine. It was always God’s choice and it always will be. I don’t need to worry if he cums, I don’t need to worry about using birth control. I won’t lose my life to a child. I have too many other things planned for me, and as God knows, there’s only so much one can do at once or in their whole lifetime.

Andy says that since Laura’s moved out, his shit’s solid and the stress has really lifted. Yeah, I know. I know what that’s like. I went through that when he left the Woodside Terrace apartment.

I can only imagine how much fighting he and his friend Wendy will do along the way back east. By the way, they’re gonna stay in Outdoor Camps of America and save hotel money. Andy says that different people want to see him or do things with him when he visits, but as Andy himself admitted, he’ll be doing only what he wants to do. However, he’s been anything but selfish lately. No pigging out in my ear. No constant calls. I know Tom wouldn’t call him up and warn him saying, “Look. Be a little less selfish and back off if you don’t want to lose her,” so it’s made me wonder if he sensed what’s coming to him the day he was here getting the comforter and telling me about Stevie and Cheryl. It wouldn’t be the first time he’s sensed something and he is sort of psychic if you ask me.

Later…

Speaking of spotting, I’m doing it again.

Tom went for his eye appointment today to get a 6-month supply of disposable contacts. He missed contacts, but because he hasn’t worn them in so long, he has to get used to them again little by little.

Tom’s hip was bothering him really badly today. I don’t know if it’s arthritis starting, or if he pulled a muscle. I don’t think he knows, either. I just hope it’s better tomorrow so he can go to the track. As he said, it means a lot to him. I hope God will help give him the break he deserves. He’s been depressed cuz of not having enough free time due to all that has to be done.

There were some pieces of wood that were about three feet long and three inches wide. I don’t know what we were gonna use them for, but anyway, I’ve got them in between the bars of the rat’s cage so they can use them as little shelf beams to climb/sit on.

Mickey, Porky and Butterscotch all ended up bigger than Ratsy.

First I straightened Rapunzel’s hair, then I crimped it, and I just went and tried to curl it but it wouldn’t curl too easily. So I went to wash out what little curl I started, but it wouldn’t wash out. Not even the crimps would wash out. So, I’m just gonna leave her as she is.

This is the first manufactured home place that sent us a card urging and hoping we’d do business with them. It was that nosy Maria we saw the last time. The card said: The friendship of those we serve is the foundation of our progress. We truly appreciate the opportunity to assist you with your upcoming housing change. We sincerely want your business and we intend to earn it.

Do they? Well, I’m hoping they will. They got the best house yet. I really like the floor plan of that last house we saw.

Saw a documentary last night with different people’s points of view on why they believe the world may end in 20 years and why they believe it may not. They talked about the different sources that believe we’re in the last days and why, as well as those that feel life will go on. I would say our biggest fear shouldn’t be the antichrist, global disasters such as fire, floods, earthquakes, tornadoes, title waves or war. I think that if anything ended the world it’d be a falling asteroid, comet or meteorite. It’s happened before and it’s what most believe is responsible for killing the dinosaurs. Anyway, life will end when it ends.

THURSDAY, APRIL 15, 1999 Evie’s being her typical self with the health problems - had to have a hose with a camera down her nose and throat and into her vocal cords - yuck! How can anyone have a hose down their throat and not gag it up? I could never handle that!

The city van was next door again today. I can’t say how long they were there but they left at the same time as yesterday at 4:00. Also, a white car was parked in the front of the house while they were there. There was no writing on this car and it sort of looked like one of the cars that would visit the bitch. I wonder if the city called her bitching about the yard she supposedly trashed, she denied it, then came over here to see the stuff she’s supposed to have left here.

So, I guess the new assholes will be here by May 1st and so we’ll have to deal with whatever shit and noise they bring for a few months. Better than a few years, though!

Later…

Talked to Paula earlier. She said she wonders if she could’ve written the package address out to N. 21 St. instead of Ave. Yeah, that’s something she may’ve done. Anyway, she said she’ll put a trace on it and that the store still has those dolls, so if I don’t get this package, she’ll send another. However, I know it’ll never happen. I’m just not meant to get packages or pictures from her, and again, if there’s a doll in the picture, there’ll be a problem. I wouldn’t be the least bit surprised if I only got two or three out of the four dolls I got from the auction. I advised her, though, that if she’s gonna send any packages anywhere, she should use priority mail and not parcel post. Tom says priority mail’s not much more expensive anyway than parcel post. Parcel post takes forever, and of course, there’s always the possibility that this package will show up in a week or two from now.

Paula’s up to the usual - onto another Puerto Rican guy and already talking about moving again. She changes guys and apartments like we change clothes!

She says her stomach’s been on the fritz due to nerves. She fears having to go to jail and has to go to court on the 23rd. She says it’s mainly traffic stuff, but also, there were some stolen car parts that were supposed to have been in the new car she just got that she didn’t know about, but had no receipt to prove was hers. Something along those lines, but you can never make out exactly what the fuck Paula’s talking about half the time. I mean, she talks in disjointed sentences and half the stuff she says makes no sense. Anyway, I highly doubt she has to worry about jail.

Later…

Tom’s up now and is on his way to get us some fast food. I haven’t had any in a while and suddenly felt the uncontrollable urge to binge.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 14, 1999 A city van was next door for a while, but I couldn’t see who it was or what they were doing (I wonder if they hauled away the shit I threw over there?). There was a water truck over there yesterday. Guess they turned off the water, too.

Three of the dolls I got on eBay “supposedly” will arrive in about a week, give or take a couple of days. The other one is a person so we can’t use a credit card on them. We have to send them a money order, so it’ll take longer. I just hope these people are for real.

After the regular mail gets delivered today, I’ll call Paula to advise her to trace her package.

Yesterday morning at 9:30, shortly after I’d gotten up, I heard the phone ringing from the bathroom. As I went to answer it, I thought to myself about how I was gonna tell them, “I’m coming in today. Live with it!” However, shockingly enough, it was Dr. Brown’s office calling about the referral.

I got to the 10:45 appointment with no problem but didn’t even see Melanie. I wore the animal T-shirt I made too, just to show her, but all I saw was the doctor and Anne, the black lady. Anne said she was there but with another patient.

I’d been having irritation in a certain area of my gums and the doctor said it was because of one of the cavities I had. Food would get stuck in the hole in the tooth and it’d irritate the gums like a splinter. Since filling in the hole, though, I’ve had no discomfort whatsoever.

The doctor did my fillings and Anne did my braces. She said she only does it if she has to, cuz she’s too chicken. She said she was slow at it but didn’t want to hurt me. She was much slower than Mel, but so much gentler. She’s also much friendlier too, and I wouldn’t cry if I never saw Mel again and had to have Anne do my ortho. She was concerned with how I felt, not with getting the job done and over with in a hurry like Mel is, not that Mel doesn’t know what she’s doing. She knows her stuff, she’s just rough, and talk about impersonal!

A woman won $5,000 on the radio and Anne said she wished she could win $5,000 on the radio. I told her that if I did, I’d get new clothes since I haven’t gone shopping since losing weight, and she said she noticed my face was smaller. That was good to hear.

The UT pain, if that’s what it really was, was gone as of yesterday, but now I’ve got my period. Isn’t this a little early? Aren’t I like 10-15 days early? My body sure is a weird one.

I’ll take a break now, but later, I’ll get into the manufactured house we saw yesterday. For now, I’ll just say that it was the best house yet!

Later…

Tom’s home now after working 9 hrs. and 45 min. He’s beat.

I called Paula to let her know her package wasn’t coming but didn’t get the chance. She was busy, I guess, cuz she said she’d call back. No, the regular mail hasn’t come yet, but I know that if I haven’t gotten the package by 1:30, it’s not coming. He would’ve delivered his packages for the day already. Also, a parcel post package has had plenty of time to get here, so it obviously isn’t coming at all. I wonder, though, if this stupid shit of a mailman doesn’t let his packages sit for a while. I think the lazy fuck lets his packages sit and build up at the PO for a while before he delivers them.

Later…

I was right - no package. I’m just not meant to get mail from Paula B! This is the second thing she’s said she sent me that I didn’t get. Either she’s a very good liar, or it’s just not meant to be. I really think it was misdelivered, so Paula ought to call her local PO and get her money back. I’m totally hexed anyway when it comes to packages. Especially when there’s a doll involved.

Tom told me that Falling Star’s coming priority mail, not parcel post. So, if the woman mails her out today or tomorrow like she said she would, then it’s guaranteed to take only 2-3 days to get delivered. She should be here Saturday or Monday, but we’ll see.

A city van’s next door again. Can’t tell if it’s the same van, but I saw a different guy over there. He was at the water control that’s in the front yard, maybe turning the water on or off.

Later…

The van’s still over there. Must be a big job. The freeloaders no doubt trashed the place.

I set Bailey up in a totally new pose and new place. I brought a stool out and put it right by my computer. At first I had Rapunzel on it, but then I put her in Bailey’s usual spot on the stereo speaker by the TV, then put Bailey on the stool by the computer. I have one of her hands reaching out for my pen holder. It looks really cute. I still can’t believe how beautiful and realistic this doll is!

I just left Paula, who’s never punctual about returning phone calls, a message. At first, a friend of hers answered saying Paula was out, so I asked that she ignore the phone and let me call right back and leave a message. I let Paula know the package never came.

Yesterday after the dentist, we went to Palm Harbor’s factory lot. We met with a Spanish woman first, who talked too much and asked too many damn questions (had to ask twice if we had any kids), then we only saw one house, cuz this was a new lot that wasn’t fully set up yet. That was fine, though, cuz this was it. This was the perfect house! I loved its layout. The master bedroom is still separate from the other three bedrooms but in a different way. Usually, the other three bedrooms are at the end of the house with two next to each other and one across from them. These were all in a row, though, and what I liked was that the master bedroom and the room where I’d have my computer were away from where the TV would be (even though Tom and I both like headphones better).

The house was 2100 square feet and priced at $68,000. It had a retreat that was almost like a room that’s off of the master bedroom and a walk-in closet big enough to put two twin beds in.

What may be a plus to this place is that you can get a realtor to not only get you land for your new house but also sell your old house. As Tom said, if they had their way, our house would’ve been on the market as of yesterday. It was also nice that certain things were included in the base price that weren’t included in the bass prices of other models we’ve seen. ACs and dishwashers are included. Other things are, too. We’d even save money on this model. This model has 3 baths and we only want two.

Using three different programs, I scanned the layout in, then erased the furniture they drew in and put my own in.

It’s almost 4:00 now and the city van’s still here. My vibes don’t really say anything, but this isn’t a good sign - his working this long. Show’s he may be in a hurry so the new batch of rude, selfish assholes can move in.

No one’s discovered the lock yet. I’ve got two more locks to go, though, so if this one gets cut off, I’ll just try again. Unless they cut the net off. If they cut the net off, I’d have to get a chain to tangle around the hoop to block a ball from being able to pass through it, and since we should only have 3-5 more months left here, it wouldn’t be worth the time, money and effort. Thank God we’re moving this summer, though, and I hope that since God knows that we’ll be moving this summer, he won’t be so determined to get someone really noisy in there. I know, though, that we’re not gonna beat the new people and that it’s still gonna be noisier than most houses on this street, be it cuz of kids, dogs, or bass. That’s just my kind of luck.

Later…

The van just left. There were two people this time. I didn’t like how slowly they were backing out. I thought for a minute they noticed the lock in the net and were contemplating stopping to cut it out before leaving. So, they were there for about 2½ to 3 hours. I’d say, by the number on the van, that it was the same one that was there when I got up at 11:00 that didn’t leave till noon.

I don’t understand why the sudden pause in my metabolism. I swear to God - I just think of food and gain weight! I’m still 110 pounds and haven’t eaten hardly anything in the last two days. I did slip down to 108½, but not for long. That’s what I woke up at, and how I gained a pound and a half from a 400-calorie bowl of soup, water and coffee, beats me.

I can’t believe I’ve got my period now, although it’s not a full, regular period. I’m spotting. I would absolutely love it if my plumbing went on the fritz and needed to be removed so I wouldn’t have any more periods! Especially since I don’t want a child and know I’m not meant to have one, although I knew that for most of my life. At the same time, though, I don’t want to go through the pain and hassles of surgery. The fewer health problems and trips to the doctor, the better, but who doesn’t feel that way?

I still wonder what, for sure, is this monthly pain about. Why the same time every month? They say you can bleed a little when you ovulate, but I never have. I wouldn’t feel slight cramps in my uterus like I do right when a period’s starting if it were just a case of ovulation. Also, like I said before, you’re supposed to rotate from ovary to ovary. Since I’m hexed and controlled plumbing-wise, no matter how normal any test results are, maybe I’m suddenly ovulating on just the side that the pain’s been on and maybe the ovary wall is opening up more than normal and causing the pain. Maybe instead of releasing just one egg and rotating between ovaries, I’m now ovulating on just one side and a bigger hole is forming in the ovary wall cuz more than one egg is coming out. Maybe a lot of eggs are coming out.

If I prayed for my plumbing to fail and need removal, I wonder if God would grant me that. He might. I still can’t believe he never saw to it that I needed a hysterectomy years ago. This is the only thing that makes no sense and that doesn’t fit into his plans to keep me childless, like it or not, normal-appearing or not.

Anyway, I’m saving cranberry juice for if this happens again next time I’m almost mid-cycle. If this keeps happening for too many months, I may need to see a Dr.

Later…

I went and peered over the wall. My shit’s still next door.

I asked Evie how long the forwarding rules are and she said they forward mail for up to a year. Yeah, but can I trust this carrier to forward her mail? I hope so! If it’s meant to get to her, it will.

Saw bits and pieces of Titanic which is now on HBO. It was just as entertaining, scary, and sad as the first time I saw it.

I called Paula again, who was busy with a friend and who swears she’ll call me back at 8:00 my time, but if I don’t hear from her shortly after then, I’m not waiting on her. I’m gonna go listen to music.

MONDAY, APRIL 12, 1999 Believe it or not, I may have five dolls on their way to me counting Paula’s (if Paula’s ever gets here. There’s always a problem getting packages to me when there’s a doll involved)! We registered yesterday and had the winning bid on two of the six dolls we bid on and it looks like I’ll have the winning bid on another doll in a couple of hours! We even won where we lost, too. They had this beautiful Indian doll up for auction but we got outbid. Nonetheless, the lady selling her sent an email saying she had another one like her that we could have for our $46 bid. We bid between $20-$35 on the others. So far, we were the only bidders for the two we won and the one that I’m almost sure we’ll win today.

The Indian doll’s name is Falling Star, but I don’t know the names of the other three. She’s kneeling on a bearskin rug and has a nice outfit for being an Indian outfit. Most Indian outfits suck. She’s 12” kneeling.

The first one I won yesterday has green eyes and brown hair and is 22” tall. She has a burgundy dress on with white lace.

The second one has blue eyes (I think) and blond hair that’s up. She’s another ballerina doll with a gorgeous blue dress. She’s 16” tall.

The one we’ll win today has I don’t know what color eyes, and blond hair in two braids. She’s 18” tall. She’s wearing a floral dress of some kind that’s hard to describe without seeing it in person.

And I thought I wasn’t getting any more dolls till we moved!

Later…

Sixteen years ago. That’s how long it’s been since I jumped and broke my arm.

Anyway, to speak of more pleasant things - Falling Star should be here next Wednesday or Thursday, but for me, she’ll be here no earlier than next Saturday.

We still haven’t been able to get ahold of one of the sellers by phone that we got two dolls from. The last person we’ll be sending a check to because they’re not a business so we can’t use plastic on them.

We’re thinking of selling the other Giselle we got at this auction.

If I don’t get Paula’s package by Wednesday, I’ll call her and tell her to put a trace on it.

Tom made the appointment with the spit doctor for me to have my ear cleaned out, hoping that they’d be the ones to get the referral from Dr. Brown. Other doctors get through to other doctors better than we non-doctors do. However, the spit doctor’s office told us to get the referral. We tried for the second time, but haven’t had any luck. This is the third time they’ve said they’d call us back about a certain matter and they never did. I’m changing regular doctors. I’m sick of this shit. If you’re my doctor, I expect you to call me back when I need something.

I’m also getting fed up with the dentist’s shit. As I knew would be the case, the secretary left a message asking if I could come in at 10:45 instead of 1:00. I was pissed, cuz 1:00 would’ve been perfect for me. So I called back letting her know I was getting really frustrated. She said the doctor had crowns he had to do. Then why’d they schedule my fillings in at that time if he knew he had crowns to do? Stupid shits! And the sad part of it is, is that in just six months I’ll have to play this game all over again. I think that once the braces come off, it may be time to think about getting another dentist. I just hate to give up the quiet waiting room and getting in on time.

Got some really nice new screensavers for a change. It was time for more variety. I got cats, dogs, waterfalls, and psychedelic screen savers that are really cool. Tom also installed a utility that allowed me to delete screensavers I didn’t like.

This is really weird. Totally curse-like. Like something’s hexing my mice. Well, some of them. Anyway, now Patch has a tumor developing. It’s in the same spot; on the hip. It can’t be hereditary cuz Cocoa and Patch aren’t related. Spot wasn’t related to Patch or Cocoa, either.

Unbelievably, I didn’t get a call from Andy all weekend. He didn’t even respond to my message I left last night telling him about the dolls I won, but that may’ve been cuz he was jealous that we have that much money to spend on stuff like that. This is nothing new for him. Whenever I leave messages about something really neat we got, I don’t seem to hear from him right away, and when I do, he never mentions it. He doesn’t mention most of the things I tell him anyway, cuz he’s either too stoned to remember them, or he just doesn’t care. Too wrapped up in himself.

Not that I’m complaining, since I’m not a phone person, but can Andy sense what’s coming to him? I wonder if he subconsciously senses that I plan to faze him out of my life when we move, cuz ever since I made up my mind to do so, he’s backed off.

The freeloaders haven’t come near the house or called, so unless they’re thinking about waiting a few months to try to look less obvious, which I highly doubt, they really are a thing of the past, and guess what? I was in their house today.

I saw a city van over there, so I went over there. A guy all by himself was there. I asked if the house was sold, or re-rented. He said he didn’t know anything about it. Just that they didn’t have new people at the moment ready to move in. I asked to see the layout, and it sure is different, but it’s not a two-bath. It has just one. The layout’s much nicer than ours, except that they don’t have the nice big room we’ve got in back. The bathroom’s longer, and so’s the living room. I like how the kitchen’s in sort of an alcove-like area. Also, I like how you can’t see into the bedrooms and kitchen (just the eating area) from the living room. I like how the rooms aren’t as connected as ours. We have such a little L-shaped hallway where our bedrooms are that one of the bedrooms is practically an extension of the living room. From their living room, the bedrooms are down a straight hallway. They had these mini sunken shelves in one of the living room walls. It may be nicer than this house, but it sure as hell is a dump compared to what we’ll be living in this summer!

Just like I attract the sexual weirdo, I attract the paranoid. Tom’s almost as paranoid as Andy. He said not to ask workers over there too many questions about the house so as not to attract attention to us. Like we should care? Who gives a shit who’s paying attention to us as long as they don’t do anything to us and we don’t do anything wrong?

I’m sure it won’t do me any good, but I asked Evie if David could get me the bitch’s new address (not in those words, naturally). I also asked if we were right about mail being forwarded for up to six months. Watch. With my luck, she’ll reply saying that they just changed the forwarding rules to three months.

I can’t believe I’ve spent a whole year being hungry most of the time and struggling as I have just to lose a lousy 15 pounds. I realize more and more that I not only would have to starve to get down to 100 pounds, but I’d have to keep on starving just to stay there. At this age, as soon as I had just one bite, I’d fly right back up to 110 pounds. Until the time comes that I let my body have the food it needs and craves, even if that’s 3,000 calories worth a day and 50 more pounds, it has to be all or nothing. Trying to minimize my food just doesn’t work, cuz one bite leads to another and another and another, then before I know it I’ve had 1,500 calories that day. That’s a good 500 too much to be losing weight on, so it’s either don’t eat at all or eat what I need to eat since I can’t puke up my food. I don’t see how that would do me any good even if I could, cuz if I ate, satisfied my hunger, then lost it, wouldn’t I just be hungry all over again? The way to lose weight and keep it off, and the only way to lose weight and keep it off, is total or near starvation. I have to ask myself - do I want to look like shit or feel like shit? I feel like shit when I don’t eat, but I’ll really look like shit if I do eat and gain weight. Then again, I look like shit right now at 110 pounds. I look like I’m 125 pounds. I’d have to get down to 90 pounds to look like I did the last time I was at 100 pounds.

Later…

I just called Andy to see if he wanted to talk. Sure enough, he had a mouthful of food when he picked up. So I let him finish eating while I went to make coffee and said I’d call him back in five minutes. But then when I called just now, he didn’t answer. Guess he’s still stuffing his face.

Later…

I spoke with Andy for about an hour. God, he is so hard to talk to! He keeps budding in, and where are his brains? This guy’s not exactly stupid, yet he couldn’t get half the things I said. What made it harder for him to understand things I’d say were his constant interruptions so I couldn’t even finish explaining things to him in the first place.

He asks why I get upset that he brings up God every single time we talk. It doesn’t upset me, it just gets old. He has a right to talk about what he wants to, though, even if I disagree with half the things he says.

Michelle’s finally lucked out with this feminine, stable schoolteacher. She’ll get dumped. It’s just a matter of time.

Andy had a friend named Wendy whom he met here that moved to New Hampshire. He says she’s gonna drive out in her van the third week in May and together they’ll drive back there. After about a week, he’ll fly back here. I’ll believe it when I see it.

SATURDAY, APRIL 10, 1999 Took the phone off the hook to give me a break from the slew of sales calls we get that are now even coming on Sundays. The one and only day I had to look forward to being free of these calls. Also, Andy didn’t call last weekend, so you can bet your ass he’ll make damn sure he does today, no doubt with food stuffed in his pig of a mouth.

This has got to be the most stress-free weekend I’ve had in a long long time! No freeloaders! No freeloaders to slam doors, bass the house walls, scream and yell, thump balls! I love it! God, please keep that lock on that hoop and the place empty till we move!

Tom was shocked they didn’t come to clean last week and wondered what the point of waiting was. I wondered that, too. Maybe they’re planning on selling it, cuz you’d think that if they were keeping it as a subsidized house, they’d be in a hurry to get the next batch of assholes in there pronto, what with how the waiting list is so long.

If the freeloaders are gonna do anything to the house, although I don’t sense it and I highly doubt it, it’d be this weekend, since that seems to be when these sick fucks have more time, and I know these assholes are still in the valley, judging by how long it took the cock to make trips back and forth. They’re probably no more than 15 minutes away.

I still can’t believe they moved! Their rude antics are over. They’re really over. Now all I have to do is wait and see if we get rude, loud renters, or an owner with a dog or two that never shuts up. I know there’ll be kids in the package either way. The mistake turned out to be OK to live next to. It was all her little cousins or whoever the fuck all the kids were that came over to play ball that was a problem. Meanwhile, I don’t have a bad vibe coming from next door, so if the next people really are noisy in any way, I guess they’re not due in anytime too soon.

God, just please let the bitch get my stuff when we move!

Tom and I had our usual cumless sex this morning. I forgot the KY, so I was a bit dry. I swear I’ve really dried up down there! I wonder, though, if something’s wrong with me. Shouldn’t I be upset that sex has become so mechanical? I mean, we just go through the motions at this point without any real feeling. I guess I’m OK with it cuz he’s OK with it. Besides, you know how he is when it comes to sex. He’ll admit to almost any non-sexual problem and even try to do something about it, but he’d never see this as a problem, let alone admit it and seriously try to fix it. That’s another way I can tell he’s deliberately afraid to cum. If it were truly out of his hands, wouldn’t he want to get help? Wouldn’t he want to try to fix the problem if it were truly a “problem?” To me, though, this is good cuz once again, it not only keeps the sheets clean, but it’s still better not to hold that gun to one’s head, even if you know it’s unloaded. So, even though I know God’s on my side and that it’s not destined that I conceive, why take risks? If I want out of my so-called womanly duties and if I want freedom in this life, it’s only fair I do my part and not stick it all on God, even if God’s supposed to be able to do everything and anything.

Woke up yesterday at 106 pounds, and sure enough, I couldn’t shit. My body’s definitely resisting going under 105. It does everything it can to get back up to 108-109 which is usually by holding onto its shit.

I don’t know what the real package deal is with Paula. She’s a lot like Fran. Remember how Fran said that if you were 16 you were born in 1985? Well, Paula says she mailed the package last Friday when we spoke, so I should’ve gotten it a week ago. No, Paula, I shouldn’t have gotten it the exact same day you sent it. She said she got the thing insured, though, so that’s good.

I’ve got my leg weights on now, but sometimes I have to take a break from them cuz of the pressure they put on my ankles.

When we move, I’ll be walking again on the walker daily. I’m also trying to be consistent with exercising my upper body every other day and my lower body every other day.

Tom found a “spit doctor” online for me to see to have my ear cleaned properly. He should have the same knowledge as Nielsen. His name’s Daspit.

He also found this great auction online with dolls. You can get three 16” dolls for just $20 or $30! Even less! It seems that most of their dolls are 16”. Haven’t found any biggies yet. I may sell dolls this way in the future, too.

Later…

I don’t fucking believe this, but this is the third month in a row I got a UT infection right before mid-cycle! Is it truly a UT? Something else? Is there a connection to the timing? I don’t see how it can be my ovary. It’s too high, and besides, aren’t you supposed to not feel ovulation, and rotate ovaries every month? Well, all I can do is live with it and hope for the best. I’m drinking lots of cranberry juice.

Later…

Today the renters made up for the freeloader’s lack of door slamming. I’ve never seen so much company over there! Thank God they’re across the street and not next door. There had to have been 20 people, both adults and kids and about 7 vehicles and 2 motorcycles. I can’t believe there wasn’t any music of any kind.

Tom’s taking a nap right now. Earlier he went to Sears and got a sandblaster, a drill, and some other things. He got himself a camera bag yesterday.

He filled in the two holes in the back room ceiling. He did an incredibly good job so amazingly fast. Just maybe it won’t take longer to prep after all.

I got what I wanted by backing up my schedule to make it easier to get to my Tuesday appointment (unless they cancel) but not without a real doozy of an allergy attack. Yesterday was one of those days I have every one to two weeks where I just can’t stop sneezing. I had gotten up at 10 AM, and by 4 PM I wimped out and took a Benadryl. It didn’t knock me out, though, or dry up my nose. It just dried up my mouth and made me groggy. I still sneezed periodically, so at 8 PM I took a second Benadryl and was asleep by 10 PM. I got up at 6 AM. The good thing throughout it all was that my lungs were so open. I swear, if it isn’t my nose, it’s my lungs. If my lungs aren’t tight, they’re congested.

Tom and I were browsing online for screensavers. I got some really beautiful colorful ones, and one with pictures of waterfalls.

He told me the name of another search engine I may want to try out. Yeah, but as soon as God sees me doing a no-no by looking for pictures of Gloria, or whatever other women, crash it goes.

THURSDAY, APRIL 8, 1999 Tom left me a message saying he’ll support whatever I choose to do as far as Art goes, and not to sound defensive of Tammy, but it’s in Tammy’s nature to be a pessimist and hype things up to the worst possible case scenario (concerning her saying he’s ill). True. She’s even more of a pessimist than I am. Tom says to remember that he will die someday, so as long as I’m at peace with whatever I decide, that’s what counts. True again. My being in contact with them won’t keep Art from dying, though. We’re all gonna die someday. And yes, I’m at total peace with myself for cutting these people out of my life. No matter how old or ill they are, they’re still detrimental to my mental health. Even if we could all get along from here on out, which could never be a fact, the horrible memories that are attached to these people are things I don’t need, and I could never fully trust these people again. My life here with Tom in Arizona is too wonderful to mar with these people of the past that I associate with rather traumatic events. Tom and I may still have problems in life like everyone else, but what I’m at peace with is moving this summer, being with Tom forever, and not having anything to do with Dureen, Art, Larry, Tammy, and Andy. I understand, though, that some things are subject to change. The doll-making may bomb and Tom may continue to have shitty job luck. However, whatever happens is God’s will, I believe, and for a reason. I’ll keep in touch with Paula, but I’m not going to give Bob our new address/number. I may not even give them to Kim either cuz once again, I respect my husband and I don’t want to risk trouble for us. I want to stick around to see if Kim will get her lifelong dream of having kids, I love most of the jokes she sends me, but once again, it’s a matter of weighing the pros and cons. It’s more important that I don’t chance her coming between us than it is for me to get her jokes and watch her dreams come true or be denied by God. Kim and I don’t have much in common and this is someone I’ll probably never see again. Even if she lived next door to me; she’s never home, so we wouldn’t have much of a friendship. I’ll just wait and see what I feel like doing when we move. I think, though, that it’d be best for me to basically start over with a clean slate. New house, new land, new people, new life, so to speak. Tom’s not gonna be someone I met after moving and I’m still gonna be me, but you know what I mean. If I make a new friend after moving, and that friend’s good to me, then fine. Meanwhile, I could sit and write the cons to my family all day and have any pros written in just seconds. With Tom, it’s just the opposite. There’s no comparison. His biggest faults are that he makes disgusting noises when he eats, snores, is a disorganized clutter-slob and is a dysfunctional bore sexually (except for when he goes down on me). Big fucking deal, huh?! Meanwhile, I could be here until our anniversary writing his pros.

Later…

I’m having trouble controlling my food. I’ve been having between 1500-2000 calories per day, and already, my weight’s slowly but surely climbing. Woke up at 110 pounds today and I could be back to 125 pounds by June. No problem. I realize more and more that getting down to 100 pounds is just a dream that’ll never happen unless I agree to nearly starve myself day after day after day. I ask myself again - is this worth it? Shouldn’t I just live life, eat when I’m hungry, and say so what if I gain weight? But how much would I gain? How much higher than 125 would it go? To 135? To 200?

Later…

Just let Shiny in to do some eating. Changed my mind about writing now. I want to go clean some wall hangings I packed, so they’ll be clean and ready to go in the new place.

Later…

Didn’t clean the wall hangings yet, but I sure did do a lot of other stuff. Tom was impressed. The closet that’s off the utility area in between the kitchen and garage was cluttered with a bunch of shit. So I junked what we didn’t want, and vacuumed it out really well. The city’s gonna have a field day with all the shit I threw over the wall.

Tom suggested the possibility of the bitch moving cuz she suddenly couldn’t pay her rent. If she couldn’t pay up, I’d think Bill or someone would’ve helped her. I think her time was up and that she had a 3-year lease. I’m surprised the city’s not anxious to get the house ready for the next tenant. Tom says that it’s not too easy to get a crew over there, so maybe they have to wait till a certain time to fix it up. I wonder, though, if this is a sign that they plan to sell it because, with the huge waiting list for those in need of subsidized housing, you’d think they’d be in more of a hurry to get it ready.

It’s gonna be so nice this weekend not having to worry about the freeloaders and ball games! I just hope to hell she gets my shit when we move!

I took down the old screen door in back, so that’s one less thing Tom will have to do, even if it’s a quick and easy job.

Tom’s fed up at work. Well, he’s been fed up, but he really let his boss know it today which he said felt good to do. He’s tired of all the overtime they’re throwing at him. He’s sure he can find a job where he only has to work 40 hours a week, and that this guy will ease up on him and then help him find another job within the bank since he has no one to replace him with, but I don’t know. I think it’s just destined that Tom works overtime no matter where he goes. Thank God there are laws, though, as to how many hours a person can work, or else this user he’s got for a boss would make him work 14-16 hour shifts. Again, though, we’re all pretty much compensated for the shit we go through, and every burden has its blessing. Meaning that we’re in for one hell of a paycheck! Still, they’re tiring the hell out of him and taking time away from him that he could spend doing other things. I worry about him. First I feared his mother would kill him and now I fear his boss will. Of course, I always fear God will take him away from me, too. Well, if God kills him, he’s gonna have to deal with me too, cuz I’ll be hanging in no time. Even if I could have all the money and stuff in the world; life isn’t worth it without him. I’d be too miserable to enjoy any house, money, or material things.

I’m just so glad God didn’t let us have a kid back when I wanted one, cuz we wouldn’t be where we are today. We’d have to wait 5-10 more years to move, I wouldn’t have these dolls or be going into doll making, and on and on and on.

I guess Minnie finally gave up on trying to call.

I put in a prayer for Kim to have the kid she wants (watch, God will grant my prayers for another woman to have a baby, but not for my own baby a few years ago) and although God seems to have a problem with allowing kids to go to people who’d make great mothers, I think she’ll have them. I don’t know if it’ll be by way of in vitro or adoption, but she’s got the looks, the money, and nothing that I can think of to stop her except for God. I know there are a few good-looking women who have kids, but I also know a pattern when I see one. It’s usually the fat, plain, or ugly ones that end up with kids.

Later…

Tom says I’m foolish to worry about this, but I know how destructive kids are. Therefore, I’m gonna put these dolls on high shelves or in boxes when it comes time to show the house. I know disrespectful parents will be coming in here with rowdy kids that the parents won’t keep tabs on. They’ll act like the kids are not even there while they tear the place apart.

I fazed Alex out of my email and buddy list. I hardly ever talk with him, and again, what’s the point? I know that to an outsider I’d seem like a cold person by dumping all these people, but trust me, I’m doing the right thing. I know I am. The only two that I’ll feel a little guilty over are Andy and Lisa, but what has to be done, has to be done.

No package today. I believe Paula when she says a package is on its way. Just by the way she said it, I highly doubt she’s lying. However, I think that if it didn’t get misdelivered, the ditz addressed it wrong. This is, of course, unless it’s parcel post and too soon to be here anyway. I left her a message about it.

WEDNESDAY, APRIL 7, 1999 Tom did lock the net. I don’t know how securely, though. I get a nagging feeling deep in my gut that he may’ve made it easy to undo. Sometimes I think he gets a kick out of seeing things annoy me! Anyway, he was worried it’d draw attention and cause someone to do something about it, but I think that’s just his way of upping the chances of me wondering more often if someone will undo it, not that they might not anyway. I think that if the lock isn’t undone before, it’ll be undone when the new family moves in. And they’ll do it that day. The very day they move in. They won’t wait a week or a month or whatever. He said he couldn’t lock the net to the rim cuz it was too far of a stretch and that he couldn’t reach the rim like I thought he could. Maybe it is too far of a stretch to hook the net to the rim in a way a ball can’t go through, but why can’t he reach the rim? It looks like he can, anyway. Then he said something about having trouble locking the lock cuz it was old. This made me wonder if he deliberately didn’t lock it, but we’ll see. He doesn’t have to worry about it drawing attention. I can barely see it from the window. The rusted lock blends in really well with the rusted chain. The smaller lock would’ve shown up more, cuz it’s silver.

Later…

It’s barely 10:00 and already there’s been two sales calls. It is unfuckingbelievable! Today’s call came as early as 8:10. It’s gonna be so hard on me when I’m on nights, yet have to answer the phone in case it’s the Realtor wanting to show the house. I’m gonna be woken up a dozen times throughout my sleep. It’ll be just like the NHA! At least I don’t have to do that two dozen times a day for 4-6 months like I would’ve had if we had a kid. According to Tom, they’re doing this to everyone everywhere, and changing our number to an unlisted number won’t really curb the problem, cuz they dial randomly. If we got an unlisted number and he stopped giving our number out to everyone, then why wouldn’t it make a significant difference? Andy doesn’t get 5-10 calls a day. Andy doesn’t own a home and has a lot of magazine subscriptions or credit cards either, so I guess that makes a difference. Tom says they’re driving Mary crazy. She too, owns a house, has credit cards, and a listed number that’s been given out to the whole world.

I saw a nice white older lady out front planting something about five houses down. Now why couldn’t I have a nice lady like that, who’s no doubt quiet, with kids on their own, if she has any at all, living next to me? Why is it that of all the people on the block, the noisiest, rudest ones have to be next to me? If it isn’t Mormon chaos, it’s black trash. Although, this nice white older lady could have noisy grandkids that visit a lot, and a barking dog. I doubt it, though. Several of the houses right around ours are quiet as far as bass, kids, dogs, and constant vehicles go. If someone moves in before we move, and they probably will, God may not have them be as noisy as he normally would have if he knew we were staying here.

It’s hard to believe it’s all over. I no longer have to worry about some bass-thumping freeloaders next door waking me up. Not unless a new set of bass-thumping freeloaders moves in. It’ll be nice to be able to relax this weekend and not have to worry about what next door may do, and as far as I know, I don’t have to be interrupted by a ball game next door, even if there hasn’t been much hoop activity in about a year. Just these fucking sales calls! It’s not even 11:00 and there goes call number three.

Later…

I guess I misunderstood Tom. Yes, changing our number to an unlisted number and not giving it to anyone we don’t absolutely have to give it to will make a difference, but having this number unlisted won’t. Meanwhile, I took the fucking phone off the hook after the sixth call.

I just took my nosy little ass over to spy in the freeloaders’ yard. I still call it “the freeloaders’” place, even if it was never truly theirs. I pulled a chair up to the wall and stood on it so I could see over. What a tiny clothesline and even their patio seems smaller. Their yard is almost grassless. It’s like a dirt yard with a touch of grass. They have more space between the left side of their house and the block wall, so that may help to not amplify noise as much from the collies and from whatever, although you gotta be able to hear those dogs just fine, even if the wall’s not as close and even if they do have double-paned windows. The dogs are just a few feet away from their house. The reason they have more space between the bedrooms and the block wall is cuz they’re not on a corner. At one point the block wall curves in if you’re on a corner, but all the yards and houses are the same size. The yards are longer than they are wide. They’re about 120’ long and about 60’ wide. The houses are around 30’-40’ wide not counting garages or carports. I wish I could really settle my curiosity and break in there and walk through the place and see its layout. It’s very different from ours. It started off similar, but then, instead of adding a huge big room in back, they split the master bedroom in two and took out a little part of the living room to make a second bath. Even their front door is different. It faces the side while ours faces the street.

Here goes a school bus. You know, I never see kids that live at the collie house get on or off the bus. All the more I think they’re Mormons and that the kids are home-taught. But they don’t have more than 3-4 kids. Maybe she couldn’t have any more than that and that’s why they do daycare to sort of supplement things, although I don’t know if they’re still doing it.

Another day of weird weather. Is it really April out there? It’s cool and windy out there today. The barometer’s not that low, though. It keeps going back and forth between sunny and cloudy.

Later…

I knew it. It just knew it. It was only a matter of time. I knew telling Tammy not to push Art and Doe on me would do no good and that she’d start pressuring me to “do the right thing” and contact them. She’s such a contradicting asshole, too. In one breath she says she’s not gonna try to persuade me one way or another, but then she does. She tells me not to get huffy on her, but then when she saw she wasn’t gonna get her way, she hung up on me saying, “Goodbye, Jodi. I don’t need this shit.”

Does she know they changed their number and that I don’t know the new number? That’s beside the point, though. The point is that I’m done with Tammy now. Not when we move. The first thing she says is that our father’s ill and that she’s just giving me the knowledge which is mine to do as I choose with it (all the while she’s implying otherwise). She says she’s not buddy-buddy with them and never will be. She says that she and the kids “did the right thing” by talking to them. Yeah, well, like I tried telling her before - if “doing the right thing” means talking to a person like he is, I don’t want to “do the right thing.” Period. I’m not obligated to him. Just because he’s my biological father does not mean I have to associate with him or anyone else I don’t exactly like. He’s not as bad as his wife is, but to do away with one you have to do away with the other, too. I just don’t want anything to do with anyone associated with Tammy G or Larry or Art or Dureen O. Period. My mind’s been made up since last what? August? And it’s going to stay that way.

At one point Tammy asked how I was gonna deal with him dying. I told her I’m sorry if he’s in any pain or suffering in any way, but that people do die. Meanwhile, life has to go on. She has to live her life her way and I have to live mine my way and if that means I’m the selfish one - tough shit! And if she’s talking about my being included in their will, I’m not interested, I told her. Then she said that wasn’t what she was talking about. She was talking about my dealing with it within myself. I already did that months ago. I did it in my head, I talked about it with Tom, and I wrote about it. I weighed all the pros and cons and went over the reasons why it was best that I ignore these people. I’m not stupid, either. I know that people eventually die.

So I suppose Tammy will “do right” by going to Art and Doe’s funerals. I’m telling you, she and Larry, or she and Ronnie, or all three, are gonna get into a fight that could turn deadly (I’m sure macho Marty will have to be a part of it too, if he’s there). I just sense it, and you know what? I don’t want no part of it. I’m done with that life and with those people.

Watch, now Tammy will use the kids to get me to respond to and acknowledge her. I wouldn’t be surprised if she called up crying that one of the kids was in a crisis. It’s something she would do. She’s done it with Larry to try to get his attention. With me, she’ll probably use Lisa, and call up and say that she’s depressed, and suddenly, I’ll be the only one who can do something about it. Well, I’m not gonna give her the satisfaction of a reaction or a response of any kind, in any way.

Lastly, I’ll bet anything that Art’s not that ill. He may be a 68-year-old man with a bum ticker, but I know how Tammy exaggerates when she either wants attention or to get you to do something. She’s exaggerated health issues with the kids, Bill, and even herself. Do you know how many times Tammy might’ve been and was terminally ill? She’s always got a “fatal” problem or one that might be. Meanwhile, I’m pretty sure Doe and Art have another 10-20 years to go. I’m not saying Art couldn’t kick the bucket right now cuz of his heart, or that Doe won’t die in a few years of lung cancer from smoking for 50 years, I’m saying it’s unlikely that they’ll go anytime soon, but they’re still a closed chapter in my life, regardless of when they die.

Tom showed me how to get the word find to work. It wasn’t finding words that were in documents. He also set it up so I could number pages again. That wasn’t working, either.

Later…

I got to missing Steve the other night. Steve H from Woodside Terr. I wish, if only for one time, that I could see him and tell/show him just how wonderful my life turned out, and introduce him to Tom. I hope the guy’s happy, wherever he is, whatever he’s doing.

Still no package from Paula.

The new TV Guide came, and every now and then I check the horoscopes out. Mine’s wonderful and Tom’s is pretty good, too. My sister’s hits it right on the nose. I’d mail it to her, but she’s not worth the effort.

Mine - You can wish upon a star this week and start turning dreams into reality. Close relationships will flourish, and even those who have opposed you in the past (you mean God?) can be won over.

Tom’s - Someone in a position of influence seems to believe you’re ready for a step up the ladder (must be at work) and is willing to support you. Such a chance must not be wasted, even if it means massaging the egos of those for whom you have little respect.

Tammy’s - Something you discover this week will make you realize that there’s more to the world than the view from where you now stand (love that line!). It may encourage you to travel further afield or to simply broaden your outlook. Either way, you’ll learn more about life…and yourself.

Later…

Finally talked to Kim. She sure had a hell of a time of it. She was so depressed. Walt was diagnosed with a brain tumor, so here they were, sure he was gonna die and that Kim would be alone again after finally finding someone. However, it was a mistake. It might’ve been a mild stroke or something like that, but he’s gonna live. What a horrible thing to have to go through. At least there was a happy ending to this sad story!

She’s gonna have Invitro sometime soon enough. Not cuz she can’t get pregnant, but cuz Walt had a vasectomy and has a low sperm count. It takes 3-4 tries and is about $10,000 each. I’m glad I decided to forget about having in vitro and I’m glad I don’t want a kid! Hope it always is that way, too! Meanwhile, it’s been her lifelong dream to have at least two kids. I don’t know if they have to use some other man’s sperm. Maybe not. I think a guy with a vasectomy still makes sperm. It just can’t get to the woman. I just hope God will let Kim have her dream!

Just finished one of the puzzles I got. This is the second puzzle that had an extra piece.

Well, I guess I’ll go finish out the rest of my day with my book. I’m halfway through Night Stone and it’s great.

TUESDAY, APRIL 6, 1999 I still can’t believe that bitch up and moved. Tom was teasing me saying how much I miss her and that I’m not happy if she’s there, and I’m not happy if she’s not there. If I don’t have to deal with bass or dogs from whoever’s going in there next, even though it wouldn’t be for long, and if the bitch gets my shit - let her be moved. I doubt anything will happen to the house since it would’ve happened by now, I suppose. I’m not too shocked that they didn’t mess with the house, but I still can’t believe they moved quietly and that I didn’t sense it coming.

The city hasn’t come yet to fix the place up. I wish to hell it could stay empty till we move, but if the city keeps it, it’ll be refilled fast. May 1st the new people should be coming. The new subsidized trash. However, if I had to choose between the city selling it and the city keeping it, I’d rather they keep it and risk having it stay empty till we moved, which could be the case if they sold it. This is cuz it’s easier to do something about any problems we may have with the new people if the city owns the house. If the people are renting from the city, it’s quicker and easier to get results by mailing the city a letter. If they own, it’ll be harder to deal with them. I can do something quickly about a renter thumping its bass than with an owner’s barking dog that never shuts up.

We screwed yesterday, but he just wouldn’t or couldn’t get into it, and the sex was brief (this confirms my belief that his saying I was the one who wasn’t into it the day before, was just an excuse to get out of it altogether cuz he wasn’t in the mood). The way he acted afterward was so phony and obvious. It was so obvious that he was trying to butter me up afterward by tickling me and insisting I had a mopey look on my face. Did he want me to have a mopey look on my face? It’s his dick. If he wants it in me semi-hard, cumless, and not for long, that’s his choice. I just hope to God I never want a child again, cuz all I’d get is his stubbornness and his resistance to get off. He’d never fully cooperate and do all he could do to allow us a kid, and so then I’d end up not just madder at God for not allowing me the right to choose to have a child or not, but mad at him all over again, feeling like he’s controlling and manipulating me and conning his way out of cumming and having a kid. He still swears he’s not consciously or subconsciously keeping from cumming. Sorry, Tom. No one gets off as rarely as you do without a reason. There’s no such thing as a guy being able to get hard with no problem without being able to cum. You either can get hard and can cum, or you can’t get hard in the first place, let alone cum.

Later…

I saw an APS truck pull up in front of the freeloaders’ and I stepped out and asked the guy if the house was sold. He said he didn’t know what was going on. He was just there to turn the electricity off. Yeah, I didn’t think he’d know what was going on. This is a good sign, though, saying they’re not anxious to do any work over there right away and the things I threw over the wall (I’m sure they’ll assume the stuff was the freeloaders'). It’s just a few old odds and ends. Nothing major. A couple of old plant holders, the old foam mattress, and some old chicken wire we had surrounding cactuses to keep Bunny away from them.

Later…

Tom has an old lock that’s bigger than your average padlock, and tonight he’ll lock up the hoop. This will be even better cuz now he can lock the net to the rim and make it harder to break through. Tom was being his usual paranoid self, suggesting it’d draw attention. I don’t think so. And even if it does, how would that harm anything? If attention is drawn to a hoop that can’t be used, so what? Maybe this was his last feeble attempt at talking me out of it. I just hope he really does lock the thing up and doesn’t make it easy to be removed, even if we only have a few months left here. He says he’s gonna do it tonight, but I’m prepared for him to stall a night or two, making some excuse as to why it has to wait.

I still can’t believe that bitch moved! See what I mean, though? They shut up, they move. It’s always after they finally shut up that one of us moves.

Spoke with Andy earlier who’s up to the usual - food, pot, God, phones, music, and TV. He said he was slutting up a storm earlier, cruising the neighborhood and hitting on everything with a dick. Then he said he woke up the next day and realized he doesn’t need to be a slut with all the diseases out there, and that he has more class than that.

Later…

That was the fourth fucking sales call today and today I was in the mood to tell them off, but these last two hung up on me as soon as I picked up, suggesting maybe it’s Jenny C or someone with the last name O.

I’m having a lot of boredom spells lately. I can only read, write, and do puzzles so much. Maybe I should start a story. It’s just that I’m embarrassed by my writing and aren’t the greatest storyteller. I’m not as shy about my journal writing, but I am about stories. I regret ever sharing any past stories with anyone. I cringe with embarrassment at the thought of it. The only kinds of stories that appeal to me as far as writing one goes involve lesbian lovers. Romance novels, only it’s two women and not a woman and a guy.

Three black boys in their early teens just went around the corner thumping a basketball. I cannot believe they didn’t stop to play next door!

The kids, by the way, are in school. They do go on vacation sometime in April, though.

MONDAY, APRIL 5, 1999 Let me back up to Friday. Friday, we went to look at manufactured homes again at that place that has more than one brand. They didn’t have Shultz, though (the first ones we saw). They had Cavco, which was at the second place we went to, Palm Harbor, and Redman. We picked out a Redman house as our number one choice and a Cavco as our second choice. Palm Harbor, though, has these really cool-looking shelves built into the living room walls. They’re optional and called accent walls. They also have a lot of things I’m not sure what you’d call, but they’re high shelves/beams and would be great for plants and stuff like that. So, we narrowed down our favorite floor plans, then compared features between the different brands.

The guy there was so obnoxious yet so funny. Tom and I were laughing about him afterward. As obnoxious as he was, he was a very soft-spoken, easygoing guy. The last kind to go raping/beating a woman, and I was pleased to see he was a family man by the pictures he had in his office. This may not be God’s ideal type of man for a father, but I think the world needs more guys like this as fathers.

The obnoxious part of him was that he asked too many needless questions and he talked in slow motion. He also took forever answering questions and he’d sometimes dodge answering the question fully. He’d dance around the subject when I’d ask him the price of a certain model.

The funny part of him was that his expression never changed. He had a fixed grin on his face. Even after a minute or two of silently walking to a model, he’d still be grinning as if someone just said something so hysterically funny.

Then we went to JB’s for lunch, and oh my God! What a big mistake to go during lunchtime. The food was good, though, even if it was a bit greasy, but as my luck would have it, I was seated right next to a baby that screamed bloody murder. It was ear-piercing, brain-splitting loud, and neither of its parents seemed to give a shit or make an attempt to quiet the thing, although what could they do? A child is like a wild animal that cannot be tamed. Not for the first five years, anyway. I’m so glad I don’t want a child and that I can’t conceive whether or not one of us is sterile. I asked that we be moved and sure enough, the thing quieted down after we were moved several tables away.

Then we went to the grocery store, which also has a little department store connected to it. I got a purple T-shirt dress, a couple of cute puzzles, some different scents for my plug-ins (the vanilla smells like baby oil), a big long pink pillow for great back support, a pretty butterfly 3-D soap dispenser, and I think that’s it. The soap dispenser is clear plastic with butterflies on it. Then they inserted a clear plastic card inside with more butterflies and it looks nice. We looked at their soap dispensers, bathroom pails, and other things and they sure had some nice stuff. One of the bathroom pails they had was gorgeous. It had colorful flowers, mostly pink. I can’t wait to set up the new place! Can’t wait to pick out towels, bathroom accessories, dishes, etc.

Friday, Paula also called and I wonder if she’s gonna lose Justin, although I highly doubt it. If I weren’t her friend, maybe so, but since I am, God just has to keep that thing whining in the background while we talk. Every single fucking time we talk, it’s there! Anyway, she said they found a knife on him at school. Paula said they said it was a steak knife, but she says it was a butter knife he used to cut Play-dough with. But why would he need a knife of any kind to cut Play-dough with?

She said that what I said would happen came true about the guys in her life fucking her over. Part of seeing that was logic. You don’t need to be psychic to know what kind of guys Paula attracts.

Wonder if I’ll get the package she says she sent today. She seemed sincere enough and I can’t picture her lying about something like that. All I have to worry about is that she addressed the thing properly and that the mailman lets me have it if she did. She says she sent pictures (that were on their way when we talked on Friday) and that porcelain doll too, which she said is “arm’s length” for just $7. I think it’s really about 6”-8” tall, though, like the ones we saw for $7 in Walgreens.

Paula also says she’s gonna use some guy’s sperm to fertilize one of her eggs (she had her tubes tied) cuz she wants a little girl who looks like her that she’ll name either Nakita or Selena. Wait till she finds out this procedure costs many thousands of dollars and that her insurance doesn’t cover it.

There’s no for sale sign next door, but I wonder if there will be. That’ll depend on if the city chooses to sell the house.

I was out dumping garbage earlier. The two dumpsters in our alley were chock full and looked like a lot of the stuff in them came from the freeloaders. I saw that they put a table in the alley just outside their gate, and there’s some stuff on it, too.

Saturday Tom replaced the two broken light fixtures that were in the kitchen and utility area with new fixtures and fluorescent bulbs.

Saturday he also took out the old, ugly cast-iron sink from the bathroom and put in the nice new sink/cabinet. It’s so much nicer. There’s just one knob and you push it up to turn the water on, right for cold water, left for hot, and down to turn it off. It’s washerless, so it doesn’t drip. Next, we have to do the walls in there and put the vent in.

Yesterday’s attempt to screw was a bust. I just couldn’t get him firmed up. He said I seemed to be distracted and distant. That’s possible, but I thought I was getting him hard by hand and ready for sex the same way I always do, and I wondered if he was just using this as an excuse cuz he wasn’t in the mood. I wasn’t in the mood, so it turned out OK, and he didn’t appear deprived in any way.

Tell me I’m not hexed sexually and I’ll tell you you’re crazy. Already, one of the vibrators sort of broke on me. It suddenly died and I thought it was completely broken. I put it in the garbage before bed, then when he came in, he took it out and fixed it. He said, though, it’s either high speed or no speed cuz one of the wires inside it broke. But why must there always be a problem with sex and with vibrators? Can’t God just leave it alone? Just let me be sexually, God, just let me be. If I were smart I’d ditch Tom and the vibrators and just use my hand. It’s the only thing I can count on unless it gets chopped off in some accident.

Also, it’s not gonna cost $15 to mail the bitch’s shit to her. It’s gonna cost $3.20. Tom reminded me that you can send anything between a pound or two for $3.20. So, it’ll cost $16 to mail the five manila envelopes I’ll be mailing when we move. The bitch’s two envelopes and one for Andy, Larry, and Dureen and Art.

Tom’s gonna see about finding a doctor that knows ears like Neilson did so I can have my ear properly cleaned. It’s been bothering me lately and Tom could see it was clogged up. Don’t I have enough hexes, God? Hexed with the ears, the sex, toilets, cars, etc.

Later…

A kid of about 4 years of age is bouncing a basketball in the collie’s driveway. I suppose it’s a matter of time before she finds her way over to the hoop. The kids are on vacation this week, so hopefully Tom can get the damn thing locked up real soon.

SUNDAY, APRIL 4, 1999 I don’t believe it! I just don’t fucking believe it! The bitch next door moved! I didn’t even sense it either, and they’ve been so quiet about it, too. Why didn’t they bang up a storm and why didn’t I sense it coming?

Tom says not to worry, they won’t damage our house, and mail gets forward for at least a year when a person moves, so she’ll still get the writings that I worked so long and hard on for her. Well, I sure hope so! As long as nothing happens to the house and as long as she gets my stuff - fine. Let them move. Tom also says that even if they did do a little graffiti or anything like that, we have to paint the house anyway, so it’d be no big deal. I’m talking about them breaking windows or shooting at the house. That’s what I worry about, although I don’t have a bad vibe. Yeah, but can I trust my vibes anymore? I didn’t even sense this move. The two biggest questions that keep going through my head are why are they so quiet about it and why didn’t I sense it? Is this, combined with the fact that there were a million stereos to drive by yesterday, a bad moving sign for us? I still sense us moving this summer, but now, I can’t be sure of anything when it comes to moving. Tom says he’s 95% sure we can move this summer. Logically speaking, there should be nothing to stop us. Then, I’ll mail her the two manila envelopes I’ve got for her, then to do a test, I’ll send myself mail to this address to see if it really does get forwarded to me. There’s always a chance she didn’t leave a forwarding address and that she won’t get it, or will get it and won’t read my writings, and if that’s the case, it certainly wouldn’t be the end of the world, but after working so long and hard on it, I really would prefer that she gets/reads it.

I wonder why and where she moved to? It’s been exactly three years since she moved in. Could she have been on a 3-year deal with the housing people? Did he ask her to marry him? Is she moving in with him? Into another house? An apt.? And why was everyone so quiet about the move? Are they waiting for something? Are they biding their time for some reason? Maybe she’s still dependent on the city and that’s why they’re behaving. Tom thinks it’s cuz I’m not that big a deal to them and they’ve got better things to do with their time than harass me, and if they did anything to the house, it’d be too obvious that it was them.

I wonder, although I highly doubt they could’ve gotten evicted upon my third complaint, but I’d think that if that was the case the cock wouldn’t be almost smiling at Tom and that there certainly would’ve been some shit to go down around here by now cuz of it. I’m still not so sure the bitch and her cronies will still be willing to forget that I was the one that caused her to have to quiet down the music and have her boy toy move out, though. After thinking about it - wouldn’t I be pissed off at anyone who caused Tom to have to be away from me? You damn well better know I would be. I’d be furious and I’d want to get them for it somehow, some time, although I have to agree with Tom. They probably won’t bother with us.

Here’s how it went - at 9:30 yesterday morning, I saw a U-Haul pull up in front of the house. Just as the cock opened the door, Tom came in from the store and saw that the truck was empty, so that ruled out the possibility of him moving back in. I saw the cock looking at Tom, but not with any meanness. In fact, it was sort of a friendly expression. One that no doubt said, Glad to be leaving you. Now I can do whatever I want and be an asshole. Probably get away with it, too. The cock’s buddy showed up soon afterward in the Buick and spotted as the cock backed the U-Haul into the driveway. I also saw what I think was a dark green car pull in front of the truck, and some big black girl walk by. They loaded up for three hours. At 12:30, the U-Haul left and the cock returned at 3:30 with some little white guy with a mustache and a purple cap. I think the guy’s name was Dave, from what I heard. I heard him ask the cock if he had city sewer or septic tank and the cock answered city sewer. For a second I saw a blue Blazer and the bitch and the mistake. The Blazer wasn’t there long. Then, from there on out till at least 7:30 (I went to bed then) the cock’s car came and went as it took loads out of the house.

Today, the cock came at 9:00 with the little white guy (this is the first white person I’ve known them to associate with). A white van pulled in shortly after, 2-3 Mexicans jumped out, then cleaned the carpet. After the carpet was cleaned, they stood around chatting for five minutes, then the carpet cleaners left, followed by the cock and whitey, not too long afterward.

One of the living room blinds is now raised and I can see the living room surely is empty.

Tom agreed to take one of my old locks and lock up the basketball hoop on his way to work sometime this week. We’ll only be able to lock up the net part of it, but hopefully, no one will take the net off till after we move. If God’s on my side, he’ll spare me the ball games till then. It won’t be as easy to remove a metal link chain net, as it would be to just cut a nylon net.

Thank God I was on days this weekend, so I could spy on them and so I could sleep. I probably could’ve slept just fine yesterday, though. I never heard anything drop or go crashing around, but the carpet cleaning motor was a bit fierce. It’s got a serious rumbling sound to it.

Later…

I officially closed the freeloader’s file. I printed out most of what I wrote in my last entry and sealed up the bitch’s two envelopes (hers, Larry’s, and Doe’s and Art’s envelopes are now ready to go upon moving, except for Andy’s). Come this summer, she’ll hopefully have these forwarded to her (it sucks that I have to pay about $15 to mail this shit to her, but it’s worth it). I wrote in her file, though, that we were staying here now that she’s gone.

So what am I in for now? Will the place remain vacant for a while? Or will I get a new pack of subsidized freeloaders to have to deal with? Will the city sell the place to some nice white folks? Nice or not, will they have a dog I’ll have to listen to 24/7 just three feet away till we move? And how many kids? How often will cars be coming and going, and will there be any loud motorcycle-like engines? I just thank God we only have 4-5 more months to go, now that I’ve got to deal with yet another turnover over there. Although, in between the Ms and the freeloaders, the place was vacant for 6 months, so maybe it’ll stay that way till we move. Tom may be sure she’ll get forwarded her mail, but still, I wish she could’ve just stayed put for 4-5 more months to really be sure she gets my stuff and so I could save money getting it to her, too. If it’s to be a case of her moving and leaving the house alone, and her still getting my stuff, and being able to have the place empty till we move - then that’d be an even better deal. Especially with the hoop net locked up as an added bonus. I supposed the not knowing what’s to come next should be unnerving to me, but it isn’t. Maybe that’s cuz we’re moving.

Later…

I can’t believe Andy hasn’t called this weekend. Not so far, anyway.

Speaking of Andy, the day after his visit, I was about to tell Tom of his adventures with Stevie and Cheryl and told him that even though it was OK, the visit was all Andy, Andy, Andy. Just as I said that, the phone rang, Tom glanced at the Caller ID box, saw it said private, and goes, “Andy, Andy, Andy!”

As with Tammy, some guilt goes with my walking away from him. I know he’ll feel hurt at first, despite having not much in common these days. However, as I weighed all the pros and cons in my mind of staying involved with them, I still feel that the best thing to do would be to walk away.

Anyway, to finish my talk with Tammy. I covered the inevitable reunion with Dureen and Art, the asking that we visit, now let’s cover the shocking part. Tammy said I had to find religion and God at one point, and I thought she was joking. Tammy’s always been the least religious person I know. She said although she didn’t grow up with it, she’s been going to church with Mark. I asked if she was planning on conforming and she said she wasn’t going to till she was sure what she wanted.

I’m pretty surprised. I wonder just what she does in church and what she gets out of it. I’ll have to ask her some time what it does for her. I’ve never liked churches cuz of how they’re prejudiced. They badmouth gays and people who are different and send a message saying that if you don’t live by their rules, you go to hell. Tammy says it isn’t that way, but I’ve never seen or heard differently.

Looks like I got my rain wish after all, but why do I feel it’s only because they moved? I’ll bet if they were still here, it wouldn’t be raining. I can’t believe all this rain we’ve had.

SATURDAY, APRIL 3, 1999 Another Saturday on N. 21 Ave., but I don’t have a bad vibe. At least not for today I don’t. Also, although it’s doubtful, the freeloaders may not even be there. It’s too early to tell. The cock was here and Bill was gone as early as 1:00 yesterday. I had seen the cock’s trunk open at some point, then the cock left and came back. I then noticed the car seemed a little full, suggesting maybe, just maybe, they took off for the Easter weekend. I crashed too early to tell if someone was there at night last night.

Tom’s mom offered to buy him contact lenses. That’s very nice, but I sure hope she helps with the move.

Tom’s at the store now picking up stuff to prep the bathroom with. We also need to replace the kitchen and utility area light fixtures. They’re cracked. So he’s picking up odds and ends like that.

It’s not even 10:00 yet and there have already been three calls. One sales and two from Minnie.

Tammy called again and we talked. First of all, she did nothing wrong, but the things we discussed reinforced in my mind that making a clean break from her really is the right thing to do.

She brought up a couple of things I knew were only inevitable that she’d bring up sooner or later. Then she brought up something else that totally shocked me.

The first thing that I knew she’d bring up and that I knew I couldn’t be lucky enough to avoid forever, was wanting us to come for a visit since it’s easier for two people to go cross country than four or more. As I’ve written and as I’ve told Tom, who’s very supportive of me and of how I feel, I have no desire whatsoever to go back there. If it were a matter of snapping my fingers, being there, seeing them, introducing them to Tom, and showing him places I lived in, etc., then I probably would. However, I just don’t care to see her. I do miss Lisa and I’d love to see her, but seeing her isn’t worth everything else that’d come with seeing her. I mean, I’d have to go on a big trip, which I hate, worry about my schedule and being able to sleep, and worry that I’d run into Bill and kill him. I’d no doubt have to talk about people and subjects that I’d rather not discuss with Tammy, I’d have to deal with her pressuring me, her cigarette smoke, the unhappy memories that go with the place, and who knows what else?

I told her we’d be there in the fall or the winter, cuz of course, I certainly wasn’t gonna tell her that I plan on disappearing.

The other thing I felt would only be a matter of time is that from what she said, she’s already working Dureen and Art back into her life. Now, I don’t know how chummy they are, or if she’s on speaking terms with Dureen, but she’s sending Art a birthday present. At first, I thought she was joking when she mentioned it and asked if I was gonna send one. Then she actually came out and told me that I should cuz then I’d know I was doing the right thing. If sending a present to abusive people like that is doing the right thing, then I’d rather do wrong. I was really surprised to hear she was sending him a birthday present. I thought she said she was 100% through with both of them for what they’ve said and done to her for so many years. Me? If I’ve said it once, I’ll say it a thousand times - I’m 100% finished with them. Just cuz they created me, does not mean that I should be obligated to associate with them in any way shape or form after the years of abuse I took from them. I totally detest selfish control freaks who always have a problem with how people are, what they do, what they say, etc. I’d tell this to anyone and that’s that if you don’t like my husband or myself as we are, don’t bother with us, and don’t think we’re about to change our ways for you or anyone else. I also reminded her that I think it’s really sick when a parent pits one of their kids against another, and when they go to one kid about a dispute they had with another. It’s her life, but how can she send a present to someone who urged his son to call the state on her and who said and did the things he’s said and done to her and say she’s done the right thing? Well, to each their own, but I feel I deserve better than to associate with people like that, and I’d like to think I had self-respect by not doing so, too.

Tom brought up a very good point too, and I think he’s right. Sadly enough, though, this is human nature for most people, but money’s an issue here. When people get old and have money, they tend to stick around and put up with their abuse for it. Me? I’d rather be happy and with people who are supportive, non-selfish, accepting, and respectful. Tom said that Larry no doubt got the money for his business from Dureen and Art. I wouldn’t doubt it. That’s probably why he made a point of reuniting with them in 1993. Cuz he knew he wanted to go into business and therefore, why not get their help financing it? Isn’t it a little too soon, though, for Tammy to be kissing their asses and being all nicey? They’ve got another 10-20 years to go, sis. Is the money really worth putting up with another 10-20 years of abuse?

FRIDAY, APRIL 2, 1999 I can’t believe this weather! Yesterday would’ve been perfect for Easter Sunday. It rained all day long, and even when I got up a few hours ago, it was coming down in torrents! It went from being between warm and hot to being chilly and rainy. It seems like just when you think summer’s gonna work its way in, we go back to cooler weather. The wonderful thing of it all was that despite how long and hard it rained, not one drop leaked in here!! Not one!!

Tom says that if next door’s a normal family, they won’t do Easter here this year cuz they did it here last year. They’re not “normal” anything, and yes, they will. They know I can’t legally do anything about the ball playing, so why not? They’ll make sure they do it here on account of me.

Minnie tried calling again but didn’t leave a message. Kim did, though. I’ll call her today. I’ll call Tammy, too. I left her a message yesterday since it had been a while and she called back when I was listening to music. She said she was busy, she and Mark were opening a retail store, and the kids were fine. No illnesses or injuries? That’s good.

I can’t believe I woke up at 107 pounds today, which was what I woke up at yesterday, cuz yesterday I had to have had around 2,000 calories.

The Acutrim I tried was totally worthless in suppressing my appetite.

I like it when I accidentally learn new things on the computer. I discovered a way to bring up the statistics and all that on just my Word document files. That way I don’t have to weed through a bunch of shit I don’t use. I can delete files from here, too. What was weird, though, was that one journal file had 130 pages and 100,000 words, while another had 144 pages and 96,000 words. How can I have 4,000 fewer words with 14 more pages?

It’s so cool to look in the mirror and see even, white, non-smoker’s teeth!

THURSDAY, APRIL 1, 1999 I just went out back and could smell the rain in the air as soon as I did. The sky’s a mass of clouds and it’s drizzling out. I noticed the barometer was down when I got up at 2:00, but it will come up with the weekend. It really truly almost never rains on weekends, and if it does, it’s early in the morning. If I didn’t know any better, and if I believed in the power of prayer, I’d be on my knees begging God to have it rain all through Easter Sunday, but I know the weather will be perfect for a three-hour ball game, whether or not the bass is thrown into the package. If all goes as planned, we should have only two more big holidays here - Easter and Memorial Day. Once again, though, any day next door could be a major holiday and call for hours’ worth of ball thumping.

Although yesterday’s visit, not surprisingly, was Andy, Andy, Andy, it was a cool visit that I did enjoy. He didn’t call again or bring food, either.

I told him Tuesday would be a good day of the week for us to chat and that I’d fill him in some more on the houses then since I didn’t get a chance to tell him anything about it, cuz he had to leave for his appointment, although there really isn’t much more to tell till we know for sure what’s going on.

He was only ten minutes late and was baked, as usual. I should’ve known I was wasting my time by telling him that I hoped he’d visit sober. Remind me never to ask my “best friend” for a favor again!

He didn’t seem bigger like I thought he’d be, what with all the eating he does. Just in the gut. This is probably why the buttons popped off his shirt, too. I saw that they were in the gut area.

I first showed him my dolls, then the animals. He had trouble focusing, though, and I couldn’t get his attention to hold on to any one subject for too long. If I’d comment about the dolls, he’d ask about the rats. If I’d comment about the mice, he’d ask about objects in the back room. I was amazed, though, that he remembered Giselle, which I just mailed him a picture of.

Then he surfed the web while I sewed his buttons on. Then he went out back and smoked a cigarette. Then he came back in and told me about last night. He first asked me if I would write about it in my journal. I told him yes, and added to myself - and you’ll read it one of these days too. That’s still a maybe, though, cuz I don’t think Andy’s a big reader, and if he didn’t read the other journal - why read this? Maybe he will given the circumstances. It’s up to him.

It was when he went to tell me the Stevie/Cheryl story that he seemed to sober right up.

He said his friend Wendy from “New Hamster” called to tell him that it was just posted online that Stevie, a friend of Cheryl Crow’s, would be singing at Cheryl’s concert at an old high school in Phoenix that holds 2,000 people.

He called Barbara Nicks and asked if she knew Stevie was gonna be performing. She said no, and he told her he’d call her in a couple of days to let her know how it went. She asked that he call sooner, which he agreed to.

So he and Michelle went to the concert and traded weed for scalper’s tickets. They were $37 a piece if I heard Andy right.

On their way in, Michelle was told she couldn’t take her water jug in. Andy said he told her to just put it down and they’d get it when they returned while distracting the person so Michelle could weasel the jug in.

The concert then went on. Andy said he didn’t know most of the songs, but that Cheryl performed well and was really into it. At some point during the concert, he and Michelle got separated. Then Stevie came on in the end and Andy got to be the closest to her he’d ever been in his life (about 15’). He got 13th-row seats, but Cheryl kept everyone on their feet and I guess people were moving all around. He got right up to the stage. He said Stevie’s lost a lot of weight, and although she still had fat hands and fingers, she looked great. She wore an old, faded red pair of platform boots and her gold/brown hair was straight.

He said some fat guy with a bulging belly walked up to the front of the stage and just stood there staring at Stevie with no emotion whatsoever. Usually, when a guy gives a woman that sort of still, emotionless look, they’re raping or beating her within their minds.

Another weirdo was some girl up on the balcony who just couldn’t stop twirling around and around and around.

So after the concert, he hung around an area with a ramp that connected two buildings. About an hour and three cigarettes later, he saw Stevie with two relatives and a security guard shorter than she was, coming up the ramp. As soon as Stevie got within a five-foot range, he stood up from where he was sitting and said, “May I say hi to Miss Stevie Nicks?” She kept on walking, but called out, “Hi,” as she quickly glanced at him. Then he casually followed her a little way. Meanwhile, all the fans were in front of them several yards away, calling out to Stevie. From just behind Stevie, Andy yelled out to Michelle. Then Stevie and company got in a car and left.

He said he exchanged hellos with Stevie’s brother Chris, too, who went walking by at some point. I can’t remember what he said about this, but he gave him something. Some piece of paper that had to do with Wendy, but he didn’t make himself too clear about what that was all about.

Then shortly afterward, Cheryl and the same security guard came walking up the ramp (Cheryl was heading for her tour bus). Andy approached her when she walked by and told her she put on a wonderful show and was looking forward to a future album that she and Stevie were to produce together, and during the minute or two they spoke, the security guard was pulling her away from him and telling him he had his turn, while she was saying, “It’s OK. It’s OK,” and thanking him.

Then he decided he wanted a Cheryl T-shirt and asked the guy selling them if he’d be willing to trade for one. The guy asked what he wanted to trade, and after Andy hesitated in answering, the guy said, “You want to trade some hushables, huh?” So, Andy weeded his way into a shirt, and now he just may have one more customer to deal to and to risk ending up in jail with, although I can’t see it. Andy’s always been lucky when it comes to getting caught with shit. It’s amazing, though, that some cop didn’t pull us over for some reason during one of the many times I was in his car with him and that I didn’t end up going down with him, since he almost always has pot on him.

I told him I could imagine how much Michelle had to have envied him. He said she was quiet afterward, so he could tell she was jealous.

As always, Andy can’t get through a conversation without mentioning God, and he said he thanked God when he got home and told him he could die now. I got a kick out of that one.

Later…

Sometime next week, we’ll be going to look at one more manufactured home dealer, as I said before, then the next step will be to look for land. I just hope God’s with us, and that we don’t have to settle in a big way. It’s impersonal, so I don’t see why God wouldn’t help us. As long as the dream/goal is material, he usually has no problem with allowing it. I hope to hell we can find some decent land that’s already prepped, cuz that’d save us money that we could put towards the house, furniture, etc.

Tom says that the fact that our house is on the corner is a plus cuz then you don’t have neighbors on two sides of you. Really? I thought most people wouldn’t mind noise/neighbors and wouldn’t want the corner cuz of how people cut across it all the time.

It was my turn to have to reschedule my appointment with Mel and the Doc the other day. The appointment on the 7th was too early for Tom to get home and get me there, so I upped it to the 13th. Tisha understood and said it was only fair since they’ve had to reschedule on me.

Now there’s a blue/white Blazer at the renter’s that some guy and a little kid got out of. These people are just like the freeloaders - so many cars, so many people.