#i was out buying furniture today i got £100 left

[myxomavirus]

retard o clock

[britt-kageryuu]

The stream starts to Mikey in a chef outfit, but he isn't in a kitchen this time.

"Shell-o Everyone! Welcome to the stream. Today, by popular vote in our Discord, were playing one of the Papa's Games! Specifically we're starting with Papa's Freezeria Deluxe." Mikey explains while getting the game on the screen.

"I wanted to start with Papa's Pizzaria, but Freezeria won the poll. Now I'm just glad Dee was able to set up a good emulator so I can play these games." He grumbles as he moves over to the Character Creator.

After setting up his character and naming them Mikan, they watch the opening cutscene.

"Starting up a Summer Job of a tropical island, ooh that fine print saying I pay for all the upgrades~. And will be left to run the shop on my own with next to no training." Mikey says with some sarcasm, "Running a fancy milkshake place all on my lonesome."

"Alright let's start the tutorial... wow that's complicated for a tutorial! Glad for the order ticket." Mikey starts the mini games, and chooses the correct flavors, "Okay careful with the whip cream and drizzle. What are those purple things? So weird. Order up!"

The little score screen shows he just barely missed 100%.

"Guess the toppings were a little off? Well second order, let's go."

Again just short of 100%.

"Okay, a different minigame? And I win extra decorations for playing! I get dress up my character and customize the lobby area! I will buy every piece of furniture and clothes I can!"

A couple customers later~

"Oh a Closer? They're even more harder on the scoring their order... joy! Well let's get these done so I can customize the lobby like I forgot to do."

After some near perfect scores, and a weird minigame later~

"These little letter probably have to bo with events later like, I gotta theme the lobby to match right? Well onto the next day." Mikey watch as he gets a new customer and ingredients, "Nick, okay. Maui Meringue, and Cloudberry weird things to put on a milkshake. That's a whip cream right?"

Mikey starts on the orders when he looks over at chat while waiting for the blender, and checks the lobby, "Oh I forgot to check the upgrades! Oh a gold envelope? So I get a fixed recipe with special bonuses if I get a good score on this? Sweet!"

.....

"Okay, end of the day, and finished the minigame now to get some upgrades!"Mikey announced.

Before he could the 'Choose a Special' part of the tutorial pops up.

"Oh, choose the special, put up some of the decorations I just got first, and Shop" Mikey loked through the options, but only had enough for the doorbell which will tell him when a customer enters the shop. He browsed through the decorations part of the shop for a couple minutes.

"Okay, let's continue!"

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

A few new customers, ingredients, and days later. Not to forget a new Coworker, who would act as a waiter/delivery person named Shelly.

Also trying out the food truck mode for a few minutes.

"Okay, bought the Auto Icecream dispenser, now next day..Now Celebrating Starlight Jubilee? Kinda looks like the Fouth of July. Holiday related toppings and the characters where costumes. WAIT I should've dressed up me and Shelly for this!" Mikey facepalm, and with a dramatic sigh continues, "After I finish the day.

The stream went on for a good hour, with Mikey muttering about the customers saying the topping were off by the width of a grain of sand.

And wishing he could clean the stuff he accidentally dropped out of the cup, because the full 100% service day was still out of his reach.

Though the audience was interested to here him get close to going Dr. Delicate Touch on his keyboard a few times.

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

Masterpost

I was going to make this longer, but the person I was watching for reference did a 3 hour stream as a part 1.

[pbandjesse]

We are at Jess's house! Her house is coming together so nicely and I love that every time I come here it has more furniture and feels so much more complete. It's great.

Today was a weird day. I didn't go to work. Took the day off because when I woke up I was so stupidly dizzy I didn't feel safe going to work. I thought it was possibly a migraine, or just plain exhaustion. So I texted Alexi that I was going to stay home and went back to sleep.

I didn't feel great emotionally sleeping until 11:30 but I apparently needed it. I felt a lot better when I woke up. Even though it felt so late in the day.

I got up and made the bed and went to get ready for the day. I just wanted to be cozy because we would be going to Jess's tonight and I wanted to be able to sleep in whatever I wore. So waffle shirt for the bill there.

James had made me an egg sandwich so I was able to eat something right away. I decided to go through my purse so I would only be carrying the essentials for New York tomorrow.

I was still feeling a little off though. I would take some time to lay down. Got back up and did a little sewing of a Christmas gift. I vacuumed and tried to be at least a little productive.

I was not having an amazing time though. I got very upset when I tried to wrap gifts for Jess and couldn't reach the box of wrapping paper in the closet. And was upset that I was upset. Was just going through it but was feeling irrational for being upset. I was also just upset with myself.

I didn't have a ton to do. And I didn't have the energy to attack any large project. I didn't want to go out because I didn't want to buy anything. I would just lay on the couch or in bed with sweetp and tried to at least rest.

Around 3 I did finally leave. I had to go to creative alliance to pick up some fabric and poly fill that was left for me. And even though the sun was in my eyes a lot it was a nice drive and I appreciated getting to see the neighborhoods we are looking at for moving again.

I parked and walked down the street. The person at the front desk was very nice and went to find the bags. And then when I headed outside someone was making the weirdest turn possible and me and a guy standing there shared a laugh and walked together for the next block talking about people being weird driving. Just a nice little human connection moment.

I went home and tried to make sure I was happy with my mini backpack for New York. I didn't feel 100% comfy with a backpack over my jacket but I am going to try using it as a cross body? First time trying that but so far it is pretty comfortable. And it'll keep the back part where I have my id and cash safe from pick pockets. I lost my wallet once in New York on New Year's Eve. And I never want that to happen again. So I only bring my id and one credit card (the easiest one to freeze) and maybe some cash and that is it. Just a little peace of mind.

James would come home little after 430. And after watering the plants and making sure everyone was fed, we were gathering our stuff and heading to the car.

When we got outside Mr Will was there! Gave me a big kiss on the cheek. And told us to be careful on our little trip. He also said he's trying to get us a new oven by next week so that's exciting.

It was a pretty easy drive to New Jersey. And we arrived before 7. I was really excited to see Jess. And give her gifts! She also had Christmas and birthday gifts for James. She got them a really nice kitchen knife and cover and two baking dishes. Very thoughtful gifts. And she was really excited to get one of the pieces of pottery I made. Which made me feel really good.

Soon we were heading a few towns over to go to dinner. And the food was good but there was a family who just let their 4 kids run around the restaurant?? Throwing things and screeching?? Never even asked them to stop or come sit down or anything. It was very obnoxious.

Santa was there though and he was a good one. So that was nice. And we talked about our schedule for tomorrow. And our fears about how busy it might be. We have both seen pictures of how insane some of the holiday stuff has been but maybe people will have been dissuaded from coming from those videos? Who knows. I hope it will be fun regardless what we do. I'm just looking forward to a cool day.

We got back here and we showed Jess the wedding book and it was nice to see it through her eyes. What she noticed that Callie didnt and stuff like that. Then we just spent some time hanging out talking about the things shes going to be doing with the house. And she just gave me some makeup and showed me her new hot brush. Same one that I want so it's nice to get to see it in person. James is taking a shower and I will soon too.

I hope to sleep good tonight. And have so much energy tomorrow. I hope it's a really good day. I hope it is full of Christmas spirit.

I love you all. Goodnight!

[jodilin65]

MONDAY, MARCH 31, 2014 Yesterday went from fun, adventurous and productive to very sad. My beloved Sugar Ratty apparently had a stroke. Whatever it is for sure caused him to lose control of his motor skills and is affecting him neurologically. He sure acts like he had a stroke, and this is common in older rats. I just never would’ve thought I’d end up losing him first since Romeo’s a few months older. I haven’t lost him yet, but I’ve had enough rats and experience with rodents, in general, to know he’s not going to recover and will probably be gone by next weekend. I know a vet would tell me the same thing. It’s tough, though, cuz I want to make him as comfortable as I can for whatever time he’s got left, but I also don’t want to prolong the inevitable. He doesn’t appear to be suffering now, and hopefully he will pass quickly in his sleep (wipes tear). He probably knows the end has come, along with Romeo, who’s been by his side all the time.

He was out playing yesterday morning and all was fine. Then we went to Home Depot. We seemed to be there forever, but we needed to be because we needed to not only do research, but I wanted to be very selective about what we were buying. Everything ended up costing $400 but should be well worth it.

We checked out carpet and floor samples. For carpet, I’m probably going to end up with some kind of crème or off-white color, but I may also end up with Lilac or Periwinkle. I think it’ll be Angora if we go with the particular brand that has that color. It’s a very pleasant shade for a neutral color. The only potential problem with it is spills. You don’t want to spill red wine or anything like that on Angora carpet!

We saw these really cool color-changing LED tape lights, and checked out panels for our kitchen’s drop ceiling. We’ll eventually replace them, which will cost around $100.

Anyway, we ended up getting white mini blinds for the second bedroom and all 6 windows in the front living room wall, which is technically the side. I just call it the front cuz it faces the street. We’ll probably get shades some other time for the window by the front door and the dining room window.

We both love the blinds much better. It really modernizes the room and makes it look even bigger if you can believe that’s even possible as huge as it already is. It will look even more modern once that wall is whited out. They never painted that particular wall because the old curtains, which were unbelievably filthy as hell, took up almost that entire wall.

Then we got 8 gallons of Glidden semi-gloss paint with primer included. The living room will be the only room with white walls, but there isn’t much open wall space in there anyway cuz of all the windows. We got two gallons of White on White for that room, a gallon of Fresh Pineapple for the kitchen, a gallon of Sexy Pink for the hallway, a gallon of True Turquoise for the laundry room, and two gallons of Minty Green for the bedroom.

So as we’re excitedly talking about colors, furniture, decorations and stuff like that while we’re both pulling down old curtains and rods and installing blinds, I look over at Tom who’s looking at the rats in a strange way. I asked what was wrong and he said he was trying to figure out why Sugar was spazzing out. When I walked over the cage he appeared to be twitching and making jerky motions like he was stunned or something and was turning in circles as if he couldn’t see or make up his mind where he wanted to go. Clearly, he could still hear cuz when I called his name he jerkily staggered up to the door.

Today, not only did I awake with the earache from hell, but he’s not coming to me when I call his name, he’s not eating or drinking, and well, it’s a very sad thought to know he’ll never again chase me around the house, “tackle” me or cuddle up with me ever again (begins sobbing).

Later…

Sugar is now spending most of his time sleeping. He did stagger out of the burrow like he wanted attention for a few minutes. He seems to hear just fine, but I’m not sure he can see. What sucks is that I can’t get him to eat or drink. I’ve held water to his face, cheese, bread, crackers – but he won’t take a thing. It’s truly heartbreaking.

Truly frustrating is that I still have earaches and doubt any expert can help me figure out what it is and what to do about it if there’s anything that even can be done about it. I’m sure the guy would at least love to try and run all kinds of tests on me… at OUR expense. I guess I will just have to suffer on and off, knowing that I wouldn’t be doing so in the first place if it wasn’t meant to be for whatever sick, twisted reason the bastard above has for picking on me in so many ways for so many years. And now He wants to take my beloved rat a good 8 or 9 months before he should be taken. flips finger skyward

I’d say a long, long walk is in order this morning, not just to walk off some of the shit I ate over the weekend and keep my muscle tone up, but to help clear my head. Camp Nano doesn’t start till tomorrow and I have no other major obligations today. So why not walk and walk and walk…

SUNDAY, MARCH 30, 2014 Grabbed a few more animals at Walmart and now I have 28 pieces total. This is definitely going to be it for now.

Gray and white cat

White-tailed fawn

Adult deer

German Shepard

Golden retriever

Siberian husky

Dalmatian

Gray squirrel

White mouse

Black and white rabbit

Girl with white rabbit

Giraffe

Red fox

Coyote

Bengal tiger

White tiger

Rattlesnake

Hermit crab

Kudu antelope

Black and white horse

Brown and white longhorn cow

Black and white Holstein cow

Blue parakeet

Polar bear

Kangaroo

Prairie dog family

Zebra

Raccoon

While at Walmart, besides groceries, I also got a cute little personal electric razor. It’s great cuz it’s the size of a long tube of lipstick or a skinny tube of mascara and can fit in a purse easily. Mine’s got a rose design on it and is great for trimming those extra personal areas.

I also got some hot pink nail polish. Great color, shit quality. I will never buy from Sinful Colors again.

I love to try new things so I got some Triscuit crackers in Garden Herb flavor. I likey. A little salty, but good. Of course the rats just love ‘em, LOL.

I have been trying to get in the habit of buying fresh foods instead of prepared foods, not because it will get any weight off with this bum thyroid, but to save money. I don’t want to be all or nothing either, so this week I took a break from the fresh foods I have to cook and season from scratch and got some of the pre-cooked stuff I love. Not just frozen dinners, but a chicken broccoli cheddar bake in the refrigerated section that is so delish and so homemade tasting! No Angus burgers this week, which taste the most fast food-like out of any frozen burger I’ve ever tasted. But they’re super high in grease and calories so I don’t have them very often. I do what I’m good at. I’m not good at losing weight, but I’m good at not gaining any more and one way I do that is to keep the calories down. Not as low as I’d like, but low enough.

I wish I was a great cook and great with sewing, but again, I’m trying to focus on what I AM good at. Just like it’s best to focus on what we DO have rather than dwell on what we don’t have, I try to take what I’m good at and go with that rather than struggle for what doesn’t come as easily to me. It isn’t that I don’t like to take on challenging tasks at times, it’s just that I want to find a better balance between doing what comes naturally as opposed to what’s more challenging for me that’s only going to make me end up feeling frustrated. There are different types of challenges too, I suppose you could say. Learning languages and writing stories is always challenging, but I still have a knack for it.

Copied some surveys for bloggers from Tumblr and will do those while my electronic proofreader is running. It’s so boring just sitting there doing nothing while it reads, so this way I’ll answer some questions while listening to the reader.

Going to Home Depot this morning for the mini blinds and to pick out the final wall colors. Can’t wait!

SATURDAY, MARCH 29, 2014 Just a quick entry before I get on with the grocery list and fleshing out the characters for my next book. That in itself can be quite a job. I’ve tossed around a few plot ideas in my mind over the last week, and now I’m pretty sure of where I want to take the story. So next it’s off to assign names, ages, roles, etc., to the lead characters.

I never used to like reality TV because I believed that TV wasn’t supposed to be about reality, but more like an escape from reality. Lately, though, I really like some of the crime-related series. There’s one that features real 911 calls. One was a case of a woman alone in the country who shot and killed an intruder. What I don’t get is why she felt so bad about it afterward. I mean of course it was an unfortunate thing that no one wants to have happen to them. No one wants to be forced to kill someone who’s trying to kill them. But still… how do you feel bad about doing the right thing and defending yourself? It seems only natural. That’s why I don’t get why some women won’t fight back against an abusive guy. It only seems like a natural reflex to want to strike back just like it’s a natural reflex for us to blink if a bug or something starts to fly into our eyes. If it were me, it’d be a shitty experience to have to go through, but I wouldn’t feel any worse than I would for shooting a grizzly bear that was about to eat me alive.

Another thing I don’t get is the foolishness of some of those with a gun being aimed at them. Like the guy that broke into the woman’s house. As the woman herself said, “All he had to do was stop coming toward me and he would’ve lived.” Why are so many people so dumb? The last thing one should do is challenge or dare someone holding a gun. That is so macho male-ish, too. Always gotta be a hero. Or try to be. To say, “You’re not really going to shoot me,” is ridiculous for if they weren’t seriously considering it they probably wouldn’t be holding the gun on you in the first place. If you’re dumb enough to dare them or to charge them then yes, you really will almost certainly end up getting shot. I know that if someone said, “Go ahead, bitch, shoot me,” I personally would obey that command. :) Especially if it were them or me.

FRIDAY, MARCH 28, 2014 On the rare occasion that I check the news, I never fail to come away from it feeling saddened or angry. Reading about Texas banning abortions was no exception. Most people were all like, yay! And, this is great! And so on and so forth.

If being on top of the news is “educational,” I’d rather be left in the dark unless it directly affects me.

What is the matter with my fellow human beings, though? Just what is the matter with people? Don’t they realize how truly wrong this is? First off, a fetus has no more awareness than a doorknob as its brain hasn’t developed yet. Any doctor or scientist can confirm this. So to call abortion “murder” is as absurd as calling a punch in the face “love.” Violence is not love as abortion is not murder.

It saddens me to know that now some women’s lives will not only be at risk, but all these unwanted kids will also be born to parents who aren’t ready, can’t afford them, don’t want them, or who might’ve been raped. To hell with what the woman wants; it’s all about this cluster of cells that as of yet is no more aware than a blade of grass.

I have always had a low opinion of Texas much like I do Arizona. Texas may not favor blacks like Arizona does, but not only have I met quite a few bigots and assholes from that state, it’s also gone and added one more barbaric law to its already long list of crazy laws. Again, Texas may not favor minorities and not everyone there may be a shitster, but it’s always been as quick as Arizona to hand out sentences fit for a rapist for the pettiest of bullshit. Now women are thrown back in time with fewer rights and now more unwanted children can be born into an already overpopulated world.

Congratulations, Texas. Keep the insanity rolling.

Later…

Tom and I were discussing Texas banning abortions and he agrees it’s wrong. I feel sad both for women and for the unwanted children being forced into this sorry world. So much for thinking the Constitution would protect a woman’s rights. It’s bad enough to know they’ll force women to have kids they don’t want, but even sicker is that they’ll let it kill her if her life is at risk.

What. The. Fuck?

They’ll remove a tumor that might kill you, but not a cluster of cells that has no awareness? Again, our brains aren’t even developed till well after we’re born, which is why we can’t remember being born, so where people come up with this idea that a fetus has all this grand sense of feeling and awareness is beyond me. And of course the idiots are thanking God for this crazy law. But why? God didn’t do anything but sit back and allow people to trample upon the rights of women. That’s all the bastard did.

We don’t force women to live in states they don’t want to live in, we don’t force them to choose careers they don’t want to have, so why are we forcing kids on them??? Sadly, I see a new trend that I feared many years ago would slowly become the norm, and it wouldn’t surprise me if abortion were one day illegal nationwide. For now, I expect Texas will have a lot more women dying on their hands as they attempt to do what the state won’t rightfully do for them. Especially the poor ones who can’t just run to another state.

Hopefully, when one woman is killed by health complications after she was denied an abortion, her BF or husband will go after the people who allowed such appalling laws. Really, I hope every single one of them gets run over by a car or something!

THURSDAY, MARCH 27, 2014 My sparkling fruity water is gone, so now it’s back to plain old boring water.

I’m excited about the possibility of seeing Andy in late November! There’s a concert he wants to see that will be in Sacramento at the time, so he may spend the night then. As much as I’m anxious to see him I’m glad that it’s only to be for a night because I not only have no idea what my schedule will be or what will be going on with me at that time, but he would also be bored out of his mind for more than a night. I’m in a non-touristy location with not much more to do than eat and shop. It’s too chilly to swim in November, so there really wouldn’t be much else for him to do. This isn’t Hawaii or Florida, that’s for sure.

I just can’t wait to see him! To be able to hug him and show him the things I’ve only been able to describe and show in pictures thus far will be nice. Not sure the rats will still be alive at that time, not that he’s dying to meet them, LOL.

Used to hate reality TV. Not anymore. Love the "I Survived" series and similar series as well. I’m a Prime Amazon member so I watch them there. Some of the stories are encouraging and amazing while others are heart-wrenching and totally terrifying.

Really pissed, though not surprised, that my ear pain is back. I should know by now that the past always returns to haunt me. No matter how much I swear something bad will never be again, it seems I can’t escape it forever. So much for thinking a dehumidifier would help. It at least softens my skin a bit. Pretty sure now that the earaches are caused by inner ear tube blockage. (sighs) So I can forget about a pain-free life in that department and just be thankful for Ibuprofen.

The only dream of many I know I had that I actually remember was at this airport that seemingly had no security whatsoever. I was pissed at someone that was taking off on a very long flight, perhaps to Asia. The passengers had boarded and were waiting for takeoff when I ran onto the plane and screamed at them. Then I exited the plane and started to walk away. But then I decided I wasn’t done yelling at them and had more to say. So back on the plane, I went to scream at them some more. Suddenly I realized the seats were laid out slightly differently. People were now kicked back on these recliners that left little space to walk around. Then the plane started moving and I realized, terrified, that I was stuck on the plane and was going wherever it was heading. I shouted for them to stop but of course it didn’t do me any good.

Most of our Amazon order came today. The fox is bigger than I thought and the girl holding the rabbit is smaller, though amazingly detailed. Disappointed with BOTH perfumes. I thought Brown Sugar would smell just like that, brown sugar. Instead, it smells lemony. I can still use it, though. Pink Sugar smells exactly as it should smell, but the roller is broken. The ball is stuck up inside the cap. I can still shake it onto me. Love the moon fairy and the animals I got.

Tom’s cold is getting better but he still has a nasty cough.

As long as no more hair falls out, I love having thinner hair. It dries faster and is much easier to manage. It even seems a bit straighter. I just hope I don’t lose any more.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 26, 2014 The fattest runner on earth managed to get her ass out for a run today, lol. I’m shocked to see how fast I’m getting. I chose to just run around the circle tonight. It used to take 5 minutes to make a round. I figured 4 rounds would make a 20-minute run. Wrong! I was surprised to find I’d only been out there 10 minutes when I came inside. I’d have to make 12 rounds to get in a half-hour run! That’d be boring running around the same block over and over, so next time it’s back in the other direction.

The other curtain rod and the bug zapper, which looks like a tennis racket, came today. Now I’m looking for things to kill, LOL, but our Riddex plug-in device usually does a good job of keeping bugs away. I’ll go outside and hunt for prey some other time.

Got a ton of things coming tomorrow.

I thought Nane was already in Hamburg, but that’s not until next weekend. She’s been busy working and planning. I guess she’s hunting for a vacation apartment in Greece but is having trouble finding things within a decent price range.

Less than a week till Camp NaNoWriMo. Gotta start mapping out my story plot.

TUESDAY, MARCH 25, 2014 OMG, this is too fucking funny. I decided to write Kim M, who was in under the alias of Kim W, my first celly who was as likable as she was not. She was smart and helpful, but a two-faced beggar with warped priorities.

I put the return from Kim W. LOL, that’ll really throw her. Then I wrote out a bogus Sacramento address, took a wet Q-tip, and smeared part of the address. I didn’t want to leave the return blank and I certainly didn’t want to put my own. This way there’s an address even though there isn’t. Not sure if they’ll really believe something spilled on it and smudged it, but I figured it was better than nothing. This way they have to give it to her. At least I hope they do. I can never know these days. First God wanted to punish me for speaking my mind, now He seems to not want me to speak it at all.

I didn’t say anything bad. I mean I wasn’t breaking any laws or anything like that. I just told her I thought of her over the years and wondered what she’d been up to, but that it was sad that she chose crime over her kids. I told her I wanted to let her guess and wonder who I was till she figured it out. If not, she could look me up on Facebook when she gets out. So I wasn’t trying to be totally deceptive and hide my identity altogether. I just didn’t want to make it that easy for her either. I laugh at the idea of her being like, WTF? when she first reads the letter.

I also enclosed some excerpts from our time together. I’m sure she’ll love that trip down Memory Lane, LMAO, and of course I threw in some weird stuff just to mess with her and throw her off. A line in German and some senseless mumbo-jumbo, along with a couple of funny events that never happened. I even threw in a steamy sex clip from one of my books, using hers and Jessica’s name. Jess was our celly some of the time.

Later…

Having one of those days where I don’t feel sluggish so much as I feel lazy. I don’t want to do anything but write, read and maybe watch a movie. I don’t even feel like listening to music. I do have some housework to do and I’m going to make sure I don’t laze out of that. I made a few bucks doing surveys, which I try to do every day so long as it only takes 10-20 minutes. A few bucks may not seem like much till you add it up by the month and realize it’s adding an extra $100 to your income.

Soon I will clean, do one of my French lessons, then proofread old stuff.

Running’s out of the question for tonight cuz it started raining. Sometimes it’s so, so hard to motivate myself to run. When you know your weight can never be lost due to thyroid issues it’s really hard to push yourself to get out there. I know I could jump on the treadmill, but it’s not doing me any good other than to keep me fit and strong and from gaining any more weight. I know I should be thankful for at least that much. I may be big but I’m in shape. Running is healthy and it has decreased my joint pain while increasing my flexibility.

Thank goodness I’m not the self-conscious type or else I’d be embarrassed to be seen running this big, knowing that by now some people must be wondering why I keep running but never lose the weight. My only slim parts are my calves and forearms, LOL. 1000 calories a day to lose it that way? Fuck no! That’s like starving.

The exciting thing is all the packages we have coming. We did a HUGE $600 Amazon order wanting to stock up on things that are cheaper there and plan not to shop there again for 6 months to a year because we got sooo much shit. The list includes:

Vitamins for both of us.

K-cups for me.

An electric bug zapper that looks like a small tennis racket.

Another curtain rod and curtains with a beach scene for the front window.

A tablet for Tom.

Pink Sugar and Brown Sugar perfume for me.

A fairy figurine and 2 doll cases for my expensive bride doll Summer Dream and for the last doll I got to help keep the whites of their gowns bright and dust-free.

A new wallet and tons of electronic and computer gadgets for Tom, including an electric screwdriver which will help install the new blinds we plan to get for the living room windows and the second bedroom.

6 more Schleich animals, which will complete my animal figure collection as that’s pretty much all I want. The newcomers will be a deer, a fox, a kudu antelope, a zebra, a kangaroo, and a girl holding a rabbit.

MONDAY, MARCH 24, 2014 According to Walter, he estimates there’ll be a little over 10k to divvy up and I should receive around 4k. So wrong. So great but so wrong. I should be receiving 6k and my 4 nieces should be receiving 1k and not 1.5k. My check may be more than theirs, but I should’ve received 60% of the total and not 40%. Maybe I’m selfish and maybe I should be a bit more grateful, but for some reason that is a real slap in the face. I was her daughter. Not her granddaughter.

Walter says it will be a few weeks before my money is sent because he needs to meet with the CPA. I figured it’d take some time. These things always do. We’re not going to do the floors and carpet till we receive it cuz we want to save our money for other things.

Lady Di returned to Ask and now my follower count is at 5. I know that one is her and one is Andy, so who the hell could the other 3 be that are following this secret account? I’m guessing they’re either old accounts of Lady Di’s, or random followers from before I started hiding from the homepage. If they were stalkers they’d have reached out to me by now, even if it were under a bogus account.

Again they turned the water off. I could tell when I got up by the way the pipes were spitting air. I’m glad I wasn’t up earlier. I’d have been pissed. Daily landscaping sounds, car door slamming, loud traffic, water outages… in some ways, it was quieter at Jesse’s not that I miss being there with him and his mutts. Had to laugh knowing how hot I’d have woken up today if we were there what with how warm it got today. Going to bed at 6am on a day that was set to get up to 80° would mean having to decide – do I want to open the window before bed and go to bed cold? Or do I want to let the heat wake me up, get up, open the window, then go back to bed? Then if that wasn’t enough I’d have to take my tired ass and climb on the step stool to reach the cooler’s control if the computer wasn’t operating it. It was total bum living.

I’m tired of these rats stinking like shit half the time cuz this cage is so hard to clean. I’m going to put them back in the ferret cage even if it means having to scream at Romeo for making the mess he would make in that cage. He’s the second rat we ever had that loves to push bedding out. He’s not able to do that in this cage cuz of the “screen” that keeps him from reaching it.

Went to Behr's site and wasn't as impressed with their paint colors as I am with Glidden, which is what we used to do the second bedroom in with their Palest Lavender. I'm sure they're pretty much the same shades so maybe it was just the site layout I didn't care for as much.

The tentative color choices are:

Kitchen - Fresh Pineapple

Master bed - Minty Green

Hallway - Sexy Pink

Laundry room - Robin's Egg

Living room - Dove White

SUNDAY, MARCH 23, 2014 Tom has a cold right now. He had a sore throat for a few days with no other symptoms, and no matter how many times I tell him to scald his throat to kill it before it can fully set in the moment it’s sore, he won’t do it. Now he has a cough as well.

I just love our new dishwasher! It does the best job of any dishwasher I’ve ever used. I fried some pork chops in a skillet, rinsed it out, then the dishwasher got it spotless from there. In the past, I’d have to at least wipe the thing down with a sponge first. So I guess now I don’t even have to do pots and pans. At least not for the most part.

It’s 75° out there now. I like to run after my scheduled eating times, so that will be at either 8pm or 11pm. I’ll probably go at 11pm. No traffic at that time.

Last night I had a dream I had 3 kids and this guy I supposedly knew took off with them in a car saying I was a shitty mother. I then donned my running shoes and ran after the car (amazing if I could run that fast for real), and eventually caught up to it. The car stopped and I flung the driver’s door open in a rage. Cussing, I grabbed the guy by his jacket, but since he was well over 200 pounds I couldn’t drag him out of the vehicle. I could kick and punch, though, and that’s what I did. I had him out cold in seconds and got my kids back. Only thing is it turned out that my “kids” were baby ponies, LOL. They were happily jumping up and down and licking my face like playful puppies.

I'm exploring the map of the park to expand my running route as I get faster and in better shape. There's no way I'm exploring new turf at night, though. I'll wait till I can go out early morning since it's a bit warm at sunset. We're in for a cool wet spell, though.

SATURDAY, MARCH 22, 2014 When a stranger comes to the door my first thought is to be suspicious and wonder if a certain corrupt ex-piggy and his sick associates who lived with us for too many years may be up to no good. A chick in her 20s came to ask about some political candidate she was campaigning for. Never heard of the person nor do I care. I politely told her I wasn’t interested, though I probably should’ve told her that soliciting isn’t allowed here. She probably was who she said she was, though, or else a uniformed cop would’ve likely shown up fishing for names and whatnot. It’s when they come and ask you if your name is someone you’ve never heard of that they’re probably messing with you.

Went running for a half-hour, though I ended up walking some of it. Took off too fast and burned out quicker and all with the help of the sun, too. I still like to do a “sun run” every 2-3 days to keep my color going. It’s not much, though. Just a little on my face, neck and arms.

Stopped and chatted with a couple of ladies whose dog just loved the hell out of me and had to run up to me as if I were an old buddy it hadn’t seen in ages. Then I detoured by heading down by the lake. The ducks were all resting in the shade of the trees.

Virginia was driving by as I was returning to the house. “It’s too hot to work so hard!” she called out to me. Well, it won’t be on Tuesday and Wednesday if they’re right about the rain we’re to get.

Tom and I gouged out the expanding foam we put in the pot of the tree that fell over, then refilled it partway with Plaster of Paris. Once it dries I’ll add my decorative gems to it.

Got about a week now to decide if I want to join Camp Nano in April and I think I will. I’m mapping story ideas out in my head.

Emailed Alison to let her know about Molly, who landed right smack on my LiveJournal blog today (even though she only saw my bio), but I’ll have to wait a week or so before I hear back from her. I get sick of having to wait days to hear from my online besties, but they gotta do what they gotta do. Strange how Molly never tried to access my Blogger blog… unless she did so too fast for GA to pick it up.

It just hit me… Molly comes around 4 days after I stop updating on my-diary, which isn’t trackable. Could she possibly have known about my account there and followed me there to escape detection?

Nah, I think she likes showing up on my tracker. Good way to rub her unwanted presence in my face.

Every now and then I check Tom’s account to see if there are any notifications about whatever. From there I decided to block Mrs. M’s account just in case she ever tried to look it up. Even though I opted out of searches, I know how unreliable Facebook can be. I swear I had his friend list hidden, even if there’s only me and an ex-coworker on it, but sure enough, it was public.

Couldn’t find Molly, but I found an account of Kim’s in her real name and with her real fat ugly face. I blocked that, too. Sure enough, when I tried to access that account from my own page, she had blocked it as if I were the perpetrator and not her. I don’t know if she’s just kidding herself, delusional, paranoid or what, but she once tweeted something to the effect of blocking old friends before they find her. snorts with disgust Why would I want to “find” her other than to block her sorry ass?

FRIDAY, MARCH 21, 2014 Managed to get a full charge on my iPod after all. Maybe I just didn’t let it charge long enough, though it is getting old. My giraffe figurine came and now I’m waiting on the curtain rod for the dining room window.

Like clockwork, my body is now holding its weight after losing 4-5 pounds after my period and refusing to budge another pound. By my next period, I will have gained the weight back in both water and fat brought on by PMS hunger. The first few weeks after periods I eat to live, then after that, I live to eat.

Last night I dreamed we were having 3 or 4 people do something for us at the house, though I don’t know what. Tom went to pay them and was short a dollar fifty. I worried this meant we were now broke. I found the money in my handbag and paid the workers.

Then I watched as someone else came in and began spraying for bugs, hoping that we weren’t broke after all if we could afford to pay someone to spray for us. In real life, we’d do it ourselves.

I had a quick dream of Andy visiting, too. It was late at night. Tom was already in bed. Andy came in from someplace (a concert?) and was eating something. I told him I was going to turn in and asked him to make sure the doors were locked before he went to bed. He nodded through a mouthful of food.

The last dream I remember is staring with a few people at a picture of me sitting next to Nane by a pool somewhere. The people were laughing at how puny I looked compared to her.

Later…

Damn it! Just realized the trolls could now know what park I live in. I rated the park, not realizing it was set to public, and it was viewable on my wall to outsiders. It was probably only visible for a day or two, but that’s all it takes for the wrong people to see it. Including the shit Mexican down in Arizona. I suspect, however, that she and her friends never received the message at all, even to their ‘other’ box. Nor did one of her friends that I friended see the friend invite, which has since been canceled. There’s no way to get my two cents to this sick bitch unless I can find a way to track her down on a reliable site that can deliver people’s messages, and I’ve been unable to do so so far.

As for the trolls, if I keep out of easy reach I should be able to avoid tempting them to abuse my location in any way. Only problem with delusional people is that if someone’s fucking with them, they may automatically think it’s me. Hell, Kathy’s not crazy yet she suspected I might’ve messed with her from a bogus account. rolls eyes Like I’d care to waste my time doing so?

A few days ago Alison told me Mommy Dearest sent her a message on Facebook that she barely glanced at. Something about Molly not doing too well. So she too, just like her crazy daughter, thinks she can simply waltz on back into people’s lives after treating them like shit?

Earlier tonight I saw that Molly peeked in on me. What was weird was that she landed on my LiveJournal profile page but never attempted to view that blog or any other. All entries on LiveJournal are private except for my bio. Did she just want to remind me of her presence?

Later…

Tammy called saying she got sick after leaving her pulmonologist and just wanted to vent. Nothing wrong with that, but I wonder what made her sick?

Got the rod with the pink crystal balls on the ends and found it to be quite rigid. Tom feared it might be flimsy, but not at all. Gonna get a matching one for the decorative curtains I planned to put in the window by the door.

I realized that had I known I was going to do just the side windows I’d have gotten a garden and a beach scene instead of two garden scenes. So I decided to get a rod with purple crystals to hang the second garden scene in the second bedroom with. I will then get the beach scene for the window by the front door.

We were given 2k of credit from a company with no interest due till December. We’re pretty sure we can pay that off by then, so we’ll get these things with that credit. I’m not going to take pictures till it’s all done.

We don’t want to do anything with the carpet and walls until we have the money from Walter and know exactly what we have to work with. Unfortunately, I didn’t hear from him all week. If there are no calls or emails when I get up Monday afternoon, I’ll contact him to see if I can find out what’s up. Really hope we’re not waiting on Jennifer or somebody he can’t get ahold of.

Made my final decision on the wall colors. There will be 5 pastels and white. The only walls that will remain white are in the living room. That way any color won’t clash with my decorative curtains. The other colors will be lavender, mint green, sunny yellow, pale pink and sky blue.

Tom added memory to my computer and it’s now a little faster.

My Phoenix book is now complete. I’m working on the Maricopa book now and will make it public once it’s complete.

THURSDAY, MARCH 20, 2014 It’s been amazingly quiet since I got up at around 10am, but the day is still young and I’m sure I’ll hear some sawing and buzzing at some point. Maybe even lose the water for a while. Yeah, they decided to turn it off for a while yesterday. We’re both disappointed in this park in some ways. He doesn’t care about the noise because he’s out a lot more than I am and isn’t as easily distracted by it as I am, but he’s disappointed in the water outages, even if it’s been a while since the last one.

As for me, I think the park is very pleasing to the eye, and I love knowing I can run without dogs chasing me or anything like that, but it’s not nearly as quiet as I would have thought it would be for an adult community. Haven’t heard that dog since its last 3-hour barking spree, but I don’t think it’s because someone said something to them. I’m now thinking they were doing something inside the home that required getting the dog out of the way. I would’ve heard it a long time ago if that wasn’t the case, cuz no one wants to bring their dogs indoors here if given a choice.

It’s around 70° now which is a bit warm for running in the direct sunlight, especially if you don’t want to burn. I’m going to wait until the last of the direct sunlight fades before I go out on my run.

Down 4.5 pounds since my last period, but I’m not stupid. I know my body. Another week it will go into defensive mode, fight to hang onto its weight, and refuse to give up another pound. Then the intense PMS hunger will kick in and I’ll eat on half of what I lost since the other half will be water, but you know what? I’m ok with that cuz I definitely don’t have to worry about gaining indefinitely on what I’m doing. I’m eating a low-cal, high-protein diet with a half-hour of running and walking each day. If the best I can do is bounce up and down within the same 5-pound range having hypothyroidism, that’s better than hopelessly gaining a pound a day for life.

What I don’t get is why some obese people say they’re proud to be that way. I’m not obese myself, but 20-30 extra pounds really show at my height. To me, though, obesity is not an accomplishment to be proud of. It’s unsightly and it’s unhealthy. So while I can certainly see some people being ok with it, which is perfectly fine, how can you be “proud” of it??? Obesity is caused by either overeating and lack of exercise or a serious medical condition. What’s to be proud of in that case even if you don’t mind being big?

Tammy's looking forward to heading down to Florida at the end of next month. In response to my complaining about how my sunburn is making my scars more evident and I might as well wear a neon sign saying I WAS SUICIDAL, she reminded me how many scars she’s got from her numerous surgeries. The poor girl is like a human cutting board!

I have more to write about, but will do it in another entry.

Later…

Tom’s working late and I’m doing laundry while impatiently waiting for the sun to start setting so I can go out running.

I spoke to Andy last night who told me about his nightmare. Had to laugh when he said it’d take him two days to type it up, too. Anyway, in real life, his doctor, who was also his mother’s doctor, is moving out of state. He’s waiting for his new doctor. Meanwhile, he had a dream that his old doctor told him, with his mother in the room, that he would die of a cancerous tumor found near his shoulder blade. This, in combination with the dream I had of him calling to tell me he had cancer, scared the shit out of him. It would scare me too, if we both had a knack for life imitating some of our worst dreams.

But as I reminded him, not all my bad dreams come true. Yes, too many of them for comfort have a way of coming to life, but not ALL. A violent or deadly dream of someone usually means that the person I dreamed about is in for a rough spell and not necessarily the end.

His worst fears have always been burning alive in a fire or not being able to breathe, and he seriously worries he’ll one day not be able to breathe, just like I worry about Tom and I growing old and unable to fend for ourselves.

The only dreams I remember last night was painting part of our place, which didn’t look like our place, as usual. Only I was painting a low or the lower part of a wall. I decided to paint it lavender and then paint the “ends” pale pink on one end and light blue on the other.

Then I was with these two other women. Don’t know if I lived with them or was just staying someplace with them or what. One was white and poor, the other rich and black. The black one’s daughter was murdered and I apparently wrote a book about it to help bring awareness to the case or something like that. When I held the book up to her from behind a wall with a window in it, her smile fell and she stormed off, clearly upset. After briefly considering taking off in case she turned violent on me, I decided I wasn’t going to run scared and would fight back if she attacked me, even if I was risking her crying racism, hate crime or whatever.

Later…

Went on my 2-mile run and I’m not even tired anymore afterward. Sweaty but not tired. Went out once the direct sunlight disappeared and loved all the cooking and flower smells. I love all the decorative mailboxes some people have, too. Worked my arms and abs before it was time to go out, and now I’m going to relax the rest of my day away.

Yesterday we got our decorative drapes but we can’t transfer them to the drawstring track. They look ridiculous. So we ordered a rod with pink translucent balls on the ends. In the end, we’re going to do away with all the old curtains and liners and put up mini blinds in all the living and dining room windows. We can still put the decorative drapes over the side windows as planned.

I also threw in a giraffe for my growing zoo, which will be Animal Figure #18.

My figure skater trio came today. They’re made of very sturdy metal, but there was no wall mount or hooks or any way to hang them, so I placed two in the laundry room window and they look really cool there cuz you can see them from both inside and outside. The other one will be placed above that window once that room is painted.

The tentative floor and wall plans are to return to the original idea of re-carpeting everything that’s carpeted right now. Crème colored carpet will probably be what will replace this old ugly dark brown carpet. I’ll probably leave the master bath’s floor alone since it’s in good condition. I will probably pick some light-colored linoleum tiling for the other bath, laundry room and kitchen.

I’m not sure what all the wall colors will be, but one idea is this: The second bedroom is lavender. The master bedroom will be minty green. The kitchen will be a deep turquoise or sunny yellow. The laundry room will be powder blue. The living, dining and hallway will be pale pink.

I want to eventually get my bride doll, plus the one I recently got, sturdy cases to display them in to protect the whites of their gowns. It’s just that decent display cases are expensive! $50 - $100 just for a lousy case. Well worth it, though.

Tom was given two nice computers from work. I’m not at liberty to discuss how and why he got them. There’s a lot of security and confidentially where he works and with his job. They're actually a bit nicer and faster than our Macs and will make great backups if our Macs go out since they're getting pretty old.

I briefly considered taking one and returning to Windows, but I don’t like their square-ish aspect ratio and while Windows may be safer and less crash-happy than it used to be, I haven’t had a single virus since I went Mac many years ago and have only crashed 2 or 3 times. So why change what works even if Mac is a little trickier to navigate and I miss a couple of my old Windows programs?

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 19, 2014 Was out running at around 10am. It’s getting too hot for running. It's fine in the shade, but when I run out from under those Cali Oaks I can feel myself frying. It's nice keeping my Maui color going, but tomorrow I might run in the evening.

I swear if I lose one more strand of hair I’m stopping the thyroid medication. I’d rather be fat than bald. Some research shows that others have complained about it too, so there is a connection. I knew one of the symptoms of a bum thyroid was hair loss, but it looks like the medication can add to it. Tom said we can get me some Rogaine if need be, but I’d rather stop having health problems and costing us money.

I’m obviously not as big as I was in Hawaii because my gorgeous tank tops I got in a size large are now loose on me. I can still wear them, though, and they’re great for running. Still, if I had known, I’d have gotten mediums.

Upon inspection, Tom thinks the bees were getting in through an old unused vent opposite from where the oven is. We have no idea what the hell it was once used for, as there doesn’t seem to be any way an oven was ever in that area. He clamped some screen over the end of it and sprayed it real good with bug spray.

Again I hear sawing, but this sounds like a circular saw and not a chainsaw. Still, what is it with these people?

Andy wants me to call him so he can tell me about a terrifying dream he had that he doesn’t want to leave in a voice message. That must be some dream if he doesn’t want to leave a message! I’m definitely curious. I guess we might talk later unless he changes his mind or something comes up.

TUESDAY, MARCH 18, 2014 What kind of barking, hammering and landscaping will I be in for today? Well, I didn’t hear any landscaping or home improvements going on yesterday, but I can’t fucking believe they let their dog bark on and off for 3 hours, even though I can. All good things really come to an end for us, and this mutt will probably be hanging out there during the daytime till it gets really hot.

Without giving my name, I left a message at the office while they were out to lunch, and gave them the house number. I doubt they’ll do anything about it, though, and will probably just consider it regular daytime noise. I’m not going to complain again, though. I’ll just do what I do when the landscapers start up (though I’d rather that than barking any day), and hit the sound machine on. Maybe others will complain, but I doubt it. Maybe if it barked 8 hours a day they would, but I can’t see it getting that bad. Gosh, I hope not!

Oh shit. It looks like they came to work on the house they were last working on. I gotta get back on nights. I really do.

Later…

I was too excited to break the good news last night, but let me just kick on the sound machine so I don’t have to hear whatever home improvement projects, barking and landscaping that may occur today, then I’ll get on with it.

If only, I would think to myself. If only I could just win enough money to cover the cost of new floors and carpets, the most expensive of the upgrades we want to do. That way we still may have to take out a loan to get another car, but the rest of the projects would be relatively cheap compared to carpet and flooring so long as we didn’t try to do it all at once. A little here and a little there. That’s why we didn’t get curtains for the entire living and dining area. We got curtains for the side windows. Depending on how those look, we’ll eventually do the front. But just enough to do the floors would be heavenly!

And then I saw I had a message from Tammy. In it, she didn’t explain why, but she said I needed to call Walter, the attorney who handled my parents’ estate after they died. Her tone sounded almost annoyed, so we figured it was just to sign some form I needed to sign and that’s all.

“If they screwed up and overpaid me, I’m not paying back a penny of that abusive bitch’s money,” I told Tom determinedly.

Since it’s been nearly a year, Tom said he doubted it’d take them this long to realize they overpaid me and are usually pretty good about that sort of thing anyway.

I agreed, though I also knew he wasn’t calling to tell me more money was on its way even though the legal documents stated something to the effect of a small amount possibly to be added in addition, though it was unlikely.

Wrong! I’ve got thousands on the way thanks to a tax filing error. I emailed him my new address and SS# which he asked for, though I’m not exactly sure how much the check will be. He said 10k, but is that the total? Or is that what I’m to get? I think it’s the total. For it to be my share would mean the total was something like 25k and that seems a bit extreme. Still, 4k would easily take care of these floors! Still not sure what we’re going to install where, but we have between now and when we get the money to decide.

Still don’t like that my 4 nieces are getting 15%. 5 or 10 would’ve been more reasonable. But it is still an unexpected surprise that I also see as a wonderful bonus. Had the will been done up like most wills, their grandkids would get nothing and their kids would have to split it equally which means I’d get a third of the money and not 40%. Worse would be knowing that Larry’s child-woman would be about to make even more money that should rightfully be mine.

“I’m happy for you. It still hurts that I lost 15k to trips to Florida before Mom died. At least you are getting what you deserve,” Tammy told me on Facebook.

Hmm… really? Well, first of all, one can’t put a price on abuse, and second of all, is she trying to make me feel guilty or drop hints about sharing some with her? She told me last year not to feel guilty and that she specifically told Walter she and Mark were doing ok and that she wanted me to have her share, but now??? Has anything changed? I know she and Mark aren’t doing as good as they used to because of their physical ailments, and I also know people don’t always quite mean what they say. “Don’t feel bad,” can really mean, “You should feel bad.” “I’m not trying to offend you,” can really mean “I hope you’re offended or at least a bit annoyed.”

I’m not saying she’s deliberately lying or denying how she truly feels or what her true intentions are, but I think that sometimes some people aren’t as over the past as they may think they are and can subconsciously do little things here and there to insult others that they may not realize are smart enough and perceptive enough to pick up on. So she may say she doesn’t want me to feel guilty about the money and she may think she means that, but maybe deep down she doesn’t. Or maybe things have changed since she first told me this. Either way, the money’s mine and I have a hard time feeling guilty about it cuz I still think she and Mark have a lot more money than we do, and again, what she and Bill did 15 years ago by paving the way for the blacks to get to us cost us way more than my parents’ (or anyone’s) money could ever repay.

I hope this exciting event spawns more good things. You know how good things seem to happen in groups same as bad things? Well, hopefully, more good things are to come, like Tom getting the huge salary he deserves instead of the petty change he’ll probably receive for a raise next month. I had dreams of winning money twice, though I’m not sure what the amount was that I won. It was the same amount both times. $400? $800?

I also dreamed I saw my nieces, but one went from a tall brunette to a short blond, LOL.

Had a nice run earlier. The sun was warm but the wind was cool. Someone had a Hawaii plate with the Kauai Island on it on their golf cart, so I saw, and next door’s got beautiful reddish-pink flowers in back.

Most of the people here are well off, so the Hawaii plate doesn’t surprise me. That’s where most people here vacation.

I’m not one to get jealous or envious of others very easily. My attitude is that if someone’s got something I want that bad, why not go out and get it myself? Granted I can’t just get anything and everything I want, but I can usually achieve most of my goals, which makes the few I can’t accomplish easy enough to live with. It balances out for the most part. No, my weight can’t be lost due to hypothyroidism, but I can maintain my weight. My German grammar will probably never be very good, but I can still get my point across.

Despite being able to accept my shortcomings while managing to nab most of what I want, when I read about this woman who moved to Hawaii and how much she loves it and what she’s able to do every day, I certainly felt a twinge of envy! It’s a good thing Florida is not only way cheaper than Hawaii but similar enough in climate because that’s where we may end up 15 years or so from now.

I shared an article about yet another corrupt pig gone bad on Facebook, and sure enough, a pig appeared as one of Andy’s latest profile pics. And his pics are never meant to annoy or evoke jealousy in me, right? Sometimes I wonder if he has his own deep desire to annoy people he otherwise cares for.

Later…

This is the second day in less than a week that I’ve heard a chainsaw off in the distance. What am I, back in Auburn again?

Anyway, hypothyroidism is a shitty disease. You have little control over your weight and your hair thins out. This is beyond normal thinning we all experience with age. I could afford to lose what I’ve lost because I had thick hair. But if I lose much more I’m going to start having bald spots. Being fat is one thing. I’ve been fat for years, you really do get used to it, and it’s no big deal so long as you’re not seriously obese. But bald? I really don’t want to lose any more hair and start looking like a cancer patient!

I doubt I will, though I do have my doubts about this medication. Like most things, it seemed to help a bit at first, but now I’m not so sure. Like Tom said, though, there are other thyroid medications, so if this doesn’t help they can maybe switch it or adjust the dosage.

I just thank goodness it isn’t cancer or some horrible disease like that. I don’t think I could handle that.

Both my new drapes and my metal skating silhouettes are to arrive tomorrow – yes!

MONDAY, MARCH 17, 2014 My connection hiccups once a day or so and I really wish it would stop. It’s only for a few minutes and I suppose it happens to just about everyone at some point, but it’s annoying enough, even if it’s nothing like in Auburn.

Went running at around 10am and by then it was getting warm and sunny, so I went sleeveless. It’s easier to run when the sun’s higher up in the sky as opposed to just rising or setting cuz then it’s not in my eyes as much. It’s also a great way to keep my Maui tan going, but I don’t think I can stand the heat when it gets over 70° since 70° in the direct sunlight isn’t really 70°, especially when you’re running. When it’s too hot I’ll do the treadmill or run late at night or early in the morning.

Another “panel bee” was present last night. Yellow jackets are getting in through the oven’s vent somehow and caught in the drop ceiling. Tom’s going to have to screen off the vent up on the roof. I wonder if the bee catcher we got is defective. We caught tons of them with this thing at the other place. Here they didn’t seem to even know it was there.

Remember how I said no place I move to stays quiet forever and that after 6 months or so something or someone disturbs the peace? Well, there’s this house a few houses down that’s been leaving their dog chained outdoors on their patio that does absolutely nothing at all to stop its barking. How fucking rude, huh? I totally feel for the people right next door. That’s gotta be annoying as hell, maybe even maddening. It’s got a loud bark. Have they forgotten that dogs must be brought in as pets only here and not yard ornaments? Bringing your dog outside for fresh air is fine. But you’re supposed to take responsibility for keeping it quiet… or aren’t you? Maybe Tom was right when he said I was wrong in thinking that the idea of an adult community was for a quieter place and that it’s really to be around people your own age. It’s still quieter here than in other places we’ve lived in the city, but it’s not literally “quiet” unless it’s at night. Meanwhile… thank goodness for sound machines because I’m probably going to need them to drown this mutt out till it starts going from warm to hot.

Last night's dream was quick and senseless. I was in some small building that started off being surrounded by grassy fields. I got the impression I might've worked in whatever this building was.

Outside I heard a guy say to a woman how he'd already fixed that toilet, and she insisted he didn't.

Next thing I knew I was pulling a long extension cord out the doorway, but as I went to do so, I realized the grass had turned into an ocean. People were out paddling in canoes, and I could see a group of people on land toward the right, gathered to either go somewhere or partake in some kind of activity. The group was headed by an older woman in her 60s or so. She spotted me standing in the doorway holding the extension cord, unsure of what to do with it. She sort of looked at me and shrugged as if to say, "What can I tell you?"

SUNDAY, MARCH 16, 2014 Love my new toe ring! It's too small for the big toe and a bit big on the toe next to it, the toe it was meant to be worn on. At first I thought maybe I should've gotten a children's toe ring, but I finally managed to adjust it so it's snug enough.

Since I just can’t get myself to drink only boring water and can’t bring myself to give up soda, I got a variety of sparkling fruity waters with no calories or caffeine. Carbonated drinks seem to quench my thirst more easily.

I’m just as helpless as I was before starting my thyroid medication with my weight so I have totally given up in that department. I don’t even care anymore if I gain 50 more pounds. I will eat right and exercise most days and leave it to fate.

I was so fucking pissed earlier because for the third or fourth time since returning to the job site, a glitch cheated me out of my pay and I ended up working for free. An honest glitch? Deception on the requester’s part? Whatever’s up there that loves to make sure I don’t make money? Probably the latter. If so, thanks, God, I really needed that. First I can’t work, then I can no longer win, and now I can’t get paid for my work online? What can I get paid for?

Maybe getting a free doll from Goodwill was my compensation. Yeah, the guy never charged us the $15 it cost, so I didn’t say anything. We just paid for my incense fix. I also got a set of scented shower gels and lotions.

The doll is a 19” Patricia Rose doll. She’s in an elegant white lace gown with peachy pink trim and has brown curly hair and blue eyes. Very detailed hands, too.

Before the Goodwill opened we went to a dollar store where I got scented air fresheners and incense. I’m as addicted to incense and anything else that smells good as I was once addicted to cigarettes.

On the way to us are two gorgeous sets of curtains with outdoor garden scenes on them for the dining room window and the living room window by the front door. I want to see how they’re going to look before I decide if I want to get more designs for the front windows, or just go with a solid color there.

Tom found the car of his dreams; a 13k compact electric car that seats just two. The electricity it would take to charge it wouldn’t be remotely close to the cost of gassing up the car he’s got now. It’s the first new car that’s ever appealed to him before. He never wanted anything new because he didn’t want to have to make monthly payments, knowing that he could get something just as comfortable and reliable outright. I miss having a car with a working AC! We don’t live like bums anymore but we sure drive like bums. One of these days soon enough we’ll replace or add to this 20-year-old car with something newer and nicer.

The only dreams I remember was one where I was sleeping with a bunch of girls. No, not in a sexual way or anything like that. I don’t know if it was a situation like VH where I had to be there, but since living with a bunch of people doesn’t seem like anything I’d ever want to do in real life, I probably had no choice. I had to share a huge bed with 3 other people and was amazed to find I’d slept so well when I expected to wake up whenever someone moved or snored.

In the morning I asked someone who looked like a young version of Justine Bateman about the rules and routines of the place.

In another dream, we bought a huge, huge house that was very modern and fancy and had all kinds of gadgets throughout it. It was a definite mansion and had split levels as well. I was walking through it at night at one point and the words No Input glowed in red on something on the floor as I walked by, which my dream self assumed was some kind of air vent that was blocked.

It’s in the low 80s today, dry, and totally gorgeous. We were laughing at how hot it must be in the trailer, but it’s staying pleasant in here. A little warm by the late afternoon but I like it that way. No slippers, no robes, no sleeves… that’s me.

I don’t miss having to go to bed with the window open because we’d need the cooler in the afternoon if I was crashing at that time, then wake up freezing and have to run to shut the window. Nor do I miss going to bed, waking up hot, then having to get up and open the window in the middle of my sleep. I will never live like that again. Ever.

Later…

Resurrected “Justin’s” account on Ask just cuz I was curious to see if Molly was around. I said a simple hello and sure enough, she responded. How is she managing to stay out of my blogs??? Either way, after I “tested” her, I deactivated that account.

Then I saw that she tweeted. In one tweet she said she had taken a break from being online, but then got tired of missing her former friends and is going shopping.

In other words, she misses spying on us. I saw she tweeted to Alison about the weather as if they’re still old buddies. Why doesn’t Alison block her or make her tweets private?

Oh, and she knows why she still dwells on her former friends and that’s because deep down she keeps thinking they liked her and cared about her. rolls eyes It’ll never change. Never ever change.

The Mexibitch never appeared to have read my message, and I can’t really be sure it truly didn’t go to her ‘other’ box. Therefore, while I hate to involve others who have nothing to do with what she did to me and my husband, I picked 3 of her seemingly most active friends and sent the same message to them, figuring that sooner or later one of these people would think to check their ‘other’ box and will piggyback the message for me. I have a right to speak my mind, and even if it won’t change what happened or do a damn bit of good other than to make me feel a bit better, I want to get this off my chest and for her to hear what I have to say.

She could’ve gotten the message, read it, then marked it as unread, but I doubt it. I also don’t expect any response from her or for her to block her account. I think she’ll leave it wide open like the black did in hopes of me incriminating myself. If I do hear from her or her friends, though, I will block them. In fact, if I see any evidence that one of them got the message I’ll block everybody for the sake of protecting my own friends.

SATURDAY, MARCH 15, 2014 Love our new dishwasher! It’s pretty high-tech. Similar to the one we had in Maricopa only better. It has a compartment for the rinse agent and a thing that tells you when it’s full. You don’t have to add it every time you run a load, which is nice.

We had our choice of white, black and stainless steel and we got blue. Seriously, LOL, it's the protective covering that's blue. I just thought it was such a pretty shade of blue that I left it on, even though I chose white. Stainless steel is too restaurant-ish, and dust and dirt show up too well on black.

It’s plastic and not metal like our old one, so it won’t rust. I thought the other one was leaking due to a bad seal, but once we pulled it out we could see a tiny hole in back of it where it rusted out. Hard to believe it would do that after just 10-15 years, so more than likely it was the original, which would make it 30 years old.

This one has two arms, unlike the other one, and more space between shelves, which will allow bulky items to fit in better. It also has a time delay.

You would think things would get faster and not take as long with time, but this thing runs a long time. I guess they feel it does a better job if it takes longer by going through more wash and rinse cycles. The heavy cycle puts out 9.1 gallons of water, takes up to 2½ hours, and goes through 4 wash and 4 rinse cycles. The light cycle goes an hour and a half and uses 4.7 gallons with 2 wash and 2 rinse cycles. Most of the time we’ll use the normal cycle which goes 1¾ with 3 wash and 2 rinse cycles. I don’t see why it’s got a 15-minute rinse cycle, though. If you just want to rinse things wouldn’t it be easier to do so in the sink?

Later…

The rats got a couple of toys from the dishwasher’s packaging. A strip of wood to chew on that I placed in their cage so they can run across it from level to level, plus a cloth covering they’re now using as a bed in their burrow.

The FedEx lady delivered my realistic La Newborn Baby Boy doll and he sure is realistic, alright! He’s not quite as big as my girl baby doll, but he’s just as realistic. Still can’t believe he was just $23, though he’s regularly $45. The doll is supposed to be scented, but all I smelled was plastic.

Got my incense too, and even though my musk incense smells powdery, it’s still nice. The others smell as they should smell. Today’s the day for my toe ring and “homeless” cow figurine. LOL, Andy thought “Holstein” cow was “homeless” at first glance.

For dreams, I had one where I appeared on a talk show of some kind. Several people spoke to me in different languages to which I responded to in that language.

In another dream, I was with a large group of people. Not sure if we were on some fun activity excursion or what, but as everyone was eagerly rushing to the pool in swimsuits, I suddenly realized I hadn’t gotten mine yet from the section where you were supposed to “borrow” them from.

So the lady says, “I’ve got small, medium, large, x-large and xx-large. Take your pick. I requested the large and she looked at me and said, “Are you sure you wouldn’t like a medium?”

“I’m sure,” I told her. “I have two huge floor-to-ceiling mirrors in the bedroom, plus a big mirror in the bathroom. I see myself every day, so I know how big I am and what my size is.”

She finally gave me a simple red 1-piece suit and then I woke up trying to find a place to change into it in private, but there didn’t seem to be any such place.

FRIDAY, MARCH 14, 2014 Is something up there determined to replace the Jes pest and all his projects I would have to listen to nearly every day? Once one house gets done with some annoying home renovation I have to hear, another one starts up. I don’t know what the hell they’re doing, but a few houses down they’re hammering and running something loud inside. It’d be nice if they could at least close their damn door. Now someone’s sawing some wood laid out on a couple of wooden horses.

It is otherwise amazingly quiet. I don’t even hear landscapers or freeway traffic. Not even much car door slamming.

It’s here! Our new dishwasher has arrived! It was cool how the guy got it off the truck with the lift in back of it. Then he wheeled it into the living room on a dolly. Tom has his own dolly, which he used to get the old one out into the carport. Unfortunately, when he tried to go through the laundry room to the back door, he got stuck and scuffed the edge of that door, so he had to go out the front door.

Anyway, if I really, really wanted to, I could probably figure out how to fully unpack and install this dishwasher after watching Tom uninstall the old one, but I know it’s one of those things he’d prefer to do just like I would prefer to handle the decorations and stuff like that. I unpacked some of it but will let him do the rest. It’s in a huge box that sits on a wooden platform. The rats would have fun with that. there was even a long stick of wood on top that I’m sure they’d enjoy chewing on. It’s a good thing I don’t care about the old books the previous owners left because they’ve been chewing the edges of them. Every time I dust over there I kick off bits and pieces from the top of them.

Later…

I’m a bit worried the car may delay the flooring/carpet a few months or more. The radiator hose is leaking. Tom can probably fix that himself with some epoxy, but he doesn’t know what’s causing the knocking sound he’s been hearing. We definitely do need to get another car. Not something too new that we’d have to make payments on, but this car is 20 years old. Time to move on. Just preferably not before we take care of the floors in here.

Paula called last night and I answered when I saw her number, knowing it’s been a while since we chatted, even if I still hate phones, LOL. Now I know why I had a dream she was terminally ill. She was diagnosed with heart disease. They’re sending her to a cardiologist. I guess she’s been having severe palpitations that would wake her up, as well as pain and numbness in her left arm, a classic symptom of heart issues. Hopefully, she’s still young enough for them to get it under control. She never smoked or anything like that, so it’s probably hereditary.

Saw a documentary on the making of realistic baby dolls like the one FedEx will be delivering today, along with my incense and some computer-related stuff for Tom. What’s strange as hell is seeing some grown woman care for them as if they were live babies. That’s just weird as hell to me. “They’ll never get diseases, they’ll never be in car accidents, they’ll never get into drugs,” they said. Yeah, but they’re not REAL. Realistic looking or not, weighted like real babies or not, they’re still vinyl. How do these women “get into it?” How can they make the whole thing seem real and believable to them at the same time they know they’re just pretending, in a sense. Our ability to play pretend just isn’t like it is as kids. We can still pretend, but it just doesn’t seem as real as we can make a game of playing house or whatnot seem as kids.

shrugs Oh well. Whatever makes one happy. I’m never sad for the happy, but I am amused by them at times.

Had a dream we briefly moved back to the Jes pest trailer, though I don’t know why. Tom was in a hurry to get to work but was due to return in just 4 hours so we could move.

I called Tammy this morning. She’s looking forward to getting out of Connecticut along with the girls. The house will soon be up for sale. Thanks to the economy, though, the appraiser said she’d be getting 100k less than if the economy was doing well.

But the economy is better. A house a few streets away is up for 70k. I doubt we’d be able to get more than we paid for this place without serious upgrades, no matter what the economy is, cuz 30-year-old homes this size typically go for around 30k anyway.

She had her usual gripes – physical pains, shitty weather, and frustrations over seeing blacks ride to the welfare office in their sleek shiny cars and thick gold chains. Yeah, it’s a pity so many of them still choose a life of crime when they now have more opportunities open to them than most whites ever had, but they’ve been the way they are for a long time. Why should she expect them to change now?

She talked a little about how she and Larry talked about how the three of us were victims of Dureen, and how Lisa’s a druggie and a liar that’s been in and out of both jail and rehab.

Mark’s having problems at work, which he’s looking forward to escaping. I guess when they head for Florida he’s going to retire (he’s now 63) and then they’ll just have their home improvement business down there. I hope to hell the business is enough to make it on, cuz it’s not easy for an older person to get a job, good economy or not. Plus he’s white, so he’s not going to get first dibs on things, qualified or not. I think it will be, though, cuz things will be cheaper where they’re going.

He hasn’t been given a title or a salary despite all he’s done for the company he works for. I hope that doesn’t end up being the case with Tom. I was telling Tammy how Bank of America really fucked him over – unpaid OT, etc. – and she said she couldn’t stand them. She and Becky were almost arrested for going off on them. Yeah, I can picture that.

THURSDAY, MARCH 13, 2014 You have no idea how demanding a rat can be till you own one, LOL. Sugar really loves to pester me for attention even when I’m busy, but I make sure to take a minute out to hug and kiss him here and there. Romeo’s still more aloof but he sure is ready and available to play our little game we play every time he sees me dusting. He’s obsessed with chasing the duster.

Lost the pound I ate on the day before yesterday. I wasn’t as hungry so I was able to eat less. I don’t understand why some days dieting is doable and other days I’m so damn famished I feel like I haven’t eaten in years.

The doctor responded to my message, and sure enough, she wants to see me. Anything to make a buck, I guess. She said she did have things she could recommend but they weren’t without side effects. Probably that Alli crap I took a couple of years ago. She did recommend drinking a large glass of water a half hour before meals to help keep me fuller.

I swear, though, I could run into her on the streets and tell her I sneezed the other day and she’ll suggest I see her for that, too.

And if I fart?

Later…

The beautiful azaleas are now blooming on the bushes in front and trees in general are beginning to sprout their leaves. I can’t wait for the summer heat and going swimming.

The new dishwasher should be delivered today and installed Friday or Saturday. Perfect timing too, cuz this old one is really starting to leak badly.

It’s fun working for little treats, though we still have some of our tax refund left that’s in our Amazon account. I have an incense variety pack on its way that includes rose, musk, sandalwood, jasmine and lavender.

I also grabbed a black and white hornless Holstein cow for my animal figure collection.

Got a silver toe ring that’s adjustable. I thought it might be more comfortable than my elastic one.

The best thing I got is another lifelike baby doll like my baby Grace doll, only this one’s a boy. He’s also anatomically correct and the most amazing thing is that he’s only $23. He looks just as realistic and similar in size to Grace yet she was $150. Could be cheaper cuz he’s bald. Grace has hand-applied hair and nails. Nane cracked me up earlier, saying she looked “schrecklich” and dead, haha.

My metal figure skater silhouettes should be here today. I know right where I’m going to put them too, and they oughta look awesome.

Yesterday was quieter. Just a service truck doing something across the street for a half-hour or so, then some house started landscaping when I was turning in around 3pm. I swear we cannot go one day here without hearing landscaping sounds. It’s just a matter of how many times/minutes it will be per day. Tomorrow, the house diagonally gets serviced and I’m sure the park workers will out buzzing away in the streets and common areas. Still better than hours of barking, welfare bums and their wild kids, college animals partying, and loud car stereos with the base from hell.

Tom and I were talking earlier and I want to make more of an effort to avoid pre-packaged foods without getting too involved in cooking since I don’t like it and aren’t very good at it. Not because all pre-packaged food is unhealthy – some of it is actually good for you – but to make eating less convenient. Convenience means it’s easier to get carried away. So I’m working on that and scheduling. I find it easier if I space out my eating in something like 3-hour intervals, beginning 2 hours after I get up. This means eating 5 times.

They’re also not kidding about meat making you less hungry due to it being high in protein. So when I do the grocery list for Saturday I’ll try to focus on fresh chicken, pork, potatoes to bake up, and tilapia. The in-between things I’ll have will be things like yogurt.

Another thing I need to do is cook up a SINGLE serving’s worth. It’s always easier to cook in batches that can serve 3-8, but I need to stop that. It isn’t what I eat so much as how much of it.

As for weekends… I decided to compromise with myself. “I’m big,” Tom said, “not because I don’t know what to do about it but because I don’t want to. I like to make a day of eating whatever I want on my days off.”

But rather than make a day of 3 or 4 different goodies, I will try to pick just one that doesn’t take me 5 sittings to eat like a pint of ice cream does. ONE candy bar is enough.

Personally, I think I’ll always be big because it’s just in my nature, like most middle-aged adults, to be this way. But I do take solace in knowing I shouldn’t have to worry about gaining if I eat better and keep working out.

Ok, I gotta drop the subject now or else I will feel hungry as part of it is psychological, like it or not. The less I focus on food, the faster my next meal or snack will come, and the less hungry I’ll feel.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 12, 2014 The rats are out playing now as I write this. Yesterday was very annoying as far as landscapers go. Instead of just a few minutes here and a few there, it went on and on for hours. Not consistently, but close enough. I wonder if some of it was even coming from outside the park. Whatever it was they were doing was bigger and louder than usual. I could hear it over the music I was playing. I hope it’s quieter today.

I realized two things this morning. One is that I’m never going to lose weight as hungry as I am most days, and two, I could send my doctor a message and ask if she can recommend an effective appetite suppressant to help get my calories low enough to lose the weight. There are tons of them on Amazon, but do they actually work? One person will say it’s wonderful, then another will say it’s worthless. Without something snuffing out my constant hunger, I’m forever doomed. I’m not so big right now that it’s unhealthy, but I could get there soon enough if I don’t find something to help me. Otherwise, I’ll never lose weight. Never.

I actually wrote the above two paragraphs 4 hours ago. I wanted to go out for a run. I like it when there’s no sun glaring in my eyes or traffic. It’s not just about the running for me; it’s about the fresh air as well.

After my run, I cleaned the kitchen and did a few other things.

Another reason doing the entire place in laminate flooring is appealing is that if we drip any paint on it, it would be easier to wipe it off a floor than carpet.

Been having fun doing surveys both for money and for fun. I put little treats in my Amazon cart and let the survey earnings pay for them. :) Some are boring but most are interesting. You just never know what they’re going to ask. Some questions I couldn’t possibly answer, though, because I either don’t know anything about what they’re asking or I never experienced it firsthand.

TUESDAY, MARCH 11, 2014 My dreams seem to come in spurts lately. Where I didn’t have any for a few days, I had tons last night.

Andy was in one where I said something like, “Don’t ever hesitate to file for disability benefits if you find you can’t work because of this.” I don’t know what “this” was, but I also said, “You’re not like me. I have a doctor who diagnosed my sleep disorder, says I can’t work, yet I can’t get my benefits reinstated that were wrongfully terminated just because I got married, and because I didn’t work enough years to qualify when all that should qualify me as being disabled. But you’re single and you worked a zillion years.”

Then he got up from the wavy brown chair he had in Arizona that he eventually gave me, and asked if I wanted to watch his old soap operas with him. When I said no, he went ballistic on me, LOL.

Worse was that I had a dream Nane died. It doesn't mean she’s going to die, though, but that something bad is likely to happen within 72 hours. It could be anything from a nasty cold to something much bigger. I don't remember how she died. The dream was very quick.

In another dream, I was showing people this old doll I had, and someone said, “Too bad she’s not a little older and made of bisque because then she’d be worth 48 grand.”

Then I ran into my parents and started dancing. LOL, I know it sounds funny, but as I approached them I was snapping my fingers and swinging to an imaginary beat of music. Once I got close enough to my mother I saw she had what looked like a mini chest with pea-sized food in it she was munching on. “What are these?” I asked her.

“They’re Wilma nuts,” she said and told me they were caramel-covered nuts.

I asked if I could try one and found the caramel to be very sticky. “I shouldn’t have anymore,” I said. “This stuff could rip fillings out.”

Well, I didn’t awake to find any “Wilma” nuts in the house, but I awoke to find myself hungry as hell for the second day in a row. I’m still the same weight but what’s with all these late periods when I used to be like clockwork? If it isn’t menopause setting in, then I’m not sure what it is.

Later…

The nights are still peaceful while the days are still annoying. It’s mostly door slamming and landscaping that’s the most annoying. Although they’re usually quiet about it, where could a couple of retirees possibly need to go 3 times in just 5 hours? Beginning at 8:30 it’s in and out and in and out next door, but everyone else rarely goes anywhere.

We’re on for 70° today and 80° this weekend. Definitely going to be getting some fresh air in here.

My appointment with the endocrinologist has been made for next month and will last an hour. What could they possibly want to do to me that takes an hour???

The more we discuss it, the more we’re likely to do the entire house in light-colored laminate flooring and add a large area rug to the living room. I want something like birch because lighter colors brighten up a room and things like drapes won’t clash with it as much as some of the flooring would have a reddish or orange tint to it. If we do this we’ll be pulling up these old floors and carpet ourselves, and of course we’re going to do the installation ourselves as well. We could go with vinyl tiles and really save money, but those aren’t as durable.

Later…

I started proofreading again, even though I haven’t quite brought my Dream book up to date just yet. I’m at the end of our time in Phoenix when the Mexican bitch next door lied to the pigs by saying I called her a slur and went off on her company, both of which were total lies. I know it shouldn’t, but this still pisses me off. Hey, it’s a Mexican. That’s what blacks and Mexicans do. They play the race card. But in truth, while I would use racial slurs in my own journal I would never call anyone a name to their face any more than I would call someone dumb or fat, even if I thought it was true, because that'd just plain mean and unnecessary. I can see joking among friends, but this sicko was certainly never a friend.

Curious by nature, I looked her up on Facebook and found a Debbie V in Phoenix that is probably her. Can’t tell for sure. The body type is right and I guess the hair and eyes are what I remembered them to be, but was she really only about 25 years old back in 1999? She graduated in 1992. The posts are what I’d expect of someone like her, lacking in intelligence and with a hint of aggression.

Well, let’s see if she remembers my “white ass,” as she once put it, I thought, then I hesitated. Then I said to myself, no, I have just as much right as anyone else to speak my mind and I will not let anyone make a coward of me or violate my civil rights ever again. And so I asked her if she’d dare swear under a lie detector 15 years after the fact that I called her a racial slur. If she hasn’t been online, is ignoring me or didn’t get the message, I don’t know. I do know that the message went straight to her inbox and not her ‘other’ box, which I thought was a bit odd.

It gets even stranger. I browsed her friend list and who should I find on it but a Kim W, the name of my first celly once I was pulled in from the tents. What, was the whole damn jail in this together? I wondered. After all, I always thought it was strange that I could never find her on the Arizona Inmate Locator site. The profile picture was too blurry to say it was her, but the hair color seemed right.

Could she have been a cop and personal friend of the Mexicans even though she claimed she was an AB member? Why not? The black pig was the black bitch’s buddy.

Then it hit me that Kim W could be an alias. Sure enough, the last name is fake. LOL, she looks terrible and is in on a flat maximum sentence for the same offenses as when I knew her in 2000 - drugs and armed robbery. She got caught in 2011, sentenced in 2012 and could be inside till 2017. Gosh, what a waste. She’s probably been in and out of jail and even prison since I last saw her.

She had the intelligence to be a cop, but I never thought she, or any of my other cellies, were cops. Sorry, but nobody can act that well or pull off such an elaborate cover, so I always figured she was for real, alias or not.

Anyway, the bitch is listed as having always been from Phoenix, so I guess that shoots the illegal theory. Why’d she run then? Too many warrants on her at the time? She was busted for forgery in 2003 and spent 3 years on probation, so maybe so. Still, I’m sure it was quite a picnic compared to what I went through.

Was surprised to learn there are two people in the US with the black bitch’s name. She’s been fighting it out in family court for child support, on and off throughout the years.

SUNDAY, MARCH 9, 2014 Andy has either got to be the least perceptive individual I’ve ever met if not the most insensitive and selfish. No matter how many hints I drop about the food talk, on and on it goes, telling me every single thing it eats. Not a very supportive thing for one trying to cut back on calories.

For those of us trying to diet, going online can be like a smoker without smokes watching a bunch of people puff away on cigarettes. So many people on so many sites talk about food, food, food almost to the point of obsession. The solution: less time online and more time on the treadmill.

I also want to adopt the “some is better than none” attitude. I have always disliked extremists who are so black and white and think in terms of all or nothing. Will I ever lose the 20-30 pounds I could stand to lose? No. But some is better than none. Will I ever earn $50 or more a day online? No, but $100-$200 a month is better than nothing.

It still bothers me at times to see people out walking or jogging who are thin while I’m doing the same thing, even if it’s as not as much as I’d like it to be, yet I’m heavy. But I also know that more than likely these people have better genetics and more willpower to say “no” to their food/hunger cravings since diet is more associated with weight loss than exercise. Well, I may not be able to change my genetics, but another attitude I can try to adopt is the one about accepting what we can’t control and making the best of what we can control. I’ve proven a long time ago that I can keep from gaining any more weight and I can keep in relatively good shape. So I will work with what’s in my control.

Lastly, I want to make better use of my time. It’s so easy to get lost on one of my writing sites. Then all of a sudden I’m like, OMG, where did all the time go? Time I could’ve spent doing other things. I don’t want to give up what I do now; I just want to find a better balance between both on and offline activities.

So these are my current goals for now. I don’t know how long I’ll do a better job of scheduling my activities and adding variety to my daily routine, but again, some are better than none.

Tom’s an AARP member and was doing a trivia game for extra points for discounts and things like that when he learned that taking Simvastatin for high cholesterol can help reduce the risk of glaucoma. That’s nice to know cuz I have a 20% of developing it later on in life.

SATURDAY, MARCH 8, 2014 My nieces didn’t insult me with pics they took in Florida of their sick dad, but one posted a “look how young we look” pic of them as little kids with the bastard.

Look how thin they looked, too. I hate to say it but by looking at them as kids you’d never think they’d end up so humungous.

I can’t help but wonder if it’s aimed at me or not, just like I wondered if I was right to take some of the pics Andy posted personally. Is it my gut that’s saying it was personal, or is my paranoia saying that? Sometimes I just don’t know if I’m right to be suspicious or if I’m just plain paranoid. Andy swears he was never trying to abuse me with pics, but it was quite a coincidence that he posts not only a person crying but a black person crying when he was picking on Tom’s lack of desire to socialize while calling it “sad.” Same with his hottie cousin who’s 52 after I said I didn’t think I was doing that bad for 48, and the chain-sporting black guy after I commented about how they couldn’t afford all those thick shiny chains on welfare. Again, I’m either not stupid and more perceptive than people (including myself) realize, or I’m as paranoid as people like Marie, Molly and Kim.

I told Alison about the latest comment on my-diary and asked who she thought it was. She said it seemed too intelligent for Kim, whose sister scared her off of harassing me, and that it could be Molly or Kathy.

My first guess was Molly’s mother if it’s anyone I know at all. “Silly rabbit” doesn’t seem to go with Molly, Kathy or even Maliheh. It goes with Andy, but not the thing about my parents knowing me the best. Sometimes I wonder if it’s someone I least suspect. Maybe it’s even Aly. She’d be smart enough to say things to throw me off.

I couldn’t resist inviting Maliheh to my Facebook group, even though I knew she’d refuse it and not even check it out. I also sent some coded journal excerpts. Just the fact that she’s picking them up and not marking them as spam or blocking me on Facebook tells me she’s hoping to get me somehow. If anyone knows she’s just as mean, vindictive and spiteful as the black bitch down south, it’s me. She loves to sic the law on people no matter how deserving they may be.

Could be that she’s still interested in hearing from me without having to actually interact with me, but I doubt it. She’s one of the coldest people I have ever met. She simply has zero conscience.

Later…

No one’s responded to my bogus entry on my-diary about chatting with Mommy Dearest on Facebook. I figure that if it was her that left me that comment, then she would surely react to this entry. She probably doesn’t follow me religiously, so if it was her she may not return for weeks or even months.

I activated my old Ask account, answered the question of the day, then put it back to sleep just to keep it alive. That way if I ever change my mind someday I at least have the option of using that account.

Taking the day off to eat what I want and all I want. I’m not even going to step on the treadmill.

My period is late which means I have to suffer from PMS a little longer and will probably have to cancel or reschedule my female exam next month, too.

It’s been warming up here and we’re having highs in the 70s. Before another month is up we’ll be needing the AC at least in the daytime. Even though it’s warmer down here than where the trailer was, it can be a little hotter out there before we need it since here we have a normal roof instead of a flimsy tin roof. These aren’t brand new windows, though, like the Jes pest had, so I’m a little hesitant to open them at night when spiders are active, not knowing how well-sealed up the screens are.

As soon as I’m on days I’ll open windows and put the central fan on to get some fresh air in here. That’s the one thing I miss from the trailer is having a swamp cooler. That and the seclusion. I miss how people couldn’t drive or walk by, though I’m also happy to say I’ve long since gotten used to it. Daytime sleeping is no problem so long as the sound machine’s going.

Last night’s semi-nightmare – I call it “semi” because there was no violence or immediate danger, though it was still unpleasant – was about the usual. Loss and money. In the dream, we were in some house and I guess we were under threat of bill collectors or someone like that coming to take all our stuff. I was even afraid of losing the old-fashioned paperback book I was reading before I could finish it. Although Tom didn’t want me to, I knew I’d attack them if they broke into the house, as I wasn’t about to let them get away with our stuff without at least some bruising and bleeding.

I asked Tom when I got up if he thought this dream could mean anything, but assurs me our finances are fine and that I’ve always been paranoid about people messing with my stuff. This is true, and I can thank my mother and Donna A. for that much.

FRIDAY, MARCH 7, 2014 “To most people, I can never do enough. To my dearest, I do way more than enough.”

I can relate to the quote above. To Tom, I can do no wrong even when I make mistakes, and to others, I just can’t get it right. Well, to some others anyway, LOL. Like they say, someone somewhere is always going to have a problem with anything we say or do. If I were a God-lover I’d be criticized by those who believe as I do; that God lets an awful lot of bad things happen to an awful lot of people to deserve to be praised. If I were the one supporting Tom I’d be called a sucker for it. If I were retired I’d be told that age is just a number and I’m still wrong for not working.

What if I had pet snakes? :)

Surprise, surprise, though… I do work. It’s just online, not at a set time, and not for much money. But it’s work and so is housework.

Where I do need to discipline myself is with working out. I’m in good shape but I want to get in even better shape even if I never lose the fat. At 1000 calories a day it’s doubtful that I ever will, so I’ll just aim for an average of 1500 calories a day plus 30-60 minutes of exercise. That’ll keep me where I’m at.

Tell me, though… why do only half my legs look like a runner's legs? My calves are slim and muscled, but my thighs are positively flabby as hell and wider than this house. I guess that again, I’m eating too much to clear the fat and expose the muscle in that area.

Our new dishwasher has been shipped. Tom said it should be easy enough to uninstall the old one and install the new one cuz it's not hardwired. It's just two hoses and a plug.

I worried my readers when I said I got a rabbit and a blue parakeet from Amazon. Yeah, I forgot to add that they're made of plastic. People were like, you can buy animals on Amazon? Since when? LOL

haha, I was trying to write Nane an email in German but my auto-corrector kept flipping the words to English.

Anyway, I think I’ll run through another chapter. It takes about 5 minutes to read a chapter, so I prop my Kindle on the treadmill and do 5-minute running sprees. That’ll put me up to 15 minutes for the day.

THURSDAY, MARCH 6, 2014 Unlike last month, I’m having the PMS from hell with water retention and backaches. I find it helps my back a bit if I keep my legs straight and bend over so my fingertips touch the floor. Then I allow a slight bend to my knees, allowing my body to fold a bit more and to place the palms of my hands on the floor.

Still 25 pounds overweight too, which looks like 50 at this height. At least in my mind, it does. As someone pointed out to me, I realize I, like most of us, am my own worst critic at times. I’m fat but not obese. I’m not pretty but I’m not ugly. Tracy K and Bonny B, those were ugly. My face won’t be found on a fashion magazine cover, but I realize I still have decent features and that things could be a lot worse in the face and the body.

My thyroid pills would no doubt allow me to get results from both dieting, but I still have the same problem as before – it takes about 1000 calories to do it. That’s not enough food month after month, so I am going to stay where I’m at. Contrary to popular belief, we aren’t what we eat so much as we are how MUCH we eat, so no matter how healthy I eat, 1500 calories of lean meats and fresh fruits and veggies are too much for a woman my age and height to lose on even with exercise. Sure don’t have to worry about gaining, though, so long as I don’t start stuffing myself or sitting on my ass.

Had a horrible, horrible nightmare last night. Or more like today, I should say. Either way, my sense of hopelessness and helplessness was exactly like it was in 2011 when the government gave up on some of its own, including us. Don’t know why Tom and I weren’t living together in the dream, but I seemed to be in my own 1-bedroom apartment or house or whatever the hell it was. Tom was over one night and we were talking about the latest financial crisis to hit us. Then he suddenly said, “Good night,” and was gone in the blink of an eye. I was on the verge of panicking and didn’t want to be left alone that night.

“Be brave and strong,” I told myself, “and maybe after the weekend is through I’ll find a solution to this problem and everything will be fine again.”

But I knew deep down it wouldn’t be. Everything I thought of to help myself had some kind of catch to it, making it an impossible solution. My anger at God surfaced and I thought, I am not going to be His bum again! I realized He’d never stop letting bad things happen to me – really bad things – and that the only way to stop His cycle of abuse was to die. I knew that if I didn’t kill myself, the situation would do so on its own since I couldn’t survive the streets, especially now that I needed medication. Preferring to go quicker and in bed just like in real life a few years ago, I started making preparations when I woke up to pee.

Once I fell back asleep, the damn nightmare continued, though it had kind of a happy ending. It was the next day and Tom was back with tons of food.

“Some cop decided everyone should have food subsidies,” he told me, and I was all relieved and happy as I dived into the spaghetti and meatball meal laid out before me. Don’t know why I was, though. Food subsidies will fill your stomach but they won’t pay the mortgage/rent.

I told Tom about it and he assured me everything was fine. They did, however, lay off a bunch of people on the second shift, which they’re doing away with. He could’ve been one of them had he gotten on that shift, so thank goodness he didn’t. Still don’t know if he’s getting a promotion or not, but as long as he stays where he is, that’s fine. He makes enough money to live on.

He also pointed out that there wasn’t any imminent danger in the dream as there was in the “riot” dream and the one where we fell 20 or more feet.

The endocrinologist called wanting to make an appointment, but as Tom said, they’ll just have to wait on us. My schedule isn’t such that I can play appointment right now, and anyone receiving money and not giving it is working for us as far as I’m concerned. So in another week or two, we’ll schedule that, plus the eye specialist, plus the sleep specialist, and then I have my April female exam. That may have to be canceled, thanks to my cycle becoming more erratic.

Tom suspects the good (sexy) doc wants me to see a specialist cuz of the way I asked if hypothyroidism can cause or affect my OH. Maybe she’s worried the medication could aggravate it or something like that.

I will also call Tammy and Paula once I’m back on days, the two people left on earth who prefer phones to email/Facebook.

I’m excited and happy for my friend Christine. She’s getting married and after she and her fiancé looked at my Hawaii albums, they’re thinking of going there for their honeymoon. It still shocks me that Andy said a friend of his went to Honolulu and found it similar to Phoenix, Arizona, only with an ocean attached to it. Well, we went to Maui and not Honolulu, but I still don’t see how the two could even be remotely comparable. Arizona’s brown. Hawaii’s greener than green. You will also find tons of trees, plants and flowers that Arizona doesn’t have. There are only so many things you can plant in Arizona because it is just so damn hot and so damn dry.

It sure wasn’t dry here last night. It rained super hard and we even had some thunder and lightning. I was glad I wasn’t asleep.

According to a study Tom read, rats have their own “dream people.” They put a chip in their brains to determine brain activity during sleep, eating and playtime. They appear to dream of what they were last doing when they first fall asleep. Then they have random dreams from there on out.

Later…

I saw a very scary documentary last night on stalking. This woman moved to another state (I forgot which one) with her husband and two kids. Jane settles in and her neighbor Mary comes over to introduce herself to her. They hit it off instantly and become good friends. Jane always dressed conservatively, but Mary dressed a little young for her age. Then Mary dyed her hair the same color as Jane’s and started dressing like her, too. Jane thought that was weird at first, but took it as a compliment of sorts.

Then Mary started showing up wherever Jane went. Jane was feeling smothered instead of flattered at this point, and then she became really concerned as it escalated.

We’re taught that if we ignore the bully, the bully gets bored with us and eventually moves on. Not Mary. Mary became angrier and more determined the more Jane tried to avoid her. Once Mary makes a bogus claim to her son’s school counselor saying that Jane’s been abusive and neglectful, Jane goes to the cops. The cops are useless, though, since she hasn’t technically broken any laws.

Jane doesn’t lose her son, which pisses Mary off even more and drives her determination up a notch. Mary becomes so obsessed with tormenting Jane that she uses her own daughter to spite her by filing a false claim of Jane trying to run them over. Jane’s then arrested and taken to trial. Jane’s then acquitted and no charges are filed against Mary despite Jane’s insistence that she was being called a stalker by the very person that was stalking HER, a very common accusation made by real stalkers. It’s always you bothering them when in fact it’s just the opposite.

Anyway, Jane’s damn lucky Mary wasn’t black with the way the courts are afraid to favor whites and get called racists by the blacks involved as well as the general public. Both women were the same color and both had kids. Still, she lost an awful lot of money, went through a world of stress, and had to move to escape Mary’s obsession, all the while Mary would stand there snapping pictures of Jane and her family, which is also perfectly legal.

It’s scary to think you can cause a whole boatload of trouble for someone simply by making an accusation, true or false, and I don’t understand why they don’t polygraph the accusers. Those are virtually impossible to fool, so why don’t they utilize it more than for just murder cases? If they’d have pollied my own legal perps they would’ve known who was the true victim from the get-go.

I sometimes said I wished those stalking me online would appear to me in person so I could forever put them out of business, but I don’t know about that anymore. Online a click of the mouse usually gets them out of the picture. I stick to sites that allow for user blocking and I ignore anything that can be anonymously sent to me (I also do so cuz of spam and scams). In person, though, I’d be fair game to whatever they had in mind for me unless I truly did kill them or at least scare them off somehow.

WEDNESDAY, MARCH 5, 2014 I’m so happy and excited for my sister! But first, another strange thing within the costs summary for my healthcare was that it said it cost about $300 for her to do my toe. But it also costs that just to talk to the ear specialist, plus $500 to vacuum the canal. WTF?!?!

Then Tom clicks on the ‘pay now’ button and it says we only owe $25, so that’s all we paid. Still think they’ll probably bill us for the toe since that’s not considered preventative (at least we don’t think it is), but we’ll pay whatever we owe.

We spent $500 of our tax return on Amazon tonight and ordered a new Frigidaire dishwasher in white.

Tom has also wanted to try a trackpad, so he got one, plus a yellow jacket trap since those will be an issue soon, especially in such a flowery neighborhood.

I also got a couple more animals to add to my collection, a black and white rabbit and a blue parakeet.

Lastly, I got these really cool skater silhouettes made of metal. It’s a set of 3.

Lemme check on the rats… ok, one went back home and the other is napping on the bookshelf.

Anyway, Tammy's going to get situated in an apartment in Florida in April. Hopefully, it will be in an adult community, though I don’t see how she could get into one with such a big dog. Would a big dog even be able to handle an apartment in the first place? I guess it will have to. I just worry about the Bad Neighbor Curse striking her if she ventures into the mainstream. We had every degenerate and noisemaker imaginable – welfare bums, college kids, large families with tons of little kids – so I’d hate for her to have similar experiences. The girls are getting apartments down there, too.

After she’s settled in a much smaller place that she can deal with easier than the huge house she’s in now, Mark will return to CT to prep the house for sale.

They have friends in Florida, so it’s not like they’ll be moving where they don’t know a soul like we did when we went to Oregon and then when we came here. The point is that disabled or not, they feel they have no life in CT. They want to be where they have the option of going swimming every single day of the year if they want to. I envy their the climate, just not the apartment. I do love the dry heat of the summers here, though. The summers here can get pretty damn hot, often reaching 110°, but is otherwise gorgeous.

I totally agree with her as far as it being better to have a life in a small place than no life in a big place. Look at what I went through in S. Deerfield back in 1991. I had a big beautiful apartment but no life to go with it. Same for Tom and I in Maricopa. Gorgeous brand new 2100-square-foot house that was sucking every last dime out of us. The welfare bums using their corrupt pig pal to seek legal revenge on me for the city complaint lodged against them was no fun either, but of course that was part of the package, too.

She mentioned both of us or just me coming to visit and saying she’d help with the costs, which would be wonderful. I’d certainly rather see her there than in CT. It just may be a year or two cuz you’re still talking a lot of money, and it would only be for a few days. Of course I’d prefer to go with my nearest and dearest, but I wouldn’t mind going alone if Tom couldn’t get the time off. I think he will, though, cuz they give him a lot of time off at work. And if they give him what we hope they’ll be giving him next month, he’ll be salaried and we definitely won’t have to worry about going broke or him being laid off anytime soon.

TUESDAY, MARCH 4, 2014 Slept from 5am - 1pm. I was surprised to get up at the same time as yesterday, but even though I woke up 3-4 times along the way, I feel well-rested for once. It seems I might’ve dreamt about preparing to go on vacation again.

I’m down a pound, though I don’t know why. I ate when I was hungry yesterday, and treated myself to a big bowl of ice cream with caramel topping, and didn’t work out. But today I need to hit the treadmill and put more effort into it which means avoiding certain sites so I don’t have to hear all about every single fucking bite of food everyone ate today that will only remind me even more of how hungry I am. Hearing what people are eating every now and then is fine, but I don’t need to know about every single meal and snack you have any more than you need to know all the details of my daily workouts, measurements and weigh-ins.

Before I drop the subject of food, the chicken casserole I made came out incredibly bland. Fuck cooking. I suck at it and I have no interest in it anyway. I’ll stick to buying prepared foods. It’s more expensive but it’s definitely more convenient, and not all pre-made stuff is bad for you.

I nearly wanted to scream when I got an email alert saying I’m being referred to an endocrinologist, Dr. D. It’s great to be insured and to take preventative measures to ensure I make it to 60, but remember, I have to pay for this shit. Tom and Jodi don’t get things handed to them for free in life. We don’t pay for lab work, regular check-ups and things like that, but specialists and special procedures like removing my ingrown toenail are things we have to pay for. We pay 20% at the dentist which doesn’t include cleanings and x-rays, $25 copays, and $35 for specialists. I guess we’re going to borrow against our 401K when it comes time to do the carpet and floors so we don’t have to take from the savings, which is dwindling fast. We’re still paying for shit we did in Hawaii, but hey, how often does one get the chance to go down in a submarine?

Anyway, I was confused at first because the results of my ultrasound showed nothing to worry about at this time, yet I guess this person needs to adjust the medication levels. Why I can’t just go to the lab, beats me, though they may want me to go before the appointment. I’m sure they’ll have to adjust the Simvastatin, too.

Later…

Looks like whoever was harassing me at my first my-diary account has found my second one. They used a bogus email address, of course, from Everlistentoyourself@Soundslikeyourparentsknewyoubest.com and then wrote: Jodi gets free stuff always. Tom is the worker bee silly rabbit.

It’s sad what marriage is all about today. What’s hers is hers and what’s his is his. Why get married if that’s the attitude people have? Really why bother if you’re not going to be a team? Why is it that if you’re BOTH not physically and mentally able to contribute on an equal measure, it’s “unfair?” Now don’t get me wrong. There are a lot of lazy people out there. People who aren’t disabled in any way and who have at least an average intelligence level that are perfectly capable of contributing in more ways than just cooking and housework. But what about people like me and others who are disabled? What, we’re only worthy of being a spouse if we can “pay up?”

I can also understand that it’s only natural to feel guilty even though you know you shouldn’t and that it’s not your fault. I just expressed to Tom the other day how I felt bad my health issues were costing us so much, and he assured me and reminded me that it’s not my fault. Also, what’s the point of making money (whether it’s one of you or both of you) if you’re not going to use it for things you need?

I know what he’s saying. Money Tom makes is OUR money just like money I make working online is also OUR money. It’s just natural not to wish you could make even more at times, you know? But I also know I would do the same for Tom if he was the one who was disabled. That’s what true love is all about; being loved and accepted as you are, shortcomings and all. We all have our strengths and weaknesses, and anyone who feels we don’t measure up and aren’t good enough when we’re trying our absolute best can’t possibly love us. It isn’t about who can make the most money; it’s that you have what you need to live on. Period.

Sometimes I wonder if it’s a random person who followed my other account closely and then happened to find my new one (if they frequently checked the latest entries to come in on the main page) or if it’s someone I’m close to that I have regular contact with. Someone I’d least suspect that has a Jekyll and Hyde personality I’m not aware of and that’s been two-facing me like Kim did. It could be Molly’s mother. She’d defend my parents and use the “silly rabbit” thing. Kathy doesn’t seem the type to use the parents thing, and she’s preoccupied with a baby these days, so I’m going with Mrs. M or the stranger who likes to complain that I complain too much. Hell, maybe it’s Andy.

The more Tom and I go over the bill at the online health site, the more confused we are. It suggests we owe $25 as well as $650 and even $900. Well, which is it? These people make no sense. And I still don’t get why the sudden endocrinologist referral. She told me she was sending me to an ear specialist. She told me she was sending me for an ultrasound. She told me she wants me to go to the sleep clinic. So then why didn’t she tell me about the endocrinologist???

MONDAY, MARCH 3, 2014 My ear appointment went well, but damn am I exhausted, and damn am I looking forward to letting my body get all the sleep it needs to get and do away with alarms for the first time in over a month! I am just so, so drained. Struggling to make this last round of appointments is a stark reminder of how I could never keep a schedule to save my life, no matter how many of you self-proclaimed “experts” may think otherwise. Speaking of experts - you know, the real ones? – I’m not in any hurry to make an appointment at the sleep clinic because I know there’s not much that can be done in my particular case, and they’re still going to cheat me out of my benefits anyway. I’ll get to it when I get to it.

I usually hear the alarm as soon as it goes off. Not today. Today I slept 6 minutes into it, that’s how tired I am. But even so, I made it in time and wasn’t made to wait forever in the waiting or exam room. The doctor was nice, but sadly, I doubt he’d have been able to help me any more than the last doctor in Oregon could with the aches and pains had I not discovered the cure on my own. He did, however, vacuum the canal out. It’s amazing what the right tools can do to clean an artificial ear canal.

I don’t know why, but in 6 months when I’m scheduled for the next cleaning, I am to have hearing tests. Just what is it I gotta hear, though? I hear fine enough. I wouldn’t bitch about car doors and landscapers if I had a problem hearing. My left ear may still be pretty close to deaf, but my right ear is pretty normal. They will still probably recommend a hearing aid.

We are looking at a serious tax break next year with all these doctor appointments I’ve been catching up on!

Meanwhile, I’m still dragging but unable to go back to sleep. I laid down for nearly an hour and now I think I’ll just have an exhausting night reading and watching movies till I crash and enjoy catching up on all my lost sleep. LOL, that will probably take 10-12 hours at the rate I’m going! My thyroid pills have not only lessened the head rushes, but I’m not waking up as often as I used to throughout my sleep, so maybe I can catch up in 8-9 hours now that the stress and pressure are off for a while.

Later…

Will Holly return to my blog tonight? I doubt it. Next weekend? I doubt that, too.

Loving my new toe ring that arrived today. It’s too big for the toe next to my big toe, so it’s on my big toe instead. It’s a bit snug there, but I’d rather that than too loose. The purple gemstones are shinier than they appeared online. It has an elastic band that looks almost invisible against the skin, making the gems appear embedded in my toe. Not sure if I can wear my running shoes with it, but I can wear slippers.

Still working on my Dreams book on Prosebox and am amazed by the number of two-story house dreams I had for them not to mean anything. Reoccurring dreams often have some kind of message in them, but not in a place where two-story houses are scarce. Signs of the West: Single-story homes, no basements, no dogs allowed indoors.

What’s amazing is how many dream premonitions I had that I forgot about. A lot of them were trivial things like the Facebook timeline eventually being forced on everyone and little things like that. But the sheer number of them is like, wow.

Love the “pink paws” dream I had a few years ago where we could decorate the walls in people’s houses and not just Facebook, and I left a trail of pink paw prints on Nane’s living room wall to let her know I’d stopped by. LOL, I told her about it too, and I’m sure she’ll get a kick out of it.

Andy had his own dream of her where she was at a fashion show he attended and recognized her. He went over to where she was sitting, said hello, then let her know he’d let me know he saw her there.

Andy’s latest car is also receiving scratches and his webcam is so worthless that he still doesn’t know who’s doing it. I wonder if it’s random or someone who has something against him personally? It’s sad that this kind of shit has to occur where he lives, though he said he’s not worried about it.

The doctor also said something about my good ear that I’ve heard before; it has a bony curve to it often found in adults who often swam in cold water as kids. Well, we sure did that every summer at the beach. He said sometimes it can cause problems later on by blocking canals and stuff like that, but doesn’t think I’ll ever have a problem with it.

My blood pressure was also back to normal.

I forgot to say that I was wrong about my eye pressure numbers. One eye was actually up to 29 last time around. The highest reading I’ve had was 30. I still doubt it will lead to glaucoma, though that and the sleep specialist are next up on the list. Plus I have a female exam awaiting me next month – ugh.

Finally remembered a couple of dreams I had last night for the first time in days. They were weird, too. I’ll be sure to copy them into my Dreams book, but will probably post a month of dreams at a time rather than an entry for every single dream I have. Fortunately, I can save drafts there, so I can add to the draft, then publish it when the month ends.

In the first dream I had, it was late at night. I was wide awake and I looked at Tom who was sound asleep and decided I’d go out for a walk in the woods that bordered a bunch of backyards. It wasn’t anyplace I’ve seen around here, but anyway, I “slid” down these hills into the woods and walked around for a while. Then after I climbed back up the hill I was exhausted and realized I lost my bearings and was several houses away from mine. I had to cut through people’s backyards to get to mine, all the while hoping no one saw me and thought I was scouting out homes to break into.

In another dream, I was at some function in which a karaoke contest was being held. All the while I was eyeing this hot-looking security guard, I was trying to debate whether or not I was in the mood to participate in the contest. Then I realized I didn’t have a clue as to what I should sing in the first place.

SUNDAY, MARCH 2, 2014 Yay, I’m able to run again! I’m doing multiple quick bursts of running sprints barefoot on the treadmill, rather than putting on socks and running shoes and going outdoors. It’s raining out there again anyway.

I’m now cooking this chicken recipe I found online in the slow cooker that can be cooked on low for 8 hours or on high for 4. I chose the faster method. I hate carrots and I’m not big on Dijon mustard so I left those ingredients out. I have skinless, boneless chicken breasts mixed in with chicken soup and garlic powder, which I’ll serve over egg noodles when it’s done. It’s enough to feed me 3-6 times depending on whether or not I have 1 or 2 servings at a time. Tom won’t touch it, of course, cuz he hates chicken.

Yesterday, Tom heard the guy working across the street talking on his cell phone. He said something about having about 5 hours of work left but was back again today. I wouldn’t mind if they’d just quit the banging. It’s when they go in and out of their truck slamming doors that gets annoying, but maybe it will stop soon. He left shortly after I got up and hopefully, he won’t return. We saw sheets of plywood being carried in, so maybe they had some rotted floors that needed replacing.

I still have my tan from Maui and I still want to go back. NOW! While Tom and I would visit New England if it were a matter of a simple snap of our fingers, and see my sister, nieces, Andy, Paula, Jessie and my Italian dad, neither of us has any desire whatsoever to go to New England. Besides, in less than a year my sister and nieces should be moved to Florida. Someday we’ll be back in Hawaii, though we may go to a different island. Miss Hates to Travel would go as often as her German cyber hottie goes to Turkey if she could. I guess Nane’s going to Morocco this time around, though, sometime this month.

Looks like Holly’s been checking my blog out again. It will be interesting to see if she returns during the week. She’ll have a lot to talk about tomorrow at work, though, LOL.

Had a Roseville visitor too, but they couldn’t be anyone I know because they went to either Prosebox or Kiwibox where it always says No Page Landing. They shouldn’t know about those accounts.

SATURDAY, MARCH 1, 2014 Decided to share Blogger links on Facebook instead of LJ and have made LJ private since my top troll's back. She didn't contact me but she took a quick peek at my LJ blog, and since LJ is a pain in the ass to block IP#'s on, I blocked her on Blogger instead, cuz I know that if she can't get into LJ, she'll try Blogger.

It also appears I have a local visitor in Loomis and I’m guessing it’s Holly. Second guess would be Shannon, then I guess it would be a tie between The doctor and the dentist. I doubt the good Doc’s assistant would check me out and I doubt Janet, the receptionist would think to do so, so I’m going with Holly cuz she seemed the most talkative, the most interested in her “famous” patient, and the blondest. LOL, you know I always get attention from those I wouldn’t exactly consider the most flattering or interesting, but she was a nice lady and it’s not like she’s ugly or crazy or anything like that.

I remember Shannon said she lives in Citrus Heights so that’s why I doubt it’s her. I’m in Citrus Heights and I’ve never appeared as being in Loomis before, so why would she? It appears to be a pretty nice house in a rural area, a little far out for a doctor or dentist, I would think, but that seems right for a dental hygienist.

A quick check on Zabasearch shows no listing for the Doc or dentist in Loomis, but I can’t check Holly or Shannon cuz I don’t know their last names.

Alison is busy dealing with her own health issues; some gross liquid-like leakage from below what’s left of her breasts, and from her belly button. Gross! I told her that she probably has open sores of some kind that she oughta get checked out right away.

As I told Aly, I deactivated my Twitter because I don’t use it enough and I also don’t want Kim and Molly observing our exchanges.

My poor little toe woke me up a few times during the night and I had to take ibuprofen to dull the pain. I’m still walking funny, which in turn makes my ankle sore, so I’m staying off my feet as much as I can today.

Forgot to say that my BP was through the roof and my pulse was up there too, yesterday at 170/92 and 111, but that was probably just nerves. I’m sure the numbers changed drastically once the good Doc quit stabbing and gouging my toe.

Read a funny article about a real-life Barbie who wants to train herself to eventually live on just air and light and no food or water. rolls eyes And I can’t wait to train myself to fly! I’m gonna do it! You’ll see! Then I’ll fly right over your house and poop on it just like a bird!

We noticed a funny smell in here. Why are we so haunted by bad smells? I asked Tom. The smell of death in Maricopa, rotting wood in Auburn, and now it’s sweaty socks. Turns out our humidifier needs to be treated with a conditioner to stop the smell. Tom tossed some vinegar in it and it smells fine now.

Anyway, the rain has stopped and the sun is out, but the wind is still blowing. The wind chimes are pretty antsy out there right now.

[bestdealzforyou]

   Top 10 Best Dog Cake in Surat - Best Dealz For You

1- The Centre Court

Bakery and Cake Shop in Surat

4.3 (2T)

Cafe-style outlet with a modern design & range of fanciful cakes, sweets & light Indian meals.

Service options: Dine-in · Takeaway · No-contact delivery

Address: Bus Stand, Near, Ambika Niketan Road, Parle Point, Athwalines, Athwa, Surat, Gujarat 395005

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 11:30 pm

Menu: thecentrecourtcakes.com

Phone: 088004 41320

The Centre Court – THE CENTRE COURT WAS STARTED IN 1998 TO CRAFT THE FINEST OF FOODS USING ONLY FRESH AND NATURAL INGREDIENTS. THERE IS ONLY ONE CONSTANT AT THE CENTRE COURT WHICH IS “QUALITY”?, CUTTING ALL THE OTHER NOISES OUT. IT HAS ALL BEEN, ABOUT A DRIVE BY SAMIR & KAVIT MODI TO BRING THE HIGHEST STANDARDS OF CREATING THE FINEST FOODS. DO ENJOY OUR CUISINE, WE HOPE YOU GET ADDICTED AND KEEP COMING BACK. OUR MISSION IS TO CREATE THE WORLD’S MOST EXQUISITE CAKES. OUR INSPIRATION COMES FROM EVERYWHERE: ART, FASHION, FABRIC, FURNITURE, ARCHITECTURE, LANDSCAPES, SCIENCE, MUSIC, AND HISTORY.

2- Dotiwala Bakery

Bakery and Cake Shop in Surat

4.3 (1.6T)

Address: Ardeshir Kotwal Road, Makkai Bridge Rd, Nanpura, Surat, Gujarat 395001

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 9 pm

Phone: 0261 247 5027

Order: swiggy.com

Dotiwala Bakery – During their in reign India, the Dutch established in Surat a warehouse on Dutch Road, in which five parsee gentlemen were employed to make breads. When the Dutch left India at the end of their rule they handed over their ovens to one of our ancestors Mr. Faramji Pestonji Dotivala. Faramji continued to supply breads to the remaining colonials. As time went by, the business went slack and the breads were left unsold. Bread dough in those days was fermented with toddy (sap of palm tree) so it would not spoil for considerable amount of time. However the breads would become dry due to loss of moisture. The leftover dried breads were sold cheap, which gained considerable popularity due to their lightness and crispy texture. The demand increased so the breads had to be dried in the ovens specially to achieve the desired dryness and texture. They were also shaped differently. Even today these biscuits are made and are very popular, and are known as Irani biscuits.

3- Bakers Bunch

Bakery and Cake Shop in Surat

4.4 (1.4T)

Address: 4QWF+67H, Aagam Arcade, Vesu Main Road, Vesu, Surat, Gujarat 395007

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 10 pm

Phone: 098251 07722

Bakers Bunch – What a wonderful cake they prepared for my boy. He got exactly what he wanted. Thanks a lot Bakers Bunch. Keep it up.

4- Atul Bakery, Hira Baug, Surat

Bakery and Cake Shop in Surat

4.2 (1.2T)

Address: 5, Varachha Main Rd, Hirabag Circle, Kasturaba Society, Jeevandeep Society, Hirabaugh, Surat, Gujarat 395008

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 9:30 pm

Phone: 090990 53965

Order: swiggy.com

Atul Bakery, Hira Baug, Surat – Gujarat’s No-1 #Bakery with 165+ outlets & 100% vegetarian products. Surat | Vadodara | Ankleshwar | Vapi | Bharuch | Rajpipla | Karjan | Ahemdabad | Chhota Udepur | Silvassa | Gandhinagar | Anand”

5- Denish cakes & Pastry shop

Bakery and Cake Shop in Surat

4.2 (1.1T)

Address: G-17, Mega Royal shopping center Beside Patel pragati Wadi, Nr. Patrol pump, Vir Bhagat Singh Marg, circle, Adajan, Surat, Gujarat 395009

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 11 pm

Phone: 098258 45554

Denish cakes & Pastry shop – I am a regular customer … I buy cakes from here only for any occasion i.e. birthday, anniversary, gokul ashtami, baby-shower, wedding, any function is there – this is the place for our cakes. Awesome taste, wide variety, customization and fair prices.

6- Seewans Tasty Bakes ( Amul Bakery )

Bakery and Cake Shop in Surat

4.4 (430)

Address: Krishna Complex, Hazira – Adajan Rd, Krishna Nagar Society, Premjinagar Society-1, Choksi Wadi, Adajan, Surat, Gujarat 395009

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 9 pm

Menu: seewans.com

Order: seewans.com

Phone: 0261 279 3159

Seewans Tasty Bakes ( Amul Bakery ) – I look forward to every surprise birthday cake from here… It is the first time he has ordered the personalized cake for me other than Swiggy and Zomato.. But I must say Seewans’s Cake has made his vision come true. And this cake is one I will never forget… It was by far my favorite ever! It was absolutely amazing! I literally loved every piece of the cake.. Every detail was beautiful! And to top it off, the cake was the moistest and most delicious I have ever tasted. If you need a sweet treat… or a quick break from all of the craziness..just go for it… You will never be disappointed.

7- Desserts & More

Bakery and Cake Shop

3.9 (307)

Address: Siddhi Shopping Complex, next to ICICI Bank, Surat, Gujarat 395007

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 11:30 pm

Delivery: Now ⋅ Ends 11 pm · More hours

Menu: dessertsnmore.petpooja.com

Order: swiggy.com, petpooja.com

Phone: 093276 89718

Desserts & More – One of best place for cakes, cheesecake, pastries. Tase and quality is good, Flavour and texture is also good, Most satisfying products, Try once.

8- ILOVEDOGS

Pet store in Surat, Gujarat

4.8 (272)

Address: UG 1 TO 4, ECO FUTURZ ABOVE CENTRAL BANK, NEAR ALTHAN BHARTHANA, BRTS, New City Light Rd, Surat, Gujarat 395007

Areas served: Vesu and nearby areas

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 9:30 pm

Updated by this business 9 weeks ago

Phone: 074879 78888

ILOVEDOGS – ILOVEDOGS is a Pet Supply Store located in New Citylight Area of Surat. We have an experience of over 6 Years in this Business. Our Store offers wide range of varieties in Pet Supplies like Pet Food, Pet Toys, Pet Accessories and many more. We also specialise in Pet Grooming and provide various services like Washing, Hair Cutting, Pedicure & many more. As a Pet Care brand we very well understand your urge to be best Pet Parents & to support your vision we ensure to provide a One Stop solution to all your Pet Supplies & Grooming.

9- Cakeliciouss – Homemade customized cakes in Surat

4.9 (248)

Bakery and Cake Shop

Address: B-902 KESHAV NARAYAN APPARTMENT NEAR ASHIRWAD PALACE GATE, 4, Bhatar Rd, Surat, Gujarat 395007

Hours: Open 24 hours

Delivery: Now ⋅ Ends 10 pm · More hours

Phone: 093742 46573

Cakeliciouss – Homemade customized cakes in Surat – Starting a cake business was not easy task for me. Many hurdles came into my way, my family & friends won’t let me to bake the cakes. But slowly & gradually my interest towards cake baking increased day-by-day & finally i had done course of ‘MASTER’S IN BAKERY & ARTS’ After completion of it i started taking orders of cakes, pastries, brownies & customised cakes. Every single bake-a-day make my day!!! Every time when i finish my cake i feel like heaven on the earth.. I can assure you that I can provide you ‘BEST QUALITY’ and ‘BEST TASTE’ all over SURAT totally ‘EGGLESS HOMEMADE CAKE’ I am working from my home ‘CAKES IN SURAT’ 100% HYGIENE.

10- Dotivala Bakers & Confectioners

Bakery and Cake Shop

4.1 (143)

Address: Poddar Arcade, 203, Varachha Main Rd, Khand Bazar, Kodiyar Nagar, Surat, Gujarat 395006

Hours: Open ⋅ Closes 8:30 pm

Phone: 0261 255 1119

Dotivala Bakers & Confectioners – As far as taste & quality goes, it’s quite good. Service , variety & packaging is also good. Nankhatai & choco-vanila cookies are fab. Only issue for this branch is parking issue. At peak hours, getting parking becomes very difficult. Better would be to go with another person who can stay outside with vehicle.

READ MORE...Best Deals online | Pet products, Clothing, health care products

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 309: Gotta Go My Own Way

Previously on BnHA: Muscular was all “well if it isn’t the protagonist on his solo journey of self-discovery, for some reason I’m unironically glad I get to fight you!” Deku was all “hey Muscular before I finish kicking your ass would you please take a moment to answer these two survey questions? Question one, do you regret being a total piece of shit? And question two, if you could do anything at all in the world other than being a total piece of shit, would you?” Muscular was all, “pfft, no and no.” Deku was all, “thanks buddy, your feedback helps make me a better hero, here’s a coupon for fifteen percent off your next ass-whooping.” Then he whooped his ass.

Today on BnHA: Deku is all “what up All Might can you believe you’ve been here this entire time?” All Might is all “I sure can since that’s literally my catch phrase, anyway how are your magic movie 1 gauntlets holding up?” Deku is all “they’re holding up fine, how are Hawks, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist doing?” Hawks, Endeavor, and Best Jeanist are all “we, your fellow co-conspirators, are also doing fine, thanks for asking!” Flashback!Deku is all “anyway so I secretly have All Might’s quirk and the most dangerous people in the world are after me, so sorry mom but that’s why I’m dropping out of school.” Inko is all “I CAN’T ACCEPT THAT” while totally accepting it. All Might is all “I GUESS WE’LL JUST HAVE TO GO ALONG WITH IT SINCE I DON’T FEEL LIKE TRYING TO STOP HIM.” Hawks, Jeanist, and Endeavor, as previously mentioned, are all “yeah that sounds like a good plan”, and Gran is all “see ya kid, don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” So basically everyone in the entire world has suddenly teamed up with Deku to defeat AFO, except for the one person whose entire foreshadowed endgame is “teaming up with Deku to defeat AFO.” O Kacchan where art thou.

dear tumblr image limit: okay look. you don’t like me, and I don’t like you. but just as an experiment, I’m gonna try writing this recap with as few images as possible and we’ll see how it goes

(ETA: spoilers for how it went: it didn’t, lol.)

oh my god WHY ARE WE OPENING WITH MORE KETSUBUTSU ACADEMY KIDS.ffs we’d better at least finally get some Ms. Joke content out of this

(ETA: seriously who do I have to bribe.)

so these two KB kids who no one cares about are watching Deku leap away from the scene after dispatching Muscular. but more importantly wtf is this chapter title omg. “I can’t stay being a child” so that’s how it is huh. we’re gonna have feels and we’re going to like them. well then

oh my god he’s hauling Muscular away dhfksklfkh okay this is gonna have to be our first image because I can’t fucking help myself. look at this

just. Deku is so tiny and he’s carting away this massive unconscious lump of a man like it’s nothing why is this so funny to me. it’s like when people buy furniture, and they don’t want to pay extra for delivery and so they’re like, “I can definitely fit this king-sized mattress in the back of my compact sedan if I fold the fucking seat down, idk.” and they refuse to be talked out of it, and the next thing you know you’re watching them drive home with their open trunk door haphazardly tied down with bungee cords, and somehow it fucking works. because it turns out the compact sedan has super strength

anyway for SOME REASON now Horikoshi is all “have fun with that Deku, meanwhile we now return you to your regularly scheduled SHINDOU CONTENT” whyyyyyy

look at this. we’re really using up a whole fucking entire page on everyone arguing over who gets the honor of carrying Shindou

love how the civilians are all, “shit lol is this actually our fault?? quick, how do we play this off all casual like we were the reasonable parties here all along”

turns out all it took to finally get them to listen was making them watch while a kid got his insides ground into a pulp because of their stupidity!! what a heartwarming conclusion to this little standoff

anyways THANK GOD we’re cutting back to Deku now!! well actually we’re cutting back to Muscular who is being dropped off at the police precinct, good bye and good riddance lol

so Deku’s leaving him there and bounding away and okjdlSKFJLKJDSL OH MY GOD

no fucking way. no fucking way this little jaunt is All Might-sanctioned and approved. are you serious?? then who else is in on this?? what the hell is going on

so All Might is just WAITING FOR HIM IN AN ALLEY FFF WHO ARE YOU, JIM GORDON. or would Alfred be a better analogy here?? but like, Alfred if he ditched the suit for a moto jacket and shades

this new ensemble of All Might’s may or may not severely impact my ability to take this forthcoming conversation seriously; please stand by

also, quite the spectacular landing there, Deku. seriously lol what was that

“HOW ARE YOUR LIMBS” “THANKS TO YOU THEY’RE COMPLETELY FINE” I’M SORRY WHAT

LOL WHAT. “THANKS TO THE POWER OF THESE MAGIC GLOVES” OH I SEE THAT EXPLAINS IT

are these the same gauntlets from the first movie, then? well that’s all well and good, except that now there’s going to be more Deku Discourse than fucking ever lol. so if it’s all the same to you guys, I’m gonna once again go ahead and declare this week’s post a discourse-free zone, at least when it comes to the specific discourse of Deku’s merits as a MC, and the impact that him kicking ass and having working arms has on said merits. this has been something of a low mental energy week for me, so I’d rather reserve the energy I do have for more fun topics, such as All Might’s bitchin’ leather jacket

anyway so All Might’s saying that the gauntlets will help reinforce Deku’s arms, but they can’t withstand OFA at 100%. so basically it’s a support item designed to maintain the status quo lol. we’re basically in the same situation we were before, arm-capability-wise

homg All Might’s getting a call. time to see who else is in on Operation: Deku Alone?? or not so alone for that matter

omg

HI HAWKS, WHERE ARE YOUR WINGS

(ETA: seriously are they really gone for good?? why would he even be back on active duty then?? does he have his own American ex-boyfriend who can hook him up with exclusive support items?? dammit Horikoshi we want answers.)

looks like Jeanist and Endeavor are teaming up as well, just like they said they would. I would gladly follow this trio around all day long tbh

is this the same giant villain from the very first chapter??

looks like it to me, and it would tie in with that callback from the end of chapter 306. we all thought that was Muscular, but maybe it was this guy, and Deku left these three to deal with him while he ran off to take Muscular down

oh my god now Deku is running off again just like that

kids these days

ffffff I have not had nearly enough sleep to follow along with whatever tf Hawks is talking about here sob

like, is he trying to say that All Might is keeping Deku’s whereabouts unknown to anyone except for him?? in order to keep him safe?? but Hawks is pointing out that that’s a bad strategy and probably won’t do shit against AFO and it’s better if he lets Deku work with the rest of them?

(ETA: so @hanashimas​’ translation makes a lot more sense -- it’s not All Might who’s being overprotective, but Deku. in other words he’s trying not to drag All Might into his battles. and in addition Hawks is saying that their strategy is to take the offensive and go after AFO themselves rather than wait for him to come to them. which I’m not too sure about myself, but that’s another topic for another day.)

btw I can’t help thinking how much better this entire conversation would be if All Might was still wearing his sunglasses. put them back on my dude. it’s not too late. embrace your inner badass

DKLJSLDKFJL FLASHBACK ALERT, FUCKING FINALLY

“turns out, we were just trying to scare you straight. fuck lot of good that did though lol”

also what is this. one true love: the hospital bed. is that a scanlator joke or is Horikoshi actually that funny omg

SKLJDFLJLK

ITSA ME!! omg I love this hospital so much. though it’s sure not helping me in my quest to try and keep this post below ten images. I’m already up to eleven haha r.i.p. to me if tumblr doesn’t get its shit together

whaaaaaat, so he’s saying that Deku’s injuries were external (i.e. Tomura beating the shit out of him) rather than internal this time?? whaaaaat. excuse me but that’s some bullshit lmao. believe me, I was there

okay now he’s going on to explain that Deku’s “internal structure” seems to have been protected from the inside and out, and the corresponding panel seems to be implying that using Blackwhip as a brace paid off. huh

and also that his body is just stronger now?? so I guess he’s better able to withstand the quirk after an additional year of training?? I’M NOT SURE IF I BUY ANY OF THIS LOL but I’m willing to suspend my disbelief

OH MY GOD RED ALERT, INKO IS ASKING ALL MIGHT TO EXPLAIN WTAF DEKU’S QUIRK IS, IS IT FINALLY THAT TIME OMGGGG

SO HE’S EXPLAINING IT TO HER OFF-SCREEN, AND INKO IS JUST LIKE

I GUESS THAT’S FAIR LOL. IT’S TRUE INKO I’M SO SORRY, YOUR SON IS A PROGATONIST R.I.P.

AHHKKJH DEKU ANGST IS IT FINALLY THAT TIME OMGGGGGG

what is this soft pop beat that’s suddenly being pumped in over the speakers. I’VE GOT TO MOVE ON~ AND BE WHO~ I~ AM~~~, I JUST DON’T BELONG HERE, I HOPE YOU UNDERSTAAAAAAAND. also, follow-up question, when is Kacchan finally going to come back so he can jump in with the “WHAT ABOUT US~~~” bridge, huh. come the fuck on, Horikoshi

lmao All Might jesus christ

but given that it’s a stupid-ass decision...

anyway, yes!! finally that sweet, sweet “I don’t want to put anyone else in danger” angst!!

mmm that’s good angst Brent. Kacchan with center panel honors as usual, you love to see it. anyways though who do I have to yell at to get Deku a goddamn HUG around here seriously

so Inko is of course reacting with panic, and sensibly saying that she doesn’t approve of Deku’s “RUN AWAY AND FIGHT THE BAD GUYS ALL ON MY OWN, DON’T WORRY MOM I’LL JUST GET STRONGER, EASY AS PIE, IT’S A FOOLPROOF STRATEGY” plan

son of a bitch this manipulative green asshole is really gonna sit here and smile fondly at his mom and try to convince her that he’s Not A Little Kid Anymore. the hell you’re not mister

y'all are really just gonna sit there and let him talk you into this?? surely it can’t be that easy??

OH MY GOD

THE FEELS oh my god oh my god. BUT ALSO YOU’RE SERIOUSLY JUST GOING TO COLLAPSE INTO HIS ARMS SOBBING AND LET HIM DO WHATEVER THE FUCK HE WANTS LKJLJLFK. WHERE ARE ALL THE STRICT PARENTS AT?? AIZAWA, GANG ORCA, MITSUKI, SOMEONE PLEASE COME AND TELL DEKU TO SIT HIS ASS THE FUCK DOWN. NOW LISTEN HERE YOUNG MAN!!

“EVEN IF I TRY TO STOP YOU YOU’LL STILL LEAVE” WELL SURE, IF BY “TRY TO STOP HIM” YOU MEAN POLITELY TRY TO TALK HIM OUT OF IT FOR THREE SECONDS. HE’S SIXTEEN WTF WHEN DID HE BECOME THE BOSS OF YOU ALL. SOMEONE NEEDS TO COME AND TELL HIM HE’S GROUNDED

anyway sob so that’s the story of how Deku talked his parents into letting him drop out of school, and even convinced All Might to be his own personal Guy In The Chair. holy shit. this kid really went and rolled a nat 20 and the rest of them had no choice but to fold without argument

meanwhile here’s a panel of Best Jeanist trying to braid his phone into his hair just cuz

I’m dying to know which part of his language he considers to be crude here. you literally didn’t even use a contraction my guy

so now flashback!Deku is talking to Gran in the dark, and Gran is all “can you believe I’m not fucking dead yet lol that’s too funny. anyway, you sure I can’t interest you in killing Tomura after all?? no?? okay then here’s my cape.” truly a heartwarming scene

I’m kind of torn here tbh. on the one hand, my adhd ass wasn’t all that interested in sitting down and having an extended scene between these two when there’s so much else that I want to get to. but on the other hand, even I can admit that cramming this entire reunion into a single page seems just a BIT rushed. idk. like maybe someone can let Horikoshi know it’s a marathon and not a race. Deku didn’t even get any dialogue here, some of us want to know his thoughts!! but anyway

AND JUST LIKE THAT?!

how did all four of them let him con them into this. I literally just watched it happen and I still can’t figure out how. “I GUESS THIS SIXTEEN-YEAR-OLD HIGH SCHOOL DROPOUT IS OUR LEADER NOW” ffflfjf. when Aizawa finds out he’s gonna go apeshit. AND DON’T EVEN GET ME STARTED ON BAKUGOU KATSUKI, WHO I HAVE BEEN ASSURED DOES IN FACT STILL EXIST. WHAT ABOUT USSSSS, WHAT ABOUT EVERYTHING WE’VE BEEN THROUGH. WHAT ABOUT TRUST???! YOU KNOW I NEVER WANTED TO HURT YOUUUUU

btw lol don’t get me wrong, I am enjoying this, and I’m honestly glad Deku’s not alone because that would suck for him! but that said, Hawks and Jeanist have lost any credibility they might have once had as far as being The Responsible Ones, and as for All Might and Endeavor, fucking hell lol. everyone just deposited all of their fucks in a bank somewhere for safekeeping and decided to never look back. godspeed you mad lads

[whatdoesshedotothem]

Saturday 19 August 1837

8 ½

11 20

slept with A- she laid down naked after washing and staid with her I grubbling her till after 8 fine morning down at 9 20 Robert Mann wanted me about carriage court water pipes – he and co. at new watercloset drain as yesterday and straightening up the court – out with Robert and then with Blythe till breakfast at 10 5 to 10 ¾ and A- tho’ she had breakfasted came and sat with me – F69° at 10 3/4, and very fine morning – at 10 ¾ went to Braithwaite the blacksmith Mr. Husband had employed for the Northgate hotel work – paid the man – the chief part of the bill for the iron work for the Lodge gates returned upon Mallinsons’ hands - £3.9+ I have had to pay for the iron work found by me (some found by Mallinson) – represented the hardship of this to B- he said he would take me off the iron – he had a right to do that for me and he would stand to it – found the man was a radical had asked if he was used to machinery and work about carriage wheels etc. so easily asked which way his political opinions leaned – this subject and that and paying him of the gates kept me talking till 11 ¾ - off with A- and Robert Schofield at 11 5 to Hagstocks to see about a bit of waste ground taking in against Hagstocks lane – would be about 30 roods of walling – Hebblethwaite would pay nothing for it – useless – sauntered slowly all along the fields (passed just above Shibden hill) to Hagstocks – some while in the house – the young man to ask what a plaster near would do up the rood pointing of combing cotton for – then into  the Lane – stood talking – then walked forward to the 1st quarry to see about stone – 7d. per 2 horse load and A- had paid 5d. per 1 horse load – dear and bad – sent Hebblethwaite home and took Robert S- forward to Rinby castle to see the quarries about there – looked down upon Holdsworth hall fine view – as we [skited] the hill homewards towards pule nick fine view of H-x returned along Hagstocks lane to Horley Green and thence by the new bank and Platform – Left A- at the latter about 3 ¼ - then down the old bank and at Mr. Parker’s office in 10 minutes – ½ hour there – Mr. P- to see Mr. Carr on Monday morning if he could and me at Shibden 9 am on Tuesday – I should be glad to buy the coaches, chaises, horses, and harness, if I could buy them worthwhile – wished to know what C- asks for them – might even take furniture or a great part of it, if we could agree – but I wanted time – the hotel could not be ready till spring – P- would speak to C- on this subject – C- might keep all on till spring and I take everything at its then value supposing me to pay something in advance? – P- to speak of all this – Rainer might sell his licence and turn the building into shops and then we should all be good friends and do no inquiry to one another – mentioned but without any reflection on Greenwood what he had said about the tap – P- to think about it – would it be better to get the licence given to John Booth? – then to the bank got £100 – returned up the old bank – sometime talking to Joseph Mann at the platform and to John Mann who spoke for a farm if I had one – lives under Holt at Booth bank – pays £8 for 4 little rooms – came in at 5 – had Culpan in a/c of garden walls and paid Riley joiner in full for Hilltop – and arranged coal bills of 22 July and 5th instant and wrote all the above of today and went down to Joseph Mann at 6 20 – 12 bills to settle – then had Robert – Marks’ (Hepworths) carting bill could not pay – obliged to turn it over to Monday – paid Mosey for 4 oak gates and cart and market cart repairing – all which took me till 7 ½ - went into the cellar – 1 port – dinner at 6 35 – coffee – A- and I came upstairs at 10 20 very fine day F62° at 10 20 pm Mr. Barber (junior I suppose) sent us a fine dish of trout just before dinner that he had caught himself this morning near Skipton

[libraryoftime]

Couples receive “parent points”, which they can use to purchase their children. Most parents wait for a few thousand, but you chose to buy the cheaper, 100 point child.

Shane knows what it’s like to be a 100 point child. He knows how it feels to see potential parents–potential families–come through the facilities doors, faces bright with excitement. He knows how it feels to see them reading the little plaques on the nursery doors, scanning the lists there for the right bits of knowledge and etiquette and grace that they want their baby to have.

He knows how it feels to see their faces pinch outside the window before they hurry to the next room.

Shane grew up in a 100 point nursery. They had torn, ratty, books and no teachers, and when snack time came, the tray was pushed through a slat in the door. They were called “unruly” and “damaged” and “stupid.” A lot of the other kids threw tantrums and broke furniture (and sometimes other kids). A lot of the other kids went quiet after the first few years when they realized they’d never be adopted until they were old enough (or pretty enough) to be useful. A lot of the kids cried and didn’t stop until they got taken away or were aged out.

Shane’s grown up a lot since aging out. He put himself through school, got himself a job, shed his 100 points like the torn clothes he’d left the facility in. He’s powerful now, successful, and he’s grown out of the twisted nose, big ears, and gap-toothed smile that had made him one of the less attractive 100 point babies. Or maybe he’s grown into them. Who’s to say?

It’s taken him a long time to get enough Parent Points to do what he wants. Being a man is, for once, somewhat hindering as most of society equates “parental” with “maternal.” He’s lost count of how many social workers have politely hid expressions of surprise when he told them he wanted to adopt stag, that he’s willing to take the classes, get the grades, make the oaths to get even one Parent Point.

Sometimes they ask him about his sealed records. They want to know about his experience growing up (since surely someone as successful as him was a 1000 point child at least). He shakes off those questions with a smile, an offhand comment about protecting his parents, or, if worst comes to worst, a smile.

Finally, finally today he’s got the points. Thousands of points from years of classes, of seminars, of simulations.  Shane’s got the Parent Points to buy a child of his own.

The facility’s staff welcomes him in with open arms, eyes flicking over his suit, his nicely combed hair, the watch on his wrist. Their smiles brighten when he scans his Parent Points and a six digit number appears.

“Right this way, Mr. Carson,” the social worker, Ms. Daily, says, sweeping her arm to the right. “I have just the nursery for you.”

He follows Ms. Daily obediently, looking neither right nor left. She’s clearly taking him to the higher point children, the ones at the heart of the facility, the protected ones. He can hear crying as they pass the first window and his hands curl into fists in his pockets.

“Here we are,” Ms. Daily chirps, stopping in front of a large, viewing window. “Please, let me know if you see one to your liking. I have all the relevant information here.” She holds up her data pad and smiles.

Shane steps forward, eyes dropping to the plaque just under the window. Magnolia Room. Advanced language skills, superior mathematics, excellent athleticism. 80,000-120,000 PP.

The children in the room scream with laughter as their caregiver chases them around a brightly colored carpet. They’re all young here, babies and toddlers. When they’re older, they’ll become cheaper and cheaper until the regular masses can buy a ten-year-old prodigy for just a few thousand.

Shane’s jaw tenses as he takes in the opulence of the room, so different from the nursery he grew up in. There are books strewn all over the ground, intermingled with toys and puzzles and snack boxes. There’s a caretaker for every three children, equipped with radios and first aid training in case there are any injuries. He can see genuine affection on the caretakers’ faces as they play with the children, listening to them, loving them.

“They’re lovely,” Shane says to Ms. Daily, not taking his eyes off the room. “Really.”

“Thank you,” Ms. Daily says, preening. “We begin the educational process early. These children are magnificently bright, you see, sure to flourish in your home.”

“I’m sure,” Shane says, “but no, I think, for me. Shall we?” He turns on his heel and heads back down the hallway, strides long and sure.

“M-Mr. Carson?” Ms. Daily stutters. “Wait!”

Shane doesn’t wait. He stalks past the 50,000 point children, catching glimpses of solid beds, individual heaters, and caretakers beginning to prepare the evenings meal with the kids. He sees smiles and hears laughter and is happy for these children, truly he is.

He hates that not all the kids here are so cared for.

“Really,” Ms. Daily huffs, yanking down the back of her skirt, “I don’t think you’ll find a child to your satisfaction here!”

Shane ignores her and slows down. These nurseries are markedly different now. The 1000-2000 point kids’ room is plainer, still bright and cheerful but not quite so…vibrant. The caretakers here wear scrubs, like nurses, and they sit at folding tables, not oak ones, as they color with their charges. The children are munching on carrots and celery, some trail mix, drinking juice.

There’s one more room at the end of the hallway. Shane knows what it is.

“If you haven’t seen any child you like,” Ms. Daily says, catching his arm, “we have a sister facility in Panama City! I hear they have a little girl with the bluest eyes– Mr. Carson, wait!”

Shane stops in front of the last window. It’s yellow with age and there’s chicken wire embedded in the glass. In the bottom right corner, there is a web of cracks as if it had been hit with great force from the inside.

The plaque under this window reads: Yarrow Room. Disruptive behaviors, low proficiency in core subjects. 100 PP.

There are fifteen kids in this room, which is wrong since this nursery is much smaller than the other. Their beds are metal bunk beds with thin, space saver mattresses. The children sit scattered on the floor, not enough chairs for all of them. They range in age from toddlers to teenagers and their clothing looks old, worn, and doesn’t suit the children in the least.

There are no caregivers at all.

“It takes certain certifications to handle these children,” Ms. Daily says, flustered. “We can’t afford to keep a specialist on the staff 24/7. I assure you, the children don’t particularly mind it. They’re a…slow group.”

Shane sees the bags under each set of eyes. He sees the way they sit, backs too tense and straight to be anything but aware of being observed. He sees the food wrappers littering the ground, the grease in their hair, and the scarcity of color in the room and grits his teeth.

“All of them,” he says. He thinks about his big house, all the rooms, all the money. He hadn’t planned for this, not so soon, but he can’t. Not now. “I’ll take all of them.”

Ms. Daily sputters. “Mr. Carson! I–I admire your charity but a man of your position, if I may speak candidly, can not buy a 100 point child!”

“A man of my position,” Shane repeats, eyebrows climbing up his forehead.

“Exactly,” Ms. Daily says, nodding fiercely. “You are a man in the public eye, Mr. Carson, and you need a child able to do you justice! One of the 10,000 PP children, even, would serve you better!”

“I don’t know,” Shane says, mouth twitching. “I think a 100 point child could handle it just fine.”

Ms. Daily seems appalled at the very thought. “I assure you, they can’t!”

“I could and did,” Shane tells her. Then, while she’s processing, he inclines his head towards the window. “All of them. Shall we start the paperwork?”

All Ms. Daily can do is meekly follow him back towards the front office.

[c-ptsdrecovery]

Today @the-emef asked how my new job is going, so here’s an update! In no particular order:

--The work I’m doing (migrating information from an existing website onto a new website) is something I’ve already got lots of skills in (some of them I even honed by posting on tumblr!), and I’m picking everything up very quickly! I think I’m gonna be really good at this job.

---My training project got to the point where somebody needed to do Quality Assurance on it before I could go any farther, and the QA people were so busy that I’ve been sitting around doing literally nothing for three days lol

--That did NOT hold true today, as they asked me and the other trainee to pitch in with a big project, so I spent most of today downloading and uploading PDFs. Unfortunately, this work seems to just KILL my back after a few hours. BUT:

--My boss is THE BEST. She is SO kind and helpful and supportive and fun. One of the people training me heard that I was having back pain and that I was sitting in a dining room chair to work and suggested that I ask our boss if the company would be able to spring for an office chair for me, on the principle that it couldn’t hurt to ask (the job is 100% remote for me, and the people who normally, in non-plague years, work in the office of course get their office furniture from the company, so). My boss not only went to bat with HR on the subject, but when the company decided they couldn’t start springing for people’s home office furniture (I mean, valid) my boss emailed me and said, “I have some money for the department and I’d like to buy you an office chair as a welcome present!” I was GOBSMACKED. She’s the best. And honestly, EVERYBODY I work with is really nice. I haven’t had a bad interaction YET.

I’ve got my bad moments, of course. This is the first normal 9-5 full-time job I’ve ever worked, and it’s tiring. Capitalism sucks. I worry sometimes about not making enough money (partly because of my mom mildly undermining me ugh). I wonder if THIS was the job I got my PhD for?? (Nobody at my new job even knows I have the PhD, since I left it off my resume...) All those pressures about being a “success” and “using your talents to the fullest” and “you should be making more money at this age”...

But I think it’s normal to have these feelings and worries and doubts at this point in my life. I think I’m going to get past them. I think things are going to work out. And I always have to remind myself to take it one day at a time. To not compare myself to others, because my path has been different. To take breaks and remember that just because I’m an anxious person who doesn’t ever let myself slack off doesn’t mean that my boss and co-workers are, and that taking breaks (above and beyond my required 30-minutes a day) is very normal. Even in an office, people get up and get some coffee and chat for a bit. I’m allowed to lie down on a heating pad for twenty minutes when my back hurts. I’m not going to get fired. Things are going to be okay. Just stuff, y’know?

[basicjetsetter]

The Fall of Deus

♡ Pairing: Mob!Peter Parker x BlackFemale!Reader

♧ Setting: The Terrace Room in The Plaza Hotel, New York

♤ Warnings: Heavy Suspense, Language, Adult Themes, Violence, Gambling, Drinking

♢ Word Count: 6.5k

☆ A/N: No joke, this took me about two years to conceptualize. Two freaking years. But I can 100% say it was worth it to write every word. This is by far one of my most creative works and I love that I get to finally share it with you all. Please hit like if you enjoy it, leave me a lil’ comment and a reblog if you love it. Happy reading!

You couldn’t help but notice and admire how pretty the sky appeared when it was tinged in the auroral haze of an autumn morning and backdropped by the twinkling glass panes of New York’s notorious skyscrapers. Though autumn’s end isn’t for a couple of weeks, the lukewarm season allowed Manhattan a preview of winter’s frigid air. The city's constant roar hummed down to a distant lullaby as you walked up the steps and in through the doors of the Metropolitan Detention Center.

It’s an impressively modern building, one you’ve become intimately familiar with in the past couple of years. Everything inside screams order, from the plain white, bleach-scented linoleum floors to the rows upon rows of caged boxes containing a range of one-time offenders, serial criminals, and constant jailbirds. The first time you ever entered the establishment, it struck you just how much the atmosphere felt devoid and depraved, almost as if hope and happiness got stopped, frisked, and turned away at the door. You never liked staying more than necessary.

None of the four guards stationed along the main lobby walls paid you any attention as you marched up to the reception desk. Their inattention didn’t spawn out of contempt but out of fear. They knew who you were here for.

The receptionist, on the other hand, wouldn’t care if the Queen of England herself hop-scotched through the front entrance, bowed, and bestowed him the coveted Royal Crown on a jewel-encrusted platter.

He certainly never took an interest in your frequent visits. The first time you set foot into this building, a bright-eyed attorney anxious to speak with her first client, the oaf of a man merely grunted at your carefully constructed introductions and waved you off like a pesky fly. On a typical day, your exchange of words consisted of him curtly asking you to state your business while he half-listened to your response and stabbed at his keyboard with blunt fingers. Detaching his gaze from the monitor might have required exhaustion of his half-assed energy.

Today wasn’t unlike any other day. Phillips told you your client's location, even though you both knew the area by heart. Third floor. Cell Block E. Number 7. Always Number 7. Lucky Number 7.

Most of your ordinary clients got shipped to this facility and locked up with the rest of the inmates until you picked up their case. Unlike this particular client you planned on springing today, those other men lacked the say-so to determine their cell. None of them came close to his status. They didn’t have the power nor the money to hire a personal attorney, and none of their crimes could ever match those of the calculated, cunning man who controlled all New York's avenues and boulevards.

In the streets, he’s known as Deus. Depending on how close you are in his circle, he's either Parker or Pete. The name in the system is Peter Benjamin Parker. Your fiancé.

| Last Evening  |

“Stop fidgeting with your collar, Peter.”

“This fucking bowtie keeps… shit… it keeps choking me.” He growled out his frustration. “I’m going to fire that damn stylist.”

You threw him an exasperated glare as he ripped off the accessory. “Maybe if you hadn’t told him to pick any old bowtie, you wouldn’t be whining so much.”

“Remind me again why you're forcing me to wear this, anyway?” He paused for effect, placing his hand under his chin like Rodin’s The Thinker, and then snapped his fingers in dramatic realization. “Oh, right! Because Stark is a pretentious asshole, who thinks tuxedos are mandatory at all events thrown in his honor.”

Peter may hate the idea of wearing a formal tuxedo for the whole night, but you were going to enjoy every last minute of him in that attire, mainly because he resembles a model who stepped right off the page of a GQ cover. The low-lighting in this limousine certainly did its best to heighten your mood, highlighting the sharp angles of Peter’s clenched jaw. You’d have to remember to send Pepper a Thank You basket for planning the event as Black Tie.

“Can you at least pretend to get along with Tony tonight?” To see if his jaw could tighten any further, you coyly add, “He is the new Governor of New York, after all.”

Mission accomplished. Peter leaned his head back against the headrest and rubbed his eyes with the heel of his hands, the light that glinted off of his platinum Rolex creating a scattered array of lights against the black leather seats. You pried your eyes off the extension of his neck as he spoke. “Great,” he huffed. “That’s exactly what I need right now. A gloating Stark who’s now legally duty-bound to hound my ass. One more thing to think about.”

As the limo pulled up to a slow halt in front of the Plaza Hotel, you grabbed one of Peter’s hands and held it until his eyes met yours. You gave him a reassuring smile and said, “Everything’s going to be alright, baby.”

The driver opened the door before Peter could speak and held out his gloved hand for you. You’ve been to the Plaza Hotel on many occasions, mostly business, and yet the sight of the château-styled building at night, with its myriad of lit windows and its luxurious lobby never ceased to leave you breathless. The view effectually took your gaze away from Peter’s tux, but not for long. The moment he stepped out of the limo, bathed in the golden light of the building, you felt transfixed all over again.

Peter discreetly tipped the driver and then turned to face you, clearly not as impressed with the Plaza Hotel as you were. He placed his warm hands on the swells of your hips and pulled you in front of him. His eyes appraised you, from your stiletto heels to your tight-fitted, off the shoulder evening dress, traveling up to your chunky Senegalese twists elegantly laid over your shoulder. He let out a low whistle and said, “If looks could kill…”

You straightened his collar and opened up the top button of his gingham dress shirt for both your sakes, then swiftly leaned in and planted a chaste kiss on his lips. “You’re not too shabby yourself, Mr. Parker.”

He wolfishly grinned as you quickly detached yourself from his borderline caressing hold. You knew he’d want more than a short kiss, but you couldn’t afford to get sidetracked tonight.

“Behave,” you chided.

“And if I don’t, future Mrs. Parker?” he prodded, a huskiness in his tone that sent a delicious shiver through you. His steps slowly brought him closer and closer to where you stood, and you weren’t sure if you’d have the will power to move away again. One proper kiss wouldn’t hurt…

A disembodied voice groaned in your ear. “Book a room!”

Peter chuckled unabashedly. “Sorry, Ned.” Though he tried to appear unaffected, Peter made an effort to clear his throat and tugged at his collar. “You ready on your end?”

“Yeah. Mic’s clear. Computer’s up and running. I’m all set. Can’t say the same for you two.”

You glance accusingly at Peter, who waggled his eyebrows at you. “We’re ready. Sorry about that. You know how Peter gets when I wear twists.”

Ned verbally shuddered. “Don’t remind me. I still refuse to sit on my couch, by the way, even after washing it four times! You owe me a new couch, dude. For my trauma.”

Peter half-heartedly grinned at the ground and said, “Dude, if we pull this off, I’ll buy you a whole new furniture set.” The one half of his grin faded away, replaced with a grim line of determination and sobriety. “Where’s he at?”

A few clicks rang through your ear-piece, then Ned replied, “Not far. About twenty minutes away, on Queens Boulevard in Elmhurst. Might be a while before he reaches the Plaza, though. There’s a jam on the bridge.”

“Cool, thanks. Keep us updated.” Peter didn’t want you to catch his expression, but you didn’t need to directly see it to realize he’s in business mode, cold and calculated, little to no warmth or playfulness left in his brown eyes.

Copying your move, he took your hand and held it until you both stared at each other. Briefly, with your eyes locked in place, he searched for any sliver of doubt, giving you one last option to ditch and save face while he executes the plan solo. You did not doubt that he and Ned could somehow pull it off without so much as a hiccup. Odds always work in Peter’s favor. For the past three years that you’ve known him, he’s never lost a gamble. Tonight, though, the gamble must include you, a new piece to his complicated game—a variable. If anything were to head south, the last thing Peter would want is to implicate you.

You understood the risks: the potential loss of your career, your squeaky clean record, and possibly your life. You wouldn’t be here, with him of all people, if you didn’t trust the plan. So you didn’t sway, letting your eyes confirm where you stood on the matter. I’m sticking with you. This exchange passed in absolute silence, ending with a small nod and a lingering kiss to your palm.

It’s always surprising to see Peter without a trace of humor or good-nature in his eyes. It took you a while to acclimate to his night and day demeanor and even longer to trust which emotions were real and which served a purpose. As he slides a cocky smile back onto his face, one that graces every part of his features, and holds out his arm for you, you knew. He’s in his element.

The game’s begun.

♢ ♤ ♡ ♧

Not even five seconds into the Terrace Room and your jaw hit the floor. Pepper sure knows how to out-do herself.

The room displayed the same historic French charm as the outside façade, but much more grand, decorated with multiple crystalline chandeliers, large stone semicircular archways, and classical art adorning the ceilings. Somehow, Pepper’s touch of cream-colored table cloths, bouquets of immaculate white peonies, golden napkins, and floating candle holders added the perfect ambiance for Tony’s celebration.

True to his fashion.

The Man of the Hour is currently giving his speech at the head table as the Maître D’ checks your reservation and prompts a server to escort you and Peter to your table. It’s located not too far away from Tony's, near a stone wall and a divider separating the other tables. You weren’t entirely familiar with the three people who were already seated, but they graciously offered quiet nods of welcome. Peter grabbed your chair for you and smoothly pushed you in before taking his seat next to you while you strained to catch the last bits of Tony’s speech.

“… and I can truly say that without you, my amazing colleagues, friends, and organizers present tonight, this win would not have been possible. I thank you from the bottom of my heart. And um, yeah. Thank you, all.” Tony lifted his champagne flute into the air with a flourish and a winning grin. Peter rolled his eyes. “Here’s to an awesome four years as New York’s new Governor.”

Everyone stood up to give him a round of applause, Peter’s claps more grudging than encouraging, but you were glad he put in some effort. When he looked your way, you flashed him a loving smile and mouthed Thank you. He rolled his eyes again, playfully this time, and quirked his mouth up in an amused grin.

Live music picked up as soon as Tony took his seat, soft jazz that blended well with the onslaught of muffled chatter and clinks of silverware against glass plates. Servers incrementally brought out the main course of roasted beef filet dressed in tomato tarragon sauce and a side of arugula salad. Peter stifled a chuckle as he heard your stomach growl when a server placed the plate of food in front of you.

As another server leaned in to pour you a glass of wine, you held out a hand and gave him a polite smile. “No, thank you. May I just have some water, please?”

The young man nodded, but Peter piped up before he could head off. “Got anything stronger back there? Bacardi? Whiskey? Rum?”

“We have Vodka, sir,” the server stuttered out.

“Excellent. I’ll take a whole bottle of that,” Peter grinned and pressed a couple of $100 bills into the man’s palm. Peter’s effect on people never got tiring to witness. He and the server appear to be around the same age, somewhere near the 25-year mark, yet Peter's vibe reduced the server to stutters. You’d say the tux assisted with his air of importance, but you’ve seen Peter have that same effect on businessmen while wearing a shirt that read “I lost an electron. Are you positive?” and plaid pajama bottoms.

The server vigorously nodded. “Right away, sir.”

“Don’t drink too much,” you cautioned in a tone low enough for only Peter’s ears. “You know how you get, and I don’t want Tony to have an excuse to place cuffs on you.”

Peter scoffed and mumbled around a bite of salad, “If I looked at him wrong, Tony would cuff me.”

“Now that’s a little presumptuous, ain’t it, Petey?”

You jumped up from your seat and wrapped Tony up in a hug he warmly returned. “Congratulations! I’m so proud of you, Governor Stark.”

Tony waved a hand, yet a big smile remained plastered on his face. “Ah, come on. It was bound to happen. Policy is the new name of the game, but I’ll sure miss that courtroom. You missy, on the other hand, deserve all the praise in the world. Best and youngest attorney in the whole state. Mentored by yours truly.” He trailed off, glancing in Peter’s general direction. “Though I question why you waste your talents on the likes of him.”

Now sitting ramrod straight in his chair, Peter slanted his eyes toward yours as you silently pleaded with him to be cordial. Once he brought his eyes back to Tony, he jerked up his chin in recognition. “Stark.”

Tony nodded at Peter. “Baby-faced Criminal.”

“Hey, now!” Pepper swooped in, pulling Tony back a little so she could see you better. “Just look at you! Always a beauty in everything you wear,” she gushed, then put on a stern face for Tony and Peter. “No roughhousing, tonight, boys. I mean it.”

“I was just making a valid critique on my star pupil's decision to become the Personal Attorney to a well-known arms dealer, is all,” Tony defended. He threw up his hands and drew up an innocent expression that might have worked had it not looked so derisive.

Pepper, pursing her lips, nodded sagely. “Right. Okay. So you were being an ass?”

“Pep!” Tony protested incredulously. Peter didn’t even try to hide his triumphant smirk.

You rolled your eyes in defeat. Oil and water can never mix, no matter how hard you try. No, Tony did not take the news of you becoming Peter’s PA well, and he’s made sure to rake you over the coals bout it every time the chance arises. You’ve been Peter’s attorney coming up on two years, and there’s not a sign from either of them that the grudge will ever be let go, not even for your sake, though they do try when threatened.

“I want you two to say something nice to each other and then let the rest of the night go on in peace. Go ahead,” Pepper ordered, indicating for Tony to go first.

Tony took in an excessive amount of air, then puffed it out. “Alright, Parker. Um… I like how you ostensibly don’t know the rules to a Black Tie Event.” He ended with a gesture to Peter’s lack of a bowtie. The poor thing lies in a mangled heap on the floor of the limousine.

Peter ticked up his eyebrow. “I like how the stick up your ass seems to reach new heights every time we speak, Stark.”

Pepper sighed and grabbed Tony’s arm. “Not exactly what I had in mind, but I’ll take what I can get. Come on, you. There are many more guests to greet.” She tugged him along, throwing you an apologetic smile over her slim shoulder as they walked away.

Almost out of earshot, you could hear Tony say, “He calls himself Deus, for Christ's sake!”

They left you two in heated silence. Peter refused to meet your glare, instead choosing to chug down the freshly set out champagne flute filled with Vodka. He immediately flushed as he poured himself another glass full.

“Peter—” you started.

“Don’t say it. I tried, alright?” He slumped against the back of his seat, then shot you a surly frown. “You didn’t even mention our engagement to him. Again.”

You looked down at your untouched food, suddenly not hungry.

Peter’s eyes narrowed. “Were you ever going to tell him?”

An anchor of guilt plummeted to the pit of your stomach, chasing away the desire to eat anything for the next few hours. Your answer came out sounding whittled and nearly swallowed by the music. “Pepper knows.”

“And that tells me all I need to know,” said Peter, pushing away from the table and taking the bottle of Vodka with him.

You tried to stamp down the rise of startled panic by clearing your throat and evenly asking, “Where are you going?” A high octave managed to slip in on the last word.

“To socialize. Play some cards. Place a few bets. Criminal stuff. You want in?” He didn’t wait for you to answer, moving further and further away as a wave of hot anger replaced your shame. “Oh, my bad. Sorry. I forgot you probably don’t want your mentor seeing you ruin your perfect image with, what was it? The likes of me?”

He swaggered off, not a mere hint of his hurt evident in his show of arrogance.

You gingerly sat back in your seat, careful to ignore the inquiring stares from those who caught most of the argument. Your nails came close to puncturing your palms, and if your jaw clamped any tighter, it would snap. An annoying, persistent inner voice chimed out, He’s right, you know. It was probably Ned.

You understood Peter enough to know that Tony not being clued in on your engagement wounded him. He told everyone in his life about you—told Aunt May the second you finally agreed to go on that first date with him, nearly shouted to all the rooftops in Queens “SHE SAID YES!” when he proposed three months ago. Yet here you are, dragging your heels on telling Tony, one of the most influential people in your life, that you’re marrying the love of your life. He wouldn’t understand. Or, rather, he would, and he’d abhor your decision.

You’re not sure you could ever explain to Tony how Peter is your favorite star in the night sky. A big, glowing ball of light you spend hours upon hours admiring and appreciating. One that just burns brighter than all the rest.

Your engagement ring sparkled at you, winking as you moved it side to side and marveled at the simple yet elegant details of the inlaid sapphires and diamonds. Peter told you he picked it out a week before the proposal, but you knew he carried it around in his pocket for months, biding his time, waiting for the perfect opportunity. When he asked, you couldn’t say yes fast enough. At that moment, Tony and his aversion to Peter never crossed your mind, but it’s lingered ever since.

Guilt returned as a salve for your anger.

“Trouble in paradise?” asked a woman sitting at your table, a slight accent in her voice. She appears to be young, almost too young to be at this function. The glimmer in her eye and the hitch in her smile denoted a wise person. Goddess braids sat on top of her head like a crown, and she’s wearing a simple black dress with pearl studs that nicely accentuates her dark brown skin.

You uncurled your hands and blew out a held-in breath, kindly smiling back. “Something like that.”

She held out a hand. “Shuri Udaku.”

That name came with an inkling of recognition, but you couldn’t quite place it. You shook hands with the young woman, giving her your name. When you momentarily looked at your clasped hands, your eyes dropped down to catch the jewelry on her wrist. They weren’t pearls like her earrings. They were onyx and emblazoned with ivory symbols on each bead: Kimoyo beads, a technological revolution currently sweeping the nation, manufactured only by one woman. The realization hit you hard. “Hold on a second. The Shuri Udaku? Founder of Vibranium Tech, Shuri Udaku?”

“The one and only,” she answered, her smile growing wider.

This confirmation launched you into a field of questions and acknowledgments. It turns out she knows of your work as New York’s youngest attorney, but you know a bit more about her line of work because Peter always voiced his interest in her growing business. On the surface, Vibranium Tech is like any other technology company, issuing out new and improved ways of communication and medical treatment. In the underground, there’s been rumors of her interest in creating weapons—technological weapons unlike any the arms dealing business has seen before.

You didn’t want to bring up that facet of knowledge just yet. The normal conversation worked wonders on you, loosening your tense muscles and clamped jaw, all of them singing sweet relief once your body naturally released the tension.

“So, did I hear Tony correctly when he said your partner is the Deus?”

You winced and found yourself searching the room for a glimpse of your fiancé. He’s commandeered a table in the back of the venue, showing off his black and gold deck of playing cards to a group of interested guests itching to play a hand.

“Yeah, that would be him.”

“That’s so badass,” Shuri mused, leaning in conspiratorially. “Is he like the mob bosses in TV shows and movies? Like does he have henchmen? Bad-temper? High-speed car chases with the police?”

You genuinely laughed. “Not exactly. Henchmen, kind of. Bad temper is rare. And he’d never shut up about having a high-speed car chase with the police. No, he’s a little more lowkey than all that.”

Long ago, back when you were innocent to the life Peter led, you assumed that that’s precisely what it entailed—an exhilarating life of high stakes, exorbitant amounts of money, strong-armed goons, and reckless shoot-outs. That might be the case for a few bosses, but not Peter. He’s too strategic, and the ins-and-outs of his trade are too complicated to pin on just one person.

“Well, I, um…” she stopped, considered her words. You unconsciously drew in closer. “I may have a business offer for him.”

You kept your smile on, but it felt more commercial-like than friendly. “What type of offer?”

Shuri gulped down a generous amount of her red wine, then darted her eyes side to side before speaking lowly. “Would he be interested in high powered weapons?”

You raised your eyebrows but kept up your cool front. “Depends. In exchange for what?”

“Protection.”

A voice in your ear announced, “He’s here.”

You ignored it, focusing on Shuri. “From who?”

Shuri peeked around again to make sure no one paid any attention to your private conversation, but her examination stopped at the entrance. “From him.”

You cautiously slid your eyes to the main entrance, heart hammering a thunderous rhythm in your chest.

Brock Rumlow. Peter's rival and leader of a group named the Scorpions. A peddler/enforcer for the East Coast's largest mob: Hydra. Of course he’d try to pressure Shuri for the weapons.

He didn’t come dressed according to the occasion, opting for his usual tight-fitted black Tee and gray tactical pants. The visible half of his tattoo, a scorpion’s tail curling out from the cuff of his shirt, stood out against his tan skin. Two other men stood behind him, wearing almost identical clothes to Rumlow and sporting the same scorpion tattoo on their right bicep, not exactly hiding that they carried concealed weapons. All the voices in the room hollowed out to stiff silence, and even the band took its cue to halt. Your eyes found Tony in time to see his jaw tick for the briefest moment, and then he slid right back into a restrained version of his good cheer.

“Hey, hey! This is still a party, people,” Tony called out, addressing the guests. “Eat, talk, have a good time.” He signaled to the band to pick up the music, then crossed the room to chat with Rumlow. You’ve never seen him so keyed up.

You touched Shuri’s hand comfortingly, not taking your eyes off Rumlow. “I’ll see what I can do.”

She deflated gratefully. “Thank you.”

You nodded, already out of your seat and rushing to the back of the room, stopping short once you arrived at Peter’s table. He’s thoroughly invested in this round of poker, glancing back and forth from his cards to the nervous twitches of the five men and one woman at the table. You recognized four of them: Judge Nicholas Fury, Lieutenant Steve Rogers, Manhattan’s Chief of Police Sam Wilson, and District Attorney Natasha Romanoff. Sweat is perspiring on Steve’s forehead, Sam’s leg can’t stop bouncing up and down, and even Natasha, a woman known for keeping her cool while in the line of fire, is chewing on her lower lip. Fury's not fazed. He just seems tapped out.

From what you can estimate, about six hundred dollars lies in the middle of the table.

Sam and Steve speak at the same time. “I’m out.”

The other men followed suit, muttering their defeat. Fury dropped his cards down on the table facedown.

Peter wickedly grinned, zeroing in on Natasha. “Got any last words?”

Natasha squinted her eyes at his taunt. “Kiss my ass, Parker.” She put her cards down face up, showing her hand, and quirked up an eyebrow that dared him to top that: three Queens and a pair of twos. Full House.

Peter laid down his hand. Four 3’s and an ace. Four of a Kind.

A chorus of fucks circled the group as Peter cleared the table of the crumpled bills. Two new bottles of opened Vodka sit on the table as well, along with seven shot-glasses. Steve’s glass remains untouched, but the others look like they’ve drained two shots each.

“Bucky’s gonna kill me for losing so much money,” Steve muttered, twirling around his wedding band.

Sam sadly shook his head. “Dammit, man. I thought we had him this time, too.” He eyed Peter with suspicion. “What you got, kid? X-Ray vision?”

Peter ran a hand through his hair, causing a few curls to escape its sleek style. “Nah, jus’ luck.”

“Yeah, well, here’s to hoping your luck runs out,” said Fury, raising his shot glass and slamming it back.

You inched closer to Peter’s side. He reeked of alcohol, and his eyes are glazed over. You wonder how he’s even capable of sitting up, let alone playing people out of their money.

“Peter,” you whispered, putting your hand on his shoulder. His muscles tensed, but he didn’t shake you off. “Rumlow’s here.”

The remaining people at the table began to disperse in a collective gripe of loss. Peter didn’t say anything, only jerked his head in acknowledgment.

Your hand itched to slap him back into reality. “Peter, baby, listen. I’m sorry. I’m so, so, so sorry. I should have told Tony about our engagement.” Desperation sapped into your words. “It was stupid and childish not to, and as soon as I get the chance, I’ll tell him. But for the love of God, this is not the time to—”

“Well, well, well! Look who we got here! Deus, in the flesh!” boomed a disturbingly baritone voice. Rumlow, shadowed by his two men, plopped down in one of the empty chairs, sitting right across from Peter. He glanced at Peter first, then languorously landed his gaze on you. “And who’s this pretty lady you got here?”

“My fiancée,” answered Peter monotonously. He said it as if the words synonymously meant: just some chick. A dull kind of ache slashed through your chest as you dropped your hand back down to your side and took two steps away from him.

Rumlow pretended to miss the interaction, appearing to be in deep thought, and then clapped his hands once. “Oh! The attorney. I don’t believe I ever formally introduced myself.” He offered his large hand to you, grinning with his whole teeth on display. “Name’s Brock Rumlow.”

You reluctantly let him take your outstretched hand. His skin is blazing hot, to the point where your hand nearly felt suffocated. He brought it to his lips for a small kiss that twisted your stomach in knots. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Rumlow.”

Rumlow winked. “Pleasure’s all mine, sweetheart. And call me Brock.”

“Fuck do you want, Rumlow?” Peter bit out, picking the cards up off the table and shuffling them.

“Ooh,” tsked Rumlow. He made sure to lay another grin on you just to irk Peter. “Come on, Parker. Can’t a guy just enjoy some company once in a while? It’s not like I’m doing anything wrong.” He watched Peter’s movements, the cards haphazardly sliding back and forth from one hand to the next. “Playing cards, huh? You up for a quick game?”

You butt in with a pressed laugh. “Actually, we were just leaving.” Drunk Peter is overly confident. If Rumlow found that out, you knew he’d take Peter for everything he’s worth.

“So soon?” Rumlow glanced down at his watch. “It’s not even ten yet. What’s the rush?”

Peter cut you off. “No rush. I’m staying. You play Draw Poker?”

“ ‘Course I play Draw Poker, but that seems too simple for you, Parker. Don’t you wanna make it hard for me? A little Texas Hold ’em?”

“Draw Poker,” said Peter, splitting the deck against the table and flexing the cards enough to have them rapidly collapse into place. “Take it or leave it.”

A dark, mischievous smile brewed on Rumlow’s face as he watched Peter fumble with the deck and, at some point, entirely losing his grip. You discreetly watched him size up his opponent, dismayed to find that he likes the assessment. Hair is stubbornly falling into Peter’s eyes, eyes that anyone a mile away could point out are bleary and bloodshot. The flush from earlier deepened on his neck and flashed scarlet across his face—an easy target for a skilled player.

“Deal me in.”

The first game played out exactly as you feared it would. Rumlow and Peter agreed on a $100 ante to get the ball rolling, both pulling out a single bill from their pocket and placing it in the middle of the table, then they settled for a pot-limit. Though Peter’s shuffling skills lacked his usual finesse, he expertly dealt each of them a hand of five cards.

You leaned against the back wall with your arms crossed over your chest and watched the game unfold. Rumlow processes his hands at the speed of a bullet, snapping his eyes to his cards once he’s drawn, and immediately discards the ones he doesn’t like when it’s his turn. Other than the minutest crinkle in the corner of his left eye, you couldn’t tell when he felt confident or when he bluffed. He gave nothing away, not even an involuntary scratch to his five o’clock shadow. He was so in the zone he began to partake in the Vodka bottle close to his side of the table, swigging straight from the mouth.

On the other hand, Peter moved as if a millisecond was the equivalent length of ten years, scanning his cards more than several times with pursed lips, looking up at Rumlow, scanning his cards again, once, twice, three times, then reluctantly discarding some. He frequently shoves a hand through his hair to keep it out of his eyesight, but the same unruly strands find their way back to impede his vision. He scratches the shell of his ear when he’s about to draw, and Rumlow’s picked up the tell.

Rumlow never even had to do more than call. The confident drunk in Peter always raised.

The pot increased to about $1400 before Peter folded his hand.

As Rumlow collected his winnings, he suggestively lifted his eyebrows at Peter. “Care for round 2?”

Confident drunk Peter never backs down, even when he’s the dumbass who can’t remember that he’s brought fists to a gunfight.

You step back up to the table and put a restrictive hand on Peter’s wrist to keep him from picking up the cards. “Enough, Peter. You’re done. Let’s go home.”

“No, I’m not done,” he said, snatching his arm away from your touch. “Go talk to Tony or somethin’. I’ve got this.”

Rumlow caught your bewildered stare and shrugged his broad shoulders, a gesture that didn’t match his cocky smile. He has Peter right where he wants him, and there’s nothing you can do to stop him because Peter is a willing participant running on alcohol and no critical judgment.

You should have left right then and there, but your feet stayed rooted to the floor. You couldn’t leave Peter like this. Sighing, you pulled up a chair to the table and sat beside Peter.

“Don’t worry. I’ll go easy on him,” said Rumlow, putting on a smile too sardonic to be comforting. Too artificial to be genuine.

His lie didn’t surprise you. The hole Peter dug himself did.

The second round went similarly to the first. Flash decisions from Rumlow and molasses-like contemplation from Peter. This time, though, the ante came up to $200. As far as you knew, Peter is only carrying about $2500 in his pockets.

By the time the fourth round started, Peter’s Rolex lies on the table. The ante is up to $1000. Somehow the pot-limit became no-limit.

By the fifth round, Peter made paperless bets. Ante is $10,000. Rumlow knew Peter’s pockets went deep, and he’d keep at it until he struck gold.

Nothing you said stopped him. Peter hadn’t won a single hand. He’s desperate for at least one good hand; he’s got something to prove.

Rumlow kept drinking with each win.

By the seventh round, a crowd is around the table, watching in horrified interest as Peter raises the bet to one million dollars. The most significant amount you’ve ever seen him bet. So far, he’s held this hand for three draws.

Peter’s hair lost all semblance of its previous style, hanging over his forehead in disarray. He’s hunched over in his chair, his jacket’s off, and he’s rolled up his dress shirt’s sleeves to his elbows. His group’s signature tattoo stands out stark against his inner wrist: a roughly sketched spider.

Rumlow, eyes now as bloodshot as Peter’s and face just as flushed under his tan skin, asks, “Think you got something, Parker?”

“Do you?” Peter countered.

“I just might.” Rumlow ran a finger against his bottom lip, then smiled at his hand. “Why don’t you say we make this last Showdown a little more interesting, eh?”

A terrible queasiness wrapped around your gut.

Peter listened intently, his silence Rumlow’s indication to continue.

“$10 million. And the best trading routes. Including foreign connections. I want everything you got.”

You turned to Peter, placing your hand on top of his until he finally looked at you. Your eyes begged him to listen to you for once tonight. “Please don’t do this.”

His reply sounded tortured. “But I can. I have to.”

“Is winning really worth losing everything?” you asked, your voice cracking.

Rumlow chuckled ominously. “Oh, that’s not everything, sweetheart. We both know what’s left.” He gave you a meaningful stare.

Your eyes widened in disgust.

Peter snapped his gaze to Rumlow. “She’s got nothing to do with this.”

“No, but I want her. Imagine having New York’s best attorney in my arsenal. How many charges has she saved your sorry ass from, Parker? Five? All felonies, right? You lucky son of a bitch.” Rumlow’s smile is sinister. “Not that lucky tonight, huh?”

Peter spoke through gritted teeth. “Back off, Rumlow.”

“To have Deus wrapped around her finger, she must be pretty damn good. Is she, Parker?” goaded Rumlow, ignoring Peter’s warning. “Is she any good?”

Instinct controlled your hands as they seized Peter’s cards before he launched himself over the table and landed an ear-splitting blow to Rumlow’s jaw. Rumlow must’ve known the punch was coming. Still, he hadn’t expected the impact to be that forceful because his eyes blinked in astonishment. The two men behind Rumlow didn’t react fast enough, missing Peter as he stood above Rumlow, grabbed the handgun hidden in the waist of his pants and pressed the muzzle deep into Rumlow’s temple, finger on the trigger.

Rumlow shifted his eyes up to Peter. “Did I hit a nerve?”

Peter’s voice is lethally calm. “Say one more goddamn word about her and you’re dead.”

“Put that gun down, Parker!”

Tony. Shit.

Peter squared his jaw, never taking his eyes off of Rumlow. About six off-duty policemen and the venue’s guards have their weapons trained on Peter.

“I said put the gun down! Now!” Tony had pushed his way through the crowd, Sam and Steve right behind him. You didn’t notice until now how quiet the room became, everyone holding in a collective breath.

“Put it down, son,” Steve gently ordered. He spied Rumlow’s men, their hands tightened on their guns, and shook his head. “Don’t even think about it.”

Peter didn’t move a muscle. His chest rapidly rises and falls with each breath.

Sam, holding a pair of cuffs in his hand, tried getting through to him. “It’s over. Drop the gun, kid.”

A slow grin spread across Rumlow’s face.

“Peter,” you spoke softly.

His red-rimmed eyes met yours.

“Everything’s gonna be alright. Just put the gun down, okay? Please.”

Two heartbeats passed before his grip on the gun slackened, and he begrudgingly lowered his arm.

Steve and Sam seized on the opportunity. Steve disarmed Peter while Sam restrained Peter’s arms behind his back and tightened the cuffs around his wrists.

Rumlow massaged his injured jaw. “Guess that means I win, Parker.”

Sam yanked Peter back before he could charge at Rumlow. When Peter looked your way, he saw you still held his cards. “I’m still in play.”

“Wait,” you protested. Sam began to guide Peter up to the entrance. “Peter, I can’t—”

He nodded his head furiously, talking over his shoulder as Sam lead him away. “Yes, you can. You know you can, baby. Play the hand.”

You stared helplessly at Peter’s retreating form. It was all on you.

Rumlow watched, unperturbed; his cards still held tight in the hand that wasn’t nursing his jaw.

Slowly, you lowered yourself down into Peter’s chair, sitting directly across from Rumlow’s smirking face. Tony stared at you incredulously. It’s the first time you’ve ever seen him rendered speechless. The room’s chatter never recovered, either. All eyes stay glued towards the standoff.

The game is in your hands. Exactly as planned.

[frozensriracha]

Hi! Can I request Laughing Jack with a lesbian friend who can't live at home anymore so they ask to stay with him, platonic obviously. Just some friendly support would be nice. Thank you!

When you tell L.J. you can’t live at home anymore and need somewhere to live, he will immediately offer you a place at his carnival.

He’ll probably put you in a hotel room for a day or two so he can get the carnival fixed up.  It’s never been the most sanitary or safe of places (plus it has this pervasive musty smell throughout,) and he usually finds that humans don’t like bad sanitary conditions, unsafe machinery, or pervasive musty smells.   When you approach the carnival after L.J.’s cleaned it and fixed the rides, the broken-down old carnival jumps to life, and you’re pleasantly surprised to smell carnival foods and freshly mowed grass instead of that weird musty smell

He gives you your own tent, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t love you coming into his for a slumber party

As a stuffed clown doll, L.J. has no use for a bathroom, so you get the renovated carnival restrooms all to yourself, and nobody’s going to ask you how much longer or when they can get in or anything.  He’ll also knock the gender marker off the door and replace it with a little plaque that says “Y/N (best friend :) )”

I have a headcanon that he doesn’t know a lot about human needs, but there is one thing he knows: humans need water.  Every day, L.J. will remind you to drink your water and hand you the Brita filter and a cup, and he’ll pout and his nose will droop until you’ve had a glass of water.  It can be a little annoying at times but it’s honestly pretty endearing at the same time.  He means well :)

Off topic, but I have no doubt that when he first learned that, he tried to water his friend with a watering can

Pranks wouldn’t happen often, he'd banter with you or tell you jokes more often, but occasionally, he might short-sheet your bed or put a whoopee cushion on your chair.

L.J.’s not the most skilled cook, but he can do some baking!  The carnival always smells like cookies or brownies for hours after his baking sessions, and he’ll happily share with you.

Of course, he goes back to your old place every once in a while to get you some stuff (and if anyone kicked you out, fuck with them.  He won’t actually kill anyone unless you ask him to, but that won’t stop him from moving all the furniture an inch to the left or booby-trap the house a la Home Alone 2.)

If you have any pets, he’s taking them with him, no doubt about it.  He’ll be quite upset and probably cry if your baby is scared of him, but once they warm up to him (and believe me, they will,) good luck separating them-

If you don’t have a pet (or even if you do,) don’t fret, he’ll let you adopt his circus animals

L.J. is a little nervous about taking you into Slender Forest.  If he ever takes you to Slender Mansion, he simply teleports you there, but if you want to go in Slender Forest, he’s pretty reluctant to let you go in there alone.  If you want to go in there regularly, he’ll find a spell to protect you, and just to be on the safe side, supply you with a red laser pointer in case one of the monsters gets too close.

Sometimes, he’ll take you out to some of his favorite haunts around the Underworld for a change of scenery. These include a plethora of sweet shops, a boba café, an arcade BEN showed everyone once and LJ got hooked on, some silly tourist attractions, and an animal shelter he likes to baby the animals at.

If you’re single, he won’t set you up with anyone unless asked explicitly, but that won’t stop him from pointing out that cute girl working at the sweet shop who looks just your type.

Your friends (and if you’re seeing someone already, partner,) will certainly be welcome at the carnival!  L.J. will probably be a little standoffish and overprotective at first, but unless he has a really bad feeling about someone, he’ll come around pretty soon!  He’ll leave you guys alone by default, but if you introduce him to them, or even better, you guys ask him to hang out, he’ll be ecstatic, and probably start bouncing around and giggling.  He’ll waive carnival admission fees, and even perform private shows for you guys if you want ^^

If you’re with someone, prepare to be teased.  It never goes further than him singing the tree song when you two are together or some other elementary school-ish joke, but it can get real irritating real quickly.  He’s pretty socially awkward and will need you to tell him to go away, but once you or your partner asks him to leave, he’ll immediately leave and won’t bother you guys unless the carnival’s on fire.

The other pastas--usually Jill, Jason, and Candy Pop--come over with some frequency.  If you’re feeling up to it, he’d 100% introduce you to the others.  Don’t worry, all of them will be super nice to you!  Everyone knows better than to fuck with L.J.’s friends.

I headcanon that electronics don’t work at the carnival so victims can’t call for help, so he has to get some special devices from the Underworld and wheedle internet service out of BEN. Guys...this man can’t work anything more technologically advanced than a kerosene lamp. You’ll have to give him lessons, which is a slightly infuriating struggle, but worth it when he sends you that first meme in class.

If you don’t plan on staying permanently, he understands, and will gladly search for a new place or house hunt with you.  He’ll be pretty sad to see you go, and plan on visiting a minimum of twice a week.  If you’re looking for somewhere to rent or buy, he’s going to be offering quite a few of his own opinions along the way (seeing as he is going to be over often)

“I really liked the second apartment we saw today; it’s decently priced, the location’s great, it comes with two bathrooms, I could really see myself living there for a while.”

“I could really see myself banging my head on those ceilings.  Why, I’ll have a concussion within the week!”

“L.J.-”

“And besides, the wallpaper in the den is hideous.”

However, if you do decide to stay at the carnival, L.J. will be bouncing off the walls with glee! He’ll hug you tightly and do a dance, and when you told him, you could swear that you saw a little bit of blue returning to his eyes.

@zilia1938 @clowningking @neerasrealm @queenofmandy idk you guys’ sexualities, but here. Hab living with lj headcanons 🥺

[cultofbeatles]

facts about the beatles that i like 

ringo 

was actually the most popular member when they first arrived in america. 

was considered the best drummer in liverpool when he joined the beatles 

worlds richest drummer 

the storyteller for thomas the tank 

was the first member to try weed 

was also the first member to leave the group during the white album sessions (he came back though..obviously)

in 1961 he wanted to move to america with a friend but decided not to since there was a lot of paperwork involved 

when george had an affair with ring’s wife he said; “better you than someone I don't know”

was with his first wife when she was on her deathbed 

set up his own furniture company in 1971

he would record his drum parts in one take 

is left handed but plays with a right handed kit 

still runs on stage for performances bc he’s nervous 

when performing live he would watch john’s ass to keep up with time 

Rolling Stones ranked him the fifth best drummer in rock history 

he hated drum solos 

when John was killed he was the only beatle to fly to new york and comfort yoko 

never had pizza or onions before 

john 

enjoyed playing monopoly 

the first instrument he learned to play was the harmonica 

he enjoyed drawing and acting 

kept a light on whenever he slept 

later in his life found out he was dyslexic 

he would make lunches for his entire staff 

growing up he was self conscious about his nose 

he wanted jesus and adolf on the sgt pepper’s cover 

the only beatles not to became a vegetarian 

called paul’s music “granny music”

took paul to paris with his birthday money and bought him all the banana milkshakes he wanted 

in 1965 a reporter called him the “fat beatle” and he started to eat less after that 

didn't talk to cynthia for weeks when she cut her hair short

referred to paul as “an old estranged fiance of mine”

was the one to quit the band officially 

he was invested by the fbi when he moved to America bc he was “influencing the nations youth”

around the time he died he wanted to start touring again 

when he was younger, a friend dared him to masturbate ten times. he made it to nine. 

bought an island in 1967

made a fifteen minute motion shot with yoko of his penis going from flaccid to erect 

hated his voice and often tried to fix it on the records 

paul 

failed choir boy auditions twice 

when he first met john and played for him his voice kept cracking from nerves 

made his first girlfriend’s mom comb his leg hairs 

arrested in 1960 for lighting a condom on fire in germany 

the first instrument he learned to play was the trumpet 

him and Linda appeared on an episode of the simpsons 

once made a live web video about making mashed potatoes 

very jealous of anyone who got near John 

from past one nightstands apparently the smallest dick, but was the best in bed

was the main reason why the beatles got as much done as they did 

once took lsd with john so that he wouldn't go through it alone 

was made an honorary detective by nypd after giving a charity concert for 9/11

once told a reporter that yoko looked like a gigantic swollen chopstick with black chia pet hair 

helped julian buy john’s letters from yoko 

on the day that john told the band he was leaving them for good paul was trying to convince them to start touring again 

wrote his song here today as a poem first bc he didn't think he’d be able to sing it 

for the eight days a week movie premiere he wore the same suit he wore for the hard days night premiere and was super happy about it 

george 

first beatle to travel to america and play there as well 

organized the 1971 concert for Bangladesh with Indian musician ravi shankar

rolling stones ranked him #11 on their list of “100 greatest guitarists of all time”

two time rock and roll hall of fame inductee 

one time walked into a girls dressing room and asked if he could just look at them while masturbating

offered to come with ringo to see his sick daughter even though he was dying from cancer 

got a black eye once for defending ringo 

would make paul and john share rooms with ringo so they could make him feel more welcomed in the group 

once said he had an eight hour long erection 

lost his virginity to a german hooker with john, pete, and paul in the room 

a car enthusiast 

yoko once ate his biscuits at the studio and he called her a bitch for it 

he played violin in “all you need is love”

composed a soundtrack for a movie (wonderwall)

for most of his life he thought his birthday was feb. 25. but later on discovered it was feb. 24. he was born at 11:50 pm. 

he went to the same elementary school as john but they never met 

voted best actor out of the four 

helped broaden the beatles sound later on 

he was the first beatle to have a solo act hit #1

[septiembrre]

30 for the kiss prompts!!!!

Prompt: Weak, sweaty kisses because it’s unbearably hot.

@sothischickshe, I made a concerted effort to keep this silly and short. And I gave myself frown lines as I watched it grow longer and longer and… angsty. D: 

Featuring:

A magical reappearance of Beth’s furniture

A broken air conditioner

A heatwave

Lots of summer clothing

Sweat (but like the typical annoying kind. This is not a euphemism for sex)

Beth and her anxiety

Rio, a certified Goth™

A relationship not yet ended

Pain

And a Mick cameo, of course!

On AO3, too!

---------

I’VE GOT TO LOSE MY COOL

Beth’s first mistake was not calling the HVAC technician first thing in the morning. She had called on the way out the door, left a voicemail. 

It shouldn’t have been a big deal. Wednesdays were usually slow. She would be able to sneak away at almost any point to take a call back. In the message she left, Beth made sure to mention that her only conflict was at three (the weekly drop of bills from Mick). Otherwise, there was plenty of time to schedule the service visit with perfect timing for the impending heatwave. 

But, of course, her life was no longer neat.   

On this random mid-day shift, there had been a flurry of customers at the store -- multiple special orders for invitations, a desperate maid of honor running in for last minute bridal shower details. And, naturally, it was in this hubbub that the tech had returned her call. There was another subsequent round of phone tag. Beth left a new message. 

On her phone, there was also a text from Mick. He was held up -- and that never happened. The texts hinted at some mysterious, more-important errand for their boss and she was a little curious. He had quashed her follow-up questions (only a couple!), with a gruff, “I’ll get there when I get there.” 

And he indeed eventually arrived to Paper Porcupine -- a whole hour late and in a terrible mood. He barreled in the backdoor, sans his typical flannel and sans-leather jacket. Instead, he was in a t-shirt and sweaty as all get out in the late afternoon heat. Beth had stared at him aghast as her phone chimed with another call. It had been a perky soundtrack to Mick’s string of colorful swears when he realized he had left behind half the one-dollar bills needed for the next print run.

Well, at least that mess wasn’t on her. 

When Beth finally caught the technician on her drive home, she confirmed what Beth had begun to suspect in her gut: they were all booked up with service calls until next Monday. 

“It’s the heatwave, Mrs. Boland,” the tech explained over the car’s speaker phone. “Half of Detroit is calling in about faulty units. We can get you in first thing next week.” 

Beth had nodded unseen and despairing. She had the AC blasting in the car, but she was still sticky with sweat. It was going to be precisely eleven degrees hotter by tomorrow. Then, it would chart 105 the day after that.  

Good Lord. 

Her second mistake was not immediately driving to the store to purchase a pool.

This is how Beth finds herself in the middle of the brutal once-a-year Michigan heatwave, reflecting on how truly her life no longer plays out in the tidy, pre-ordained trajectories it used to. And some days this is thrilling but other days, today, it’s... 

Terrible. 

Beth tries to do what she can. 

She digs out her most breathable pair of exercise shorts, short short and purchased two children ago. She dons her comfiest, lift bra and throws on a frayed pink tank top. She no longer wore these articles of clothing in the presence of her husband (especially after that comment now etched into her soul about “a great ass and perfectly shaped boobs”) but kept them tucked into her dresser for such hellishly hot, solitary occasions such as today. 

She pulls her hair messily into a lofty bun leaving no opportunity for it to cling to her neck. She also temporarily appropriates three of the flagging household fans and angles all of them carefully at her, meticulously layering the currents. Finally, she sprawls on her bed, starfishing her limbs for maximum air-to-skin contact. 

All of it helps a little, but she’s still hot. Beth can’t fathom anything outside of her misery, wants to shed her skin. 

She momentarily considers taking her third cold shower of the day. 

Then, without realizing it is happening, Beth finds herself an hour deep into a frenzy of online shopping, precariously balancing her laptop so it doesn’t touch her skin. 

Her focus: sandals. 

Beth knows she shouldn’t go through with the purchase. Rationally, she can admit it is a feverish spiral, fixating on one fraction of why this week is awful. But, it is all she can think about: she does not have any appropriate footwear for this heat. 

How will she survive?

From there comes a whole whorl of scenarios. If she could get away with not leaving the house, she could stay barefoot, stick to the shadowy corners of her house, shower any hour of the day. In fact, this was (part of) the reason why she had chosen to stay home as Dean took the kids to the community pool a few blocks over. Her old pair of ratty flip flops had finally given out and the mid-morning heat already had Beth at her wit’s end. God, she just needed some quiet and some sense of distance from Dean. So, she suggested the idea, urged him to go and leave her in peace.

Perhaps, she could send him out for all the kids’ needs and assorted errands? 

...But, could he be trusted? 

Well, if Beth refused to leave the house, that meant she was also choosing not to go with the kids to the movies or the library, places with functioning air conditioners where she could cool off. And what else could they do tomorrow? Maybe she could dig out the old sprinkler from the garage… But, then she’d have to go into the garage, and the temperature in there-- 

Anxiously, Beth meanders the tabs on the DSW website and adds two new pairs of flip flops to her cart. One’s a little more casual, definitely good for pool-side and backyard time. The other pair is a little more dignified. They didn’t look like they would clack. 

Well, she doesn’t need two pairs...

She’ll narrow it down later. 

In the back of her mind, Beth can acknowledge she doesn’t really need to buy anything at all, and that these sandals will not make her current discomfort any more bearable. But, it doesn’t hurt to look. 

Oh, goodness -- what about when she has to go back to Paper Porcupine for her next shift? The thought of putting on any of her flats seems like too much to bear, claustrophobic as they were in the heat. Pumps were out of the question. Which brings her to her last job-appropriate footwear option -- her ankle boots. Weirdly, that seemed to be a fashion trend that was happening now, but nope, absolutely not. 

It is in this fever pitch, that Beth makes her third and perhaps most egregious mistake: when Rio knocks on the French doors, she lets him in. 

In her defense, she’s a little dazed. As mentioned before, the current state of Michigan is literally hell and Rio’s appearance… takes her by surprise. She was not expecting him to show up today with a duffle of the rest of the small bills. He hadn’t texted and to top it off, he is wearing... an outfit she has never seen before.

A sleeveless shirt.

A sleeveless shirt and joggers, fancy athletic ones that look a price point (or three) above the ones she usually buys for Dean. However, despite this new foray into athleisure-wear, Rio remains head to toe in his favorite color with black on black Chucks rounding out the look. 

What a goth, Beth thinks, shaking her head to herself. This outfit in over-100 degree heat? 

She feels hotter just looking at him.

Like Mick the other day, Rio is sans-jacket, sans-button-up, and sans-beanie and there’s just… miles and miles of uncovered brown, freshly sun-kissed skin. 

Maybe, it’s her deep-seated jealousy of people who can tan. All her skin is good for is glowing in the dark and flash burning at the slightest interest from the sun. And mind you, she’s currently safe inside her dim bedroom, but it’s the strangest thing...  She’s burning now as her eyes trace the smooth skin exposed at the base of his neck, burning as she follows along the neat, sharp line of his collarbone where she had bit--

Stop, Beth. Why did she still want-- 

Had he purposefully shown up with a work excuse on the hottest day of the year to pester her? Was this a latent extension of his punishment? Beth thought they were past this. 

But, you know what? Whatever. Let him try.

She’s cool. She might be sweaty as hell, and wanting to crawl out of her skin, but she is cool as a cucumber, cold as ice, profoundly unbothered. 

She’s so cool that she doesn’t say a word. 

Not to greet him, or remark upon the mistake with the drop or… his atypical clothing choice. 

She doesn’t comment either on the state of their business or ask after whatever it was he had assigned Mick to do this week and had seemingly gone awry. 

She doesn’t comment as his mouth drops open with surprise as he takes in her appearance, his eyes widening with something as intolerably warm as the air around them. The bag slips from his grip just inside her doorway.

Nor does she say anything when Rio follows her back to bed, tethered to her through a tenuous spell of heat (weather or otherwise). She’s cool, indifferent, breezy actually as she repositions herself in the crosshairs of the fans. If she pretends he doesn’t matter, she doesn’t have to share the breeze right? So she doesn’t pay much mind as Rio slips off his sneakers and settles next to her. Instead, she re-balances the laptop and resumes pursuing the online DSW store. 

She doesn’t say anything as he eventually shuffles closer, presumably to watch as she adds strappy sandals to her cart (or more probably to peek down her shirt). And god-- this stupid tank top. Maybe her boobs look better from over there in Rio-world, but over here she is sticky with underboob sweat and crossing her fingers that none of it shows through her bra. 

His shoulder leans against hers.

And she has every reason to push him away, but… his skin is cool and smooth and not the most intolerable part of this weekend. So, she lets him stay there. 

And she continues to ignore him, cool-like, or cool-aspiring.

Until he no longer lets her. 

Concentrated as she is on her shopping, she notes idly as Rio’s foot reaches out to nudge one of her fans to aim more directly at him.

Beth can’t help the snarl that comes out of her mouth, “Don’t.” 

He always brings out the worst in her.

There’s a low snicker. Her gaze drops down to take in Rio’s arm as it presses up fully against hers. His fingers reach over to pinch her thigh. 

“Damn, ma.” 

There’s that heat again, the one from inside. God, she hates him. 

Beth shuffles away, frowning at her screen. Rio shuffles too, sidling up next to her again. She adds another pair of sandals to her order and then considers her cart. 

“Elizabeth…” In the corner of her eye, she catches the movement of Rio shaking his head with reprove. “Think about where you live.”

Beth flails on the bed in a display that admittedly reminds her of her own children in a fussy mood and it only annoys her more. Her bedspread sticks to her arms, the backs of her legs, and the exposed sliver of her midriff where her top is creeping up. Beth shifts, trying to dislodge the cover from her skin, mindful to protect the laptop. It’s only happenstance that she manages not to shift a single inch of where the length of her arm touches Rio’s. 

As she tries to calm down, a brief vision comes to Beth -- an alternate universe where the laptop is safely tucked away and the HVAC blessedly functions. The Rio and Beth of this fantasy are them but also not… maybe she’ll call them Christopher and Elizabeth. That Beth -- Elizabeth -- is only mildly inconvenienced by the heat raging outside. She can rest her dampened forehead against the cool arch of his-- Christopher’s neck. She can lean in to press a weak kiss at his collar bone. In fact, she can kiss it anytime she wants, invited to touch him anywhere she like. In this dream, Elizabeth’s ministrations don’t have to be surer or bolder or cool -- because she has him. 

All the time. 

She can afford to be soft. 

In turn, Christopher nuzzles his face into her hair fondly, and that Elizabeth receives a soft kiss at the crown of her head. There’s an undercurrent of sex between them, the suggestion of it, but overall the scene is sluggish in the zenith of summer and content. Elizabeth can curl her body around his and let him hold her-- 

How silly. 

Beth shakes herself out of it and realizes that Rio has shifted on his side, watching her as she’s zoned out staring at the cart full of sandals for too long. His lips twitch and almost pull into a smile. Then, he quells them into mock seriousness. 

It feels too intimate, him with her on this bed, her bed, the bed. It feels like Before. 

God, why is he here anyway? If she was alone, she could peel off all her clothes and… take an ice bath probably. 

Not think of him at least. 

Not think about that wild, feverish idea of curling up, fitting her body into his and surrendering to the heat. Not think about how desperately and pettily she wants to pinch him back. She wants to kiss that stupid look off of his face or... Maybe she could purchase all six pairs of sandals and start browsing for pools on Cloud 9 just to spite him-- 

 “I am thinking about where I live and actually, it’s the middle of summer here--” Beth bites out. “--and it’s outrageously hot.”

“Just buy yourself a pair of sturdy white lady shoes. You mean to tell me you don’t already own some Birks?”

“Excuse me--” Beth splutters, incensed. She had considered them first but had been discouraged again by the price tag for a single pair.  “White people aren’t only ones who wear Birkenstocks.”

Without missing a beat, Rio volleys back, “Baby girl, what are you going to do with so many pairs of sandals in Michigan the rest of the year?” 

“Says you.”  

“Oh?” 

“You literally have a million pairs of shoes. Your closet is insane.”

It dawns on her, what she just said. 

Oh. 

Not good. 

It’s the fucking heat. At least, the discomfort can’t blotch her cheeks any more than they already are. 

She knows that if she looked at him now, she would see Rio doing something... obnoxious with his face. He’s probably smirking in that terrible, gloating, dumb, sexy way that he does, but too bad. 

Beth refuses to look at him.

She’s indifferent and unbothered. She’s cool. She’s the kind of Beth that would never ever even think about his closet or daydream about them folding clothes together or fucking on-- 

So, instead, she snaps her laptop close with a final click. The sandals were a half-brained idea anyway and that was a conclusion she already came to on her own. Thank you very much, boss. 

She starts to get up but then Rio’s hand reaches out to curl around her thigh, pinning her to the bed. He squeezes her leg gently, as he has the audacity to shush her. 

It’s enough impetus for Beth to rear her head back to meet his gaze again and level him with her most withering glare. 

And, what do you know? She was correct. He appears to be very entertained. 

This time she feels the heat surge on her face and knows without a doubt that it shows on top of the heat rash.  

“Yeah, so… are you ever gonna tell me what you were doin’ at my house?”

“No.” She snipes, prim. 

“No?”

“I wasn’t doing anything.” It's outright untruth.

Rio’s amused disbelief and her defensiveness meet in a standoff. Beth knows from experience he’ll try to wait her out and she gnashes her teeth. 

Then, there’s a twitch of movement at her thigh, the flex of fingers she realizes are still there and Beth registers the warm span of his hand a few inches above her knee. Her gaze darts down to look at where he’s touching her. He glances down, too. Together they watch as his thumb slowly strokes her skin. Then, again. 

They both observe as the muscles in her thighs just perceptively clench.

God, him and her, in this bed. 

His voice softens to that ridiculous mumble, both low and rich. “Aw, c’mon, darlin’. You can tell me.” 

The tone raises her hackles -- as if she wasn’t already too familiar with this trap! She tries to affect nonchalance -- she’s cool -- and shrugs, “It doesn’t matter anymore.”

Rio grins. It’s sharp like a knife and charming. She hates that he’s the most attractive person she’s ever met. “You liked my closet?” 

Then, an idea comes to her-- how she can best him at his own little game.

Beth curls on her side towards him. Her cleavage deepens and god, she can instantly feel more sweat bloom but she knows what he likes. The line of their bodies is parallel, only separated by an inch or two. They’re sharing the breeze from the fans now and wisps of her hair have gotten loose from her bun and are blowing into her face. Rio’s hand shifts to resettle and it drifts up to stroke her hair back behind her ear. Then it drops to curl at her waist. And you know -- nice move -- but she can do him one better.

“Yes,” Beth says simply. She brings her hands up to trace along the neck of his shirt, across his pecs, and the expanse of skin she hasn’t seen since that afternoon of Before. “I didn’t see this though.” 

Then, in a moment of haughty malice, her fingers find the notch of his clavicle. She watches his throat bob as he swallows hard and she counts the success. She ignores the tell-tale temptation to gift him more bruises, to kiss him… 

The thought occurs to her, distantly, slowly emerging through the fog of heat, that if she tugged the fabric to the side a bit, she’d find one of the scars she gave him. Her hands become clammy and they retreat. 

“You like it?” Rio’s voice comes out a smidge hoarse. But, perhaps only someone who knows him like her would notice. 

Beth shrugs a shoulder. 

His eyes are bright as he looks back at her. His gaze shifts crass, laden with the suggestion of sex, and there’s a tinge there that's not quite sour per se. But, it’s heavy with the particular weight of who they are now. His line of sight deliberately drops to her cleavage with old, salacious purpose. 

It’s not the way he looked at her that day, that one time (or two).  

Self-rebuffed, Beth tries not to think too much about how she hates that Rio caught her dressed like this. She itches to pull her top up to her neck or scramble off the bed to find something else to throw on. She itches to disappear entirely or to retreat into her bathroom (and see if this time he’ll follow her there too). 

Slowly, in performance, Rio moves the fingers at her waist and dips them under the edge of her tank top. He traces teasingly underneath along her sweaty skin. 

“I like this.” Rio says, biting his lower lip lewdly, tugging along the hem of her shirt. 

And Beth feels-- she feels--

Too hot. 

Too objectified. 

Her stomach drops and she wants to crawl out of her skin. This wasn’t, this isn’t-- This isn’t what it was. 

No matter who they are this minute, whatever mess continues to unfold, this isn’t what that day was.  

She won’t let him ruin it. 

“You know I did really like your closet. I liked your shoe racks--” she scrambles, trying to dangle a little of what he wants and to remind him. “Your pictures. Nice touch.” 

The comment serves its purpose. It makes him pause, sufficiently rebuked by all the ways that she knows him. 

Rio extricates his hand, pulls away from her skin, as she tries again to calm herself. She needs to be cool, cool, cool. 

But, it’s unbearable -- who they are now.  

She feels frazzled and depleted as she watches Rio roll onto his back. He looks up at her ceiling, not at her. “Why can’t you be honest with me for once?” He says it tiredly, without artifice. 

She can’t stand it. 

“You’re one to talk.”  

Beth watches as Rio is now the one gritting his teeth. 

“Y’know--” There’s a poignant, festering beat and then he says, “When I fucked you in this bed, I had wanted…” 

More. 

That want goes unsaid, suspended in the air around them with the heat. 

“But, you just wanted me to fuck you,” he finishes quietly, leveling her. 

Her stomach bottoms out newly pained and she wonders if that day, those two times, are already ruined for him. Certainly, she can understand if it’s because of the bullets. But, if he still has any doubt-- 

She makes a last-ditch attempt at levity. 

“You’d probably say this is really… basic bitch of me.” The phrase fits awkwardly, and the call back immediately has Rio’s attention. She knows in her race to pull something together, to make it better, something bearable, whatever she’s going to say is going to be too candid.

“Yeah?”

“But, the times that I’ve been the most… attracted to you--” Oh god, this isn’t coming out light and casual at all. Oh no. 

Rio shakes his head at her, “Don’t stop now, Elizabeth.”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Beth huffs. Then, she tries again. “One is definitely when you were bashing in that butt-ugly car.” 

Rio’s eyebrows raise comically high. 

“You know with the crowbar,” She gestures, swinging her hand gratuitously. He absolutely already knows what she’s talking about. 

“And two..”  Beth shuts her eyes and takes a steadying breath. She hopes for the best and tries not to rush the next bit. “--was when I saw your closet was color-coordinated.” 

She sneaks a glance at him, and her stomach twists again.

He has absolutely no business looking so fondly at her. 

She strives to clarify. “But, that was before.” 

“Not anymore?”

“No.” 

Rio nods, presumably in acceptance of her refusal. 

But, then he tugs her to him, across him. Beth settles on top of him, too hot, too sweaty. Her forehead comes to rest, pressed against the soft hollow of his neck.  

[theshreedhar]

Love, life, loss and a cat

This is the story of Chotu. The love of my life. The light of my life. Born 17 Feb, 2012, she was 9 years, 4 months and 4 days old when she left this world on 21 June, 2021.

Chotu, as her name appropriately captures, was a small cat. She died of chronic kidney disease—apparently common in senior cats. We checked the size of her kidneys. They had become a little chotu too, just like her.

Slipping in

We didn’t adopt Chotu. She adopted us. People use this “we were adopted by insert pet’s name here” phrase quite often. But when I say it, I mean it quite literally. We didn’t pick her from a shelter or from the street. She was born in my building. Third floor. Much to the neighbours’ aghast. This is also how I know the exact date of her birth and also have a picture of her before she even opened her eyes for the first time.

Her mom, again appropriately named Motu, was a clever cat. She knew I had an affinity for cats, but others in my family (especially mom), not so much. I’d play with her. She’d scratch me at times. It was good.

Motu and I shared a secret. It was her secret, actually. I’d sleep late in the night, which is why she had to let me in on it.

We’d play during the day. Outside. But at night, when I was “studying” or doing whatever the hell I was, she’d slip into the house and below the table. And sleep a good night’s sleep. Before any of us woke up, she’d be gone.

This was good. This worked. For quite some time. But then, to her annoyance, she gave birth to Chotu. For a month or so, she was busy with her motherly duties and did away with the space of our home. But then she was back. With Chotu. I don’t remember how long this worked for Motu, but it wouldn’t be long before Chotu blew her secret. They were caught. By mom. You don’t want to be caught by mom.

There was hell. They were forbidden from coming in. The windows were to be shut. But, well, I was the one who stayed up. The authorities can make whatever the hell rules they like, it’s the men on the ground that implements them. I was the man on the ground. The cats kept coming in.

Until they were caught again. This time it was serious. Mom was not okay. Motu took the hint and stopped coming in. We settled on Chotu to be allowed in at night. I have no memory of how this happened. I don’t think I’d be able to convince mom to do this today. But Chotu always had an allure. Motu was cleverer. Sharper. But Chotu had the allure.

And that’s how Chotu adopted us. By being naive, not taking the hint, and continuing to come in where she wasn’t wanted (at least by the matriarch).

Acceptance

If you’ve got a pet, the essential thing to do is to get them neutered so that they can’t reproduce. If you don’t, one cat can become 10 in less than a year. And 10 cats can become 100 in two. It’s a no-brainer. Pet and stray animals alike must be neutered. It’s the only and most effective way to avoid suffering and death.

But to convince someone hell bent against neutering is impossible. Here again I was at loggerheads with mom. She didn’t want me to get Chotu (or any animal) operated upon.

But this was a non-negotiable for me. And she supposedly didn’t even care about her. Why would she care about this now? I was the decision maker. I called up a local NGO, didn’t tell anyone else, and off Chotu went. I told them only after she’d gone. Mom wasn’t happy. But it was okay—Chotu was to be back in a week.

But she didn’t turn up. I called them up. She’d apparently removed her stitches and had to be kept for longer. I called them up again after a week. Chotu was pulling out the stitches and not letting the incision heal, they said. And then again after a week.

Mom says she really enjoyed her motherhood. She always wanted to be a mother. I’ll never understand why. This is probably why she cried when Chotu wasn’t brought back. The thought of a disappearing motherhood along with fearing the worst. In her mind, she had assumed that the operation had failed, Chotu was gone, and they weren’t telling me. I had never for a second thought along those lines. But now I did. I cried too.

And then they called. Chotu’s incision had healed and they were bringing her back. We weren’t home, we’d all gone to Churchgate with the extended family for lunch. It goes without saying, I didn’t care about the lunch. I only wanted to get home.

Our neighbour Edith aunty collected Chotu. The first time I saw her it was magical. She sat on the window, quiet, in her classic rabbit-like poise. She had lost some weight, but it didn’t matter. A part of her ear was missing, but it didn’t matter. She was back, in full heart and soul. And she would never go away.

We brought her home. And it was then that I knew. Chotu was ours. And we were hers.

There were so many little things leading up to this moment that could alter what happened. And I don’t even mean the operation itself. Today most NGOs charge a fair amount for neutering surgeries. They’re a pricey procedure even at NGOs! I don’t know if I would’ve been able to pay to get her neutered. Whoever knows what would’ve happened then.

Cat things

Motu was a sharp and clever cat. I’ve said it before. Like a good mom, she once caught a pigeon for Chotu and herself to feast on. Chotu was intrigued. She was fascinated. I was seeing her from the window. She pawed the dead pigeon. A pigeon is a light, feathery animal. If you paw the body, it’s going to move. We know that. Chotu didn’t. That momentary movement and flutter of the dead pigeon absolutely terrified her. I knew then that she was a cat but not really.

She did a number of cat things. She loved climbing heights. Trees, cupboards, even doors.

Chotu also loved chasing pieces of thread. At least in her young years. A classic move that we played was to first entice her with a long rope, get her full attention, then turn it around her in circles a good few times. She’d spin! And be dizzy after that. She must’ve caught on, or just lost interest in threads, because we didn’t do this too many times. It’s one of our golden memories of her antics.

When you’ve got a little cat at home, there’s something already inside that’s absolutely terrified. No, no. Not rats. Chotu was no good with rats. It’s the furniture. Cats absolutely destroy furniture and upholstery.

Well, so did Chotu. But we stopped caring about it. We had to. We couldn’t buy her a dedicated scratch stand, our flat was too small for that (also we were on minimal expenses). I was and still am surprised how we just accepted that our furniture would have cat scratches and upholstery loose threads. I’m surprised but so, so happy. I’d much rather have my little girl’s happiness than a smooth sofa cover.

Today, we remember Chotu as a quiet, unfussy cat. Especially in the last few years, she was as undemanding as any cat could be. She’d ask for food, let us know when she wanted to go to the toilet (aka an imli tree in our building, which we’d take her to), and come back on her own. Earlier, she’d just slip in from the windows. As she grew older, she didn’t enjoy slipping in from the windows. Then she began knocking the doors! She would scratch at it, and the first time we were creeped out at the sound of it. But then we were amused and impressed. Every time. We had a cat who was not only ladylike enough to prefer doors over windows, she also knocked.

But she could get loud as hell when she wanted to. She could really scream. She sometimes did, at night. I’ve been awoken a few times. Didi many more times. Partially because I’m a deep sleeper, and also because she would care more than I would in the middle of the night.

MIAAOW MIAAAOW MIAAAAOWW.

It was lovely. Her voice was sweet like honey. Even when she screamed. I know I’m all emotional right now, so you probably won’t take it seriously. But she had the sweetest cat voice there could be. And extremely emotive. We’d know if she was distressed, or pleading, or hungry, or just confused. I can think of her miaowing and just break down.

But most satisfying was her presence. She would sit with us. Sleep with us. She loved our blankets, she loved our tummies. She would enjoy just being there. She loved people. Not so much other cats. She’d rest her chin on our arm and just fall asleep.

Disjoint reflections

Animals do not disappoint. They’re always there. With people, we’re always wary. We know things can go off rails. People mess up all the time. With Chotu, I was all in. She was the love of my life, and I don’t exaggerate when I say that. She was permanent, everything else was temporary. Because I knew she would never disappoint. Our love was infinite.

I sometimes joked that it was only our Chotu miaow that was normal in our household. All us humans were weird and dysfunctional. Chotu kept it all together. She was the only normal person. We would talk to her, smother her, just like a little human. She would have her occasional loud miaows to remind us of her felinity every now and then.

She was a charmer. Everyone that spent the least amount of time with her was smitten. Our house help loved her. Our relatives loved her. An uncle spent a week with her last year because everyone was away. He moved in to our place for a week just for her. He said she would greet him every time he came home. Like no one else had ever done.

One of the few scares that Chotu has given us was back in 2016. The day was Sunday. I was in Hyderabad and had gone for a hike. My friend and I were resting on a rock, when didi called me and told me that Chotu was missing. She was a semi outdoor cat and we never stopped her from stepping out whenever she wanted. She’d gone and not come back.

They searched for hours. They looked on roofs and on trees but couldn’t find her. All I could do was wait with my heart in my mouth. I thought of all the places where she could’ve gone, and somehow it struck me that we must check the neighbour’s house. He was rarely home. She may have slipped in.

Before I could call my sister and ask her to check, I got a call. It was her. Chotu was in the neighbour's house. The curious cat must’ve gone in and not known how to come back out. But she did know how to scream, nice and loud. I was so relieved.

Towards the end

Chotu was always a long-time picky eater. She ate well as a kitten, but as she grew older, her interest in eating waned.

When she was a kitten, I would bring a small packet of cat food for her and Motu. It would be over in 20 seconds flat. For some time after she was back from sterilisation, and we were in the process of “adopting” her, we still had no food for her. As vegetarians, we had little in common diet wise with Chotu. Which is why her food messiah was Edith. We’d give her some rice and she’d mix it with fish and that would be her food, twice a day.

One of the fondest memories I have of Chotu is of her screaming her lungs out when she heard Edith outside our door. Her voice was enough. So was the sound of her door grill. Chotu would be off! She’d meow like mad and insist on going out to eat. Edith would give her food and Chotu would come back home. Of course, we started giving her cat food later on.

While Chotu did have one phase of being a heavy cat, she was a lean cat for most of her life. She didn’t eat a whole lot, and we often had to really encourage her to eat. Beyond her first year as a kitten, she was always ladylike around food. We would never be worried about her helping herself with any of our food lying open and uncovered, ever.

When Chotu first began eating less, a couple of months ago, we weren’t particularly worried. She also had teeth problems, it was just something that we had to live with. For about a month, her diet was affected. She ate well for two days, and then not so much again. She ate for a week, and then again stopped eating entirely. She lost weight.

That first trip to the vet constituted nervousness and hope. The vet’s initial assessment was that her teeth were paining way too much, which is why she couldn’t eat. Her haemoglobin was low, too. Her teeth would need to be extracted, but her haemoglobin was low, which meant that the procedure would carry an increased risk. She gave us painkillers for Chotu.

It took three people to feed Chotu the painkiller. Mom held her. Didi spoke to her and petted her. I shot the syringe into her mouth. It took about an hour. But that night, she ate like she was a kitten. The feeling was glorious. The entire week, she ate like it was her first year on earth. My joy was boundless.

In these last weeks, my mood was directly proportional to how much food Chotu ate. The vet soon informed us that it wasn’t just her teeth but also her kidneys that were off. There’s no cure. We just had to hope.

The next time Chotu stopped eating, we took the call to get her teeth removed. If she wasn’t eating because of her teeth, it would make only sense to do so. She would have to be put under general anaesthesia and there was a risk that she wouldn’t wake up. Her kidneys were too weak. But the girl weathered it through! They extracted 22 teeth. We had to feed her through a tube that went through her nose into her stomach, initially. But in a few days, she ate normally again.

Until she didn’t. She ate for about four days, before again losing all interest in food. This time I knew that this was it. She didn’t eat a single morsel for an entire day, and she would be too weak if she didn’t for another. I took her to the vet to get a tube installed again. That weekend was the last time she ever ate any food through her mouth.

This was not the life we wanted Chotu to live. Feeding her through the time was an acceptable temporary arrangement, but that’s all it was supposed to be. There were a lot of tears and a lot of weeping, but we took the call of hoping that she ate again, but not installing the tube again (it had to be removed after about a week) if she didn’t. We were preparing for her to go.

The end

I like to think that Chotu’s last few days were as comfortable as possible. I’d take her to the park everyday. She’d perch on my shoulder (she loved perching on people’s shoulders, that was her comfort zone) and we’d walk to the park a 30 second walk away. Then we’d just sit there in the grass, with curious people every now and then asking about her tube and showering pity (always annoying).

As non fussy as Chotu was, she was really stubborn about where she sat and slept. If she liked someplace, she’d spend all her time there. And this place kept changing. It would change from chairs to sofa to bedroom to random corner. Around this time, her territory was the general hall area. I missed her sleeping alongside me so much.

I spent the last few nights sleeping on the floor in the hall. The first night, she perched on my leg while I slept. In the morning, she was sleeping next to my leg.

It was Monday. It was about time to remove her tube. I fed her through the tube around noon. Her body rejected it. She vomited it all out. She had also begun drooling her stomach acid. After a couple of hours, I tried feeding her again. She was emaciated. This time, the acid wouldn’t stop.

I knew it was time.

Mom and I bawled while she readied herself to go. We bawled even though we knew that it was coming. Even if we had expected only a few days more with her.

I told Chotu we loved her. We would always love her. I held her paw and pet her in her favourite place below her neck. She stretched her neck in pleasure even while she was dying.

Chotu was the unfussiest of cats. But like I said, once she chose a spot she chose a spot. For her departure, she chose the loneliest, most inaccessible corner of the house, below the granite platform in front of the window, blocked by a potted plant. She’d never even stepped there before until two days ago.

And then she was gone. She breathed a few heavy breaths. I could hear them. She left with her eyes open. I let her know I loved her for the last time.

Just us

The most significant transformation that Chotu brought about was in mom. I remember one fight that we had had when Chotu was just a kitten, pre-sterilisation. Mom was disgusted by the idea of having a cat home and once ended up almost kicking Chotu when she came in her way.

“How could you do this to such a little being?”

“She shouldn’t be here in the first place. Get her out!”

As life does, mom spent the most time with Chotu than any of us. Sis would be at work. I was in Hyderabad. When I was away and mom told me she missed me, I’d ask her to go pet Chotu instead. She really would. Chotu and mom were secret buddies. They hung out together and alone.

When Chotu was first diagnosed with kidney disease, mom cried before any of us. When we took the risk of putting Chotu through surgery to extract her teeth, mom cried before I did. When Chotu was in her last moments, mom was there, crying, and praying.

Chotu was the invisible binder of our house. It didn’t matter if we had an altercation, if Chotu needed something, we had to work with each other to help her get it.

Mom is also probably the fastest to get over Chotu. She has her way of dealing with these things. Didi and I are going to take some more time. She was our little sister.

You know how in some movies, all the dead characters come back to life in the last scene, and they’re all happy and jolly? I’ve been imagining Chotu like that at times. Just laughing and meowing and running. Living life as she did. Oblivious of it all.

If only I could be awoken by her miaowing in the middle of the night again. One last time.

[etraytin]

Quarantine, Day 93

June 12

Today was a day full of accomplishments! That is a good thing because I am very much looking forward to going home sometime fairly soon, but I don't want to go if we've left a whole lot of stuff undone. But today we got hooked up with a financial advisor we will Zoom with on Monday, and we also finished the taxes! That albatross has been hanging around our necks since we got here six weeks ago, but now all that's left to do is mail the stuff to the accountant. I also made arrangements so that they'd get their stimulus money, which had not arrived and we didn't notice til I was going through the finances. It's always nice to have a little extra money come in during a month when you've got a lot of unusual expenses. My plan for the financial advisor is to spend the weekend printing out statements and portfolio snapshots and tax return documents, then shoving them all onto the advisor and demanding they fix this. Fix what, I am not 100% sure, but fixing must be done. It is too messy. 

In a more concrete sense of accomplishments, today we also got out to Trader Joe's one more time and stocked up on food for the trip and food for MIL's fridge. I persuaded her to buy an air fryer for her kitchen because they are _amazing_ and not super expensive compared to their versatility and utility. Today I showed her how to use it to cook TJ's mac and cheese balls (yummy, if slightly bland) and lemongrass chicken spring rolls (yummy, once you get over the initial childhood scent memory of Pledge furniture polish.) She is excited about it, and I think she will actually use it. Air fryers are a great way to cook for somebody cooking for one, and involve no bending over or washing sheet pans. Also, Trader Joe's continues to be very clean and socially distanced and it was nice to shop there. 

In the afternoon, I went out once more, this time to the hardware store to buy a cordless drill. I was very surprised MIL didn't have one, but apparently FIL gave most of the tools in his well-stocked workshop to the older grandkids a few years back when it became clear he could not really use them anymore. Ace Hardware was doing a better job of safety than I'd expected, given how completely lousy Tractor Supply had been, but they did not have what I needed. I did not want to pay 55 dollars for a heavy but sturdy cordless drill, I needed something lightweight and cheap, something suitable for a career spent drilling tiny holes and occasionally turning screws. I ended up going to Walmart, which was not too bad even in the afternoon if one stayed away from the grocery section. I was able to get a lightweight 18v drill and a small set of bits for thirty dollars, and I know that if a better drill is called for, MIL has three brothers and a brother in law in the area who would all be happy to bring her one. 

Back at the house I charged the cordless drill, then used it to drill two drainage holes in the very large plastic planter on MIL's deck. She'd planted it earlier this season but everything in it had died, understandable given the inch and a half of standing water in it every time it rains. The moment the first drainage hole opened, horrible rotten stagnant water began streaming out of it with a smell like aged outhouse. The kiddo was fascinated and repelled. We decided to give it the evening to finish emptying, then we'll stir in some new dirt and replant it tomorrow. I did put four tiny succulents into an old wooden toolbox that is now a planter, and those looked cute. I joined a Facebook group a couple weeks ago to figure out how to save a succulent that was escaping its pot here and have wound up totally fascinated by the weird, weird things people do with these mostly-indestructible plants. I think I will also be able to save the initial escapee, with a snippet from it going into the toolbox as well. 

The kiddo and I spent time this afternoon playing with guitars, just strumming randomly because neither of us knows how to play. Random soft strumming of a guitar is pretty soothing and nice, actually, though when we got both of them going it was a little louder and more discordant. Still fun, though. Tonight I went to the bed fort with him for the length of one podcast, then left him to let him go to sleep. I am hoping that by the time we get home, he'll be ready to mostly go to sleep by himself again, maybe with occasional lapses on stressful days. I think there's still a fair amount of weirdness ahead for us so we need to be flexible, but we also need some sleep in our own beds. 

[devilrising]

Fallen Draco, Pt. 5

This story follows a prompt by @mymindsmadness

Summary: AU where Draco is a fallen angel, and the way he gets his wings back is by guiding Harry in defeating Voldemort, but it all goes wrong when Draco starts falling in love with Harry.

Word Count (Part 5): 2,817

Word Count (Total): 14,995

Rating: Mature

Warnings: Mentions of abuse/torture (non-graphic).

***

4th April, 1998

A day later and the bone-wings still weigh me down. The hideous jut of bone extending from my shoulder blades casts a grey tone to the rest of me. At least most of the blood and synovial fluid has washed off. None of my clothes sit on my back properly, and Potter has had to cut holes into them. He can seal them up again with a couple of charms, but it’s still an annoying and complicated process. And I’m becoming rather bored. Sitting at Grimmauld Place—as I’ve heard Potter call it—with nothing to do but stare at my family-tree tapestry and reread all of the books for the hundredth time.

I sigh. Wishing I had something else to do, I pack up the drawing room and traverse the stairs. I pace across the landing and into my room, where I allow myself to flop unceremoniously onto my bed. The tension between Potter and I has decreased a little bit, but it is still a raging torrent that could be cut by an axe. I don’t know what to do anymore. I’m still on my various medications, drinking eight Potions each morning. At least I can’t actually feel the bone extending from my skin. The jarred skeleton of wings catches on almost everything I pass. I frequently hit them against walls and doors, my skin snagging whenever I reach behind myself for something.

“You ready to go?” A voice calls out from the corridor. My door is pushed open and I stare as Potter’s head of black hair comes into view. “I’ll take that as a no,” he snarls, annoyed.

“I didn’t know we were going anywhere?!” I leap to my feet and cross the room to stand in front of my mirror. I took Potter’s advice, grudgingly, and ordered some more furniture. Most of it has arrived by now—muggle postage is a drag, but I couldn’t buy from magical shops as I’m supposed to be back in the Manor and couldn’t risk being seen—for which I am incredibly grateful for. I catch his eye in the reflection, vivid green staring back at me. He nods, and I start to cast a network Glamours. Soon, my face is twisted beyond recognition. I’ve decided to replicate the work that he did the night I escaped from St Mungo’s. My skin is once again cool tone and covered in freckles and random red splotches. I watch in amazement as my wings melt away too, hidden by a cloud of air that isn’t there.

Turning away from the mirror, Potter nods an approving head and waves his wand over himself. The signature lightning bolt scar removes itself, as well as the black hair, which fades to sandy brown once again. The eyes stay though.

“Let’s go.”

“Where to?”

“You’ll see.”

“Thank you greatly, kind sir.”

That draws a startled laugh from him, which he quickly covers with a cough. I smile to myself though, glad that I can still extract a reaction from him. Even if it isn’t a snarl or a punch.

***

I should’ve stayed at his house. I am not used to being out in public, people swarming everywhere. If it was muggle London again it probably would’ve been fine, but no. We are in Diagon fucking Alley. I curse under my breath as soon as I recognise the cobbled streets and exotic displays in the windows.

���What do you think you’re doing?! Dragging my here!”

“Calm down, Malfoy. No one knows it’s you, you’re Glamoured.”

“They will if you keep saying my name…” I murmur under my breath. He is correct, again. He’s doing that a lot lately. Mind you, that still doesn’t mean that I want to be here. I would much rather jump off a cliff than be spotted in public.

“What are we doing here anyway?” I ask, hands curling into fists on my waist.

“Shopping.” He pauses thoughtfully. “And I’d stop doing that if I were you.”

My mouth drops open. “Doing what?”

“That,” he says, pointing to me like it’s obvious. It isn’t. “Your mannerisms will give you away,” he sighs.

“My manne- Oh.” My hands instantly drop to my sides, facing morphing into an odd expression. Potter fixes me a weird look before letting a grin spread across his face.

“Much better, Draidan.”

“Draidan?” Oh. “It is rather, Peter.” I can see a glint in his emerald eyes at the name I chose for him.

“I see how it is, Draidan. I use your first name, yet you’re insistent on my last.”

I blush furiously for absolutely no reason at all. “It’s you that’s weird. We don’t use first names.”

“True. Very true, Draidan,” Potter says pensively. I can’t help but notice that my name is being repeated a lot. He is clearly testing it out, seeing how his mouth forms around it, how it feels in his mouth. ‘Peter’ feels very similar to ‘Potter’, so I refrain from saying it.

“Follow me,” he commands. His hand finds my elbow and he drags me away from the public Apparition point and down the cobbled street. I yank my arm back, but he clutched onto it again, his fingers wrapped around my wrist.

“Keep it there. Public façades, remember?” Right. We are boyfriends in public again, just like when I escaped St Mungo’s.

“Fine,” I huff. “If you tell me where we are going.”

Potter sighs. “Even though I got you new clothes yesterday, your situation requires a bit more help.”

“Explain.”

“You need to see Professor Parsons.

***

Professor Parsons, as it turns out, is an elderly wizard who specialises in Magical Creatures and Their Transformations. He is essentially a replacement for the shit job the Ministry does and the rude people who serve said creatures. And now I’m one, standing in front of his beechwood, meticulous desk.

“Good afternoon, young sirs. How may I help you?”

“Hello, Professor Parsons, this is Draidan.” Potter gestures to me. “He is the one in question today.” In question? Honestly, he really needs to learn how to phrase things more respectfully.

“What are we doing for him today?”

“He’s a fallen angel, and his wings have just reappeared,” Potter explains. Parsons face drains of colour, his eyebrows tight and drawn.

He reaches for my wrist and tugs me forward. His long, grey beard tickles at the back of my head and neck as he spins me around. Potter watches on, hand in his right pocket. The elderly man starts to feel up my back, searching for something. I’m sure he’s found it when he digs hard into the skin and finds bone beneath his fingers. He slips them up further, reaching where I know the wings should stick out of my back. Parsons sighs behind me.

“You’re under some altering charm, aren’t you?”

“Glamour,” I confess.

“Do you mind removing it?”

“Uh- Yeah, sorry.”

“Just around your back then?”

“Uh.” I turn to Potter, silently asking if that’s a good idea. I personally don’t see much problem—except for the family crest burned into my lower back, the one he freaked out about yesterday—but he might. He seems to think on it for a moment before nodding.

“I’ll remove it,” he states, coming up in front of me with his wand drawn. I spin around so my backs to him as Parsons moves away. Potter’s magic washes over my back, warm and tingly, making the skeletal wings reappear. But my skin doesn’t change colour. I must admit, begrudgingly, that that’s a rather clever and complicated bit of magic.

“Ah,” Parsons mumbles as he sees the jarred and garish bones. “I see.”

Biting back a retort of ‘of course you see now, he just made them visible!’ I turn back around to face Potter.

“I can immediately see a problem, gents.”

“Which is?” I ask as I clench my hands.

“How did you fall?”

“Oh um. It’s a rather- dark reason.”

“That’s what I feared,” he says pensively. “There’s nothing I can do for you lad.”

“How come?!”

“If you lost them because of an evil presence, you can only regain them—and survive—if you remove that evil and replace it with good. It seems you’ve already started, by the state of the wings.”

“By the state? They could be worse than this?” Potter asks. I glare at him.

“Of course. I’ve seen ones falling apart and chipped everywhere.”

“Wow,” I whisper.

“Anyway boys, I can’t do anything to help except give you some pain potions.”

“We’ll take them,” Potter instantly says. I turn to him, a horrified look on my face.

I cross the small gap between us and murmur to him quietly, “I have no gold. Father has it all locked away.” My face blushes furiously. Money is not something I talk about.

“I will.”

“But-”

“Nope. Not a word of protest.” He walks over to the counter at the back of the room where Parsons is collecting an array of different coloured bottles. “How much?” He gestures to all of them.

“120 galleons,” Parsons replies, a smug look on his face.

“For four bottles?” Potter inquires, hand reaching into his left pocket.

“That’s correct.”

“What about 100?”

“Hmm.” The greedy bastard thinks about it, calculating in his head. “That’ll do nicely.” He nods, sliding the bottles across the counter and towards Potter. “Here you go, lad.”

“Thank you, Professor.”

Potter scoops the four bottles up as he passes the coins over. Parsons carefully counts them all out, smiling when he’s done. “Have a nice day,” he calls out as I’m being dragged out of the little shop. The day has quickly come to a close, the sun setting and streaking the sky with reds and pinks.

“Merlin that was expensive!” I exclaim.

“Well, if it helps the pain at all, it's worth it.”

“I’m glad you think so…” I mumble.

***

5th April, 1998

Potter comes running up the stairs, barging into the drawing room.

“Okay there?” I inquire, only semi-mocking.

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Tell you what?”

“That you know some of their plans?!”

“Wha-?” Oh. “Uh- Yeah. I might’ve heard some of them. My father didn’t really like me knowing much though.”

“Anything is better than nothing!”

“Okay then,” I exhale. “Better get some parchment.”

“Fuck parchment!” Potter curses. Instead, he pulls out a small muggle notebook and what I think is a pen. “Muggles have it so much easier.”

“What do you know?” He starts asking questions.

I take a moment to breathe. “They have plans for an attack in May.”

“May? Where?”

“You won’t like it…”

“Tell me anyway.”

“The Unspeakable’s department.”

“The what?! They’re mad.”

“Absolutely,” I nod in agreement.

“Do you know an exact date?”

“I think I was told, but I don’t quite remember. All I know, is that it’s early May.”

“Early May, Unspeakable Department. Got it.” He checks over everything, making sure it’s correct. “Do you know anything else?”

“Not that I’m aware of,” I concede. “I know how they think though, if you’d like to hear that?”

“If it’ll help me figure out their strategies, that would be great.”

“Okay.” I pause. “Hold on. Who are you giving this information to?”

“Don’t know yet,” he confesses. “Probably Hermione.”

“Granger?! You still talk to her?”

“Of course I do!”

“Isn’t she at school? Actually, why aren’t you at Hogwarts?”

“No. Ron, Hermione, and I are all out.” He pauses, and a devilish grin covers his face. “And to save the world, of course.”

“I actually can’t tell if you’re being sarcastic or not.” I mock, laughing despite myself.

“Ha-ha Malfoy,” He taunts, thumping me on the shoulder. I splutter, caught by surprise at the contact. I think this is the first time we’ve ever touched. I don’t think we’ve even knocked into each other. I don’t know how that makes me feel.

“In all seriousness though, I dropped out to find horcruxes,” Potter confesses.

I gasp. “He was right!”

“What do you mean ‘he was right’?”

“The Dark Lord mentioned something about you hunting horcruxes. Said they were hidden in such dangerous locations, and hidden by ridiculously fierce guardians, that you’d never succeed.”

“Wow.” Potter looks stunned. “Do you know anything else?”

“I tried to figure out some of the locations, but I couldn’t think of anything. I’m sorry, but I have no idea where they could be.”

“That’s okay, you’ve helped enough,” he says. “I’d best be going, give this info to someone who can do something about it.”

I nod absently, suddenly plunged deep into thought. As he stands up and paces across the room, footsteps loud and dominating in the silence, I’m drawn out of my mind.

“Oh, and Potter?”

“Yeah, Malfoy?”

“Actually- don’t worry about it.”

***

I don’t know what I’m doing anymore. It’s been just over a month since I learned of father’s and the Dark Lord’s plans. Nightmares keep me up at night still, and I’m growing sick of waking up in a cold sweat. The potions Potter bought from Professor Parsons remove all sense of pain, but they were incredibly expensive, and I only have a limited amount. I don’t know how I’ll cope when they run out. After all, there is no book or guide on how to become a ‘risen angel’ as Potter has dubbed it. I think it has a nice ring to it, although I’ll never tell him that.

That’s another odd thing. I no longer feel like I want to shove his head in twenty-four/seven, but only eighteen/four. It’s a strange sensation, but at least I can now get up for food without worrying about him killing me. I spent countless hours going over the various scenarios in my mind. Would he use the Killing Curse? A more creative spell? A weapon? There’s no point pondering over this anymore though, as I no longer fear my death is coming from him. Instead, the constant pressure of the possibility of my father or an angry Dark Lord haunts me.

“Malfoy?”

“Yeah?” I call out from my bedroom, where I’m trying to paint the walls.

“Could you help with dinner?”

Oh. He’s never asked for my help before. But he’s helped me a lot… “I guess so. I’ll be down in a minute.”

“Okay, thanks!”

Sighing, I finish the line of navy blue paint and place the roller down cautiously. The last thing I want is paint all over the floors—even though I have them covered in plastic, I can still see a disaster waiting to happen.

I race down the stairs, carefully avoiding the creaking steps, and reach the ground floor. The house elf heads still make me nauseous, but I’ve gotten better at ignoring them entirely. Footsteps echoing as I walk through the stone door and into the kitchen, I can smell what must be dinner. I think it’s chicken, but my sense of smell has been really messed up recently. It must have something to do with the pain potions, but I’m not entirely sure.

“Oh great, you’re here,” Potter says, passing the spoon to me so I can stir the gravy as soon as I’m in sight. He grins as I take it up, starting to stir it around the pot as if it were a cauldron.

“This is fairly easy,” I state, catching a whiff of the rich gravy—although slightly off.

“Yeah, I figured you’d like it. It’s a lot like Potions.” Potter opens a weird cupboard, pulling the lid so that it’s parallel to the ground. It makes an odd whoosh as it’s opened, and heat swarms out of it. I watch intrigued as he pulls out a tray of chicken. I was right about that at least.

“What is that?” I ask, curious about the muggle contraption. Because it has to be muggle. Wizards would never create something so strange.

“It’s an oven,” he explains. “It cooks food using a fan and a heat source.”

“Oh,” I say. “That kind of makes sense.”

We keep cooking in silence, and soon we have the dining table set and wine ready to be poured—technically I am under the muggle drinking age, but everyone in the Wizarding community starts drinking around fifteen. I take my usual seat at the left of the head, and Potter takes the seat opposite me. Neither of us want to fill the most important seat at the table, although I imagine our reasons are different. I don’t want to sit there because that was always my father’s seat. I assume that Potter sits opposite me to show that he isn’t above me—that we are equals. He does a lot of things with that in mind, I think. Even though we are both in rather shit situations right now, we have somehow come up with a method to the madness. One that allows us to be ourselves, and to live another day.

***

A/N: Thank you for being patient with the uploading of this part. I am sorry it’s a little late! Please let me know if you want to be tagged. Xx

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